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pascals-doll · 6 months

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mini skirt

javíer peña x reader

ೀ ive been so focused on my series i missed writing for our man osrs !!

ೀ its spring break n with amount of parties ive got to attend, my ass will b going to write a fic duh!

ೀ description: porn with no plot literally, SMUT SMUT, this shit lowk filthy, reader is bent over the passenger seat 😶, public sex!, parked (?) car sex, oral sex (r receiving) exhibitionism, dom!javíer, mean!javíer, possesive af!javí, sub!reader, reader speaks slight spanish, reader is thristy for javi, JAVÍ TALKS YOU THRU IT/IN SPANISH 2 (😩🤧), lowk degradation in spanish aswell, multiple orgasms, slight overstim (r receiving), degradation ( r receiving), eating out from the back, spanking, doggystyle, hair pulling ( r receiving), choking ( r receiving), unprotected p in v sex, creampie, no use of y/n, use of pet names (pequeña, neña, bebésita, amor/amorsita)

spanish key words for all my non-spanish speakers !

-pequeña/neña: term of endearment for someone smaller than/my girl, babygirl

-princesa/bebésita: my baby/princess

-dime/porque: tell me/why

- tan’ mojada/tan linda: so wet/ your so wet/such a sweet/so sweet

-lo que quieres/dios mio: my god/oh my god/what you want

-belleza/sucia: beauty/dirty/filthy

-amas/amor/(sita): you love/love/lover

-como te pongo/volverá pasar: how i get you/ever happen again/happened again

-eso/lo que pasará : a way of affirming or agreeing/what will happen again

in traditional way of celebrating the spring break, how else than going out with your girls to the club?

the winter was finally over as women traded their big coats and long-sleeves for skimpy tops and short skirts or shorts.

your beloved boyfriend knew you would be going out tonight, letting him know before he left for his federal attendees.

Javíer didn’t say much except to text him once you left the house, arrived at the party, and when to come pick you up.

Javí was a sweet, a gentle giant.

but he was also stern, it was a trait he had to deal with being apart of the job. it was in his nature to be overprotective.

his eyes told you something completely different along with his stance although he didn’t once tell you a negative thing for wanting to go out and have fun.

he had his hands on his hips, popping one out as his eyebrows tensed together and his tongue poked through his cheek. Javí’s eyes were mean and deep as he stared at you while you promised him to let him know the second anything were to happen before he got ready for work.

you were all dressed up by 9:00 pm as you now, waited on your friends to pick you up at any moment now.

you were wearing a green tube top, pairing it with a pink plaid mini skirt. you chose a cute silver chain belt as an accessory to go along with your silver blinged earrings.

your makeup was set onto your skin perfectly, bringing out the best features of your beauty. your hair was styled to your liking and you chose these cute bubblegum pink pumps to piece your outfit all together.

you picked up your phone, having a small photoshoot of your own before choosing the picture you thought was best and sending it to Javìer.

you were sat infront of the mirror, pulling a cute pose while trying to get you whole outfit in frame.

not even 3 minutes later, a ping rings through your phone.

⤷ que belleza neña go have ur fun for now

⤷ cus ur not gonna like it when i pick u up

your heart raced with lustful anticipation and excitement. you continued to tease him through message, sending another picture to him that showed how risque your pink mini-skirt was.

⤷ u are so done for pequeña

he wasn’t even here, yet you could feel his menacing presence and hear his strict tone in your head.

soon enough, you were getting a call from your friends; letting you know they were outside.

✧○ꊞ○ꊞ○ꊞ○ꊞ○✧ ✧○ꊞ○ꊞ○ꊞ○ꊞ○✧

you and your bestfriend danced along to the house music that played through the huge booming speakers of the wide-spaced club that was only illuminated by a combination of different color fading lights.

you had a few drinks already, loosing track of how long you’ve been dancing for before stepping away with your friends. you went back to your the corner couch you were seated at along with your friends.

you felt hazed out and tipsy as you uncapped your water bottle before taking a sip.

all your tipsy self could think about was Javí, it was 1 AM and you knew he was awake and on stand-by for you.

your vision was blurry because of the alcohol as you open his contact, dialing him on the phone. you hear the phone ring momentarily before connecting.

“everything good, princesa?”

“mmhmm, i misss you javí” you slurred out.

“how drunk are you, neña?” his tone was caring, making your overwhelmed tipsy body run a cold shiver through your spine.

“s’only tipsyy—amor?” you respond before calling out to him, more like whining out to him.

“dime pequeña” the way his voice sounded so caring, yet stern, made your body quiver and breath hitch.

the alcohol was definitely assisting your mind in fogging it with only one thought; Javíer.

“come pick me up—s’wanna go home to youu” you plead with a slight moan, the alcohol was definitely getting the best of you.

“i’ll be there in 15 minutes, get ready.”

✧○ꊞ○ꊞ○ꊞ○ꊞ○✧ ✧○ꊞ○ꊞ○ꊞ○ꊞ○✧

Javí was not an idiot, he could hear the neediness in your tone.

after being together for 5 years, Javí always knew the second his poor girl had one too many drinks and wanted to run home to her man.

which is how you always ended up with you stuffed so full of Javíer’s thick cock after a night out.

Javíer practically sped through the semi-empty midnight streets, definitely not driving the speed limit.

soon enough he was outside the club venue, sending you a message that he was outside. Javíer couldn’t find close parking, so he parked the car farther down the empty street.

you were inside, hugging your friend's goodbye, grabbing your purse before they walked you to the front of the club door.

you opened the door and there he was, the man you had been longing for the whole night. he was standing there under the streetlight with a lit cigarette in his mouth.

he had his light blue button up hugging his chest and muscular arms as it was tucked into his jeans, his belt holding his pants perfectly.

you took him in as you step towards him as he puffed on his cigarette while his eyes traveled down your body.

Javíer took in the way your tits were accentuated through your small green top, your skirt stopped just at your upper thigh as your entire legs were on display, and your pumps gave you a taller stance than your natural one.

you still were not enough to compare to his tall and built frame.

Javí steps closer once you were just a foot away from him, your face meeting his broad chest “real dolled up, huh?” he mutters under his breath, lifting two fingers to grasp your chin; making you look up at him.

you felt your voice caught in your throat as you felt your heat begin to pool into your panties. the breeze from the cold night air, lifting the blimps of your skin.

“c’mon pequeña, i parked the car a little down” Javí instinctively wraps his arm around your lower waist, his hand ghosting over your ass.

you didn’t realize how he was sizing up your skirt with his hand, seeing how close he was to that pretty pussy over your little skirt.

you both made your way down the dark street; the night sky being illuminated by the full moon that was bleeding bright tonight as you both walked past dim streetlights.

you pass a couple empty parked cars; the streets empty with no one in view.

you walked down with Javíer having a tight grasp on your waist made your mind run wild in a pure lustful frenzy.

you see Javí’s truck come into view, recognizing the big black vehicle from a few feet away.

“so did you have fun, princesa?” he begins to ask you about your night as the arm that was wrapped around you loosens. he took your purse from your arm before proceeding to unlock the door.

“was’good babyy, i danced a good bit with my friends after i finished my two drinkss” you slightly slurred out as your vision regained its focus but feeling the buzz still tingle up your body.

he opened the passenger door for you as he set your purse down inside the car.

all you heard from Javí was an almost inaudible hum from his lips as you go to step into the passenger seat…. or at least you tried.

Javíer immediately made your body fumble over into the passenger seat, bending over with one knee on the seat and your other foot down onto the pedestal below his truck, holding your balance.

“Ja-Javí?” you were slightly taken aback by the way he grabbed you, but you weren’t complaining as him manhandling you completely had your panties glued to your slit by your own arousal.

“i bet all the men in there enjoyed the little show you gave them” his tone was husky and cold as you felt his back against yours as his thick cool buckle brushed against the back of your exposed thighs.

“I-no—I wasn’t” you began to whine out, your ass squirming a little and bumping up against his belt buckle more.

“hm neña? I couldn’t hear you.” you felt his cold hands flip your skirt up, fondling and gripping the flesh as more midnight breeze pushed against your skin.

you were facing forward, only seeing the complete inside of his car and empty driver seat.

but you could completely feel Javíer behind you.

you looked back at him causing your body to arch down a bit more, completely exposing your seeped through panties. you’ve never felt so exposed before.

here you were, bent over Javí’s truck with your ass completely exposed for public display as the car door wasn’t shut at all.

the only coverage being the open car-door from the side; creating a makeshift shield from one angle as the other had a perfect view for anyone to see the way Javíer was going to fuck you.

“tan’ mojada pequeña, porque?”

you felt his hands run up and down your clothed slit, pushing the wet fabric against your pussy causing a temporary bubbly friction as you felt the pressure of his two fingers.

you let out a pathetic whimper as you lean yourself more forward, trying your hardest to focus on your balance.

“fuckin’ answer me when I'm talking to you!”

he ordered, his tone was harsh and guttural causing a chill to run up your body which was immediately followed by a jump as Javíer’s hand landed a dour smack onto the exposed flesh of your ass.

“you! s’all because of you!” you yelp out as you wiggle your ass excitingly.

“oh so, my slut does know how to speak” he mocked out, his tone pitying you.

“m’sorry Javí—no volverá pasar!” your voice velveted out as you pleaded, your legs quivering with each blow of nature’s breeze.

“mí neña tan linda, always wanting to go out in such slutty outfits.” he cooed out, his hands finding the slim lining of your underwear right under your skirt.

you felt so small and filthy like this, your body subconsciously growing timid under the oozing pleasure he was igniting inside you and out of you, right here at the corner of an empty street, in a parked car.

he pulled down your panties, watching through the natural gloomed out lighting how your panties sticked to your pussy with your juices leaking down you.

“look at that pretty pussy” he coos lewdly, causing you to whine out as takes his middle and ring finger to circle around your soaked pussyhole.

“been needing you, Javí baby” you began to babble as he made you grow more antsy in bliss.

“only you! need you—please-oh fuck!” your babbles were interrupted by your own shriek as you felt a warm wet feeling take over the one cold and exposed feeling of your pussy.

Javíer began to fuck you with his tongue, wasting no time in attaching his lips to your dripping pussy; how could he? when it was crying for him.

you tried to keep your balance by gripping onto the headrest of the passenger seat as you felt his tongue run a long swipe along your juiced folds “oh fuck Javí!” you were too fucking horny to care about your loud moans possibly ringing through the silent street-night.

not for a single second did Javí pull away from your pussy, giving her all his attention.

Javíer sucked on your clit, rolling his tongue around it and your slits as the only words that fell from your lips was his name.

“oh my—Javí! oh my fuck!” you couldn’t help but croak out your moans at the immense pleasure you were feeling.

the way he had you was bringing you pure rapture at the taboo thought of someone possibly watching you two in the midnight.

you could feel your stomach erupt as your orgasm bubbled through the delicious open-mouthed licks coming from his beautiful tongue.

you felt the small hairs of his mustache friction against your clit causing your ass to push back into his face more while you cried out in ecstasy. you felt yourself grow closer to your climax.

Javíer kept up with the volume of your moans and pathetic whines.

his pace never halting as his hands went to grip your hips to keep your ass bent over and pussy exposed as he eats you out like he hasn’t fucking eaten in decades.

you felt your orgasm begin to build up, you were sure your nails were digging into the plush of the passenger seat material, creating crescents into the fabric.

your eyes rolled back as your mouth fell agape in vicious delight. you felt your orgasm flow through your body as he licked each trickling bead from your leaking pussy.

you felt satisfaction warp through your body as you look back at Javí.

you could barely see him as the moon shined right behind his head like a make-shift crown, for the only man; only man you allowed to ever take you like this, like a whore.

Javíer had been palming his painful hard-on through his now, unzipped jeans; only the crotch of his boxers for display through his unbuckled belt.

you began to wriggle your ass even more, slightly backing it to brush up against his clothed cock. you felt the cool metal buckle against your flesh again, colliding with the feeling of another indecent smack to your plushy ass.

you were still looking back at him as you let out euphoric sob through fucked out eyes.

“dime lo que quieres, mi amor”

Javíer husked out, licking his lips before massaging the tingling flesh of your ass. his voice returned to a low octave, still carrying a stern, but no longer harsh demeanor.

“i need you to fuck me Javí!”

that was all he needed to hear to have him slipping his boxers low enough to pull out his thick erection, standing flavorful and tall.

Javíer pumped himself softly before aligning himself with your glistening entrance.

Javí squeezed your hips softly, bringing you closer to him as he sinks his cock into your gushy pussy.

the second you feel his cock glide into with ease like always, your pussy always managing to snug him perfectly into you as the stretch convulsed your pussy.

“y’always feel like fuckin’ heaven, bebésita” Javíer hissed out as the feeling of your balmy and pulsing pussy, taking him like you were made for him only.

“feels—feels so good amor! s’big!” you mewled out, your voice being fervent.

Javíer became the only thing you felt, engulfing your pussy and whole-being.

you felt him begin to slide in’n’out of you at a feverishly slow pace, making you feel every inch that smoothly drowned into each crevess of your insides.

just the feeling of Javí’s big thick cock had your breath caught in your chest, completely mind-bending as his soft slides turn into piquant thrusts in no time.

“mphm—díos mìo!” you cried out lecherously, you felt Javíer’s hand make its way up your semi-clothed back till it was entangled in your hair.

he doesn’t hesitate to pull on it, pulling your body up along the way and arching the position you were in more. you were sure your nails cut into the fabric of Javíer’s little truck.

Javíer’s savoring slow pace turned into pummeling thrusts. you could feel each bounce of your ass bounce off his hips as his hand tugged on your hair, inflaming a riveting pain in you.

his pace electrified with each little sob of his name that left your mouth, you could barely even speak as you tried to swallow back the drool that threaten to drip down the corner of your fucked out mouth.

“who’s slut are you, hm?” once again, his jarring tone and vulgarity came out.

“¡solo para ti! siempre para ti!” you chant , repeating it once more at another smack he landed on the now, strawberry flesh off your ass.

“eso bebèsita, all those men can look but, they can’t touch—isn’t that, right?” his question grunts out as his cock rams into you at a relishing speed.

your head was being tugged back as your body recoiled with every vigorous thrust from his snapping hips. your neck began to ache as you struggle to keep looking at him as his hand gripped your hair; unknowing if he can even see you but oh, he definitely can.

your eyes were squeezed shut as your mouth was completely agape, feeling wicked with the cock-dumb haze he put you in.

your body shook as Javíer completely ravished you.

“Javí—yes! fuck ya—” your pussy clenched around him with your fucked out babble.

“amás como te pongo, eh? letting me fuck you right’ere where anyone can see—que suciá.”

“for you—only—fuck—you!” your moans got more strangled out with each worship that left your mouth, his cock completely taking over your membrane; filling your pussy and mind with each hankering momentum.

his cock continued to plunge into you mercilessly, the sound of your each other’s skin slamming against each other with the small deep creaks coming from the moving truck.

Javíer was taking you viciously and relentlessly, his hand let go of the tug he had on your hair before finding its way around your neck, squeezing ever-so slightly.

all he wishes was to be able to be there with you, every single time you go out, but his job took so much time away from his personal life; it infuriated him, especially today when he seen those little pictures you sent him.

it wasn’t that he didn’t trust you, he knew how much you loved him, but it was the people.

he wishes he could keep you like his gun, tucked away and only accessible to him.

you felt his cock pistol into you at a deeper angle, feeling his tip flutter against your cervix causing your tummy to swell in rapture. you weren’t even sure if you were still breathing at this point, only rigid cries and moans leaving your lips.

“please javí! please! s’much—too much!” you could feel your stomach bubble up immense pleasure and overstimulating pain as your walls flared and fluttered around his thick cock as your second orgasm begins to enthrall your body.

“now now, y’can handle the club—you can handle this dick, isn’t that right pequeña?” Javíer hissed and heaved out roughly as he feels his own climax approach him.

he still doesn't stop his hips from hauling into yours as he leans himself down, splaying his clothed chest against your back. you felt his free hand go up through your torso till he found his way to your titties, squeezing each one through your top.

you felt the way his callous big hands burned onto your chest and neck, now feeling hot on your sweating skin. your bodies rocked against each other as you both indulged in thrilling pleasure.

you felt the brim of your climax get closer to shooting through and out your body, pussy clenching once more around Javíer’s coated cock “ándale neña, dámelo” he coos breathlessly as his hips begin to stutter down into a flux pace.

the empty streets echoed with noises of your nefarious act.

you would be damned the minute anyone was to see two of you.

just the unholy thought of someone possibly watching the two of you. the way he had you like this; in a completely immorally beautiful position was enough to have your body skyrocket.

the intense wave that crashed through you as your cries croak out into silence, only now hearing Javíer’s deep groans and grunts in your ear as the grip he has on your throat tightens softly.

he began to reach his own climax as you felt him twitch inside your fluttering walls, milking him through his orgasm completely. your bodies completely melted into each other as you both became breathless together.

you felt the way his load creamed into you, coating your walls and filling you up with his creamy cum as he watches the mix of both your pulpy moisture drip out of your swollen hole.

you were seeing stars as your eyes were squeeze shut as the slight cut-off of oxygen had your mind-boggled and feeling febrile.

the second Javíer feels you turn into mush under him while in his embrace. he immediately pulls out, reality setting him out of his lust possessed-like trance.

he tucks himself away after hiking up your panties and pulling down your skirt. he reached over for his jacket that was in the driver's seat, sprawling it over your lap after he flipped you over; helping your sore and fucked-out self sit.

he immediately checked around to see if anyone had been watching before shutting your passenger door and making his way to sit in the driver’s seat.

he leaned over into you, placing a passionate kiss on your lips as his warm hand caresses your cheek before pulling away, still leaned in close to your lips.

“lo que pasára pequeña, if you wear these tiny mini skirts without around me”

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clubdionysus · 5 months

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[BAD DECISION #17] Jeon Jungkook

warnings: WELL WELL WELL. mentions of the red witch. post-gym kook. questionable conversations that shouldn't happen between friends, totally normal touching of genitals to prove points in aforementioned conversations, kitchen escapades, whiny koo <3 titty worship, spanking, titty sucking, fingering, a lil mutual masturbation, cockwarming (or at least an attempt!), unprotected sex, jk on top, the starluvrs are bad at maths!, multiple positions (prone bone my beloved <3), he finishes on her back, lovely stuff!! just friendly tho!

a/n: the header image is another lost relic, but this time i can't even remember the base photo </3

soundtrack: just a little bit - enhypen

wc: 11.2k

bd total wc: 540k (ongoing)

AO3 | MASTERLIST | MINORS DNI

The soft cotton duvet cover on Jeongguk's bed welcomes you back far more warmly than it really should do; like a 'hi, honey, welcome home' , or an 'I've missed you'.

It's fitting that the inanimate objects of his room carry such benevolence, when he himself is an open log fire on a winter's night. Warm, warm, warm is Jeon Jeongguk, and you've been cold, cold, cold for so long that the sudden heat is almost jarring.

That's how you justify the obscure feeling in the pit of your stomach when Jeongguk starts talking about blind dates, and how he always wanted to go on one when he was younger.

He reckons that the only reason that he hadn't was because he's 'a simple man of simple pleasures'.

The hoops he needed to jump through to get a blind date - quite simply just asking someone to set it up for him - had been too challenging. You've alleviated that stress for him.

"See," you smile, folding his bird back up and tossing it over to him. You're both on his bed, staring up at the flock of birds still soaring above you, just out of reach. "We're fulfilling a childhood dream. You are getting something out of this whole deal."

You don't look at him, but you know he rolls his eyes and smiles when he does so. "Never said I wasn't, Disco Ball."

He's met with silence as you glance over at him. It's not an unwelcome nickname, but it's one he doesn't use too often these days. Always calls you Byeol.

"What?" he asks and he turns to face you when you don't reply, but you say nothing.

The more you let it simmer, the worse it gets. He's not called you Disco Ball in so long. Part of you thinks he's reducing your friendship. Addressing you like he did when he didn't know you too well. Creating distance. Forming space on a featherdown quilt that draws you both in like quicksand. He'll have to try harder if a wider margin is what he's after.

It's stupid, 'cause you know the name comes from a place of affection, but it makes you feel insecure.

"We'll still be friends, right?" You ask a little quietly. Jeongguk's brows grow taut, a slight frown forming on his features. Doesn't understand where such a question has come from. "If you get a girlfriend, I mean? We can still be friends?"

Jeongguk's skin is hot. Prickly. An automatic response to discomfort - but then his lips soften into a kind smile. Despite the offence that could be taken from you asking such a question - thinking so little of him - he's not naive to the way in which you work. He understands. People you've loved have left when things got inconvenient for them. He's been through it, too.

And so the walls that want to come up in defence are kept at bay. He doesn't let them rise. Instead, he meets you at the shores.

"Yoongi invited you to dinner," he nudges your shoulder. "Tae is practically in love with you for all the help you've given him. Dionysus relies on you drinking the bar dry every other weekend to keep it afloat. We couldn't stop being friends even if we tried."

His answer should satisfy you, yet your mind is marred by the same thought repeating over and over: Hayun probably used to get invited to dinner, too.

You aren't naive. You know his friends are just as kind as he is. They'd have welcomed anyone Jeongguk deemed important into their social circle.

"What about Hayun?"

Jeongguk frowns. "What about her?"

"Well," you say slowly, looking back up towards the birds, not wanting to watch his reaction unfold on his features like a letter of commiseration.

Before you can even articulate a reply, Jeongguk stops you.

"Don't. It's not the same. Hayun... That situation was different. Things were different. Plus, she's still my friend. Our friend. All of us. She just lives in a different city, that's all. The only reason she isn't around is because of proximity. We're still friends. Just like you and me are still gonna be friends. We've no reason not to be."

The situation is different. You're well aware of this. You've known Jeongguk for all of five minutes; she was a much more permanent fixture in his life. They had a history that you wouldn't even be able to comprehend; private jokes, and stolen moments when they thought their friends wouldn't notice. Their friends. Not just Jeongguk's.

She'd been as much a part of the friendship group as Jeongguk had been; the only difference was that she'd moved away. If she hadn't, would there even be space for you in their lives? Would Seoyeon be desperate for there to be another girl around? Would Jeongguk have felt just as fondly towards you? Would he have noticed your disco ball eyes in the dark of Dionysus or would he have been too busy searching for her in a crowded room?

Or would the time spent on you be spent on her instead?

The thought is unpleasant. It weaves its way through your bloodstream like a needle with dark red string threaded through its loop. It scratches and stabs at your insides until it breaks through the flesh of your bottom lip. Sews your mouth shut. Stops you from talking; from screaming how unfair you think it is that you're being equated to someone who destroyed him.

You don't think she deserves to be thought fondly of, but if Jeongguk knew that, you'd be the one he thinks negatively of. He leapt to her defence without you even starting an attack.

"Friends don't hurt their friends," you say quietly.

Life doesn't work that way. People hurt the ones they care about all the time - or at least you use that reasoning to comfort yourself whenever Seokjin shows up just to let you down.

"She didn't mean to," he replies. "I'm the one who caught feelings. I'm the one who misread things. She stayed the same. My hurt? It's on me, Byeol."

There's a sincerity to his voice that absolves her of blame; makes her innocent in whatever transpired between the pair of them. You know that you only have Jeongguk's side of the story, and even that is sparse and limited due to his reluctance to talk about it in any great depth, but you feel like you don't need to hear her side. He got hurt. That's enough. Your mind is made up.

Hearing him defend her so freely unnerves you. The feeling crawls beneath your skin and gnaws at your flesh. Reduces you to skin and bone.

You're silent, because you know that anything you do say will come across as mean, or as if you dislike a girl you've never met. It'd only make Jeongguk defend her more and like you less. You don't want that - as if Jeongguk wouldn't rip Seokjin to shreds at any given opportunity.

Trouble is, you can't blame him. Jeongguk has seen the impact first-hand. Wiped away tears caused by the man himself.

Hayun is just an enigma; a name rarely said, but often felt.

"What's gotten into you?" Jeongguk smiles, trying to downplay the heaviness of the atmosphere that's engulfing you both. "You're forgetting how annoying I am. You'd probably be thankful if we stopped being friends."

Though he's just teasing, you're worried that he does think that of himself. You don't want to be soppy though, so instead, you use one of his most often said phrases against him.

"I think if we stopped being friends I would simply die."

It earns a laugh. He nudges your shoulder. Tells you that you really gotta stop stealing his catchphrases and the things he does.

"Oh fuck off," you laugh. "What else have I stolen?"

A whole host of things.

"The mirror thing," is all he says, noticing your confusion immediately. He reaches over and tenderly clasps your chin. Doesn't notice the tiny gasp that gets caught in your throat - or if he does, he doesn't mention it. Turns your head, so that you're looking at him, and says " 'watch'. "

You close your eyes and smile. Nod. "Ah. That. The mirror thing. "

"See," he smirks, not that you can see. Your eyes are still closed and they'll remain that way until you decide you're no longer embarrassed. "Told you that you copy me."

"I don't copy," you smirk right back, despite your firmly shut eyes. Jeongguk likes the glitter you're wearing today. It's golden-hued. "Just a fast learner."

"Oh yeah?" he says, a laugh catching in his throat. "Watcha learnt about me?"

You whisper now, a little smug. "That you really like mirrors."

"Yeah," he concedes far more quickly than you expected him to. He turns his focus back to the birds on his ceiling, though you think he's gotten a little closer to you. "Yeah, you're right about that - but you know why I like them?"

"Pray tell," you grin, vaguely aware of the fact the conversation feels far more flirty than it really should.

"You do this thing," Jeongguk says, as a hand rests by his crotch. He's not hard, but he is a little firmer than he should be.

It's just cause he's thinking about sex. Thinking about the sound of it. The sound of you . The sight of it. Of you . The scent of it. You . Not the taste, 'cause you've not given him the luxury of that yet. He doesn't really register the fact he's pressing down on himself. Gripping. Feeling .

"It's that first look," he continues, voice dulcet. "It's like you can't register what you're seeing. Your eyes go all wide, and you look at me as if you're too nervous to look anywhere else. Dunno. Lets me know how much you like what I do. Bit of a power trip, I guess. Always gets me."

"Gets you what?"

"Hard."

The declaration is so brash that you can't help but giggle. "You hard now?"

"Thinking about it isn't the same as seeing it," Jeongguk admits, turning his head towards you - but your eyes are still closed, a smile plastered all over your face. He finds himself smiling, too.

"But I mean..." He toys with your hand. Draws it to the top of his thighs. Gives you the chance to pull away. You don't. "Feel for yourself."

You whisper his name.

He whispers right back. "What?"

"You know what," you tell him, as if your palm isn't right where he left it, and as if your grip isn't as firm as his cock.

"What?" he teases again, feigning indifference - and then he fucking tenses. Moves his hips. Pushes up into your palm. "It's just anatomy, B. Nothing new."

Maybe not, but that nickname? That feels new. Feels like the opposite of him calling you disco ball earlier. Makes your breath hitch. Has him smirking as he looks at your lips. Bites down on his own. Knows this is trouble, but thinks he'd quite like to get in some.

See, you're the determined type. Once you set your mind to things, you do them. He's witnessed it first-hand multiple times. The second he mentioned the art cafe to Tae, he knew you'd make it happen. It's what you do.

And so he knows that you're setting him up that blind date whether he likes it or not. He knows you're gonna choose well for him. He knows, come this time next week, there'll probably be a moral complex that comes with the birds hanging above the pair of you.

But he's not ready for that. Not yet.

There's so much to do.

So many birds that haven't been set free.

A pleasant little hum vibrates in his throat as you palm the firmness beneath his sweats. His hips pulse. You daren't open your eyes - especially not as your thumb brushes against the waistband of his trousers. He hums again. Pushes his shoulders down into his mattress. Adjusts his body. Edges closer to you. Says nothing as your thumb sinks beneath the elastic of his sweats.

It doesn't go anywhere. You wait. His hips pulse.

"Swear you get off on torture," he purrs.

"You're the one who started this," you murmur, trying to feign indifference, knowing full well that if he mirrors your hand position, he'll feel just how easily he gets you all riled up. "You're a sadist."

He just smiles. Tells you he's no such thing.

And so you tell him to keep his eyes closed. Reach for his hand. Say, "Let's compare."

"Compare?" He husks, as if he doesn't know what you're doing.

"Mhmm," you hum, bringing his hand dangerously close to your pussy. "Compare. You're getting off on torture. Maybe I am, too."

"We shouldn't be doing this," Jeongguk says, and yet as you loosen your grip, he's the one who lets his hand trail up your thigh. He's the one who strokes at the fabric of your sweats. He's the one who cups your pussy with his hand.

The top you're wearing has risen up a little, a small sliver of your stomach exposed - and then his thumb is caressing against it.

His touch is warm, but the little gasp he does? The stutter of his breath? Oh, it's hot . So fucking hot.

"We're not doing anything," you say so sweetly that he'd believe it - or at least he would if it wasn't his own damn hand slipping into trousers. A breath hitches in your throat, and you can hear the ethereal way a laugh stutters in his throat.

"Just friendly, yeah?"

You nod. Whimper a pathetic confirmation - and then he's pressing against your underwear. Is slow as he rubs a single circular motion against you.

"The birds are judging us," he tells you.

"Nah," you shake your head. Take a shallow breath as he circles against you once more. "This is just revision."

"Revision?"

"Making sure we've learned from them. As long as - fuck ."

"You good there?" he teases, as if he didn't just up the speed for a moment.

You ignore his question and continue the point that was so rudely interrupted by his pacing. "As long as we only do things the birds have already told us to do, then I think it's okay."

The pair of you are silent save for your tepid breaths. Jeongguk's fingers caress against the lace of your underwear while you palm at his excruciatingly hard cock.

It's all rather juvenile, the way you're just touching each other up - and yet it's got your heartbeat racing. Perhaps it's because it's something so simple. Feels like there's so much more that could come of it. The great unknown: will you make Jeongguk cum? Or will you just blue ball him instead?

He really fucking hopes you'll choose the first option.

"Y'know," he says quietly. "I kinda need a shower."

It's not a lie. He freshened up at the gym, but didn't have a proper shower - didn't think he'd be taking such a long detour home.

"You wanna go shower?"

He nods. "Please."

It's laughable, really, the way neither of you says a word as he guides you to the bathroom. It's a regular occurrence at this point.

You glance across the open-plan living room as you make your way to the bathroom, and smile at the painting hanging up beside the television. Jeongguk follows your gaze and smirks.

"Think a future girlfriend would have an issue with that being up on the wall?"

"Maybe," you shrug. "You never have to tell her what is it, mind you. Never have to say it's... yanno."

"No I don't know, Byeol," he teases. Grips onto your shoulders to stop you from walking, and turns you to face it. Walks you both a little further into the sitting room area. Tilts his head, and you realise there's another bloody mirror in the corner of the room. You've never noticed it before. Wonder if he placed it there deliberately. "What is it?"

You narrow your eyes in the mirror. A smirk rests on his pretty lips and you can't help but bite down on yours when one of his hands creeps up your shirt. The bra you're wearing is lace; underwired but with unstructured cups. He squeezes. Fucking groans. "Shit."

"We shouldn't be doing this here," you tell him, well aware that Jimin could come home at any minute. Even going for a shower together is a risk.

Jeongguk shrugs. "Doesn't matter."

"What if Jimin-"

"If he comes home, he comes home," Jeongguk cuts you off as he continues playing with you beneath your shirt. He wants it off. Takes it off. Faces no opposition from you. Both of his hands cup at your chest, the black lace sin beneath his hands. Your heartbeat heaves in your chest, and it's only made worse when Jeongguk nudges his nose against your hair and whispers, "maybe I'll just show him how to make you cum."

You tell him he's mean. He squeezes harder. Makes you whimper. Tells you he can be mean if you really want him to be.

But you shake your head. "Play nicely."

It's not that you don't like things a little rough and tumble - it's just that if this is the last time, you know it needs to be intimate. How else will you be able to face your fears with other people if you never even let him?

One of his hands trails to the back of your bra, and gently unsnaps the clasp, before ridding you of the lace. As much as he liked it, he likes you bare better. Likes the way your pillowy breasts frame your nipples perfectly. Likes that the soft flesh spills through the gaps in his fingers. Likes how easy it is to get you whimpering as he rolls your nipples between his thumb and forefinger.

"Nice enough?" He husks.

"Nice," you nod, eyes closed, crown of your head tipping back to rest against the top of his chest. "God, Gguk. Think I'm obsessed with the way your hands feel."

The compliment makes his heart fucking race .

He watches in the mirror. Studies the way your lips part as he toys with you. Wants to kiss you so badly. Knows he can't. Fuck . Maybe he does get off on a little torture, but this is just inhumane to him. You can feel how hard he is as he presses into the small of your back. The curse and blessing of sweatpants.

You reach behind yourself to palm at his crotch, and are met with a nod of his head against yours.

"Fuck, B," he whines as you toy with the outline of his cock. "I gotta - fuck - I gotta do something with my mouth. Wanna kiss you too fuckin' bad."

He doesn't even mean to admit it, but now that he has, he feels a little shameless. If he can admit that, he can admit anything.

Maybe he'll tell you about the wet dream he had a few nights ago, and how he'd woken up to damp sheets and a ruined orgasm all because you'd made an unexpected appearance in his dream.

Maybe he'll tell you about the fact he hasn't watched porn in weeks. Just thinks of you, instead.

Maybe he'll tell you about the fleshlight hidden in the back of his bedside cabinet drawer, and how he can't use it anymore, 'cause it doesn't look like you do.

Doesn't look like you, doesn't feel like you, doesn't smell like you. Doesn't get him cumming like you do.

Actually, maybe he won't tell you about that last one - but he wants you to know.

Wants you to understand just how fucking sexy he thinks you are. Wants you to acknowledge that if he can get this wrecked over you, then there must be hundreds of other men out there just the same as him. You don't need to linger for so long on your ex.

There'll be another guy out there for you who doesn't make you feel like shit; who only ever wants to make you feel good. So good. So, so-

"Oh God, yeah," he whines as you finally slip your fingers beneath his waistband and into his trousers. His hips pulse, wanting more, more, more of you. "So fucking good."

"My lips," you husk as his fingers dig into your soft chest. The grip is tight. Needy. "They're off limits."

"Lips," he nods. Clenches his jaw as he tries to control his breathing. Swallows his nerves down. "And the rest of you?"

You open your eyes to find his already on you in the mirror. He's hungry. Wanting. Salivating. He looks fucking primal, as if he's fighting every instinct he has just to keep your boundaries respected. Makes you wanna break every single one of them down.

Turning your head ever so slightly, just so your nose can nudge against his, you realign your faces. His lips are pouty. Pink. Pretty. Perfectly out of reach. Yet when you nod, they brush against yours tenderly. You don't let it happen again. "Be specific."

God, his cock is too fucking hard to be playing games like this. He wants to curse you out. Wants to be fucking mean. Wants to tell you to stop being a little bitch and just let him have his way with you - but he promised he'd play nicely.

"Every inch of your skin," he says, 'cause he is actually a little too nervous to ask so politely for what he really wants.

Has been wanting it for weeks.

It's something new, to him. Something he's only ever asked for once, and it was in the heat of the moment. A moment quite a lot like this.

You smile. You know what he really wants. "That's not specific."

"But it's the truth."

Jeongguk always gets a little like this when he's riled up. A little needy. Whiney. You'd be a liar if you said you didn't enjoy it, but you know that sometimes he misspeaks. Says things he never would do if he wasn't desperately after a release.

You never think he's lying, but you do think what he wants in the heat of the moment isn't always what he wants with a clear mind. This is one of those moments.

You purr, a little satisfied with how easy it is to get him like this. Feels like you're in control - so Jeongguk rolls your nipples between his fingers again to get you moaning. Realigns a sense of power. It's endless with the pair of you; a back-and-forth of control. It works well. Too well.

But he's feeling brazen, now. Feeling bold. Isn't nervous to tell you what he wants anymore, because the way your body reacts to his touch lets him know that you'll like it.

"Your tits, Byeol," he says. Your eyes fall to his in the mirror. He's looking directly at you. Notices the way your chest begins to heave a little heavier. Smirks. "If this is my last chance to..." he pauses. Is almost ashamed of what he wants.

"Last chance to what?" You flirt.

You bitch. You're teasing him just because you can. It makes him throb. The motion of your hand stroking above his underwear is making his cock all fat and leaky. There's a damp patch on the front of his briefs. He's ready to fuck. Wants to fuck.

But before that? Before he can even consider sinking himself into you?

He (regretfully) pulls one of his hands away from you, bringing it to meet your hand in his trousers. He (even more regretfully) pulls you away. You pout. He smiles.

"C'mon," he says, pulling on the hand he's just removed, leading you into the kitchen area. Will clarify it for you later.

The boys have an island that acts as a divider between the two spaces, which is exactly where he's taking you. The clothes he took off you are left by the sofa, his mind focused on one thing and one thing only: leveraging you into a better position.

You yelp a little as he dips to pick you up, gripping the back of his neck without hesitation.

"Don't be a pussy," he grins, popping you down on the island counter. "Although now I come to think of it -" he lifts you again, getting to your feet. The way his mind darts from thought to thought, and how his body acts upon them without warning, makes you laugh. He sinks his finger into the waistband of your sweats. Pings it again your skin. "Off."

"Say please," you demand, just to be a little difficult.

"Please."

"Please what?"

"Please," he says, eyes dark as he towers over you, his hands coming to cup your chest once more. The man's obsessed, you think. If he could read your mind, he'd tell you that you're correct. He is. "Take your trousers off."

"Why?"

God, he hates that shit-eating grin of yours. Hates that he can't kiss it away.

And so he decides he's not gonna entertain it any longer. He grabs your hips. Spins you around. Bends you over the island, a single hand gripping the top of your thigh, the other pressing down between your shoulder blades.

"What's the word, Byeol?" He asks, checking that you're on the same page.

"Chess," you reply a little breathlessly. This lack of control is something you're used to with him. He's never overtly dominant, always looking out for your needs first and foremost, but this feels... yeah this feels different. This is about him.

And it makes you far more excited than you ever realised it would.

His hand trails down your back. Strokes at the line of your spine. He admires you. Takes note of the dimples just above your ass. Knows he's in trouble the second he starts squeezing at one of your cheeks. Still an ass guy.

He yanks the material of your sweats down past your ass. Fucking groans when he sees the black lace thong that sits prettily over your ass. Glances over to the bra by his sofa. Groans yet again. Yep . A matching fucking set.

"Fuckin' vixen," he mumbles to himself, not really intending for you to hear it. Isn't sure if you had planned on getting laid today, but you're definitely dressed for it. As he grapples with the flesh of your ass, he notices just how smooth your skin is. Well moisturised. Coconutty.

Maybe you had taken extra care in the shower that morning. Maybe you had shaved your entire body. Maybe you had been wearing a new two-piece.

That doesn't mean you were planning on letting him see. Just means your self-care routine is coming along fabulously. Well done you.

There's a bruise on the top of your hip. Jeongguk's thumb brushes against it. Doesn't apply any pressure. A small noise chirps from his throat, questioning it.

"Pole," you remind him a little breathlessly. "Gentle with my legs, they're covered in bruises."

He nods to himself, and says, "Use 'chess' okay? Hey, look at me a sec - 'chess'. Okay? Even if it's just your legs. Don't wanna hurt you."

You're looking at him over your shoulder with a smile. His sincerity is sweet, but entirely misplaced. You want him to hurt you.

"Notice how there are no bruises on my ass?" you ask, to which he nods. You face away from him again, and sink back into the position he originally had you in, chest pressed to the counter. "Good. Change that."

He thinks he might cream his pants right there and then.

"You're gonna fuckin' kill me."

"Oh no," you pout, voice all soft and sweet. "Wouldn't that be a shame?"

Jeongguk grapples with your ass. Caresses it. Knows you're not done talking, so is buying time. Wants to hear how you'll tease him. See how riled up it''ll get him.

"If you die, I'll just have to fuck Jimin again."

The crack of his palm against your ass is electric.

Your body jolts forward, Jeongguk's grip on your hip to keep you stable no match for the impact of his flat palm. Skin on fire, chest heaving, you giggle. That's all he's got?

"Y'know," you tease, and Jeongguk is pleased that you sound a little breathless. He strokes at the skin he impacted, soothing the sting. Likes that goosebumps are already forming. "He took me from behind, a lot like thi-"

He doesn't even let you finish this time before the sting of his spank is delivered. It's harder than the first one, but his hand is also far quicker to soothe this time around.

"Yeah," he husks. "I fuckin' know."

You can hear his breathing, now. You're both panting a little.

"Does it bother you?" you ask as he tenderly cares for your reddening skin.

"Be specific," he speaks boldly, a little unlike himself, and you're starting to understand why he's an ass guy. Your tits make him weak. This? The way he's got control of your body? Makes him strong.

"That I fucked Ji-"

The way he cuts you off with another domineering slap to your ass gives you his answer - but so does the way he not only soothes the skin immediately afterwards, but also how his other hand comes to rub the bottom of your spine, following the path of its curve. He's cherishing. Worshipping.

He leans forward as his hand trails up your spine so he can reach your neck, and tenderly clasps it to he pull you back up. Turns you around. Is gentle as he lifts you back into position on the counter.

Brushes your hair out of your face. Looks you directly in the eye. Uses this thumb to collect a rogue chunk of glitter from your cheek. Rubs it on his arm. Stains himself in you.

"It doesn't bother me," he says - not for any male sense of bravado, or acting 'chill' - but because he needs you to know it isn't a big deal. You've enough complexes as it is. He doesn't want you to ever feel shame for the things you've done. "Bothers me that he doesn't realise how lucky he was to get a pussy as good as yours. Bothers me he didn't finish the job. Bothers me that he actually got to fuck you," he grins. You grin right back. "But it doesn't bother me that it happened."

"Mm, so you won't share towels with him, but you'll share girls?" You tease. His hands toy with your chest again. Secretly, you think you like him better like this. Like it when he's weak.

"Am I sharing you?"

It's a loaded question, you think.

"Not right now," you whisper, reaching to his waistband, nose nudging against his. "Take these off."

"Say please," he whispers right back. One of your hands tangles in his hair. Pulls him away. Gets him looking into your eyes.

"Please."

How can he refuse? It's like you put him in a trance whenever he sees your disco-ball eyes. He'll do whatever you ask of him.

He takes his trousers off first, then says "shirt?"

You nod. He takes that off, too. Leaves them crumpled in a pile on the floor. Doesn't care for them at the moment. Only cares for you.

"I still need a shower," he says, as he closes the gap between you, your legs wrapping around his waist.

"We can still get one," you tell him. Honestly, you don't really mind what you do with him. Just know that you wanna make it last. Want this feeling of safety and security for a little while longer.

His arms rest on your shoulders. Just a little taller than you in height when you're sitting like this, Jeongguk likes looking at you from this angle. Likes seeing the variations in your glitter; the small chunks and slightly bigger flakes that make you seem cosmic. He likes noticing the flecks caught on your lashes, and how he never realised quite how long they are. He doesn't think you're wearing mascara.

You're not - but you did get your lashes done the week before. He wouldn't give a shit even if he knew. Would think it was cool, probably.

"So about that whole no-kissing thing-"

"Nope," you laugh, swatting at his clammy chest. He smirks. Presses his lips together. Shakes his head.

And then he whines. "It's so unfair."

"If you even try, I'm yelling chess."

"Really?"

"Oh, yeah," you assure him - only for him to edge a little closer.

He's not actually going to kiss you.

Although... if you let him, he might.

"Chess!"

"Ughhhh," he whines again, pulling away. "So mean, disco ball."

"What if I promise to make you cum?"

He narrows his eyes. "Fine."

One of his hands drops to your chest again. Keeps on coming back. Can't resist. Ass guy? Yeah right.

The other drops to your underwear. Toys with the lace.

"Bird revision, right?" Jeongguk asks. "So we can only do things we've already done?

You nod.

"Okay," he whispers, before pulling away from you. "Hold that thought."

You watch as he walks around to the kitchen sink, his thick cock tenting in his underwear, desperate for something. Anything .

And yet your birds?

All focus on you. You've no idea how the fuck you're gonna get him cumming. Sure, there was the mutual masturbation one, but you'd promised that you'd be the one making him come. Maybe there's room for loopholes.

It wouldn't be the first time the pair of you have skirted the truth of what a bird could entail. A bird, a plane. Whatever.

Hands under the water, Jeongguk's focus is only on cleaning himself. He preens you so often, fixes your hair, your glitter, that it's nice seeing him in the same capacity but for himself. Realistically, it's all for you, still.

He glances up. Looks a little bashful.

The distance reduces the pair of you to your natural states; just Jeongguk and his Stargirl. He gazes at you often, but it's different when he's blinded by the light. With a little space, he's reminded of the fact you belong on this earth, too.

It's like the pair of you are tangled up in a Jekyll and Hyde situation, instead, it's who you are when your clothes are on, versus when your clothes are off. He likes both of them. Doesn't think they can coexist though.

"What?" he asks when you smile at him. You just shrug and shake your head.

"Weird isn't it?"

He comes to stand in front of you again. Your legs don't wrap around him, but he does put his palms on the top of your thighs. Looks pensive as he asks, "What is?"

He's grinning, too, though. His skin is getting all prickly again. Can smell your arousal. Wants to fucking drink it.

"You 'n' me," you shrug, letting your arms snake around his neck. You're sat up straight, and the gap between your chests closes. "Like, I was maybe 15 seconds away from kissing you." The admission makes Jeongguk want to die. "But then when you were washing your hands..."

"I was just Jeongguk again, right?" He assumes. You nod. "Same for me. Like we're two different people: who we are when we're horny and who we are when we're 'normal'."

"So fucking weird," you laugh, deciding that it solidifies what a great friendship you have. Convince yourself it's gonna make it so much easier when he starts dating. If you can separate the Jeongguk you mess about with and the Jeongguk you're friends with, then there's no reason the friendship should be lost.

"Too weird to pick back up where we left off?" He says quietly. Nudges his nose against yours. Strokes his hands up your back. Pulls his chest away so he can sneak his hands to your tits once more. Squeezes. Makes you moan.

You shake your head. "Do it again."

He does.

Is firm, as he does so, his large hands cupping your chest so delicately that you almost want him to be rougher - but you like it when he's gentle. Like how well he takes care of you. His thumbs stroke across your hardened nipples, toying at them, getting you all hot and bothered.

You moan so subtly that Jeongguk thinks it might be his favourite sound in the whole entire world.

"You wanted specifics earlier," Jeongguk says under his breath. "I can give you a specific."

You nod. Trail along his bottom lip with your thumb. Let him press his lips down against it.

"Show me," you tell him. He squeezes at your chest. You know exactly what he wants. You also know he's never done it before. "My tits, huh? You wanna suck on them?"

He swallows harshly. Rests his forehead against yours. Nods. Can feel his cock throb.

"Big boy words," you whisper, and are met with a slight grunt from Jeongguk. He's used to being the one in your position. Used to setting the pace, setting the tone. You switching it back around on him? Fuck. He might just die. Or cum in his pants. One of the two. Death would be preferable. "Tell me what you want."

He rests his head on your shoulder. Looks at your tits as he plays with them.

"Not much of a teller. More of a doer."

He's just trying to weasel his way out of it. It's like the birds all over again.

"So do it."

And to your surprise, he does.

His lips are firm as he presses a kiss around your nipple. Once, twice. A third time. Poutier and poutier with each kiss. He's delicate. Sincere. Doesn't wanna get it wrong.

"Feels good," you tell him, knowing he needs the reassurance.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah," you smile. Tease at his hair as his lips wrap around you again. The way his lashes splay on his cheeks is art, you decide. "You've no idea how much I like this."

His lips kiss and kiss. It takes a little encouragement - "use your tongue a little. Yeah. Yeah, like that. It feels so good when you do that. Suck a little- oh fuck. Yes." - but it doesn't take long for him to gain confidence. Be a little bolder. He focuses on your reactions. Notices when your breath hitches everytime he runs his tongue around your nipple. When he kitten licks, too. But when he sucks? That's when the jackpot hits.

Your body leans into his touch, hand resting on the back of his head. His name escapes your lips half a dozen times. When he switches to your other nipple? Half a dozen more.

His lips are direct and purposeful and they tug your nipple into his mouth, his moans vibrating around you. Pulling away, Jeongguk wastes no time. Has your other nipple in his mouth almost immediately. Squeezes your tits together, nipples almost touching so he can swipe fast licks across them. Gets you mewling. Whining. Begging for more.

And how can he refuse?

His hand dips to your pussy. Toys with you over the lace, which is sodden with your arousal. He slides your underwear to the side, and says nothing, just continues sucking on your tits as he sinks a finger into you.

"Shit," you curse. The angle you're sitting at means he can't get too deep. Means he's hitting you in just the right spot, straight off the bat. He mumbles something, but you can't work it out. Just know there's no possible way he's an ass guy. Hasn't spent more than a second away from your tits since he first started peppering them in kisses. "Just like that."

Your head lulls back, and Jeongguk finally pulls away. "You good?"

He's met with the most satisfied laugh he thinks he's ever heard. "Is water wet?"

"Dunno," he grins. "But you are. Fuckin' soaked. God," he stares down at your pussy, stuffed with two of his fingers. "I fuckin' love this cunt."

You smirk. Roll your hips as well as you can in the position. He watches, transfixed by the way he's stretching you out even with just two fingers.

"My bed," he rasps. "Can we? I know I need to shower, but - fuck - I just gotta have you in my bed, B."

Truthfully, you're glad. There's something about post-gym Jeongguk that just really gets to you. You think it's the pheromones. Don't care to google it because you enjoy the mystery.

You nod. "Probably for the best. You have to eat off of here."

He smirks. Withdraws from you. Says, "So?"

And then he licks his fucking fingers clean. Eyes on yours. One of his brows tweaks. Challenges you.

"You underestimate how much I like eating pussy," he says, as he walks away, leaving you in a state of shock.

You think his departure is for dramatic effect. In reality, it's just so you don't see the Cheshire cat grin on his face, pleased with himself for what he just did. He knows it was hot - but he's smiling because he can't get over the way you taste. Fucking delicious.

That thing about torturing himself? Yeah. You might be right.

Eating pussy isn't on the birds. He knows he can't have it - and yet when you arrive at his door, mouth still ajar, both smug and surprised in the same expression, he thinks it might not be unfathomable.

"What?" he feigns innocence - but he's got a grin that tells the tale of a valiant hero. He's so pleased with himself that you almost slip back into your 'normal' selves again - but then you crawl onto his bed. All fours. Ass a little red from his hands earlier, but no bruises. Just that barely there thong he thinks belongs in a museum, and evidence of just how turned on you are showing between your thighs.

The smile of his? Replaced with a stare so hard it rivals his cock.

"What?" you feign innocence now, as you flop down onto his bed - and then he gets the luxury of seeing your tits and - fuck. It's all too much.

He walks over to the bed. Takes off his underwear. You do the same.

"I'm gonna die," he tells you with absolute certainty. He's so ridiculous that you can't help but smile all fondly at him. The way he jokes and banters with you comes so easily, that part of you doesn't even realise he's naked. Part of you does, though. Mainly your eyes, given the fact they seem to be transfixed on his cock. "If we don't do something about this-" he gestures down to his cock, as if you need any direction "- then I absolutely will just die. Is that what you want? Huh?"

"Mhmm," you hum, finishing it with a small giggle and a nod, reaching for his hand to pull him onto his bed. He lets you. Follows your lead, cause he hopes it's leading him somewhere good. "I want you dying a very little death."

The innuendo dances off your tongue and into his ear as you sit on his lap. His hands automatically find your chest. He decides he'll miss them. Encourages your body down. Positions you just right so that he can take your tits in his mouth again. He's a changed man.

"Don't think there'll be any little about it," he mumbles as he switches sides, kitten licking now so that he can finish his sentence. "Think it's gonna be a very big death, actually."

"Shit," you whisper as he gets reacquainted with your body. He decides all rather quickly that tits are a gift from God and he's been blind for his entire life up until he met you. How had he not been utterly obsessed before? He'll never admit it. Never. Will prevail as an ass guy - but fuck, he hopes whoever you set him up with has a good pair of tits.

But then there's an uncomfortable awareness of how fleeting this all is. By the time you've both finished, it'll all be over.

He manoeuvres you both over. Kisses your chest, now. Works his way up to your collarbone. Your neck. Bites down ever so gently. Kisses again. Tells you once more how your no-kissing rule 'will kill' him.

"Better leave me something nice in your will," you tease as he finally pulls away from dappling your skin in pretty kisses that you wished could have been on your lips instead. Either pair.

He sits back on his heels. Strokes his cock as he looks at you. Tilts his head, a smirk rising on one side as you cup your tits.

"Pussy," he encourages, pulling a little tighter on his cock. "Play with your pussy."

You give him a quizzical look, but do as you're told. Slide your fingers between your slick folds. Spread yourself for him. Watch as he almost fucking hisses. The pace he's wanking himself off increases. His breathing shallows. You think it stops completely when you sink two fingers into your entrance.

He curses. Tilts his head back. Ruts his hips upwards. Forces his cock through the tight grip of his hand. There's a sheen to his tip, precum leaking so delicately that you find yourself salivating at the sight of it. The muscles in his lower abdomen tense. He's edging himself.

"How many birds do we have left?" Jeongguk rasps, eyes opening to find yours again. The way he speaks, all breathless and needy, has you wanting more. "Mutal masturbation's done. I can't... Shit. I can't. I'll cum if I carry on. Tits are done. Fingers, done. What else?"

"Shower," you say, then follow it up with. "Do that last. Water gets in the way. Wanna watch you cum."

"Shit, don't say shit like that," he mewls as he sinks down on top of you. His body is warm, the chain around his neck catching on your throat, pooling between your collarbones. Has you determined to make him finish on your chest. Wanna replace his chain with his cum.

In a normal scenario, he'd kiss you right now - but he can't. Instead, he averts his desire. Grips his cock. Presses it against your folds. Spreads your slickness. Covers himself in it. Dips down a little too far. Curses. Gets you whining.

"You know," he husks against your neck. "We could..."

"Cockwarm?" You simper. "Don't believe that one was my bird?"

The crown of his cock presses against you. Jeongguk holds it as the base, and runs it down your folds, then back again. He repeats. Lets his grip get even tighter when he lines up with your entrance. He waits for you to move your hips.

And you do. Just for a moment. Just a tad. Just enough.

"Wasn't it?" He hums, knowing perfectly well it was one of his.

"Don't even think it was a bird," you whisper a little breathlessly as he presses a little deeper against you. He adjusts his hips. Lines himself up a little better. Your breath hitches.

"So you don't want to?" He asks, and you can just tell he's got one of those smiles on his lips. The one that makes you think maybe kissing him wouldn't be so bad. "'Cause I wanna."

"Gguk," you whisper. He shakes his head.

"Not an answer."

"Shit," you whimper, rolling your hips ever so gently to encourage his tepid ruts against you. "Condom?"

"Birth control?" he chances. He knows you're on it. Think if he's gonna get his cock in you, then he's gonna at least try for it raw.

You know you should, and yet - "Are you clean?"

He nods. Asks the same back. You nod. Haven't hooked up with anyone but him since your last test.

Everything is out in the open. There's nothing to lose - just the knowledge that you'll maybe never get this ever again. It only serves to make you want him raw even more.

"You get a minute."

He pauses. "A minute?"

"Sixty seconds," you nod. "Cockwarming. That's all you get."

It's ridiculous, 'cause all you want is for Jeongguk to fuck you senseless. Think it's embarrassing admitting that, though. What if he doesn't actually want to fuck you? What if it's just for the birds?

"Who's counting?" He husks. Realigns himself. Presses the tip of his cock against your entrance. Plugs it but doesn't push forward. Makes you wanna die. Too good. Too fuckin' good.

"You are," you whimper, knowing you won't be able to keep count when he's inside you.

He nods. Reminds you that 'chess' is always an option.

His cock sinks into you slowly. It's thick and wide, angled just right to hit your sweetest spots. Jeongguk groans. Finds himself seeking out your tits with his mouth as he bottoms out. Sucks gently, until he's reminded by you that he needs to be keeping count.

He grins. Nibbles your nipple ever so gently, then nods. "You're right, you're right. Sorry. Shit. One. Two..."

Jeongguk finds solace in the crook of your neck as your legs wrap around him. The position has him thinking you've no right to ever complain about intimacy again. This is about as fucking intimate as it gets. And when your arms wrap around his neck? Dainty fingers start toying with his hair? Only amplifies it.

Your hips move ever so tenderly, and he loses count. Finds himself swearing again. You're tight and warm around him, just how he wanted it. Torture. Fucking torture. He likes this so much he fears you ruined actual sex for him.

"Shit," he mumbles against you. "Never been good at maths."

The way you giggle? Torture. Again.

"You're a liar, Jeon Jeongguk," you whisper tenderly, tensing around him just cause you liked the way it made him whine.

He pouts and shakes his head, which is still buried in the crook of your neck. His voice is muffled as he asks, "What comes after 32?"

And because you're just as into it as he is, you decide lying is okay for the time being. "11."

"Yeah," he whines. "Thought so. Eleven... Twelve... What's next?"

"Dunno," you whimper breathlessly. It's getting a bit too much for you, too. "Maybe ten?"

"Ten," he echoes. Decides he wants to spend eternity inside you. "Eleven..."

He pauses just long enough for you to know exactly where he's going with this - so you beat him to it.

"Maybe it would be easier if you had a rhythm going?" you simper.

"A rhythm?" He hums. He was just gonna pretend he couldn't do maths again.

"Like..." you pull your hips back a little, burying yourself deeper into the mattress and away from him - but then you push them back up. Jeongguk fucking whines. "One."

You pull back, again. Jeongguk whines, again. Sinks himself back into you. "Shit. Two."

"I'm not good at multitasking," he says. Not a lie, admittedly. Gets distracted too easily. If you don't keep count, he'll just fuck you forever or something stupid like that. Doesn't think he'd mind it, to be honest. "Maybe you should keep count."

"Mhmm? You want me to count for you?"

"Yeah," he nods. "Count for me, B. Make sure I don't go over sixty."

"I'll count backwards," you tell him, thinking it will somehow take longer, because apparently all sense of sanity is evading you. Unsurprising. All you can think about is Jeongguk's fat cock and how it's keeping you spread open nice and wide for him. "Countdown."

"60-0?" He clarifies, to which you nod. "Mhm. Do that. Count backwards. Use that pretty little head of yours."

"Sixty..."

The way he pulls out of you is maddeningly slow. He's deliberating taking his time. Overindulging. Making this last. He's even slower as he pushes back in, filling you up as deep as he possibly can.

You're barely able to get the next number out.

"Fifty-nine," you eventually manage as he bottoms out. "Fuck."

He's lethargic in the way he moves. Slow as he withdraws, and even slower still as he fucks himself into you.

"Fifty-eight..."

Jeongguk's skin is hot. He sticks to you like glue. Only his hips move - but so do yours.

You're fucking.

You. Are. Fucking.

And, God, you know you shouldn't. You know that it's a recipe for disaster, but Jeongguk's aftershave smells like safety and his bed feels like home, so the prospect isn't scary.

"...Forty-two... Forty-one..."

Your whines are getting louder. So are his grunts. You grip onto his biceps, and begin to realise Jeon Jeongguk is not a man. He simply cannot be. Not when he is built like a Greek God, and looks like one too. Crafted from marble, there's no possibility he's real.

And even if he is real, you think there's no way he'd actually be fucking himself into you like he is.

Sex, at its very basic fundamental value, is all about survival of the fittest. Anatomy. Breeding. Shit like that; things you can't quite recall when he's balls deep inside you. It's about fucking for the survival of the human race, and out of everyone on the planet, you can't wrap your head around the fact he'd choose to do that with you. His basic anatomy would choose you .

Jeongguk isn't thinking as intensely as you are.

Fucking. Nice feeling. Cum. Nice. Inside her. Nice. Fucking. Real nice. Glitter. Nice. Tits. Suck. Nice. More. Fuck. Nice. Again? Nice.

But he is also thinking about spilling himself into you, and how fucking unreal it would feel.

So maybe your brains are working in tandem. Different process. Same end goal. He just can believe he'd choose you, 'cause, well... he already has.

Eventually, you hit thirty-three, then thirty-two, and then -

"Shit," you whine. "That damn thirty-two."

"What about it?" He asks a little curiously. Pauses his hips until he gets the go-ahead from you again.

"I've forgotten what comes after it."

"Shit," he grins, playing along with you. "Start again?"

"Maybe," you nod. "But this time, maybe go faster? Might jog my memory?"

Jeongguk smirks. Sits up on his heels, cock still buried inside you, knees on either side of your ass. He grips your waist. Spanks one of your tits, then softly caresses it as an apology for letting the intrusive thought win. His hips pulse gently.

He's fucking you.

Jeongguk is fucking you.

He lets the hand that was playing with your chest trail down your torso until it reaches your pussy. It's swollen and needy, just as much blood rushing to your clit as there is to his cock. His thumb presses down right when it needs to. Rubs in tiny circles as he gently thrusts into you slowly.

"Faster?"

You nod.

"Okay," he rasps. "Let's jog that memory of yours. You're so smart, Byeol. Look at you, and your pretty little head. So smart. So fucking smart when my cock's inside you."

This time you don't count. He grips your waist. Rams himself into you like a man possessed, lips resting ajar as his brows knit together all prettily like they did when he was eating brunch. So incredibly focused, and yet there's not a single thought up in that gorgeous head of his, just that he's fucking you so hard his neighbour will definitely be able to hear his bedframe hitting the wall. Good .

The noises he makes are lewd. You think he'd make bank with an only fans. Know that you'd pay good money for it. With a cock as pretty as his? A body like a marble statue? Gorgeous little whimpers when his cock is all needy for you? Yeah, bitches would go wild for him.

Funny, how you refer to them as bitches, almost like you're jealous over imaginary women who'd find him sexy. Very strange, indeed.

After all? You're just friends.

His pace eventually eases, and you pretend like you were counting the entire time. "Two... One... Times up."

Jeongguk sinks back down, hooking one of your legs over his elbow as he does so, opening you up even further. He wants to be deeper. As deep as he possibly can be. Wants to press down on your cute little tummy and feel himself inside you.

"Whoever fucks you next better worship your pussy," he mumbles, pressing kisses up your neck. "So fucking good. Shit. If you dare fuck another guy who doesn't make you cum like you know you deserve to cum-"

"You'll what?" you tease, a smile plastered all over your face. "Die?"

He laughs. Shakes his head. You know him so well. "What use would that be? Nah..."

Jeongguk pulls away from you again. Withdraws himself fully for the first time. Watches your pussy as your arousal seeps from your tight cunt and onto his sheets. Wants to lick it all up. Doesn't think he's allowed to, though.

Instead, he moves your legs, finally noticing the extra bruises from pole. You were right. They do look like watercolour bruises.

He squeezes your thighs together and uses his gentle hands to twist your hips, so that your legs are curled to the side, but keeps your back flat against his bed. He lines himself up with you again. Grunts as he sinks into you. You're tighter now, like this. He thinks it's gonna make him cum. He has to go slow.

"I'd get you like this," he says, holding onto your hip and pushing deeper, deeper into you. He nods over to his desk and smirks. "And that chair over there? That's where they'd be. And they'd have to watch me fuck you how you like it."

He doesn't mean to, but he finds himself fixated on the fact you routinely have sex and don't finish. He can't wrap his head around it. He'd had the luxury of witnessing you cum a handful of times. Had felt it once. Knows first-hand how fucking good it is. Thinks about it as he fucks into you, now, then lets the intrusive thoughts win again as he begins to ramble.

"Can't believe how many people you've let get away without making you cum. You know how good that shit is? Fuck. You feel like heaven. They wouldn't even deserve to watch it - but I'd do it. I'd make them fuckin' watch - 'cause not being funny, B, but you should see yourself right now. So fucking hot I might die. Hopefully then if they fucked you again, they'd know what to do."

"Never realised you were such a good teacher, Mr Jeon," you tease.

He stills his cock inside you. Smirks. Shakes his head. Picks up the pace again.

You know what ' Jeon ' does to him. The ' Mr ' ahead of it? Yeah. Gets him.

And so gives you a friendly threat, as he fucks his cock a little deeper into your tight, warm cunt. "I will fuck you so hard my bed breaks if you don't shut the fuck up."

"Oh?" You grin, trying not to moan and failing miserably. "Would you prefer Sir ?"

"Final warning," he growls, his hips slowing but deepening. He's close. You know it's not gonna take much.

"Whatcha gonna do? Give me a detention?"

"If you get to call me stupid fuckin' names, then I get to kiss you."

"Kissing isn't very friendly, is it?"

"Byeol, my cock is inside you."

"Yeah? Just a friendly fuck."

He knows you're joking, but Jeongguk doesn't think there's anything friendly about this.

He doesn't insist on kissing you any further.

"You're unbelievable," he smiles, easing slightly before reaching for your hand. "C'mon, let's make you cum."

"Oh? You want this to be over?" You flash a grin, as if you haven't been fucking him for God knows how long by this point, knowing full well he could have cum in 10 seconds flat at any given opportunity. He repeatedly edged himself for you.

"No, but if I don't cum soon, Byeol, I'll d-"

"Die, yeah yeah," you grin. "Alright. Put yourself out of your misery."

He laughs. Looks at you with such fondness that you think you'd quite like to orgasm on his cock for him like a good friend should. "You make me sound like such an asshole."

"I don't," you promise sweetly - before you also decide to let the intrusive thoughts win. "Also, just on the subject of assholes, thoughts on pegging?"

"Literally what the fuck is wrong with you," he laughs, rolling his hips to remind you of the more pressing things at hand. You moan a little, but all you wanna do is banter with him. You enjoy it. Like it when he's all hard and needy and impatient, and you're winding him up. You like frustrating him.

"You've got a nice ass," you shrug, shoulders pressed deep down into his white sheets. You look angelic, he thinks, hair haloing around your head, chest flushed, tits covered in teeny tiny hickies from his mouth.

"Well, maybe if you'd have picked a different plane..." he teases. "You'd know by now."

Holy shit.

"Wait. You wanna get peg-"

Jeongguk covers your mouth with his hand, a subtle grin on his pretty little face, dewy nose scrunching just for you.

"As much as I enjoy your chitchat, Byeol, I'm gonna fuck you so hard you can't talk at all. That good?"

You laugh. Twist your torso over to reposition yourself on your front. He gives you a playful spank straight off the bat, and it makes you roll your eyes - as if you hadn't turned over just to give him a view of your ass. You'd known what you were getting yourself in for.

Adjusting you slightly, Jeongguk pulls one of his spare pillows over, and lifts your hips to scoot it beneath you. It's his favourite position. Every last part of it. The way he can pull on hair and spank asses? The muffled moans into his pillows? Fuck .

You love it just as much. Always helps to have your body weight adding to the pressure of your fingers massaging against your cunt. As Jeongguk pushes into you, he watches your hand slip beneath your body, and curses.

"That's it, B," he husks. "That's a good girl."

He fucks himself into you - slow, deep, hard - and picks up the pace with every pathetic moan that escapes your lips. Tells you how good you sound, how much he wants to hear you come undone - and then you are.

The pleasure waves through you like an electrical current, Jeongguk's thick cock unrelenting as he fucks into you and drags your high even further than you thought possible. There's a numbness to your body, save for the overwhelming pleasure that pulses around his cock. It's all you can feel. Everything else is void. For a moment, the only important thing in your life is Jeongguk's dick and the way it fills you like nothing else ever has.

"Shit," he husks. "B, where?"

"Back," you just say, unable to move because your body is still fucking shaking. You don't even get the chance to mourn the loss of his cock inside of you, because he has to pull out so quickly.

His hand grips his cock and wanks faster than the speed of light. The pressure in his balls builds and builds and then it can build no more.

He squeezes your ass and whines as thick, creamy spurts of cum begin to paint your back.

The sound of his grunting makes you moan with every new rope of cum emptied onto your skin, and Jeongguk's pretty sure nothing in Taehyung's 'passion' collection could even come close to the sight in front of him.

The final drops are wasted on your ass cheek as Jeongguk holds it to the peachy flesh, watching the way he stains your skin. Holding his cock by its base, he spanks it against your ass once, twice. Smirks. Takes a moment to squeeze your ass just because he can.

He fucked you. He knows he should be concerned about the friendship, but he's not reached post-nut clarity yet.

Eventually, he flops down beside you.

"You know," you mumble, eyes closed, a smile on your lips. Jeongguk's grin is so serene that it's a good job your eyes aren't open. You might accidentally get your feelings confused if you saw him look that pretty. "I actually think it's a bit mean setting these poor girls up with you."

"What? Why?"

He sounds genuinely affronted. You just smile harder.

"Well, it's a bit cruel, isn't it? Us pretending like they'll be dating some great guy, only for them to later find out you're really average in bed."

He knows you're joking. Knows that a fuck like that could never be described as average. Plays up to your teasing just because he finds it funny.

" Average ?!" He exclaims. You can hear his smile in his tone of voice. "Nah, you're chatting shit just to piss me off, Byeol. What is it, huh? Want me to fuck you again? Want me to remind you exactly how average I can be?"

"Maybe."

He grunts. "Call me when you can walk straight."

"Pass me my phone."

"Fuck off."

The afternoon descends into casual chaos. You shower together, and bicker over who gets to stand beneath the water for longer, then battle it out for Jeongguk's fluffy towel in the aftermath. In the end, he lets you have it - only 'cause he likes the way you oogle at him when he's naked.

You dry your hair, and style Jeongguk's into pretty little French braids. Tell him that he has to keep it like that. He says he will. By the time Jimin gets home, you're just sitting on the sofa watching shite TV. He's none the wiser you were naked on his kitchen counter a few hours earlier. Probably is best he never finds out about that part.

He studies Jeongguk's hair for a moment, then shrugs. "Suits you. What have you guys been up to?"

Good fucking question.

"Not much," Jeongguk hums. "Gym this morning. Met this one -" he pokes you with his foot, earning a grimace from you. "- Afterwards for coffee. Been stuck to me like a bad smell ever since."

Jimin laughs. Shakes he his head as he comes to sit by you both with a box of dry cereal that he's eating straight from the bag.

"You've got the most sensitive nose known to man," Jimin teases. "If you've kept her around, it's cause she smells good."

"Nah," he begs to differ. "Just gone nose blind."

"Prick," you laugh, then ask Jimin about his day.

Conversation takes place of the shitty TV show, the three of you easily finding a million different topics to talk about.

It's times like this you regret ever fucking Jimin. Part of you fears you'll always just be 'the girl Jimin fucked that one time'. No identity within Jeongguk's friendship group beyond the fact you shagged his mate.

It's stupid. They barely remember Jimin even so much as looked in your direction. You're Jeongguk's friend. Jeongguk's.

Funny how you don't seem to mind being reduced to no identity outside of the confines of Jeongguk. Did you really heal after Seokjin? Or are you just making even worse decisions than you used to?

Thing is, Jeongguk's friends would be right in thinking that of you.

You are his friend.

As you head off into town the next morning to arrange his blind date, you know that's all you'll ever be.

And somehow, you think you're okay with that.

AO3 | MASTERLIST | MINORS DNI

#jungkook smut #jungkook fanfic #jungkook fluff #jungkook x reader

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radioapple-heathen · 2 months

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My Top 10 📻🍎 'Oneshots' Fic Recs

(A continuation of my previous post. You can find info about my fic preferences and my top 10 'Series' fic recs here. And my multi-chap recs here.)

1.) Mine to Avenge by fourshadesofgreen

Rated E. POV: Lucifer. Genre: Canonverse. Notable Warnings: None.

Notes: Murder Husbands. What more can I say? This is peak radioapple. Flirting through murder?? UGH. Delicious. Obsessed. Think about this oneshot 24/7. There is nothing else.

2.) With A Coffee and a Caress by @winterveritas

Rated E. POV: Lucifer. Genre: Post-Canon. Notable Warnings: None.

Notes: This was SOOO FREAKING CUTE??? AND SEXY??? SIMULTANEOUSLY??? Also this oneshot got me to jump all aboard the trans!Alastor train. Can't say anything I haven't said already about Winter, but go read, 10/10 quality and believable wonderful progression of their relationship!!

3.) No hiding place down here by @tollingreminiscentbells

Rated E. POV: Alastor. Genre: Post-Canon. Notable Warnings: None.

Notes: I will inhale anything this author writes in re: to radioapple and this is no exception. Fantastic dialogue and characterization, as usual. Lucifer-heals-Alastor oneshot that could honestly be canon with how well the author writes these two.

4.) afternoon delight by deliciously_devient

Rated E. POV: Lucifer. Genre: Canon Divergence. Notable Warnings: Uh, idk, menstration fic.

Notes: This author is going to make a full deviant out of me yet. Intersex!Lucifer hits that time of the month and, of course, Alastor is there to assist like the super helpful friend he is XD

5.) Truth Laid Bare by pervertanarchy

Rated E. POV: Lucifer. Genre: Post Canon (I think). Notable Warnings: Explicit +. Mind the tags LOL.

Notes: ANGEL TRUTH SERUM AU???? I didn't realize how much I needed this in my life, but bless you, author. Lucifer is a Mess (TM) and a good time was had by all, including Alastor's shadow.

6.) bite the hand by @tarmairons

Rated M. POV: Lucifer. Genre: Post-Canon. Notable Warnings: None.

Notes: I absolutely ADORE the characterizations in this oneshot. The dialogue between them is ON POINT. So witty, so in character, just perfection. And then when it becomes PLAYFUL??? The best!

7.) God Forsaken by Kisama

Rated E. POV: Alastor. Genre: Human!Alastor AU. Notable Warnings: None.

Notes: Ah, hello, Alastor meeting Lucifer as a human, my absolute weakness, nice to see you again. A fantastic addition to my library of this trope --- and bottom!Alastor, my other beloved.

8.) helter skelter by nymphaceae

Rated E. POV: Alastor. Genre: Post-Canon. Notable Warnings: None.

Notes: Catch me on my trans!Alastor train still, because this was chef's kiss as well. Very fun, very sexy oneshot, would read 19 more installments of this.

9.) will you weapon your skin (feed the monster within) by FrostbiteFable

Rated E. POV: Alastor. Genre: Post-canon. Notable Warnings: Explicit + LOL.

Notes: WHY DID IT TAKE ME SO LONG TO FIND THIS FIC??? THIS 25K ONESHOT SEX POLLEN RADIOAPPLE MASTERPIECE?? Seriously, strap in, y'all, because this is a ride, omg. I don't even know how to summarize it, JUST READ IT. It's so, so, so good.

10.) Lavender and Smoke by pervertanarchy

Rated T. POV: Lucifer. Genre: Post Canon. Notable Warnings: None.

Notes: AHA! A T-rated oneshot rec, I am not a complete heathen. Jokes aside, this was SO SWEET??? I love domestic radioapple so much. It really scratches an itch in my brain. And the author has such beautiful crisp prose, it makes for such an easy and enjoyable read.

#radioapple #appleradio #alastor x lucifer #lucifer x alastor #radioapple fic recs

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alespov · 1 year

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-✰ dating Leon hc’s -✰ .-L. Kennedy

-✰ Tw : nsfw. Pet names. Praise kink. 18++

-✰Paring : Leon Kennedy x fem muse

-✰ a/n : my loves, I’m terribly sorry that I haven’t been active, life happens. Hopefully I can mange a writing schedule again <\3 anyway hope you enjoys loves and feedback is appreciated! (Not proofread)

-✰ Leon loves to cuddle, after a long all he needs is to be in your embrace. Loves when you hum him to sleep, or run your fingers through his hair.

-✰ needs to have a fan on when he sleeps, so he can sleep peacefully and not disturb his beloved.

-✰ pet names. Never uses your legal first name. ( ex: babe, bunny, my sweet girl.)

-✰ loves to take his time and fuck you throughly, loves to feel you squirm beneath him or claw his back.

-✰ in the mindset, (“ why do you need toys when you have me.” Or the cheesy pick up line “ oh my love that dress would look so much better on my floor.”)

-✰ lowkey has a daddy kink, or an authority kink. Definitely has a breeding kink. Definitely a praise kink as well.

-✰ loves to go to the pool with you, he loves the water. The beach, sign him up. Hates winter. Likes fall, but loves pumpkin ice coffee, it’s his guilty pleasure.

-✰ covers you in lovebites, busy at the office? (“It will just take a sec.”)

-✰ loves to use your expensive skin care products.

-✰ will learn any hobby that you are interested in.

#┊ ˚➶ ｡˚ allyse talks ┊ ˚➶ ｡˚#leon kennedy #resident evil #leon Kennedy x reader #leon Kennedy x you #leon kennedy x y/n #leon kennedy x fem!reader #id!leon kennedy #leon x you #leon smut #leon s kennedy #leon s kennedy x reader #death island Leon #leon s kennedy x you #leon kennedy smut #re4make #re6 leon #leon s kennedy x y/n #leon kennedy x reader smut

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enby-jellyfish · 5 months

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All Coiled Up

Male!Naga X GN!Reader (POC friendly)

Pronouns: You/your

Summary: Cuddling with a naga.

Warnings: Tooth rotting fluff, me attempting to be poetic, (probably?) inaccurate homesteading and snake biology, reader gets licked/smelled and (gently) bitten

Word Count: 775

A/N: Based on this poll <3

It is a hot spring evening. The first of the year, you note as you trudge up to your cozy little home on the hill. It is the kind of home you dreamed of when you were a little kid. The perfect size and shape, with plenty of windows, filled to the brim with all of your trinkets and a shit ton of plants.

Right beside your home is the farm you spent the whole day working. It has everything you need to be self-sufficient, a big vegetable garden, chickens, sheep, cattle and a beehive.

It has been a busy day, a calf got stuck in a fence and you had to plant plenty of new seasonal crops and do weed control.

Naturally, you are exhausted. You feel your body ache as you rub your neck to try and release some tension. You remind yourself your hard work will be worth it.

Finally you enter your home and lean against the door, closing it and taking a deep breath, your eyes shut. You stay like that for a moment before you hear something, or rather someone, and open your eyes to be greeted with the sight of your beloved naga.

His face is relaxed, eyes closed. His body is coiled up near one of the many windows, bathing in the sunlight of the setting sun. It is something he has been doing since the first warm sunbeams of the year.

You smile to yourself and just drink in the view. He looks so beautiful. The sunbeams kissing his face like they are long lost lovers, now reunited. The beautiful orange and yellow of his scales highlighted by the golden light. It is truly a combination meant to be, serpent and sun. Seeing him so comfortable is truly a sight for sore eyes, capable of warming even the coldest of hearts.

Your naga has a hard time adjusting to the switching of the seasons. A battle between his simultaneously cold- and warmblooded body you suppose.

It has been a few years now since you first found him that one winter night. You had heard a noise coming from your farm and found him half starved in the chicken pen, looking for food and shelter from the snow. You took him in, fed him and helped make him a mock burrow in the shed.

After his brumation period he offered to keep the predators away from your farm in return for your kindness. He never left you after that. You slowly found yourself growing to like him. This later turned to love, which was reciprocated with open arms and a warm smile that made his eyes twinkle like stars.

You remind yourself that you have been staring unashamedly for quite a bit now and walk into the room. Disturbed by the noise of your footsteps on the wooden floors he lifts his head and blinks lazily at you, first with his brille and then with his eyelids.

"Finally, I was getting worried you'd keep working until the sun had long set. Come" He extends an arm to you.

"Let me clean up first, I smell."

"I don't mind..." He raises his eyebrows flirtatiously and stares at you through his eyelashes. He changes his position to face you, chin on crossed arms on his coils.

You sigh, knowing you can't resist that gorgeous face.

His face lights up as you walk over. He opens his arms and loosens his coils just enough for you to get in.

"Just for a minute." You say, knowing it won't be for just a minute.

"Of course, my love." He purrs smugly, also knowing it won't be for just a minute.

You lay on his coils, your back against his chest. As you get comfortable he wraps himself around you. The whole experience feels tight but not suffocating, his scales are smooth and have a cooling effect on your skin. It feels safe and comforting, like being wrapped up in a giant weighted blanket.

You close your eyes, slowly relaxing into his embrace as he gently rubs your arms. You feel yourself being soothed to sleep by the soft lullaby of his breathing.

Your journey to dreamland is suddenly interrupted by the feeling of a forked tongue darting out to taste your shoulder.

You smile at the ticklish feeling. "Pervert." You mutter, not opening your eyes.

He chuckles lowly. "Nothing perverted about enjoying your mate's scent. Especially when mine smells as good as you do." He playfully bites at your shoulder.

You scoff and let out a laugh at his animalistic antics. He laughs with you, slightly tightening his grip on you.

Masterlist

Thank you for reading <3

#naga x reader #lamia x reader #exophilia x reader #monster x reader #exophilia #monster lover #monster romance #x reader #reader insert #my writing

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k3m1y4 · 7 months

Text

“nothing in the world belongs to me.”

fyodor x gn!reader

summary: just a calm night with ease, nothing else belongs to you but for your love for yourself, and him, he was you. before you could die, let him be the heat that warms the cold. nothing in the world belongs to him, nothing. belongs to you.

author’s note: fluff and angst?, not proofread, no warnings. here’s a little fic before i go to sleep early because i need to fix my messed up sleep schedule <3 love u pookies, have a great morning/night/day.

. . . ecard: my love all mine . . . by mitski.

The breeze was indeed cold.

Your weakened body walked through the thickened snow. Your feet barely even moving by a single step, your tracks tainted the snow deep into the ground. Waiting for it to melt and disappear in a fragrance of a snowflake landing gracefully on the chill land. You hum quietly as you continued to forward yourself into finding your beloved, you hold him so dear. The dark shade of the leaves painted by the snow falling from the sky, what a keen eye could see from the mesmerizing scenery. The moon kept it’s guidance into leading you through the snowed forest. Light coloring your skin to a brighter tone as you pause in your pace. You flutter your eyes closed as you sigh, puffs of air blowing throughout the wind, carrying the last and first time of your breath.

You hum an unfamiliar tone; you were clueless must to know of what you sing. You’ll never hear the heavenly melody of the birds chant and echo during the spring. When the flowers will now bloom, welcoming it’s beauty it hides within the cold to keep a surprise of amusement. You knew you’d meet him here, back to where you met. The last will be the better of the first. Clasping on the trunk of the tall tree tightly as you lean against the wood. Breathing heavily as the warmth of your presence was no longer protecting you from the cold, it gave in to give up. You watch the snow continue to fly as the wind pushes it away from your gaze. You chuckle silently to yourself, wherein deaf ears could hear.

“Fedya…”

You impatiently fix your composure as you wait for the man awaiting you for your final remorse. “Fedya…” You say out again, you felt numb and weak. Though, there was no chains pulling you back to the darkness you merely seek at the chances life was already tearing you to shreds, unperfected and flawed. Just like any other fool lighting the world with its’ unmarked glow. You sigh in faux disappointment as you fold your arms, your vision started to blur in a trance as you blink twice to keep up with your fatigue. “Fyodor!” You weakly yell as you step on the chill as it sent a chill down to your spine. You hug yourself tightly as you shake your head, waving the pain away from you.

You knelt down, your clothed knees meeting the veins of the unsettling, cold atmosphere. The wind brushing your hair as it flew the flakes away from your flesh. You start to shape the piece of snow into a large rounded ball. Placing it forcefully on the ground, you make another, another. Repeatedly. The size decreasingly shrunken to your desired measurement. You stand up, inspecting the area surrounding you in barriers. You look down at your coat as you avert your eyes to a leaf slopingly resting on the coldness. You carefully put it on the rounded ball at the very top of the structure as you giggle in joy. Whether then it be your last snowman, you had the bit of joy from the heat of a candle so small and easily melted.

“Myshka.” Fyodor spoke deeply. You were back to him. You trace along the snowman’s head forming a curved smile on it’s face. Fyodor chuckles at your pointless yet adorable antics you’d always do during the winter season. Not like he was complaining. You gently decorated the snowman as you softly placed your headwear on your masterpiece as Fyodor watches you silently observing your actions as he sighs. “Моя любовь, ты можешь простудиться.” He reminds you at you just smile at him tilting your head as he rolls his eyes at you. “Stop being so stubborn for once, my love.” He walked towards you and poked your nose with his slender finger. “But Fedya! I’m going to die anytime soon. Let me have some fun…” You whine at him, but who was he to reject.

“Alright, alright, myshka. Just be careful, okay?” He runs his surprisingly warm hands against your silk hair. “Hmm? Fedya, your hands are unusually warm!” You exclaim at him as you test out how heated he was by hugging him tightly. Oh he was warm! He stumbled back slightly; his back gently hitting the wooden tree. You bury your face in his chest as he couldn’t help but just groan at your stupid acts. “Моя любовь...” He sighed, preventing his urge to just scold you he instead pulled you towards him. As you hug him, desperate and pleading for his affection.

He embraces you back in a form of acceptance as you “sleep” within his warmth. His eyes look down at you and gently caress your lifeless face, tilting your chin up, your eyes fluttered already closed. He smiles slightly as he lets your head lay on his shoulder as he leans his head back to relax in the slightest moments of these. You taught him how to love, when he couldn’t. You taught him to do the simplest forms of affection he could not show. You taught him how to love you. You gave him the lesson, nothing belongs to him, not you, not his treasure, nothing but only his, only love. Stroking your hair as his chest breathes, yours didn’t. Your heart slowed down quickly, he couldn’t feel your voice nor your life anymore carrying with him. And here he was. You were his teacher, and he was the student. Despite your intellect lower than his, you somehow managed to teach him things a normal human could simply display to those who they love. Love was weird to him, he hated the idea of affection, adoration, and admiration. He knew how to define its’ meaning, but never how.

He was grateful of you, when you unexpectedly barged into his life like the upcoming of his mistakes on the bumpy road all the way. He will die too, he will be with you. He is a bad person, you weren’t. You were the first to tie the string, you tied the strings. And you were the first one to cut it apart. You may disappear, but. You filled a hole in his heart; ripped many times. And you tainted him with your goodness.

“Sleep well, my love. I love you.”

He never received a letter written, I love you too.

—

GAAA. Not too angsty for me but idk idk. Tried to experiment here and it kinda failed. I’m sleep so i’m wayyyy tooooo lazy to read it. Kinda lazy for the plot. Thanks for reading tho 🫶🏻🫶🏻🫶🏻

#bsd x reader #bungou stray dogs x reader #bsd x you #bsd fyodor #bsd fluff #fyodor x reader #fyodor x you

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randoimago · 10 months

Text

Preparing a Bath Together

Fandom: Baldur's Gate 3

Character(s): Dame Aylin, Isobel

Type of Request: Winter Event Thingy

Note(s): These two deserve all the happiness

You could hear the giggling and soft murmurs in the other room as the loves of your life spoke to each other while you stayed in the bathroom to prepare a bath.

It's been a while since any of you had the leisure or time to relax and what better way than in a bath? Then again, with how Aylin gets, you're a tad worried about how much water will be spilled and needing cleaned up. But you push that thought aside.

"I have some extra flowers if you'd like to add lilac to the bath, love." A smile crosses your face as you glance up and see that Isobel had entered the room with a small basket of various flowers.

"I thought I said I'd prepare the bath tonight," you scold her teasingly. "And how did you escape Aylin's arms? She's not one to quit holding her beloveds so easily."

"I was promised that I could hold both of my beloveds sooner if we all helped prepare the bath." Aylin's voice comes from behind Isobel before she joins in from the doorway, one of her arms wrapping around Isobel's front to hold her close while her other hand reaches over to gently lay itself on the top of your head. You know that she'd love to pull you into her arms too, but doesn't want to cause you to get wet from the water you're heating up to place in the tub.

"I did promise that," Isobel confirms Aylin's words before smiling gently at you. "So what do you need, my love?"

"Well, if one of you wouldn't mind using some magic to heat the water up faster then that'd be great," you suggest and you see Aylin go to take a step forward but Isobel moves instead.

"It'd be safer if I did it, dear." Aylin pouts at Isobel's words but sighs in agreement before she sits beside you and you feel one of her arms wrap around your waist.

"And how may I help, love?" She murmurs gently as she leans in to place a soft kiss on your neck.

"You can stop distracting me, for one thing," you tease her and feel her nip your skin in response before moving away with a huff. "Would you like to light some candles and incense?" You ask to give her something to do.

"I can do that, my dear. Although no herb or flower smells as lovely as my loves," she says and you roll your eyes playfully at her cheesy words. She thankfully missed it as she goes to find some things to light.

"She's either going to get frustrated and grab every candle she finds or be pouty about none of them being perfect enough for us," Isobel whispers to you and you and you can't help a chuckle at the truth in her statement before she kisses your cheek lovingly and returning to her task.

"You're the one that made the promise of being held so let's do our part for our insatiable angel." Isobel smiles and nods in response. You could hear Aylin in the other room, loudly searching for candles. Even though you haven't gotten into the bath yet, you could already feel yourself relaxing with the way these two make you feel.

#baldurs gate 3 x reader #baldurs gate x reader #bg3 x reader #dame aylin x reader #isobel x reader #isobel thorm x reader #bg3 aylin x reader #bg3 isobel x reader #randoimago npc event thingy

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angelgoeslewd · 7 months

Text

Resonance.

🔮 summary: it’s hard to remember. (solomon x reader x simeon)

⚠️ warnings: longing.

🌟 this work is being REWRITTEN! check back for the completion check ✅ and a new story with extra content!

Mornings with Solomon almost always felt straight out of a storybook.

The chilled autumn air, looming thicken and heavy with a melancholic tone, greeted you as you stretched your arms, teasingly leaving a trail of goosebumps as your warmed skin left the sanctuary of your bed. Cocytus Hall froze in the Devildom winters, its thick walls and dark tones doing little to keep the cold air comfortable enough. Thankfully you weren’t alone. You never were, these days. You had him to warm you up.

The thought was nearly was enough to tempt you back into his sheets, to snuggle back into his sweet scent, but… something was missing. As you blinked sleep from your eyes, glancing around the Sorcerer’s room, you realized the man in question was already gone. Confused, you sat up, looking around for your bedmate. He was just as avoidant of the cold weather as you were; while he did occasionally let you sleep in during summer, it was very unlike him to do so in the winter.

You shielded your eyes from the glare of sunlight that shone directly on you, trying to make out objects in the room from the dust floating in the air. “Sol…?” you called, pursing your lips as no response formed. That’s when the smell hit you.

Sweeten spice. Warm, honey-rich, and bready. Oh, Devils in Hell, was he trying to cook again!?

The thin camisole you wore did little to protect from the cold air, though it greatly increase the amount of skin you got to press against your beloved Master in bed; you cursed the decision now, pulling the comforter off the bed and rushing down the hall to the kitchen.

“Sol, I swear, that better be coffee I smell-”

Your words stopped short as your eyes made contact with the one man you expected to find up to no good. Fingers interlaced, under his chin, Solomon sat at the small table in the kitchen, a cup of warm, amber tea in front of him, the steam billowing up and blooming into white whips as it hit the air.

“Good morning, my dear.” His eyes raked over your body, lighting up with excitement as he reached your translucent dress, barely covered by the blanket you clutched, but relaxed your grip at his wandering eyes. It’s nothing he hasn’t already seen before…

“Ah… good morning, little lamb.”

In horror, your eyes shot over to the other man in your kitchen, the one you weren’t expecting, the one Solomon should’ve warned you about-

Simeon. Who stood at the stove with a apron on, a spatula in one hand; who met your own gaze with widened eyes of his own. His eyes flickered downwards every so often, but tried to maintain eye contact with you. By the way his cheeks darkened, you can tell he was failing.

“Solomon!” You squeaked, turning to him with a look of betrayal, your cold hands twitching — wanting to gather the heavy fabric as close to you as you could but you couldn’t. There was very little you could do here without directly making Simeon uncomfortable, and that’s not what you wanted. It wasn’t like you hated his attention on you, but what you, him, and Solomon had was from a different time, one that didn’t presently exist. Even so, you knew Simeon well enough, that if you tried to cover yourself, he’d blame himself for looking, for putting you in a position that you felt you had to do that. (When really, he should probably be blaming the man who most likely orchestrated this.) And the past affection you held for your former lover, even if he wasn’t the same one, still held you back.

The man who, currently, sipped his tea and shrugged with such blasé, that anyone who wasn’t in a 3 year long relationship with him would be able to tell that he was the mastermind behind this little plot that you could see right through. “Dove,” Solomon calls, setting down his cup with a slight clink!, motioning for you to come to him. “You haven’t met Simeon yet, have you?” You wanted to hit him. You wanted to absolutely smack him with all the force you could embarrassingly muster. He knows that the three of you-! “Come on now, he’s one of the newest exchange students. From the Celestial realm. I invited him over for… breakfast.” You didn’t miss his hesitation in that word. You didn’t miss how his lips twitched upwards as he tried to smiled reassuringly, twisting the action into a perverse grin, even if for only a second.

Your feet make a decision before your mind does, carrying you over to him with soft pit-pats before you can even register the movement. (This is how it’s always been, this is how you remember it — but this isn’t your Simeon. He isn’t your other part, currently.) Solomon grasps your waist and pulls you onto his lap as you approach, letting only him see your very unamused face as you finally give him an answer, “Yes. How very kind of you, Solomon. Very unfortunate that I didn’t know about it sooner.”

Ah… full name. He was in trouble then. You could practically see the drops of sweat forming on his forehead as he sheepishly answered — “Oh? Did I forget to mention that was today? I’m so sorry, Dove,” — though the act worked in seeming like he actually forgot. And that forsaken nickname-! That was-

“He calls you Dove?”

The both of you startled at the reminder of the other man in the room, forgetting who exactly you were locked in a silent, mind-reading argument about. But his soft, quiet voice was almost as loud as your own heartbeat, drawing out the longing you knew you both felt for him.

Simeon looked just as surprised, however, when both of your heads turned towards him, and his cheeks flushed before he quickly turned back to the stove, worrying over his pancakes to hide his embarrassment at the injection. “I, uhm, sorry. I didn’t mean to intrude, haha!”

“No, Simeon, it’s, it’s ok- ah!” You nearly tip over Solomon’s cup in your rush to stand, his hands meeting your own to steady the porcelain, before you continue getting up, with his help to heap the comforter over your arms like a shawl. “It’s just a, an old nickname he uses for me. It’s very dear to me.”

Simeon nods, still keeping his face down, towards the stove as you approach from behind. You feel like you’re cornering a scared bird, yet again, and try to keep your distance by stopping at the island.

“It’s… It’s cute…”

How you wished you could tell him that it’s his, it’s always been his, it belongs to him, just like you and Solomon, and both your hearts —

But when you looked back at your sorcerer, the same one who had his eyes locked on the back of the angel currently making you both pancakes…

When yours finally locked with his… and he sadly shook his head…

You both knew this longing would have to wait to be resolved, once more.

#obey me #obey me nightbringer #omnb #🍩 of obey me #solomon x you #solomon x reader #simeon x reader #simeon x you #solomon x you x simeon #solomon x reader x simeon #obey me x reader #obey me solomon #obey me simeon #solomeon #angelic songs

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ruinedbylanadelrey · 1 year

Note

Just imagine Reader taking care of Din’s injuries after he was in a big fight and got lots of cuts and bruises on his chest and back. Of course it starts to turn intimate and Din wants some, but Reader reminds him he’s hurt. It would be steamy, sweet, and funny all at once.

Like You Do | Din Djarin x f!Reader

"You're the one I can't lose, no one loves me like you do" - Joji, Like You Do

summary: Din comes back to the crest hurt and her heart just breaks at the sight of her strong Mandalorian crumbling to his knees. warnings: 18+, MINORS DNI, descriptions of blood, cuts, and needles, his name is din not djarin (i'm sorry he is 4ever din<3), razor crest lives forever, mando'a use, no grogu, reader is so in love with, din is a simp, mando's helmet comes off (i'm sorry), sexual tension, touching, groping, kissing, din begging to be fucked AN: I have had this request in my drafts forever because i kept re writing it so here is the final product. I want to clarify that Din Djarin is my #1 man, i know it's shocking because I write about Joel mostly. But Din is my soulmate and I'm a little embarrassed to share my thoughts about Din. Like my room color scheme is grey, silver, and black I re did my room back when The Mandalorian came out. That's my little secret<3 anyways enjoy my little fantasy<3333 masterlist

translations: cyar’ika- darling, beloved, sweetheart Udesii- "take it easy" Ni kar'tayl gar darasuum- "I love you/I know you forver"

Din could feel the sliced skin stretch with each step he took, all he could smell is blood, blaster smoke, and sweat. His breathing was uneven and his body trembling when he made it to the crest, falling to his knees as he heard your sweet honey voice calling out to him.

"Din! Maker! I don't know where you're bleeding from!" You slide to your knees taking the large Mandalorian into your arms, laying him against your chest, your hands working quickly removing his armor except for his helmet. His flight suit was torn on his left side at the waist, his flesh gashed, red bleeding into the meat of his skin. He needs bacta but the hard stuff.

Din said he will only use it if you were the one hurt; your mind replayed that whole argument when you guys finally gave in and fell through the thin wire of tension cutting it when he thrust himself into your hot core.

You asked him, 'Why can't we use it on you if it ever comes down to it?'

'I will do whatever it takes to keep you alive...you're the one I can't lose.'

You scoffed at him and just spat 'So I can lose you and feel the exact same pain you would feel for me'

'You're so much stronger than me in every single way, cyar’ika' Din chokes up and it broke your heart seeing be so emotional. He was a cold-hearted person until you came along as another recuse he collected. You brought your sunshine and melted away the winter in his heart.

The movie in your head clears when you grabbed the needle of bacta and pinched his skin near the gash and pushed the medicine into his muscles. Din's screams were so visceral and his hands grip your thighs, bruising them to a deep purple. "Udesii! Udesii!" You cry out as you throw the empty syringe across the hull.

His body jolts while the bacta runs through his body, you composed yourself and grab the medpack pulling out the field cauterizer. You laid him on his right side while you fused his skin back together. Burning flesh filled the air making your bile come up your throat burning it and leaving a sour taste in your mouth, your hands slick from sweating and his blood.

Din going limp and taking shallows breaths submitting to you saving him. You wiped your hands on your pants and laying him on his back, you sobbed as you cupped the cheek of his helmet with your hands.

"Ni kar'tayl gar darasuum" Din strangles to say holding your wrist in his hand, pressing your hand closer to the beskar. You collapsed on top of him, your body jerking from the hiccups and sobs leaving your mouth. Din wraps his arms around holding you like a child holding his favorite toy close so it won't leave his sight.

"You're so dramatic, little girl" Din takes a deep breath and laughs it out. You craned your neck to him without his helmet. You quickly turned away, you panic and guilt slamming into your heart. "I want you to see me, cyar’ika" Din grabs your chin and tilts your head where your eyes are burning into his brown eyes.

You swallow as your eyes dance around his face, taking his eyes, the scruff on his face, patchy in a few spots, his mustache bringing attention to his plump lips, so pink and kissable.

"You were crafted by the maker, din" You trace his nose with your fingertip, taking in how his skin feels on yours. "Kiss me, little girl, please" He whimpers while you thumb over his bottom lip. The need in his voice made you ache between your thighs. You carefully straddle his waist and bring your lips to his, Din sits up groaning while he licked in your mouth, his hands exploring up and down your back, his hands grabbing your ass and squeezing so hard.

You gasp and moan "Din...you're h-" he cuts you off and bites your lip. He grabs your hand and places it on top of the outline of his hard cock. "C'mon baby, let's fuck," his words entice you as you tighten your grip around his clothed length, and he winces and whimpers and you remembered you're the stronger one and need to stop this so he could rest.

"Din, no you need to rest," he kisses your neck and bites at the thin skin. "Little girl, let's have fun..." That damn name made you want to say screw it. "Let's sleep, I'm tired and you have to be too," You helped Din to the steel slab that he calls a bed and lays down holding out his arms for you to be his human-weighted blanket.

"We will talk about the bacta when we wake up" Din mumbles as sleep takes over him and relaxes with you on top of him.

#din djarin #din djarin x reader #din djarin x f!reader #the mandalorian #pedro pascal #din djarin fluff #din djarin smut #pedro pascal is the mandalorian

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cloudysleepingzone · 8 months

Text

𝑴𝒐𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝑺𝒊𝒍𝒌

Clingy Husband Sigma x reader fluff and cuddles <3 reader is gender neutral

The familiar warmth of light pours through the curtains of you and your husband's shared bedroom, the light getting in your face like a morning alarm. Your husband is snug against your chest, holding you by the waist rather tightly. You can't blame him though, it is winter. Running your fingers though his hair was a natural impulse, his split colored hair feeling soft against your finger tips.

"Honey..." You try to whisper to wake him up, he was a business man, never one to sleep in or hardly even take a break! Today was a free day for the two of you, it took a lot of convincing for Sigma to take just one day off. Instead of waking up he seems to cling to you tighter, mumbling against your chest.

*You try to sit up from the soft silk sheets but you're immediately pulled back down by your husband who has a tight grip around your waist. "Mm...stay a little longer...please...?" His voice is still a bit drowsy from just waking up, but how can you possibly deny your husband when he is asking so sweetly? Especially staying in bed.

"Oh? Is someone clingy this morning?" You playfully tease him, he has been known to be clingy when it comes to you, even if it's just holding your hand. "It's cold...and your warm..." He mumbles softly against your hip, trying to snuggle more into your skin.

Letting out a sigh you turn back to lay next to him, the silk sheets and soft blankets are smooth against your skin, pulling them back over you before cuddling up next to his once more. "Thank you my love..." He mumbles almost in a whisper before shoving his face back into your chest, melting into the warmth your body had to offer on the cold winter morning.

This isn't so bad...cuddling with your beloved husband all day seems like a wonderful day off doesn't it?

#fanfic #fluff #bsd x reader #bungo stray dogs x reader #bungou stray dogs #bsd #bsd sigma #bsd fanfic #sigma bungou stray dogs #sigma x reader #sigma bsd

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heartysworld · 2 years

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The oath he gave || Aemond Targaryen x Reader

A/N: another request has been delivered bright and shiny! I'm sorry if there are mistakes,I shall fix them tomorrow. It is currently 2am here, I've been up since 5.30 am this morning and I really need my sleep! I hope you guys like this one and if you have any requests feel free to send them! Love ya <3

MASTERLIST

The Stark brides were known to be fruitful women, ever since the beginning of their lineage the women from the noble house of the North were known for their fertile wombs and high number of children they birthed. That, however, was not the case when it came to you, the younger sister of Cregan Stark, Lord of Winter. You have been married to the King's first son, Prince Aegon, for now half a decade, bit still there was no trace of an heir from you. At first, you though it was just the stress from switching environments,after all, a wolf can hardly adjust to the bright sun and warm air of King's Landing. Now, years later, you were well aware it was not the environment that prevented you from baring heirs. It was something else. Even the Queen herself was becoming worried and irritated. She made this match hoping that this Stark womb of yours would bring her son many children, Gods was she wrong.

Many visits to the Maester's tower, different types of tonics and treatments were also unsuccessful. Nothing seemed to work in your favor. Your husband wasn't in much of a hurry to become a father, thought. Everybody knew that by know. All Aegon wanted in life was his wine and whores, to be taken care of by servants and fed grapes by the woman he beds.

Day and night you prayed to the Gods to grant you one wish,just one, what you desired with your entire being. A small babe, a boy or a girl, it didn't matter, just for it to be healthy and happy.

All went in the opposite direction when the second son of the realm found himself tired of his brother's attitude towards his Lady wife,his future Queen. Ever since your betrothal was announced, Aemond have had his eye on you. There was something about those dark locks of yours that so beautifully framed your face and the pale skin that covered it. In his eyes you were otherworldly, the complete opposite to a woman from his kin.

Your adventures with the younger Prince began after he found himself in your chambers on night after one of the many feasts his cunt of a brother had thrown for Gods know what reason. You left the feast hall with tears in your eyes after your eyes caught your husband openly smothering a servant in his lap,his hands roaming around her body, diving underneath her skirts while his lips traced the skin of her neck and jawline.

You never expected the younger Prince to follow right after you, but he did, and he wasn't planning on leaving you alone.

The words he whispered in your ear that night remained forever embedded in your memory. You even found yourself remembering them whenever you missed your silver haired Prince.

"Let me gift you the one thing my brother failed to give you, my little wolf. Let me fill your womb with a silver haired babe that would make you mine. Not Aegon's,mine." Aemond whispered in your ear while his hands sneaked underneath your skirts, lifting them up.

"Aemond... it's dangerous...what were doing." You managed to whimper out before you felt the tip of his cock enter you slowly. His movements were agonizingly slow, making your hands get a tight hold of his back, sinking in your nails in the skin of his back so deep that you were sure blood was drawn.

"No one will know what we've done, my sweetness. I'll keep you away from harm's way until my last breath on this world. I promise you that." Your Prince said close to your ear while he was assaulting your entrance with all his power.

"As long as you're by my side, I'll give you whatever you want, my Prince. Just be with me." You answered just before he drew out another moan from you.

That faithful night was followed by many others, similar to it. Late at night, your beloved would find his way in your chambers and he would take you as many times as he wished in any position he desired. In those moments you shared with Aemond you felt like you were living your best life. As if you had no husband who was most likely bedding another whore in his separate chambers right now. As if Aemond was your real husband.

A couple turns of the moons passed in pure bliss, that was until you missed your monthly bleeding twice in a row. You hadn't even noticed it until the Queen herself didn't pay you a visit one morning, informing you of the news that one of her maids had delivered to her. There's been no sign of blood on your sheets for over two months now.

Alicent was overflowing with joy as she thought of her son finally siring a child with his wife. A joyous occasion for her family,one that required a big celebration.

When Aegon learned the news of your pregnancy, he didn't give the reaction a future father was expected to give. He hugged you briefly, for decency in front of his own mother, muttering a quiet "congratulations,my wife" before leaving to do Gods know what.

Aemond, however, was a different story. You've never seen a smile as big on his face ever before when you told him you were with child.

His hands immediately fell on your still flat stomach, where his son or daughter was to grow, swelling your stomach in the process, showing everyone that you were claimed.

"Your prayers were finally answered, my love. This child will be a lucky one to have a mother like yourself. Such a smart, beautiful and captivating mother. And I am a proud man to have such a beautiful woman by my side. Only if I could show the world you were mine." Aemond spoke,his forehead leaning against yours as you felt the warmth his body radiated, something that brought you an odd sense of comfort whenever he was close enough for you go feel it.

"If only..." You said, eyes closing shut at the painful reminder of your husband.

"I can only hope my brother will drive himself to an early grave, I wouldn't be surprised given the amounts of alcohol he consumes and the number of whores he sticks his cock inside. Gods know what type of diseases he had brought upon himself." Your beloved hissed,anger filling his chest at the thought.

"Do not think of such matters right now, dear. This is a joyous occasion,let us savor it for as long as possible. " You said before leaning in to peck his lips softly.

Aemond was absolutely smitten by your different ways of expressing your love and affection towards him. Pecks, light touches,soft smiles, all of these simple things made his chest tighten with a feeling he welcomed every time he was around you. Love.

As the moon came and went and your belly swelled, Aemond seemed to show more and more of his protective side. He followed you around wherever he could, claiming he was just looking after his good sister, since her own husband couldn't find the time to do so. Lord's and Ladies at court praised the younger Prince for his devotion to you and his future niece of nephew. It was rare that women were tended to during their pregnancies, if their husbands didn't care to do so,there was nobody else that would do it. In your case, however, it was different.

This child was going to grow as a future prince, an heir to the throne,but nobody was going to know the truth about its lineage. He or she were going to be their father's child, end of discussion.

Aemond was ready to slay every man or woman who dared disrespect the woman he so dearly loved and who carried his child. Late at night, at the dead of night where no soul was left awake,he would find his way in your chambers where he's whisper sweet words to your swollen stomach and feel the kicks of his child as a response to his voice. Sometimes you were awake, sometimes you weren't,but there was not even one night when Aemond missed to do that. It was his own, unique way of showing love and you loved that for him.

When the last moon before your labors arose, you and a few of your maids and guards made your way to Winterfell,the home you had missed so dearly. From the moment you found out you were with child you knew nothing would stop you from giving birth in the North, you were born there and so was going to be your child.

Aemond followed after you not long after, claiming he had important matters concerning the crown which he had to discuss with your brother, Lord Cregan.

When the pains finally started and the labor progressed,Aemond found himself kneeling beside your bed while you gripped his hand with all the strength you had while the Maester and midwifes encouraged you to push. Nobody questioned the presence of the Prince in the chambers, nobody wanted to know or was going to tell. What mattered in the room were only the mother and the babe, nothing or nobody else.

Hours later, when the sun was starting to rise again, the cries of a new life echoed around the quiet halls of your home. The small Prince announced his arrival on his own,with strong lungs and high pitched cries.

Your and Aemond's son, named Auserys, was a little black haired beauty,just like his mother. He seemed to have taken everything from his mother and nothing from his father. That was until the little thing opened his eyes to take his first blurry look on this words, in that moment beautiful violet eyes fell on the boy's father as the older Targaryen man was drowned by his son's stare.

"My love, he has your eyes." You said, a smile taking over your eyes as you admired your son who laid calmly in your arms. Looking up from his small body, you met the good eye of your beloved, a small tear had escaped his eye and was now rolling down his cheek and jaw.

Without saying a word,Aemond kneeled beside you,just as he did a couple of hours ago, before he spoke.

"I'm going to give my life up for you, my son. For you and for you mother,if needed. I shall love you as the priceless jewel that you are,Auserys. I give an oath today,may the Gods be my witnesses." Aemond spoke,his voice quiet as he tried not to disturb the babe that had finally calmed down after hours of crying loudly.

"And he shall love you as his father, Aemond. This little boy will grow up knowing who his father,his real father, is. He shall know what brave and honorable man his father is and grow up to be as brave and strong as you." You said, pulling one of your hands away from underneath your son's small body, taking a hold of one of Aemond's hands that was cold against your touch.

"I'm going to marry you, Y/N. I'll marry you and claim my son as it should be,and you as my wife. Nothing will stop me from being with my lover and son. " Aemond spoke with such confidence it send shivers down your spine.

He was tired of hiding, tired of seeing the miserable look on your face every time Aegon was near you, he could barely hold his rage whenever that cunt couched your belly, talking about how his heir laid in there. Nothing could stop a man in love from doing anything that would bring him what he desired. The things we do for love.

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written-in-flowers · 1 year

Text

Disillusionment: Hongjoong x Reader

Pairing: Hongjoong x Reader

Rating: Mature

Word Count: 16k

AU: futuristic!au, rebellion!au, lovers to enemies, enemies to lovers again.

Genre: Angst (lots of it), tiny microscopic bits of Fluff

Summary: During her career as a Lieutenant of The People's Republic, Hwang YN has witnessed things she'd rather forget and learned things about those she served. On the day of her ex-boyfriend's execution, she must decide if she really is fighting for the right side.

Warnings: disabled!reader (she is missing her left ear and eye, and has a bionic leg), PTSD, graphic depictions of violence, guns, war, descriptions of poverty, mentions of child trafficking, general injustice, corrupt people being corrupt, assassination attempt, and conspiracy.

A/N: This is my EXTREMELY LATE entry into the Outlaw: The Project collab I did with @ssaboala and several other lovely people. My entry is for our beloved leader, Kim Hongjoong. I hope you guys really enjoy this <3

***

You sat in the meadow alone. A sea of grass dotted with purple flowers should be a sight of wonder and awe, yet you found it hard to enjoy. A sight juxtaposed to the bustling, noisy city a few miles beyond, you used to find tranquility and quietness in the meadow. It’d once been a place of safety and gentleness; you could gather your thoughts here, basking in the sun and silence. But, not anymore. Silence only pushes forward things you’d rather forget. Yet, you could not think of anywhere to be but here right now.

They’re executing him today. In a few hours, Kim Hongjoong will be led onto the scaffold in the city center, have a noose put around his neck, and a door will open from under him. You squeezed your eyes shut at the image in your head. Hongjoong, with his determined, defiant eyes glaring at the painted faces of the city people, standing proudly on the scaffold. He won’t cry. He won’t give President Yoon the satisfaction. It’d been the same back in The Academy. Whenever an instructor or commanding officer gave him a near impossible task, hoping to break him, he never let them see the strain. It was why they liked him so much; why they spoke so highly of the soldier who never backed down, who did not accept failure as a result. Hongjoong had once been Prestige Academy’s brightest star, with a shining military future ahead of him. But, one terrible act changed all of that.

‘No, YN. I’m not going back.’

‘Hongjoong…’

‘This ‘Republic’ has gone too far. Look around you, YN. These people have done nothing to us. They’re innocent.’

‘They are aiding the rebel forces. They’re not innocent.’

‘Yes, they are! They’re hospital patients. They’re human beings. YN, I’m sorry. I can’t do this anymore. It’s not right.’

‘Hongjoong, no! Please, come back! Come back!’

You fought back the visions in your head. The thick lump in your throat slowly built up remembering that night. You remembered how the heat of the flames mingled with the crisp winter chill; the smell of burning wood and bodies still clung to your nose all these years later. No amount of lifeless corpses, exploding bombs, or screaming women could drown out the one image stuck in your head. He’d removed his helmet, so you saw his cobalt blue hair, his light skin and his eyes. His beautiful brown puppy eyes that melted your heart every time you saw them. They’d looked at you with disgust and shock. They’d torn away from yours with pain and that same determination. The last haunting image was his white uniform gradually fading into the dark night; you recall running after it before being attacked by a rebel fighter. By the time you’d put a bullet in him, Hongjoong was gone. He’d abandoned you in the midst of a raid; he’d turned his back on everything he knew and joined the rebel forces beyond the barriers. He soon enough became their leader, leading a squad dubbed ‘The Pirates’. They gained the name because of their hovercraft bombings on Republic outposts, where they’d then touch down and scavenge whatever they could from wreckage.

He became the ‘Pirate King’, and with one single act imprinted himself in Republic history.

The ping from your wrist broke you from the cruel memory, and you looked at the small watch face to see an incoming call. When pressing the answer button, you prepared yourself for actual conversation today.

“Yes?”

“Lieutenant,'' said Captain Shin, “The execution will be happening in approximately six hours. Preparations for the Victory Parade are starting, and we need you to come down here.”

“What for?”

“You’re in one of the last floats, sir.”

You exhaled deeply. The “Victory” Parade is being called ‘the beginning of the end’ by news outlets. It’ll not only make a spectacle of Hongjoong’s execution, but give the people false hope. What you hated most is that you and what’s left of your team will be “stars” of the show. You preferred to forget your “greatest triumph” and move on with your life, but it seems you won’t get that.

Your mission to capture and subdue Captain Kim Hongjoong cost you lives. Task Force 66 had eight members. After storming the “Valiant'', Hongjoong’s base of operations, only four of you remained. Sitting in the grass, you thought of the admirable, courageous people you’d become so close to be snuffed out in President Yoon’s war against the rebels. Jax, a springy girl who loved explosives and fire power; Jisung, a sharpshooter eager to prove himself; Miyoung, an older woman whose age didn’t stop her from taking down foes twice her size, and brilliant Ryu, a guy you swore had a computer for a brain. They’d died helping you capture Hongjoong. They’d given their lives in service to The Republic.

A Republic that did not care about them.

“Right. Be there soon, Captain,” you replied somberly. “Over and out,” you said.

“Over and out,” said Shin, and you both hung up.

Gingerly, you unfolded yourself from your sitting position and stood up. You gave a small stretch as you gave the meadow one more look. You should put the whole place to the torch. Briefly, you thought of scorching this sacred place to remove all the beauty and memories it held. Memories of you and Hongjoong frolicking in the grass as children; playing and laughing until the sun went down. Memories of days spent under the trees that outlined the meadow, reading or listening to music. Everything reminded you of him. It was as if its taken pieces of him for itself. Every single blade of grass and blossom reminded you of the boy who made you feel happy when you felt like dying. You wanted to burn it all away. If the meadow didn’t exist, then neither would your memories.

You turned away from the meadow and headed back into the small forest at the edge. Moving through thickets of bushes and trees, you let the fresh air and damp earth fill your lungs. You pushed out that night from your mind. Which night? You don’t even know anymore. The night you both met. The night he left you. The night you both met again. All the nights sharing kisses in each other’s arms, whispering words of love and promises of forever. You flushed them from your mind as you found your car waiting on the side of the road. One of the government hovercrafts painted in black with The Republic eagle and olive branches on the hood, you knew you’d be back in the city in less than an hour. The faster you could leave the meadow, the faster you’d leave those memories behind.

Soaring high above the main road, you saw yourself in your windshield reflection. Where you once had a full, unblemished face, you now had a cybernetic eye and ear piece attached. The steel implant started at the crown of your skull and remained fitted to the left side of your face. Pieces of shrapnel and ear splitting blasts caused you to lose sight and hearing; the doctors said you were lucky. The shrapnel from the bomb could’ve lodged into your skull and you’d be dead. Instead, you suffered a ruptured eardrum and your entire left eye. Scarring from the fire stretched like rivers on a map from your eye socket and across your forehead, cheek and jawline. Not the prettiest face, but the new eye came with lots of perks. Infrared vision, night vision, and scope abilities gave you more advantages than the average soldier; you heard pins drop from several feet away with your new eardrum. If one pulled off your denim jeans, they’d find the bionic right leg. One of the few times you ran into Hongjoong after his defection left you with a grievous leg injury that not even the Republic’s medical technology could heal.

‘Yield. Yield now and tell your men to retreat, and I’ll spare you.’

‘I’d rather die!’

‘You can’t win this, YN. We have the upperhand. We have the trains and the sectors. Please, my love, yield and surrender. Please, I beg you.’

‘If you have the upperhand, Pirate King…then I’ll chop it off!’

And so you did. On a field of damaged earth and bloody corpses, you’d pulled out a hatchet from a dead soldier’s head and swung it at Hongjoong. He tried blocking it with a knife, but instead your blade went deep into his wrist. It didn’t completely sever the hand; you remember his screams of pain and wish you could take them all back. You sometimes thought of what it might’ve been like if you had surrendered. Would he have accepted you back? Would you two have grown to love one another again? You don’t know. You hoped he would. He promised forever, hadn’t he?

You snorted as you reached the city gates. Ahead of you, you saw the long line of citizen vehicles below slowly making their way in and out of the silver city beyond the tall gates. In your government issued hover car, you flew to the tops of the walls where official vehicles came and went. Flying between the two sky-high towers, you lowered your window. A guard in black and white stood in the toll booth window, holding out a gloved hand. You handed him an identification card, which he scanned on his computer.

“Welcome back, Lieutenant,” the man said in a gruff voice, giving a stiff bow.

“Thank you, soldier.”

You’d cried that night. Everyone thought it was the morphine high the doctors kept you on, but it wasn’t. Not entirely. You hadn’t meant to hurt him so brutally, but your own pain overwhelmed you. He’d told you that he’d be at your side forever. You were supposed to move through the ranks together, go into military training together, and maybe settle down to have a family. You’re meant to grow old side by side. He’d said as much the first time you kissed him, sixteen and the world at your fingertips. You couldn’t see yourself being with anyone else; you never loved anyone the way you loved Hongjoong. It was supposed to be forever.

Then, the night the Republic bombed that hospital changed everything. You regretted that particular incident; you’d been a soldier of the Republic, who followed orders regardless of the severity. The people of Sector 5 were housing and aiding groups of people charged with crimes against The Republic. You and Hongjoong were part of Squad 245, a group assigned to put down any signs of dissent in the different sectors. Like every attack, you started with a blanket of bombs that created craters in the ground, blowing up people and crumbling buildings. When the initial attack ended, you touched ground to take down the rebels hiding out there. Hongjoong saw the hospital before you did. He’d seen the fires blazing within, the stone walls collapsing to the side, and people stumbling and crawling from the ruins. Most of those in the hospital were innocent women, men, and children who’d happened to be at the wrong place at the wrong time. You aren’t proud of the harm done that day. 45 people died in that bombing, and more became permanently injured. Everyone around you said they deserved it; they helped rebels escape “Republic justice”. What even is the Republic’s justice? Killing innocent people with nothing to lose? Oppressing those they have deemed beneath him? People they claim need them, when really it is the other way around.

The you back then would hate the person you’ve become now. She’d call you a traitor for thinking such thoughts. But, that little girl in her white Republic uniform doesn’t know about the things she’d end up witnessing. She won’t know about the time she witnessed Republic soldiers kidnapping sector children to sell on the black market to city elites. She hadn’t witnessed the terror and fear those children showed when she stepped into a Republic truck; some of them as young as eleven-years-old. That stupid, blind fool would damn you for shooting each of those soldiers in the head, and releasing those children into the forests beyond. She’d try finding excuses; she’d try to rationalize and justify such horrors because to accept that her precious government is evil destroys everything about herself.

She’d have to admit that Hongjoong was right, and that she should’ve followed him into the cold night.

You flew on the sky lane, and saw the tall triangular building of the military headquarters, nicknamed ‘The Pyramid’, in the distance. You also spotted the long lines of traffic backed bumper-to-bumper. Preparations for the parade meant to precede Hongjoong’s appearance were already underway, with workers setting up streamers, lamp posts decorations, flags, and barricades up and down the street. An irritable sigh escapes your lips when you realize you’ll be in traffic forever. You had places to be. Swerving out of the line and merging into a lower lane, you parked your car in an empty spot by the sidewalk. You’d come back for it later.

The Republic City used to be a place called ‘Seoul’, until the new regime took over decades ago. Towering buildings going high into the sky were decorated with neon lights and advertisements. People crowded the trash-riddled streets, and made it through the general smog created by the hover cars flying high between the buildings. You can’t imagine your city being anything other than what it is now. The people in the sectors beyond the wall think Republic City is a mecca of opulence and beauty; where food is plentiful and everyone is rich. It could not be farther from the truth. Ever since the war began nine years ago, the luxury of Republic City plummeted. Walking through the concrete sidewalk, hands in your jacket pockets, you saw a young man slouched against a brick wall. Seeing his ragged clothing, full shopping cart, and paper cup sitting at his feet, you wished you could show the rebels that they’re not the only ones suffering.

You saw a street food boat sailing a foot above the street. A portly man sat at the side, turning meat skewers over on a blazing fire. Quickly, you caught up to it.

“Hey,” you greeted him, “Can I get two of those?”

The man’s eyes lit up when he saw you. “Hey, you’re that Lieutenant from the TV.”

“Um, yeah, I guess.”

“Wow, you’re a real hero, ma’am,” he said. “I heard about those kids you saved. I can’t believe our government was letting soldiers sell little kids like that. I was really shocked, but they were lucky you came along.”

“It’s no big deal.”

“It was to them and their parents. Here,” he picked up two fresh meat skewers, and put them on a paper plate. “Free of charge.”

“Sir, I couldn’t do that to you-”

“-I insist,” he said, pushing the plate closer to you on the counter. “You've done more for us than our own president. Don't worry about it. Besides, it’s Victory Day.”

‘Victory Day’, is what they called it. What victory? You stuck a bill into the tip jar on the counter, bought a drink, and thanked him. You walked up to the young man by the wall, and handed him the two skewers.

“Here,” you said.

His eyes widened at the sight of the two long meat and vegetable sticks. “Wha-Really?”

“Yeah,” you told him, “I’m not really hungry.” You gave him the food, and watched him greedily begin eating them. You noticed what he wore: threadbare clothes that might’ve been flashy and fancy at one point, and leather shoes that were worn out and fading. “What happened?”

He paused, reluctant to answer as he wiped grease from his mouth. “I used to work in the steel industry,” he said finally. “I ran the distribution before those bastard outlaws ruined supply lines and Sector 2 joined the rebellion. I…I lost everything. I can wait for this fucking war to be over,” he washed down the food with the orange drink, then said, “Maybe things will get better, right?”

“Yeah…maybe.” You fished in your pocket for a few bills, and stuck them in his cup. “For some shoes,” you said, “Winter’s gonna be coming soon.”

“Thank you,” he beamed, “Thank you, thank you, thank you.”

“Hey, you’re Hwang YN!” a high-pitched voice said behind you.

You turned to see three young boys standing on the other side of the sidewalk. Each of them wore the soldier play sets the toy stores sold: black “bulletproof” vests with black gloves and helmets. The one who spoke smiled excitedly at you, holding a toy machine rifle across his back.

“You’re the one who captured the Pirate King!” he said, pushing black strands from his eyes.

“I am.”

“That’s so cool!” his friend, red-haired and freckled, said with a smile. “I saw the little movies they played in the theater before the real movie started. They showed you going into that big ship with your gun like this!” he pulled up his own toy gun and made shooting sounds as he waved it around, “And the rebels running away!”

“You really showed them!” the third boy, blond and blue-eyed, said. “They were really scared of you!”

“I guess they were,” you shrugged. “You kids going to the parade?”

“Heck yeah!” said the first boy. “We’re going to watch the soldiers’ march and see the tanks! I want to be a soldier like you one day!”

“Me too!”

“And me!”

You couldn’t help remembering a young Hongjoong saying the same. When you’d both see the soldiers marching on Founder’s Day, he’d excitedly tell you how he’d be one of them someday. You both would be.

“You’ll make great soldiers,” you said, trying to keep the sadness from your voice. “Once you’re trained up at the academy.”

This made all three boys jump excitedly. You high-fived each of them as they ran along the street, pretending to shoot invisible foes down the sidewalk. Moving further down, you watched the city continue to thrive around you. You made a turn down a familiar road towards The Pyramid, trying not to recall walks to headquarters with Hongjoong. You’d both wave down one of the floating street vendors to grab snacks before going to work. Hongjoong always bought the barbeque skewers, which you’d both eat as you walked. You stopped at a crosswalk when a delivery boy waited for the green light. On the side of his trunk, you saw the local news lines running through a screen.

‘Pirate King Captured! War’s Ending in Sight!’

You remembered that today is meant to be a celebration. People filled the streets below, dressed in their best and preparing for the parties they’ll be having tonight. President Yoon planned to make Hongjoong’s execution a spectacle; it’s meant to symbolize the beginning of the ending. Members of your team still searched for Hongjoong’s crew, who’ve gone underground since his capture. They will be found soon enough, and they’ll also be executed. Once the Pirates are defeated, the rest of the rebellion forces will kneel. Then the Republic could begin to thrive again.

A ringing sound from your ear piece interrupted your thoughts once more. Answering the call, you spoke first:

“YN here.”

“Lieutenant,” it was Shin again, “Are you on the way?”

“Yeah. My ETA is ten minutes. Why?” you passed the delivery boy, feeling his eyes on you but tried not to think about it.

“Because, well…I wanted you to know that the Containment Center contacted me a few minutes ago.”

You froze. “And?”

“It appears The Pirate King has requested to speak with you.”

Every nerve in your body froze. Suddenly, your chest tightened and you stuffed a hand in your pocket. You looked at yourself in the reflection once more, seeing the damage on your face, and asked, “Why?”

“He didn’t give a reason,” he said. “All people headed to the noose are allowed a last request, and his request is to speak with you.” Shin paused, then continued, “It wouldn’t hurt to hear him out. He might even beg you for his life like the coward he is.”

“He’s not a coward,” you heard yourself snap at him. “He might be a pathetic rebel scumbag, but he is also a great soldier.”

“Forgive me, sir, but I…” you heard his hesitation, and suddenly the formal voice broke, “He killed Jax. He shot her in the back like a coward. He wouldn’t even give her the respect of killing her face to face.”

Jax. Your heart weighed heavier thinking of the wiry, stringy girl with neon green hair who loved explosives. She joined your team when you needed a demolitions expert, and she came highly recommended. Always smiling and laughing, you’d grown to enjoy her company and Shin had taken to her immediately. They’d been an odd but cute couple, with tiny Jax pushing the tall stern Shin from his comfort zone. Then the Pirates captured a group of Republic troops, and Jax happened to be among them. You’d done everything you could to get her back, but by the time you raided the rebel hideout, Jax and the other soldiers were dead. Shot in the back of the head like livestock. You couldn’t prove Hongjoong did it, but he’d given the order. His men do nothing without his say-so. Much like your own.

Sometimes you forgot not everyone loved Hongjoong like you.

“I understand, Shin,” you replied. “You’re right. I’m sorry. I loved Jax too, but she didn’t die in vain. Because of her explosive lines we uncovered the rebel hideout and discovered their plans to break into The Pyramid through the underground tunnels. She…She was a good soul.”

“She was, sir.” You heard him pause again, then he said, “I take it that you’ll oblige his request?”

You shouldn’t. You should decline it and leave Hongjoong to die without ever seeing your face. After everything that has happened between you both, you shouldn't give him the satisfaction. He left you, so why shouldn't you leave him? You knew if you met him, you'd only end up crying and you cannot be seen leaving his containment cell in tears.

“Yeah," you finally said, “I’ll see him.”

You didn’t know what you’d say to him, exactly, but…You wanted to see him one last time, you guessed.

“Very well, sir. Over and out.”

“Over and out.”

You hung up the call and finally reached headquarters. The high wired fence kept a wall between the headquarters to the citizens of the city. Having left your car behind, you walked through the citizen entrance. The guard here wore a black and white uniform, and he nodded when you gave your identification card. You noticed his short, stocky stature, and saw he wore his visor low on his face. You couldn’t recall ever seeing this guard before.

“Where’s Private Lee?” you asked impulsively when he handed you back your card. “He normally does the morning shift.”

“He was ill, sir,” the guard answered back. You’d heard that voice before, you knew you had. “I’m filling his spot until he gets better.”

You saw his name badge, seeing the words 'Kung Shinjin’ with the ‘private’ rank insignia on it. “Private Kung, is it?”

“Yes, sir. At your service.”

“I’ve never seen you before,” you said, “When did you enlist?”

“Two months ago, sir. They transferred me from Sector 2 after training.”

You found that odd, but you didn’t put it at the top of your list. Hongjoong took up too much space in your head.

“Hm, alright,” you said finally. “Welcome to the Pyramid, Private Kung.”

“Thank you, sir.”

You walked up into the white building, and noticed the lack of people inside the main lobby. You guessed everyone’s at the capitol building downtown preparing for the parade and execution. You need to pick up the pace. Shin will no doubt want to talk before the parade begins, most likely to go over itinerary and the parade routes. You told him to keep an eye on them, since Hongjoong’s crew are bound to make an appearance. They'll want to retrieve their captain, and won't hesitate to kill to do it.

Walking into the white and beige main lobby, you noticed two workers near the elevator doors. On a trolley, they rolled tall stacks of boxes towards the steel doors. On one of the boxes you read the name “Sal’s Bakery”. You guessed it was the President’s special celebration treat. He often did this to show appreciation to the military leaders. You expect you’ll have a box waiting on your desk in your office. Walking by them to the opposite elevator, you peeked inside to see dozens of thin white boxes with the bakery logo on them. You saw one worker, a young man with black hair hanging in his face, press the elevator button. The other man with him had short dark hair; both of them wore face masks as required by the Pyramid. A small tinkling caught your enhanced ear, and you saw the second worker drop a ring of keys.

“Oh, hey,” you picked them up, “You dropped this.”

The worker turned to you, but his face mask hid half his face. “Thanks,” he said, taking the keys.

“No problem,” a thought then occurred to you, “Hey, how much to take one of those off your hands? I have a friend in Containment who could use some decent food.”

The two workers shared a look, then the short-haired one said, “Fifty.”

You scoffed at the price, but you supposed that’s what breaking the rules costs. You dug into your pocket for your wallet. You tried not looking at the box or the van for too long. More memories came flooding back to you. Hongjoong chewing on another hot, fresh donut from the box, smiling at a joke you told while you walked to class; him washing it down with a coffee and telling you that you were as sweet as the donuts. He’d always leave you the chocolate frosted ones because he knew how much you liked them. It became a special place for you both before classes. It’s another thing you’d burn down to kill your memories.

You handed the worker the money, and he handed you a box. Opening it, you saw six glazed jelly donuts, still hot and fresh. “Thanks,” you said with a nod and left the workers to their deliveries.

Entering the elevator, you pressed the level 8 button and let the doors close. The Pyramid is twelve stories tall, with General Bok’s office at the very top. The Pyramid was the epicenter of the military base, with housing and training grounds being right behind it nearby. You’re so accustomed to seeing more soldiers here, since the Pyramid is where mostly everyone worked. But, with preparations and security details in place, nearly everyone is at the city center. You honestly preferred it this way. Less people to congratulate you, or tell you how much they admire and support you. What you did wasn’t easy and you never wanted to go through it again. Your eyes landed on the -10 button on the panel.

The Containment Center remained underneath The Pyramid floors starting on ground level and going down ten more floors. The most dangerous or high-profile prisoners remained on levels -9 and -10, so that’s where Hongjoong is kept. You felt the steel box gradually descending, getting further and further from the low levels, and you thought of the time you and Hongjoong had an assignment in Containment.

Your instructor, Major Yoo, sent you to the jails to interrogate a Republic traitor and learn why he’d been caught sifting through a commander’s desk. After intimidating and questioning him, you learned he’d been threatened into the search by a high-ranking officer. When you both passed this information to Yoo, he asked you both what should be done next. You’d suggested arresting the officer immediately, but Hongjoong advised patience. He said they might learn who the officer is working for if they kept surveillance on him. He’d been right. He’d gotten high marks and an award for capturing the traitor, his rebel contact, and the information he’d been passing them.

You were so proud to call him yours.

Your watch pinged again, and you pressed your ear piece.

“Hey Lt,” a smooth voice said over the phone.

“Hey Boggs,” you said. “What’s up?”

“Shin wanted me to tell you that the parade is gonna start soon,” he said, “And to hurry up. You know, because you’re the star of the show.”

You scoffed, “As if. I’m not the one getting executed today. Tell Shin I’ll be there in a few minutes.”

“YN…” you heard the seriousness in his voice. Boggs rarely ever used your real name. It was always ‘Lieutenant’ or ‘LT’ or ‘Hwang’. “I know this isn’t the best time, but when this is over and done with, I…I think I’m dropping out of Task Force 66.”

You didn’t ask why or protest. “Because of Sticky?”

“No, because of Jisung…”

Jisung. Another soul lost to Task Force 66’s hunt. The youngest of the whole squadron, he’d become everyone’s little brother. Fresh from the Academy, he had the sharpshooter skills you were looking for; a marksman to rival Jung Wooyoung, best sharpshooter in the entire force. You’d see Jisung make near impossible shots, shoot at multiple moving targets, and never miss once. Sadly, even the far distance couldn’t keep him safe. He’d wanted to impress you, you supposed. He always sought your approval and praise, which you found endearing. “How did I do, Lieutenant?” “Lieutenant, did you see that?! I got him right in the eye through his own scope!”

‘Lieu-Li-Lieutenant, I want to g-g-go ho-home…’

Private Do Jisung died in a battle fighting rebel forces in Sector 8, an industrial area of factories and refineries supplying the capital. You’d learned Hongjoong and his crew would be there, hiding out underneath an abandoned chemical factory, and you couldn’t miss the opportunity. You couldn’t stop yourself from picturing you and Jisung moving side-by-side in the large factory. The grenade came through one of the broken windows, rolling and stopping by a few boxes labeled ‘chemical hazard’ on them. You didn’t have a chance to see who’d thrown it, but you did see Jisung dive right in front of you. The small grenade set off a chain reaction, causing barrels and boxes of flammable chemicals to explode all around you. His legs blown off in the blast, the medic couldn’t get to you because of the raging fires. You remember dragging him through the building, heat and smoke filling your lungs, until you brought him outside. You’ll never forget his ashen face going into shock. He died right there in your arms. The medic wasn’t needed. Jisung was only twenty.

“What about Jisung?” you asked, watching the elevator numbers slowly go down. It’s slower underground. You hated it.

“It’s the officials,” he said. “They told Jisung’s parents he died in an accident, but that couldn’t be right. The factory turned out to be a dead end, remember? Kim and his crew weren’t there, and the place was empty. I only saw one person there, and they got away before I could catch them. Why would they say it was an accident when it wasn’t?”

“They don’t really have proof that the guy you saw was there,” you explained, though something about it sat wrong with you.

“But you saw that grenade go through the window.”

No explanation for that. You vividly recall the small black ball going through a lit up window and smacking onto the floor. You’d heard it seconds before Jisung, who then pushed you out of the way.

"Maybe they don't want to admit we were caught off guard," you finally said.

But you knew the opposite. Something about the entire situation bothered you, and Boggs knew it too. You wondered if Shin suspected the same thing.

"So, you're leaving us then?" You asked, trying not to seem disappointed. "Where are you gonna go?"

"I don't know. Maybe get a security post like my dad did. We can talk about that later," he said.

"How's Sticky?"

Pak Sunmi. Quick thinking and tough, she joined your team with four years of service under her belt. Slight and long, Sunmi had many specialties but the biggest was getting into places others can’t. Not only with her good looks and non-threatening appearance, but with the parkour skills she picked up at a young age. You swore she flew through the sky when she ran, jumping and flipping and sliding like the wind carried here. You once joked she must have sticky hands to be able to hold onto surfaces so easily, and the nickname stuck.

During your capture-and-detain mission on The Valiant, Sunmi crossed paths with Jeong Yunho. Him being several inches taller did not stop Sunmi from taking him one on one. You didn’t see the fight yourself, but Boggs had found her lying unconscious in the ship’s upper deck. The hospital medics told you she suffered severe cranial damage, and would need to be kept in the hospital until her surgery wounds healed.

“She’s holding up,” he answered. “Her head hurts like a bitch, and she’s trying to get used to the metal plates in her skull, but she’s good. She convinced the doctors to let her see the parade."

"Is that safe?"

"I don't think so, but I'm not a doctor." He then added, "She said she wanted to talk to you too. Something wasn't right about what happened to Jisung, and she mentioned what happened to her too."

"What do you mean-

‘-Level -7: Containment Center Administration Offices and Directory.’

“I gotta go,” you told him, “I’ll see you later.”

“Alright, Lt. Over and out.”

“Over and out.”

You stepped out of the elevator and walked over to a receptionist desk where a young woman with orange corkscrew curls sat typing.

“Excuse me,” you said, “I’m-”

“-Lieutenant Hwang,” she smiled, “Yes, I was told you’d be on your way here. He’s in cell 03 on level 10.” She punched in a few numbers, and a label popped out of a printer on the desk. “Here, scan that in the elevator and it’ll take you further down.”

“Thanks.”

You turned to leave when her voice stopped you. "Um, Lieutenant?"

"Yeah."

She nervously rolled her pencil between her fingers and said, "I just wanted to say…I think you're a real hero."

Her words didn't shock you like they should. "For capturing a well known rebel outlaw, yeah-"

"-No, for what you did for those people in the lower sectors," she corrected. "I had no idea people outside the city suffered so much until I saw them on television. Those poor children…they must've been so scared, and those women…It makes me sick thinking about it. You were so brave to go into that town and do what you did. I don't think I could've done that."

The border town. That's what she's talking about, you realize. You and your squad rode out to a town on a border to refuel and stock up supplies. When you arrived, it was chaos. Women were rounded up like livestock in a pig pen; dead men hung from posts and roof tops, naked and burned. You first thought it'd been outlaws who raided the village, but to your horror, you learned it was a Republic squadron. You confronted their commander, who you discovered initiated the attack. He claimed they'd been harboring rebel soldiers. You saw right through his lie.

And shot him point blank. Just like the other three.

A young journalist hiding in a crate captured the "heroic moment" on camera and survivors of the raid told him their stories. Their suffering at the hands of the Republic opened up the eyes of city citizens, who'd been kept ignorant to the plight of those outside. The news started a string of charity events and fundraisers for the poor, homeless people in the sectors. Being charitable became trendy, and you kept being invited to gala after gala as a speaker. You hated it. You've never been good at speeches. But, the money went to the people who needed it the most. Seeing the sunken faces of starving children curl into smiles as they carried home sacks of oil, grain, and water made the "trend" worth it.

You thought you and the crew would be imprisoned for killing the commander and his men but it never came. In fact, they awarded your squad medals of honor and heroism. General Bok declared the offending squadron as war criminals and deserters of the Republic; a bullet is what they deserved. He proclaimed your squadron personified everything the Republic stood for.

You knew that wasn’t true.

"It was the right thing to do," you shrugged. "Those people weren't the enemy. They were innocent." Much like the people in that hospital. You felt sick all over again.

"I'm glad that at least there are some good soldiers still out there," she said. "Hopefully with The Pirate King dead, the war will end and everything will be alright."

You didn't have the heart to tell her how the war ending meant nothing.

"Hopefully. Have a good day."

"You too."

You went back to the elevator down to the tenth level, pressing your label against the scanner until the doors closed. The government did a good job convincing people that the world will be as it was when the war ends. All their problems will be solved and things will return to normal. You didn’t see how that could be possible. Both sides have gone too far to ever be what they once were.

When the doors opened again, the chill of the underground levels pinched your cheeks. White walls, linoleum floors and fluorescent lighting gave the holding cells a sterilized look. Walking down them, your footsteps made almost no sound, as if the walls absorbed the soft taps instead of bouncing them back. No wonder people went insane down there. You walked past several guards posted at doors or coming around corners, all of them nodding at you when you passed.

High-profile prisoners of the state had large cells locked behind two sets of doors. The first room you entered had a guard sitting behind a desk and another standing ready by the door. With a show of your label, the desk guard let you through. The door guard opened the main door into another small room with a thick, steel door on the other side. He opened this for you, then let you walk into the antechamber.

“Fifteen minutes, Lieutenant,” the guard said, voice muffled by his mask.

“Don't worry. It won't be long. Thank you, soldier.”

He popped open the steel door, and you walked inside. In a room of white, he stood out like a sore thumb. Dressed in an orange jumpsuit, The Pirate King looked vastly different from the boy in your memories. Hongjoong’s cyan hair hung over his eyes and undercut on the sides

He had more ear piercings, indicated by the small holes your bionic eye picked up instantly. He wasn't taller, but he'd gotten buff for sure. Years of being on the run and fighting Republic soldiers certainly took their abuse on his body. However, what caught your attention instantly was his left hand. Made of steel plates, you saw the thin wiring between them every time he moved his hand. Since he kept his sleeves rolled up, you saw it went well past where your hatchet cut him. When he turned at your footsteps, he paused. He kept his eyes on your face, stunned and unable to look away. He'd once looked at you that way. At the Prestige Academy Winter Ball, where he told you that you outshone every girl there.

"I know," you said. "Not as pretty as I was at the winter dance."

"You'll always be beautiful to me," he replied, and you didn't see a trace of a lie. Not even when your sensors checked his vitals and pupils. "I didn't do that to you, did I?"

"No. One of Song’s bombs did," you replied. You then lifted your pant leg to show him your metal leg, "You did this." You then looked at his hand again. His screams from that fight echoed in your ears; the blood that spewed and gushed from the wound and his pained cries churned your stomach. "They couldn't fix it?"

"No. Yeosang said you'd cut it almost in two," he said. "Thankfully, he and Mingi made this for me. It's not a shiny Republic model, but it works." He stared at your leg, "You didn't upgrade?"

"I didn't want to."

"Long pants at training?"

"Shorts still. I wanted to inspire my men."

"Like a true Republic Lieutenant." You hated hearing that. Hongjoong noticed this change in you, and said, “Are you not a Lieutenant?”

“I am,” you straightened up.

He eyed you closely, not speaking. You hated it when he did that. It was the look he gave when he interrogated a prisoner, and wanted to read them. You squirm underneath his stare. He didn’t say anything at first, but you knew he would soon. He walked forward and sat a foot away from the glass. You did the same, pushing the plastic chair aside. Leaning forward, you pressed your label to a scanner, and a flap opened.

"I got donuts," you said, pushing the box through the hole to him.

Hongjoong hesitated. He looked between you and the donut box, and you saw his jaw clench. “I thought you might be hungry,” you instantly explained. “If you don’t want them, you don’t have to eat them.”

“No, it’s good,” his expression instantly changed back to a casual one, which threw you off, “Thanks.”

Gingerly, he opened the box and stared inside before picking out a donut. You watched him eat the first once, shutting his eyes and taking in the sweet treat. Your hands curled up into fists as you bit back the lump in your throat again. A vision of a blue-haired boy eating a donut, wearing his white academy uniform, and smiling at you crossed your mind. It plunged a knife into your chest, and you regretted coming here.

“Why did you ask for me?" You asked him, not masking your discomfort at all.

"I wanted to see you."

"Why?"

"Because I'm going to be dead in a few hours, and I wanted to see your face," he admitted openly.

"Why?"

"Because I still care about you."

"I was sent to capture you," you said. "I was assigned an entire task force to hunt you down, subdue you and bring you here to your death. I haven’t seen you in three years. The last time I did see you, I nearly chopped off your hand and you severed my leg." Anger festered in your stomach and couldn’t stop it from surging hotly. You leaned in closer to the glass, glaring at him. Why did he do this to you? Why does he still have this effect? You hated the uncertainty. You hated the ‘not-knowing’. "Why did you ask me to come?"

Hongjoong hesitated over his donut, then said, "I wanted to know exactly when a loyalist, a servant of the Republic, lost her faith."

You knew what he meant, but didn't respond.

"The YN I remember would blindly follow any order her superiors gave her," he said. "She did whatever they asked, no matter how morally wrong it was. You…you're not her anymore. I’ve heard about the things you’ve done out there in the field. People I’ve met always mention a Republic woman with one eye saved them, or came to their side when they needed it. A true Republic soldier would sooner shoot a person than offer her hand. So, when did it happen?"

You'd avoided talking too much about it. If you went too deeply, it'd open up things you wanted locked away. You stared at him, arms crossed, and couldn't stop thinking of the little boy who you met at a fancy dinner party years and years ago.

"The kids," you heard yourself say. "I was on patrol with my crew when we came across a supply outpost. We'd finished sweeping out rebel hideouts along sectors 4 and 5, and decided to regroup with others in the area there. The plan was to refuel, restock our supplies, then head back to the camp. I'm there giving cover as my team started refueling when I noticed a black truck near one of the fuel spouts. It had the Republic seal on the side, but it didn't look like any truck I recognized. It reminded me of those supply trucks that come in and out of bases." You took a second, picturing the large truck sitting at the edge of the small camp site. There'd only been one other group there at the time, so it could only have been theirs. "I was walking by it when I…" you gulped thickly, "Heard someone inside." You held yourself tightly. It'd been sweltering hot that day. The humid heat stuck your clothes to your skin, and you thought you might die from the heat. "I saw some soldiers not paying attention, so I used my baton to open the back. They…I saw…I…they looked so small, and so scared."

"The kids?"

"It was boiling in that truck, and the air smelled horrible," you said, gulping the lump in your throat. "They had these water jugs attached to their cages and I saw candy wrappers and chip bags on the floor. They were dirty, tired and hot. One boy looked like he might pass out. I gave him my water, and asked who they were and why they were there. A girl told me soldiers went into their town and killed everyone…and took the kids…I…I couldn't believe they were Republic. I thought the soldiers might be outlaws pretending to be soldiers to get through barricades easier." You bit the inside of your cheek to keep the tears back. Too many things threatened to make you cry, and you wouldn't leave here crying. "I confronted the driver. He didn't even seem scared or bothered. He said that a commander ordered them to round up some kids for an indoctrination process. I had no idea what that meant, and he said I didn't need to know…"

"Indoctrination?"

"It was a lie," you waved it away. "One of his comrades came up to us next, recognized me from the Academy, and told me the truth. He said some big commanding officer gave him and his squad money to smuggle kids into the city. I was…it was sick. I couldn't believe him. I thought he was making it up. I," you squeezed your eye shut as you remembered what you did next. "I shot him. No questions. No comments or concerns. I pulled my side arm out and shot him point blank. I did the same to the driver and the third person on their team."

"Then you freed the kids."

"Then I let them out, yeah. I want to say that this was a one time thing and I didn't dig into it deeper, but I did. I contacted Internal Affairs and they did an investigation. Do you want to know what they found?"

"What?"

"That there was an entire child ring going through our government," you spat in disgust. "Elite officials would contact someone within the patrol squads to go into active rebel areas, kill everyone, and take the children. Then they'd…it was horrible. I thought those responsible would see justice and be imprisoned, but nobody was. The lower level guys were jailed, but not the ones above them. Those people received no consequence at all. Not even after the news came out about it. Nobody was punished. They were let go."

"Republic Justice only applies to the poor," Hongjoong said, "Not the ones meant to uphold it."

"I was disgusted. I'd sworn an oath to uphold and defend the laws put in place by the Republic," you replied. "I swore to protect and serve the people of this country. I bled, I fought, and I killed for this nation, and then to turn around and see the people who made those same oaths breaking them. It made me question myself, and I hate that."

"I know what you mean," he said. "That's how I felt when I saw Republic soldiers shooting wounded people coming out of a burning hospital.”

Your eyes glanced at the clock in the room. It’d been ten minutes already.

“You’re not a bad person, YN,” he said. “Even I know what you did in that little border town. You saved those people-”

“-I didn’t,” you cut him off. “I came way too late to do anything meaningful-”

“-Your little heroic act opened up people’s eyes to what’s going on outside the walls,” he said.

“People only know about it because a journalist happened to capture it live.”

“The things you’ve done since then prove you’re not a bad person,” he said. “The people of the Republic respect and admire you because you genuinely care about them. You see injustice being done and stop it, rather than leave it be. How many of your comrades will say they would’ve done what you did? Not many.” He let your words hang between you, and he finished his donut. “Did they punish you for shooting the guy?”

“No,” you said. “They gave me a medal.”

He snorted, “For killing one of your own?”

“They deemed the squad who did it as war criminals, and said that’s the Republic’s justice at work,” you sighed, shaking your head. “The Republic’s Justice…What the fuck does that even mean?”

“It means killing people who don’t comply with their rules or make them look bad,” he said. "It means covering up their tracks, inventing stories and intimidating people into silence."

“I should’ve gon-”

You stopped yourself before the words fully came out. Hongjoong and you both stared at one another. You wouldn’t tell him about all the nights you envisioned having followed him, and being together. “I wish you had too,” he said softly, “But then we’d both be dying and I don’t want that.”

“Even after everything?”

“I never wanted you dead, YN. I still don’t, even if you want me dead-”

“-I was only following orders-”

“Then why didn’t you kill me?”

You hesitated.

“When you found me in the lower deck of my ship-”

“-Is it really a ‘ship’ if it’s on land?-

“-You could’ve shot me on sight,” he pressed on. “You could’ve put a rain of bullets through me, and made up a story afterwards. I wasn’t armed. I wasn’t threatening you. I didn’t put up a fight. Killing me right then would’ve been the easiest part of your day, but when you burst into that room with your rifle trained on me, you didn’t pull the trigger.”

“They ordered me to bring you in alive, and despite my own morals, I follow instructions,” you excused, though this wasn’t true and he knew it.

“It’s pointless to lie to a dead man,” he told you. “If you were only following orders, why didn’t you kill me when you had the chance? Hm? You know that there's the high possibility I'll escape or that my public execution could stir up more trouble outside. You can tell anyone who would listen that you’re just doing your job, and you can pretend you’re a loyalist all you want, but you and I both know the real reason you didn’t shoot me.” He pushed the donut box aside and came right up to the glass. The hostility and animosity of the previous minutes softened, making you fall into his big brown eyes like you used to. “And they know it too,” he whispered. “Don’t go to the parade.”

His sudden warning threw you off. “What?”

“Don’t go," he pleaded. "Please. Promi-”

“-Time’s up, Lieutenant.”

“I love y-”

A large hand gripped your arm to pull you up. Your eyes remained focused on Hongjoong. What did he mean? Sudden dread and fear filled your bones. Hongjoong didn’t say anything else, but you saw the tears pooling in his eyes as the soldier pulled you through the chamber door. What was going to happen at the parade? A possible jailbreak could be the only explanation. Perhaps Hongjoong coordinated his capture so that he’d be in the Pyramid, where his forces could strike an assault on the city. He doesn’t want you to be there when the fighting starts, but if he thinks you’ll sit by while it happens, he’s clearly forgotten a lot about you. The soldier roughly pushed you from the main room and back out into the hallway. You gave him one last glare before heading back to the elevator. If Hongjoong’s crew intended to sabotage the parade in any way, people needed to be warned. You tapped the ‘call’ button on your watch, which linked to your ear implant right away.

“Lieutenant,” Shin’s voice came over the line, “The parade is gonna start soon, and I'd like to go over routes before-"

"-How many men do we have on the street?"

"Pardon?"

"How many men are currently on patrol?"

"A hundred or so," he said. "Why?"

"The Pirates are going to be there," you said, punching the ground level button with your fist. Anxiousness sparked the nerves already wiring your body. You watched the numbers begin to climb slowly. "Kim just as good as told me himself. I don't know where they're going to be or what their plan is, but I want those men armed and ready."

"Hold on," it was Boggs, "We're fighting?"

"-Boggs!-"

"-I'm not sure," you continued, impatiently watching the elevator rise from the ground. “I don’t know anything for certain, but I want firepower on the ground.”

“The General said he didn’t want any guns,” Shin managed to gain control of the communicator again. You heard Bogg’s deep voice somewhere in the background, “We’d be defying direct orders.”

“He’ll understand once I explain it,” you said.

Your mind began moving a million miles a minute. You addressed your wrist band and scanned around for the map application. A map of the city projected from the small screen. You saw red lines going through the parade route, lines you yourself drew up. “Captain,” you called Shin, “I want squads one through five scanning the rooftops, and squads six through nine sweeping the buildings. Ten, eleven, and twelve can stick to the city center, and thirteen can surround The President’s car.”

“I’ll get right on it, sir,” Shin replied.

You heard a bit of commotion and grunting before Bogg’s voice came through. “Lieutenant, what do you need from me?”

“Contact the armory and get on the radio channel,” you said, “Tell everyone the news and start getting them geared up.”

“-Damnit, Boggs! Give me my communicator!-

“-And then I want you and Shin to meet me here at the Pyramid,” you told him. “If The Pirates are in the city,” the elevator finally reached the ground floor, “One or two of them are likely to be on the route from here to the city center.”

“You got it, sir,” Boggs confirmed. “Want me to alert Sunmi?”

“She's not in fighting condition. Get moving.”

“Yes, sir.”

You both hung up and pressed the top floor button. Dialing another number in your wristband, you waited until the person answered.

“General Bok Kyungmin’s office, Jalissa speaking,” said a melodic woman’s voice.

“Jalissa, this is Lieutenant Hwang YN,” you told her, “Is General Bok still there?”

“He is, Lieutenant. Would you like me to patch you through to him?”

“As soon as you can, please.”

“One minute, please.”

You curled your hand into a fist to stop it from shaking. Hongjoong's warning rang in your head. If it was an attack, his warning sounded odd. The pitch. The inflection. The way his eyes watered when he whispered it to you. It didn't sound like a threat or an amused warning. He didn't want you to go there. Hongjoong protected you, of course, but he never tried stopping you. He'd go with you. He’d strap on his own weapon to give you cover. Hongjoong, this time, did not want you in the way.

"Lieutenant Hwang," General Bok's raspy voice sounded in your ear, "I just heard your man Boggs over the radio. Is this threat legitimate?"

"I'm afraid it is, sir."

You explained to him that you'd obliged Hongjoong’s last request for a meeting and what he'd told you. Bok listened without interrupting, but you sensed the apprehension on the other end. You told him the plans you put into motion, and your suspicions.

"I figure it is better to be safe than sorry, sir," you finished, standing outside and scanning the area for Boggs and Shin. "If The Pirates are here, whatever plans they have could impact hundreds. I say we issue an evacuation plan."

"No," he said abruptly. "To evacuate at this stage will let them know we're onto them. This might be our best chance at capturing the rest of them."

"Sir, there will be civilians on the street," you said, stunned by his words. "I think we should be trying to avoid as few casualties as we can. If they have bombs, sir, they will kill hundreds."

"And send everyone into a panic?" He said. "There will be hysteria in the streets if we start an evacuation. Keep this news as down low as possible. We don’t want a riot on our hands. Stay at Kim’s side and don’t take your eyes off him.”

“But, sir-”

“-That’s an order, Lieutenant.”

And you always follow orders. “Yes, sir,” you said defeatedly.

“You and the rest of your team go to the Containment exit and escort Kim to the city center,” he said next. “I will meet you there.”

“Yes, sir.”

He hung up without another word, and you moved into action. The exit for Containment was located behind The Pyramid, in a closed off section that required special permission to pass through. You pressed your badge to the gate, and walked through into a garage of black armored vans and trucks. You relaid the General's instructions to Shin as you found the Containment garage entrance; you told them you'd meet them at the city center instead. Going to an emergency cage, you unlocked the gate and pulled out one of the automatic rifles lined up. Clicking on the magazine, you double checked the safety button, and then slung it over your shoulder. You kept your side arm attached to your thigh, so you only checked the clip for bullets. Your foot tapped as you waited for Hongjoong’s truck; his warning came back to you. Coupled with the General's odd orders, you couldn't stop the unsettlement poking at your nerves.

The elevator doors from the Containment Center opened, and you saw Hongjoong, wrists and ankles chained together, surrounded by four soldiers dressed in black uniforms. You would've thought they were twins with their long bodies and height. They kept their visors down, and guns to their chests. They must've been ordered to shoot-to-kill if Hongjoong tried escaping. Turning around, you faced the two soldiers from earlier. They gave each other a glance at the sight of you, looked at Hongjoong behind them, and then back at you.

"At ease, soldiers," you told them, "General Bok has instructed me to accompany your escort team."

"That isn't necessary, Lieutenant," one of them said. "We can handle him from here."

"I'm not asking," you said a bit firmly. "Let's get him loaded in and move out." When they didn't react, you glared, "I said 'move out', soldiers."

They all exited the elevator and you walked beside Hongjoong.

"What are you doing here?" He asked, unbothered by the soldiers around you both.

"What a Lieutenant is supposed to do when a rebel terrorist warns them of an attack," you answered. "I informed my superiors and put safety precautions in place."

You reached the Containment truck. The President had this truck especially made for prisoners heading for their execution. The size of the usual large vans, the back of the truck is made of shatter-proof glass lined with steel borders. Only the prisoner is meant to be loaded in there with two guards. You intended on being one of them. His men will come for him, and you'd be ready if they did. The two soldiers went to the front seats, while you loaded Hongjoong into the glass cage. Sitting across from one another, your back to the front driver's seat and his to the back doors, you two were once again alone.

"You shouldn't be here," Hongjoong said. "I told you not to come."

"If you think I'm going to let your little pirate friends attack this city," you said, "You've clearly forgotten things about me."

"That's not what I was talking about," he leaned in closer to you. “They’re planning to kill you.”

Once upon a time, you would’ve scoffed and brushed him off. Yet, after seeing how the Republic handles ‘problems’, you hesitated before speaking. “You’re lying,” you decided. “You’re trying to throw me off, and it’s not going to work.”

“When have I ever lied to you, YN?” he asked you, eyes pleading with you. “Your friend, Jisung? The one who died in that factory explosion?”

You glared, “What about him?”

“The intel you received about that place wasn’t real,” he said. “We were never there. They told you to go there because they hoped you’d die in the explosion they set up.”

You thought back to the factory, a building made of stone and wood, full of plastic and wooden crates and barrels of hazardous chemicals. Back then, you simply thought whoever owned the factory left behind the materials. Yet, truly digging into your mind, you never heard of a business not completely gutting out their factories or warehouses. They might have abandoned equipment, but not materials, especially expensive and rare ones. Then, you recalled the little click and thump that happened seconds before the explosions. You remembered Boggs telling you about the person he’d seen.

“You blew up that factory,” you said, frozen in place in your seat. You hardly noticed the truck reaching the gates.

“You really think I did that?” he sneered at you. “My crew might be known for blowing stuff up, but we don’t do it pointlessly. If I bomb a place, it’s for a specific reason. It’s to make a statement. We had no reason to light up that factory. It was in the middle of nowhere, abandoned, and useless to anyone but the homeless. We would’ve wasted our resources blowing it up.” He paused, “He wasn’t the target. The building wasn’t the target. You were.”

He let the words hang between you for a few seconds before the truck stopped at the main gate. He must be lying.

“I’m sure they didn’t mean for your comrade to die, but these things happen in war.”

He never lied to you. Not a single time. No matter which side you move to, Hongjoong never lies. Meanwhile, your government lied countless times. You didn’t want to show him any uncertainty. The clear truck finally made its way onto the streets where people lined the sidewalks. Several of them saw Hongjoong, and you saw the hard glares and the objects they threw at him as it passed. You heard muffled jeers through the glass, people thankful that he is going to the noose. Yet you couldn’t help notice the few people who recognized you sitting in there with him. They waved their Republic flags, beamed brightly at you and called out your name. Students from Prestige Academy still in their crisp white uniforms, jumped up and down to get a tiny nod from you. Your heart fell into your stomach. They had no idea.

“They love you more than they hate me,” Hongjoong smiled slyly. “I wonder why that is?”

“Shut up,” you said quietly.

“Could it be that they see you as a hero?-”

“-I said ‘shut up’, inmate-”

“-That they see you as someone who gets things done?-”

“-What part of ‘shut up’ do you not understand?-”

“-Unlike our president who sits back and does nothing to help his suffering people? The same president who sat by as officers violated and abused innocent children? The same man who did nothing to punish those responsible for dozens of raids on border towns where innocent women, children and men were slaughtered like animals?” He leaned forward, eyes locked on you. “The person whose reputation you tarnished when you shot those soldiers?”

It made sense. You hated to admit what Hongjoong said could be plausible. You’ve seen what happens to those deemed enemies of the state. You watched several executions of people who may have shed a bad light on the president specifically. A lieutenant who uncovered disturbing, disgusting truths about him and his officials could very much be next. But why didn’t he simply have you arrested? The answer came to you through the people on the street. A woman on the street holding a magazine with your whole face on it told you why. She held your face. Not Yoon’s. You thought of the vendor from this morning.

‘You’ve done a lot more for people than Yoon for sure.’

“He’s in his mansion,” Hongjoong continued, “Gorging himself on delicacies that people could only dream of eating. He throws these grand parties at his home while people all around him struggle to put shoes on their kids’ feet. He could stop this war at any point; he could call a cease-fire and discuss negotiations with the leaders, but no. He lets it continue because he’s secretly being paid by war profiteers who are reaping the benefits of this ongoing war. He doesn’t care about the poor. He only cares about the rich,” he then said, “The people saw you defend those who needed you, and they saw that their leaders wouldn’t do the same. You wouldn’t use their hard earned tax money to have all this fan fare over an execution. You’d put a bullet in my head and call it a day.”

“It’d be cheaper, for sure.”

“Do you read the papers at all?” he asked.

“I’m not always near a newsstand.”

“President Yoon’s public approval went down by 15-points when the news about the kids came out, and when people saw nothing was being done,” he said. “It went down even further when people learned what was going on in the sectors outside of here. People saw him doing nothing about it, and lost trust in him.” He gazed over your face, eyes landing on your lips before going to your eyes, “They saw you at those border towns, giving food to starving kids, and saw someone who can be a leader.”

“I’m not a leader.”

“Yes, you are, and they don’t like that.”

“I don’t believe you,” you said. “You’re trying to get me off my game. You’re using this to distract me so when your men show up, I’m not fully aware of it.”

“You know I’m telling the truth,” he said.

“Where did you even get this information?” you asked irritably.

“Yeosang came upon it a few weeks ago,” he replied. “When he hacked into the intelligence main frame in hopes of finding plans for the new bombs your people are building. He found a locked file, and being nosey, he broke into it to find a list of people labeled as ‘person of interest’. He found that the Intelligence Division had been tasked with keeping surveillance on certain people: politicians who spoke out against the Republic, billionaires who they’d bribed into supporting the cause, and people suspected of working for the rebellion. He cross checked that list with the names of people who died under ‘mysterious circumstances’, and a good chunk of them are dead now. Poisonings, accidents, and unsolved murders were a common theme.” He paused, looking over your face once more, “Your name was on there, YN. It’s why I came here. You have shown your distaste at the Republic, and there’s a strong likelihood you’ll join the rebel cause. If you do, you’ll have all the information we’d need to defeat them.” He saw your hesitation, and said, “You know they’re corrupt enough to do it.”

It sounded too coincidental. It sounded like the sort of thing an enemy would come up with to distract you. Yet, was Hongjoong truly an enemy? A real enemy wouldn’t give away his own jailbreak. Had you captured any other rebel leader, they wouldn’t be with you right now. As the truck went up the street, you considered his words again.

Boggs mentioned seeing someone throwing the grenade into a window seconds before the explosion. If they wanted to go unnoticed, they’d wear all black to blend in with the night. You remembered the factory again. Most rebel hideouts showed signs of someone having lived there: sleeping bags, empty food cans, tables and chalkboards with photos and maps taped on them. The factory really looked empty with old cobwebs and dusty floors. Only chemical barrels remained behind in the rusty factory. But, were they really abandoned there or did someone place them there? You’re not sure.

“You’re not a stupid woman, YN,” Hongjoong said. “They would’ve asked you to escort me to the platform, so then they can shoot you and blame me for it.” You saw his face become hard, holding back whatever emotions swelled up inside him. “That’s what they told you when you radioed in, right?”

And you always follow orders.

Except the times you did not; the two times where you broke your oaths to The Republic and shot your ‘brothers in arms’. You’d indirectly and unintentionally exposed the corruption and perversion infecting your government. By releasing those children and liberating that town, you showed that you took your oath to ‘protect and serve’ seriously, while those above you did not. You turned back to the street where more people jeered at Hongjoong and cheered for you.

“Why are you telling me this now?”

“Because they can’t hear us here. They think you won’t believe me, which is why you're here.”

Because you always follow orders.

Your superiors believe you’re a blissfully ignorant soldier who does what they say without question. Yet, lately you’ve been proving them wrong and they can’t have that. You tried thinking of all the ways that he could be lying, but another fact always contradicted the first.

“Be vigilant when we step out of this truck,” he said. “Wooyoung isn’t the only sniper up high.”

“How do I know he won’t shoot me and let someone else take the blame?”

“Because he isn’t a snake like them. He has his reasons for joining us, and for wanting to help rescue you.”

“Like what?”

“It’s not my story to tell.”

The truck drove through into the city center. A large roundabout circling a golden fountain, you leaned against the window to see three beautiful statues: one was a woman with a blindfold holding two scales to signify The Republic’s blind justice; the third was a soldier crossing two swords over his head to signify the Republic’s strength and force, and the third was an androgynous figure holding a dove on their finger which signified the Republic's peace and prosperity. Three things that the Republic no longer had: peace, justice or strength. At the end of the motorcade stood Republic Hall, the courthouse and city hall combined. Standing up tall and made of white marble, you remembered you and Hongjoong receiving your graduation papers on the front steps. You’d both made your vows there like every other official did. Only difference is that you both upheld your promises.

“I solemnly swear to uphold the justice, peace and strength of The People’s Republic,” Hongjoong said softly. “I wonder which one of us actually meant that when they said it: us or them?”

The crowds here thickened throughout the morning, so people stood right up against the barricades keeping them off the street. Your chest filled with dread realizing they all stood underneath very tall stone buildings. If Hongjoong’s men have planted any explosives, they’ll be in those buildings and the people below will be casualties. You’d wanted to evacuate but The General disagreed. Why would he do that? These people have no part in his war on the rebellion. They shouldn’t be there. It didn’t matter how many uniforms carried weapons now; they’ll all be caught in the crossfires. The people standing on their balconies and hanging out of their windows will get the worst of it, since they’ll likely be closest to the explosions. You noticed, though, the amount of unoccupied windows. Their curtains drawn, they showed no signs of life behind their frames. People watching on television? Why watch on the television when it’s happening right outside their window? You envisioned Jung Wooyoung, a member of the sniper division, sitting behind one of them with his rifle trained right on you. But, right behind that came the vision of a faceless, nameless Republic sniper who is also only obeying his orders.

These pictures made every nerve in your body sink into adrenaline. Fight mode. No flight. Always fight.

The truck eventually stopped right at the steps of the building. Standing in front of them was a wooden platform a crew constructed overnight. A basic gallows with the Republic flag hanging behind it, a singular noose hung from the rafters above a trap door. The young girl still in love wanted to reach for him. She wanted to hug and kiss him deeply one last time. She wanted to confess everything she felt, and how sorry and stupid she was. Your eyes met his as the truck came to a complete stop.

“I don’t want you to die,” you said quietly, as if the universe might hear you and hasten his end.

“I don’t want you to die either,” he said solemnly. “I love you, YN. I always have. I still do. I don’t think I’m incapable of loving you, even if you chop off my hand.”

“To be fair, you blew up half my face and crippled my leg.”

“I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

“I didn’t mean to hurt you either. I thought I was…” the words died in your throat. “I…” you squeezed your good eye shut, “You shouldn’t love me.”

“But I do.”

“Why?”

You saw the two soldiers climb out of the truck. “Because even when we both went for blood, grappling and fighting one another, I still missed you. I missed you in my bones, love.”

“You shouldn’t.”

“But I do.”

“But you shouldn’t,” you said through gritted teeth, your mouth going dry and throat closing up.

“You’re not a bad person, YN. You just work for bad people. You’re still that girl who used to feed stray cats, give money to the homeless, and always tried to do the right thing despite what other people said. You’re a good person.”

You saw them rounding to the back of the truck.

“I’m not that person anymore.”

“She’s in there. I know she is.”

“And she’s a fool,” you spat back at him, tears burning your eyes. No, you can’t cry now. “A fool who believed in the goodness of people; who believed that at the end of the day, justice prevailed. She thought she was fighting for the right side. The good side. There is no good side in a war-” they reached the back doors and stood to open them, “-Just a lesser of two evils.”

The roaring crowd finally reached your ears as the doors opened. You jumped out before anyone noticed your face, and stood aside for Hongjoong to be guided onto the pavement. You didn’t want to think anymore about what Kim Hongjoong feels for you. It only made your job harder. You couldn’t be distracted right now. Tapping your earpiece, the normal vision on your bionic eye changed to the infrared vision. It picked up the yellows, reds and orange heat of the people on the ground, but your eye swiveled away from them to the buildings above. You saw more figures blocking the view, but your eye stayed on the empty ones. Your good eyes searched for Shin and Boggs, who’d you’d told to meet you here. Perhaps they’d been held up.

Or worse.

Once the soldiers cuffed him again, doing their best not to tighten around his metal hand, you all began walking to the platform. There, you saw three people seated behind a podium to the left of the noose right by a set of stairs. General Bok sat farthest from the stairs, whipping his head away when he spotted you approaching; Vice President Han, a portly man with a shiny bald head and small thin-rimmed glasses on his long nose, and President Yoon. President Yoon was a tall, narrow man with thinning black hair and tight tanned skin. The plastic surgery often popular in the city showed in his thin nose bridge and puffy lips. You realized then that you hated him. Innocent children were trafficked and sold into sex slavery, and he didn’t seek justice because they were not Republic children. If anything, he benefited from it or took part in it. To him, the people in the sectors are not human, and should be treated as such. They are not important. They do not matter. What kind of president does that? Like Hongjoong said, he could stop the war at any time, yet insists it’s important that it continues. It is destroying his country, and he doesn’t care because it is not affecting him personally. The idea of this man having a hit list didn’t sound entirely off base. The two men with her were no better.

You took your position at the bottom of the staircase, gun at your chest and ready to go at a moment’s notice. Your squadmates still remained missing. Shin told you they’d been around the city center. Your infrared vision did not pick up anyone in the buildings or roofs above. Then, someone called out to you:

“Lieutenant Hwang, please come up here and join us.”

Yoon had spoken, and he stared at you with a friendly smile. It felt as if someone filled your insides with snow.

“Me, sir?”

“Yes,” he nodded, beckoning you up the steps. When you shakily reached the landing, he said, “I’d like you to be here with us,” he said, “You are responsible for The Pirate King’s capture and incarceration. I think it’s only right that you share some of the spotlight.”

“I was only doing my job, sir. I didn’t do it for any glory or-”

“-Like Bok said,” he laughed, “Modest until the end. Come. Don’t be shy.”

He guided you to a spot a few feet behind him. You glanced over to Bok, who did not meet your eyes. Coward. If he is in on this assassination attempt, the least he can do is look at you.

The soldiers walked Hongjoong across the stage, and your eyes met his. You noticed his watered with tears, even if he kept his composure and defiance up to the very end. Your own eye teared up again. Every laugh, every cry, every success and failure together flashed before you. The boy who loved glazed donuts and coffee, who wrote songs and loved music, was walking to his death because of you. You brought him here. You hunted him like a dog because the men around you said so. And how trustworthy are they? You watched them walk him right underneath the hanging noose. Your eyes stayed on him. You wanted to put every piece of him to memory before you lose it forever: the blue hair he genetically implanted to look cool, the perfect proportions of his body, the several piercings he had, and his bionic hand. Yeosang and Mingi did quite a job on it. You saw blinking lights right around the vital signs to keep track of his heartbeat which remained steady.

“Welcome, citizens of The Republic,” Yoon began his speech, his voice booming over the cheering crowd. “I thank you all for being here with us as we celebrate this triumphant day. This day will be marked in history as the beginning of the end of our struggles-”

You remember when those hands used to expertly disassemble and assemble rifles in record time. They were capable of pain and pleasure in equal amounts. You missed them. You missed him. Perhaps you’ll join Boggs and resign from command. You don’t want to do this anymore. You don’t want to live in anguish forever. You then noticed his middle finger bouncing in his palm. Your bionic eye is still searching the buildings, your good eye focused on the finger. What was he doing?

“-The outlaw you see standing before you is a man who has-”

A blue light began blinking in a series of spaces and dots. Morse code. Your wristband went off in your ear, and you chanced a glance at the screen. A message from Unknown came through. Without tapping it, the message opened on its own.

‘Apartment building on your left, fourth floor, third window from the corner.’

Infrared vision showed nobody there. You should’ve known. They’d wear reflective gear to conceal themselves. Zooming in on the window in question, you spotted a shadow behind the frilly white curtains. The incoming breeze made them billow inwards and the sniper had trouble hiding behind the window sill. You saw them. They wore the skull cap and mask of a sniper. You couldn’t let them know you’d seen them, otherwise they’ll abort the mission.

“-Kim Hongjoong, you stand convicted of high treason,” said Yoon, “Piracy, destruction of Republic property, murder-”

Staring into the crowd, you saw him. Short and slight, a young delivery man kept his bike parked on the sidewalk against a brick wall. You recognized him from earlier in the day, the delivery boy who had the newspaper printed on the side of his bike. Though now he’d removed his helmet to show a mop of black hair curtaining a pale, handsome face. Kang Yeosang’s apologetic eyes met yours as you spotted something in his hand. You recalled the man from his days serving the Republic. He’d been part of the squad who defected at the hospital bombing. His skills with technology were only outmatched by Shin, who helped build the Pyramid’s firewalls and security systems. Your eye zoomed in on his hand, which you just made out through the crowd of people. You realized what it was right away. You shook your head at him.

But, the blast did not happen in the street. The explosions came from far off in this distance. One large one that shook the very ground you stood on, followed by several more. Right at the same time, you saw several people in the crowd withdraw weapons from under shirts and jackets, and aimed fire at the officers on the ground. Your body swung into action. Pushing Yoon aside, you fired at the fighters on the sidewalks, using your eye as a scope to hit the right targets. Bullets punctured through the wooden stilts holding up the stage, blowing past you and the others on stage.

“Evacuate the street!” you shouted, finding cover behind the President’s podium, “Set evacuation plans in order-”

“-That’s not my order, Lieutenant-” said General Bok, who’d taken out his own pistol to fire back, “-Negate tha-”

“-Get as many people down the street as you can,” you said over the radio, “We need to reduce the civilian casualties-”

“-Lieutenant,” Bok gave you a stern warning, and you glared back.

You started giving orders through your earpiece, and watched all of them moving into action right away. More explosions came from your left, and you realized they’d blown up the Pyramid. But how? The two delivery men at the elevator. They had several long boxes with them that you thought to be donuts. You remembered Hongjoong’s reluctance to eat them you gave him, and it clicked instantly. The Pirates just destroyed communications, ammunition, artillery, and any support the Republic had left. You tapped your earpiece multiple times, hoping to get a radio through, but you were met with dead silence.

“YN!”

Hongjoong and the bullet reached you at the same time. Your enhanced ear caught the whizz of the bullet that would’ve struck your face had Hongjoong not pushed you down. It’d come from the direction of the apartment building. You don’t know how you know, but deep down you did. Using both hands, Hongjoong pulled down the wooden podium to shield you both from more gunfire. In the midst of the chaos, he must’ve broken free of his bonds. His face inches from yours, he said:

“Do you trust me?”

Your brain couldn’t process his words. It could only comprehend your racing heart and need to get away and find your squadmates.

“YN,” he said more forcefully, “Do you trust me?”

“Yes.”

It came out in a single breath. You said it without thinking, and this time you didn’t take it back. The rush of wind came through next as a whooshing sound came overhead. Yoon and the other officials might not recognize the Valiant, but you and Hongjoong did. A metal hovercraft built with the fragments of wrecked Republic ships, the Valiant was various shades of black, white and gray. Hongjoong and his crew truly leaned into their ‘pirate’ nickname by molding their aircraft like the old pirate ships. The engine caused surges of hot air to blow through the streets, blowing people back onto the street. It lowered down above the gallows, and the hull opened to reveal two people standing there: Choi San and Choi Jongho. San still wore the delivery man uniform, while Jongho wore a Republic guard uniform. Officer Kwang. You should’ve known when you didn’t recognize him. They threw down a rope ladder, and Hongjoong took your hand.

“I can’t,” you told him. “Not without my crew.”

“You can contact them later,” he said, quickly grabbing the ladder and bringing you over to it. “Start climbing. I’ll be right behind you.”

“Hongjoong-”

“-Go!”

He took your rifle from you, aiming it towards the guards coming up the stairs. You put your foot on the first ring and started to climb. That’s when the second bullet went past you. Then a third. Then a fourth. The sniper clearly planned to carry out their mission regardless. A cold sweat went over your whole body, causing your hands to slip on the slim rope, but you kept climbing. The wavering ladder made you a moving target, and the sniper isn’t that good. You looked down at the halfway point to see Hongjoong still on the ground. You called out to him, but he didn’t hear you over the wind and gunfire. It’d been at that moment that a deep pain shot through your body from your leg. The sniper’s tenth bullet found home in your shin, having broken the skin and lodged into the bone. You thought your entire leg went numb, only feeling the searing pain every time you lifted your leg. You gritted through the pain, continuing your climb. You need to get to the top, to safety, to where you can defend Hongjoong the best.

Another bullet sailed through the air into the back of your right shoulder. A lucky shot that burned in every pull upwards. You kept going. You did not stop or look around. The rushing winds made you deaf to anything anyone said to you. Your left ear picked up muffled sounds and static, which irritated what little bit of eardrum left inside. Then a third bullet caught you right when you reached the ramp several feet above the stage.

“Fuck!”

You screamed in agony as a bullet grazed your earpiece. Thick streams of blood wet the side of your face, and white noise filled your damaged ear before going silent completely. You felt the cartilage of your left ear as Jongho dragged you away from the edge; your finger went right through the split skin and it burned further. Your good ear-now truthfully good-only picked up the howling winds coming from ahead of you. The newest wound paralyzed the whole left side of your face. You could feel the mechanical ear malfunctioning still, clicking and shooting pain into your brain. The pain spread quickly to your eye, which started seeing static. Both enhancements connected together, one began malfunctioning once the other cut off. You felt blood atarting to seep from under the eye piece, and your chest tightened again.

“Hongjoong,” you huffed, doing your best to hold back the agonizing pain in your ear. You felt shocks of pain spark every time you opened your mouth, and you couldn’t help pressing a hand to stop it. “Hongjoong….”

“He’s on his way,” Jongho said. “Sit down. Let me see your ear.” He checked your severed ear and he winced, “Damn, that looks bad. Here, put this there and hold it. Yeosang could fix you up really quick.”

You took the rag from nearby and pressed it to your ear. However, the pain didn’t mask your concern for Hongjoong. One by one, his crew began appearing from the ladder: tall black-haired Jeong Yunho, who immediately rushed for the cockpit at the front of the ship; handsome Park Seonghwa, who grabbed a weapon from the rack and started firing down below; slender Jung Wooyoung who put down his tripod bag and knelt down to aim his sniper rifle into the buildings around the center; pink-haired Song Mingi, the one likely responsible for the explosions, who still wore his delivery man uniform, and Kang Yeosang in his delivery boy jacket. He spotted you grunting and doubled over in pain, and rushed over to you.

“My…ear,” you growled, not wanting to remove the rag from the wound but also not wanting to press down. “It’s…broken….I think.”

“Come on,” he took you by the arm, “Let’s get you to the medical bay-”

“-But…Hongjoong-”

“-Hongjoong would want you to think about your damaged ear,” he said, ignoring your request and pulling you further into the ship.

Your wounds made it hard to walk. You stumbled and fell into a wall before someone came up on your left side. Hongjoong. You knew it from the flash of blue you saw in a reflection. He said something, but you couldn’t hear him. Every muscle in your body went limp as your brain registered the sterile, silent infirmary in the ship’s second level. Yeosang and Hongjoong rested you on a metal slab, the bright light above you stinging your eyes and the hard metal being hard on your aching bones.

“Just relax, Lieutenant,” said Yeosang, who went to work with a bottle and syringe, “You’ll be fine in a few seconds.”

“Hon-Hong-Jo-oo-ng-” you forced yourself to say through a loosening jaw. Any mechanics keeping your jaw straight now malfuctioned, making it nearly impossible to speak.

“I’m right here, YN. I’m right here,” he shielded you from the bright lights above. His eyes full of panic and concern, he cupped your face and pecked your lips. “I’m right here. You’re safe now.”

“Hon-”

A sharp pinch to your vein interrupted you. Morphine. Ulta-Morphine from the look of the aquamarine liquid filling the tube and going into your arm. The needle’s sting did not even register with the rest of the pain you felt. You took deep breaths, trying to steady your heart. You kept your eye on Hongjoong, unable to care or think about anything else.

“I-I…”

The right side of your jaw slackened, and you lost the ability to speak at all. “It’s okay,” Hongjoong said, “You don’t have to talk. Just rest, okay? Yeosang is going to fix it.”

He didn’t understand. You lifted a hand to his face, despite the burning pain in your shoulder, and he pressed it to his cheek. A sharp metallic taste filled your mouth, and you turned your head to spit it out. Everything hurts, but you needed him to know. You needed to tell him before it all ended.

“Lo-Lov-ve-e yo-o-”

“I know,” he sniffed, kissing the top of your head. “I know.”

He did it all for you. He risked his life to save you. Even when you both fought and maimed each other, your love never waivered. The morphine finally hit your body, and all pain alleviated at once. Slowly, Hongjoong’s face faded to black.

****

“Will you be able to fix it, Yeosang? It’s gonna heal, right?”

“I fixed the eye with no real problems, but the ear is lost. The bullet went right through the cybernetic pieces around it when it slashed her ear, so the whole piece short circuited and bursted in the canal. She’s lucky we got to it in time. It could’ve made her brain dead.”

“Alright, but will she be okay, Yeosang?”

“She’s stable now, but the ear will take time to heal completely. Once that’s happened, I can refit her with a new enhancement. I don’t feel safe doing it until it’s healed.”

Hongjoong stayed beside the medical bed, watching a medical droid carefully changing the bandage around your head. It took a few hours for Yeosang and his assistant droid to patch you up, but you made it. They had to shave half of it to access the pieces attached to your skull. Yeosang and the medical droid managed to remove and patch up your bullet wounds, but your bionic pieces concerned him the most. He held your hand gently in his, kissing your knuckles. It’d been so long since he touched you this way. He remembered the days when he took any chance he could to touch you, whether hand holding or brushing hair from your face. He always had this need to feel some part of you; as if he needed to be sure he hadn't dreamed of you. Now, he had to wait until you’d become unconscious to hold your hand.

"You must love her a lot," he heard Yeosang say, fixing up an IV next to your bed. "To risk getting executed for her."

"I do."

Yeosang didn't question his feelings for you like some of his crew members. He understood it better, perhaps, seeing as he'd defected like Hongjoong did. He'd been one of the physicians in his unit, and Hongjoong recalled him saving people from the hospital fire. Yeosang dragged them to safety, bringing them to a camp where rebel physicians worked on them without interference. He had people on the Republic side whom he loved, and would do anything to get back, if he could.

"They'll blame it on her," he said to Hongjoong next. "They'll say she helped you and brand her a traitor."

"I know." He paused, "But they already thought that when she killed those men."

He'd heard about your heroic deeds through the channels. When he heard a loyalist lieutenant open fire on her fellow soldiers, he never thought it'd be you. He shouldn't have been surprised though. The Republic kept their citizens ignorant to the corruption and crime going on behind the scenes. They didn't know that their president was in the pockets of war profiteers and millionaires looking to cash in. They didn't know the things soldiers did to the people in the sectors, and how those people struggled to survive. They didn't know the fear, intimidation and pain with which the government used to hold power over them. You hadn't known, and you reacted far differently than he'd expected. When Kyungmin told Wooyoung a lady with one eye saved him and several other children, he questioned the boy further. When Jisoo tearfully explained to Seonghwa that a female soldier shot her captors at point blank, he needed to know more.

It seemed he wasn't the only one who solved problems with bullets.

Quick, heavy thumps made him turn around, and he saw Seonghwa standing in the doorway. He'd taken off his stolen Republic uniform, and wore a gray t-shirt over black pants and boots. Hongjoong noticed him panting and clutching the door frame. Soon, more footsteps came and Wooyoung and San appeared behind him.

"You need to turn on the TV," Seonghwa breathed, rushing to the monitor on the wall. "You need to see this. I can't believe it. They just announced it."

"Announced what?"

He turned on a monitor in the room where he saw the Republic news station covering the story. Lee Seojoon sat at her usual anchor desk, a solemn face despite her professional tone.

"-At precisely two-forty-two this afternoon, President Yoon Byungho was pronounced dead. The fearless leader of the People's Republic received several severe gunshot wounds during the Victory Parade this morning. Republic law enforcements cannot say whether Kim Hongjoong, the rebel Pirate King, fired those fatal shots, but it is being investigated-"

"He's dead?"

Hongjoong found this hard to believe. He knew he'd put a few bullets into the old man's back, but he hadn't seen him fall. His personal guards must've rushed him out of the battle and into the hospital. Hongjoong sat there imagining the man taking his final breaths and knowing he'd lost. The rebel leaders will soon hear of it, and plan an attack. The Vice president will no doubt take power, but he is weak compared to Yoon. They'd blown up their main command base and military center, and there is little resistance left in The Republic. It will fall and so will anyone who helped uphold it.

He looked back at you, sleeping soundlessly in Ultra-Morphine Land. He had you back. He had you here with him again. He could protect you. You might not love him right away again, and things will never be how they once were, but you were in his life again.

That was the real victory.

#outlawtheproject #ateez #ateez fanfic #ateez fanfiction #ateez hongjoong #ateez seonghwa #ateez san #ateez jongho #ateez yeosang #ateez mingi #ateez wooyoung #kim hongjoong #park seonghwa #jeong yunho #song mingi #choi san #kang yeosang #jung wooyoung #choi jongho

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falmerbrook · 1 month

Text

TES Summer Fest Day 3: Hungry

Summary: In the months after becoming a vampire Vyrthur is still trying to maintain a sense of normalcy, but having not fed recently, he is struggling to keep up with his duties, and his brother grows concerned.

(warning for descriptions of blood and gore)

I’ve been working on and off on this long backstory fic for Gelebor and Vyrthur, and this is a scene idea I’ve had for the second half of it that I think could work alright out of context as well. These guys live rent free in my head. I think I have thought about them more than the people who actually made them.

AO3 Link

The sun had never been so oppressive. It was noon of the summer solstice, and it felt as if the eyes of Aurl-El himself were baring down on Vyrthur, judging him as he stood on the Chantry’s balcony. In front of him there was a wooden altar with Auri-El’s bow and a sunhallowed arrow laid out upon it, and beyond that his clergy gathered below him. He couldn’t see them as he squinted and tried in vain to blink the pain of the sun’s searing light out of his eyes, but he could smell the metallic scent swirling inside their bodies and feel the warmth radiating from their skin. The emptiness in his stomach was scratching at his insides as the feeling infected his thoughts.

“We thank our… exalted father for giving… giving us these long… w-warm days under his… merry—no, merciful light. We are, as always… undeserving of… of… of this,” he spoke out into the crowd as the sensations of Auri-El’s mercy bombarded him. He knew he was butchering the prayer, but every second in this moment was agonizing.

“May Auri-El continue to… to bless us with… peace,” Vyrthur looked down to reach for the bow and arrow, but everything was too bright. His hands felt like they weren’t his own, and the table below him was beginning to pulsate and sway. He fumbled for a moment to pick up the bow and nock the arrow.

“And may his brilliance protect us from… our enemies and… and…” Vyrthur drew the arrow back and aimed the bow at the sky. It was just a blinding white, so bright it pierced through even his tightly shut eyelids. The skin of his hands and face were on fire and prickled as if he were being poked with thousands of needles, “illuminate our path.”

He fired the arrow, unsure if it was even pointed at the sun if not for a sudden flash of light from the sky and the awed gasps from the crowd. It was too much, and Vyrthur finally brought a hand up to shield his eyes from the light; to shield his eyes from his beloved god like a coward.

With that, the festival had commenced, but Vyrthur couldn’t bear to be outside anymore. The ceremony had been a few minutes at most, but it had felt like hours. His skin was on fire and the world was so bright, the air so filled with the heaviness of the warm bodies around him that a primal hunger was seeping into his mind. He stepped off the platform and made his way towards the doors to the main chapel, stepping slowly and deliberately so as to not make it apparent how desperate he was to get inside. However, by the time he had reached the door, his attempts to seem leisurely had been cast aside as he nearly threw himself through the doorway and slammed the door behind him. The sounds of the festival outside were cut off with the crispness of the Inner Sanctum’s air. Stumbling along the walls of the room he made his way to a bench and fell onto it, heaving and shaking. The halls of the Chantry were lined with guarded windows that let in little light, usually meant for protection in the winter, but now protecting Vyrthur from the summer. The Vale outside was so blinding that he had found the darkest corner of the chapel to rest. Barely 10 minutes outside and his body was aching and burning as if he was completing his pilgrimage all over again, famished and weak. Only this time, he was starting to realize Auri-El might not greet him at the end of this one.

For 3 agonizingly long months it had been a repeating cycle of starving himself until he had no choice but to give into the temptation. Unable to be satiated by the normal food that had fed Vyrthur for the entirety of his life, he would eventually find his thoughts becoming wild and disjointed, only clear when he could smell the blood of his clergy; those thoughts being only of violence and the spilling of their blood. The feeling terrified him in his moments of solitude, and the growing fear that one day he would harm one of his own peers became an ever-present gnawing at his psyche. He knew he needed to feed to protect his people from whatever darkness had infested him, but the act made him feel disgusting. He had been targeting animals of the Vale, but the discovery of their bodies and the threat his hunting was doing to the precious few resources Auri-El provided to them in their haven made the choice to continue down that path risky. Risky and selfish. With every feeding he felt his sense of self and his connection with Auri-El slipping as it filled him with a sickly energy and satisfaction each time.

“Vyrthur.”

Caught up in the dizzying thoughts of his hunger, Vyrthur hadn’t noticed the opening and closing of the chapel door, nor the footsteps approaching him, and startled at his brother’s voice.

“Are you alright? You seemed… distracted during the ceremony.” Gelebor usually spoke in soft tone, but Vyrthur recognized it as particularly gentle and careful in this moment.

“I’m fine, I’m fine. Don’t worry about me, I’ll be back out in a minute. I’m just not feeling my best today, but it will pass,” he replied.

Despite avoiding looking at the other mer, Vyrhtur could almost hear Gelebor’s frown deepen as he crouched beside the bench.

“You seem like you’re quite beyond the point of ‘not feeling well’. You look pale. I think you may be ill.”

Vyrthur kept his eyes focused on the floor, but noticed a hand reaching out to touch him and pressing against his forehead briefly before he squatted it away with a huff.

“Seriously, Gelebor, I’m fine. I’m just tired. It seems like I must’ve overexerted myself in all the commotion around the festival preparations. We aren’t quite as young as we used to be, are we,” Vyrthur said, attempting a chuckle to lighten the mood.

Clearly this didn’t work, as Gelebor flatly ignored him and continued with his concerns, “You looked like you were burning up out there, but you feel so cold. You’re clearly—"

“It’s fine. I’ve felt like this often recently. It’s just my age.”

“That’s why I’m worried, Vyrthur. You have seemed so unwell and distant since you almost died. The others are noticing it too—and I don’t say that to embarrass you, but I know they worry you are becoming unable to fulfill your duties. I know you would never do that on purpose, and I understand that you may not want to be public about whatever it is plaguing you, but something is clearly affecting you and I wish you would at least talk about it to me.”

Vyrthur kept his gaze cemented to the bricks at his feet in silence. He could hear the concern dripping from Gelebor’s words, but he struggled to embrace the feeling as his brother’s physical closeness triggered the hunger pains again. He had been avoiding eye contact over the past few months, worried Gelebor would notice the change in his eyes. To make matters worse, now just being near him Vyrthur could smell and feel the rich blood inside him. The thought of attacking Gelebor and splattering it all over the floor was clawing at the back of his mind, with the revulsion of the thought’s existence at the forefront. He was worried that if he even glanced over at Gelebor he’d be unable to resist the temptation.

Perhaps he should say something though, at least lay out a hint out for Gelebor to muse over, but the fear of his own blood spilling to his brother’s mace petrified him. Gelebor had made a promise to bring down whatever beast was terrorizing the Vale, and Vyrthur couldn’t feel completely secure in the thought that he would forego that promise just because the monster was his family.

“Seriously. I’m alright. Please stop worrying about me. I’ve not felt like… I’ve not felt as good as I used to since the excursion, yes, but today was just a result of not taking care of myself recently. I just need to rest for a moment,” Vyrthur said, finally bringing his gaze up to meet Gelebor’s, “Go out and enjoy the festivities with everyone.”

The eye contact replaced the pain of the hunger with a pain of guilt as Vyrthur saw the sustained worry in Gelebor’s eyes. It was obvious that Vyrthur’s reassurances made no difference, but still, Gelebor straightened himself with a sigh, relenting.

“Just keep resting until you feel better then, ok Vyr? Take your time. Don’t push yourself. We can wait,” he said as he turned to leave back through the doors to the balcony. As the doors closed, Vyrthur was left in the dark and silence, his hunger finally leaving the forefront of his mind.

-----

That night, Vyrthur found himself crouched in the entrance of a cave along the side of the Vale’s cliffs, his jaw tightly clenched around the neck of one of the Betrayed. His robes and arms were drenched in its blood from his frantic feeding, but as he lapped up the blood gushing out of its neck, he felt a surge of power and energy. He was getting high off it. Even as he drank, it made his hunger stronger until eventually his stomach began to feel full. How bad was this, really? Better he hunt one of these inferior beasts than one of his own, right? The less of these disfigured abominations of Auri-El’s children, the better, and the safer. Safer for the Chantry, and safer for himself.

As the hunger began to subside as his thoughts began to finally clear, Vyrthur paused and pulled away from his feast, looking down at it. The neck and shoulder had been shredded and mangled, the head nearly decapitated. In the few breaks through the blood covering his hands and the Betrayed’s body he could see their skin was the same. This one was clearly young, not a child, but small and inexperienced enough to have been easy prey. As the blood sat heavier and heavier in his stomach, he couldn’t look away from the scene in his arms.

Unceremoniously, Vyrthur tossed the body of the Betrayed down a steep passage of the cave, out of sight before the disgust could truly settle in.

#tesfest24 #tes summer fest #skyrim #tes #the elder scrolls #skyrim fanfiction #knight paladin gelebor #gelebor #vyrthur #mine #my writing #apparently i enjoy writing people feeling ill

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neonovember · 2 years

Text

Two Coffee’s

Mafia!au x Steve Rogers

CHAPTERS: 1 2 3 4

summary: your escape to Brooklyn was harboured by secrets and a harrowed past, left abused and betrayed, you accepted your destiny of being swallowed by the crowd. Until the King of New York showed up in front of you and wanted a piece of you for himself.

divider by @firefly-graphics !

Taglist 🏷️ (send an ask to be part of my taglist for this series!)

@tinkerbelle67 @patzammit @jaqui-has-a-conspiracy-theory @nomadstucky @nessie2183 @shamelessfangirl-3 @namelesssav @marvel-phoenix @euphoric-goddess @roseeatta @abschaffer2 @louderfortheback @stupendouslovegardener @wandamaximoff-simp

It had been several weeks since you and Steve got into a routine, you would meet with him to discuss your husband, and he would be the omnipresent blanket of protection in the form of brooding men in dark cars stationed outside your apartment, the diner, your favourite coffee shop. His presence was present in every vessel and part of your life now, and it seems crazy that just 3 weeks ago you hadn't even down the man.

Now it was like he never left. Now it was like he was a part of your routine.

It’s that thought that lingers as you step outside the diner doors and into the chilly afternoon of the Brooklyn streets. With two cups of steaming coffee in hand, you march with a newfound determination towards the indiscreet black sedan that had been parked on the diner sidewalk since you walked through the doors that morning.

They may not speak to you directly, but you couldn’t find the heart to let them sit around for hours on end with nothing but the car heater and a carton of OJ. Especially against the winter breeze that felt like iced knives against your trembling skin.

You tap on the tinted glass gently, scrutinising the reflection that looked too exhausted and angry to really be you. There is a scuffle before the window is sliding until it reaches a quarter down. The man takes a moment to stare you down, hazel brown eyes with deep burly brows eyeing you before recognition clicks in him.

You’re Steves.

He looks at you expectedly, and you remember why you’re here in the first place, the borderline boiling coffee cups going unnoticed by your freezing hands.

You raise them up with a smile, and his eyes flicker to them. The man sitting in the driver's seat next to him bops his head as he catches your eye. Reaching across the brooding man whose stumbled jaw is currently working itself a beat, the man across from him with light eyes cracks an apologetic smile at his friend before accepting the coffee with a nod.

You don’t miss the bristled expression that adores the man as you hand his partner the drinks, all you can do is smile tightly before the window is sealed shut once again, and the only thing meeting your eyes is your reflection itself.

— -

“3 club sandwiches for table 18 hun, and ask if they'd like today’s apricot cobbler,” Caroline says in a rushed voice as she tied back the loose strands of hair escaping from a not-so-neat ponytail.

“You leaving already?” You reply mournfully, as you watch her sneak a few pastries into her duffel bag.

She whips her head up to look at you, her smile pulled down into a pouting frown

“Aww are you gonna mwiss me?” Caroline bubbles out in a screeching high baby voice.

“Ugh, you know I hate when you do that”

“Why do you think I do it” Caroline replies swiftly, wagging her eyebrows playfully

“Seriously though, I’m the only one on shift for the next” You pull up your sleeve to check your invisible watch “4 hours” You moan, following her as she rummages around the back kitchen searching for her phone charger.

A sound of trump escapes her throat as she eyes the hidden wire under a box of napkins

“No can do my beloved, Ron’s asked me over tonight. I think this time he's finally gonna give in” Caroline replies, as she looks over her shoulder smiling at me.

“You and that man. Jesus Caroline, you know it would be a bit easier to date someone..uh I don't know not married?” You gruff, shaking your head disapprovingly.

Caroline turn’s to you, rolling her eyes half-heartedly

“Not everyone can have Brooklyn's hottest mafia slash bachelor slash billionaire wrapped around our finger” Caroline replies, before laughing at your bugging eyes

I told you to keep that on the low dammit!” You hush at her with your hands, eyes searching the empty kitchen in case of eavesdroppers, or men donned in black. Either one scared the crap out of you.

“You know I would never tell a sole, these lips are sealed” Caroline replies, doing a zipping motion with her fingers

‘Yeah yeah, I do. I just wished you were here in case they- he shows up, you know?” You reply softly, gulping down the fear of even thinking of his name.

A look of recognition comes over Caroline’s features, before it is soon replaced with a fury that screams only fierce loyalty and bad decisions.

“Swear to god, if I ever see that man I’m putting a bullet through his skull” Caroline replies, her auburn brows furrowing with a look of determination that almost had you believing her.

“Mhm, with what? A silicon spatula?” You reply, eyebrows clocking up in disbelief, you used humour to mask all your emotions, not just the messed up ones.

“I was thinking a 47 Remington, maybe a shotgun! If I could just saw off the handle, I think it would look pretty good down his throat, don’t you?” Caroline smiles with that innocent look, her eyes shining and her cheeks pushing out the dimples on her left side.

“I would pay to see that” You giggle, before pouting your face as she gathers her bag

“You have Hazel on shift don't ya?” She replies as she notices your kicked-dog expression

“Yeah, but she's as helpful as a sac of potatoes. Too busy talking to Daniel to be of any help” You sigh, swiping a hand across your forehead

At the mention of her name, your eyes watch the young waitress leaning over the kitchen counter, loud boisterous laughter leaving her red rubbery lips as she tries and fails to cover her mouth. Her nails are painted a mossy green but are chipped from her constant biting, and every step of hers jingles from the beady jewellery that adorns her neck and ears.

She had gotten the job in less than a day, and spent less time serving customers than she did suggesting songs for Daniel's busted speaker. The power of connections and a pretty face ran especially deep in the service industry.

Being the restaurant manager’s neice also helped.

Caroline turns to you, shaving her hands in your face to squeeze your cheeks

“Worrin’ will give you wrinkles. She’ll help if she knows you need it. Problem is you never ask don't you?” Caroline replies, unwrapping her apron from her waist and hanging it onto the encrusted wooden hooker.

There was truth to Caroline's words, no matter how much you despised them. All your life you had to rely on yourself, didn't matter if you were in the dusty cabin of your mother's home or the ceiling-high walls of your husband's manor. hell accepting even Steves's proposal felt like pulling teeth, despite every day prior wearing you thin with the lack of protection you held walking through the streets of Brooklyn. You'd taken to wearing a hood most days quicker than you did accept Steve's protection.

“Okay well, women in society have largely been told that they are not allowed to age, so guess my wording is really just a fuck you to the world”. You reply, following her out the back kitchen and down the coordinator to the front counter.

Caroline's laugh echoes through the diner, as she smiles across at you.

“There is hope for us yet” She grins, saying a quick bye to Daniel before slamming the diner door behind her.

Not before screaming out to the bustling street side

“Ya hear that world? Y/N says a big FUCK you”

All you can do is smile brightly as the diner chimes jingle into the growing murmur of the Sunday lunch rush streaming from the diner booth surrounding you.

-- -

“When’s the last time you got laid, Steve?” Rumlows voice echoes in the large office, it's like sandpaper, that voice of his, and it irritates the raging headache pressing against Steve’s temple.

Steve scoffs back a disgruntled noise, shaking his head before flicking through the folded stack of papers left on his desk that morning.

“No, I mean it, they’re usually a sea of women that leave your floor, what happened?” Rumlow edges him, those busy eyebrows rising up in expectation, his bulky frame sitting hunched on the velvet chair across Steve’s.

Steve’s eyes flicker across to Rumlow, searching his face before drifting down to catch the seared tattoo peaking from his rolled sleeve. Rumlow had once been integrated into one of New York's more violent and unstable crime syndicates, the kind that dealt with human trafficking and selling girls like fucking stables.

Steve was already weary of his often violent and ill-tempered mood, the kind that ended up boiling into violent outbursts. But he needed men at the time, and Rumlow was like a trained dog, so he bit back his resignation and enveloped him into the family.

Oh, how he grew to regret it.

“I’m busy, alright, gotta keep fucking Brooklyn from sinking” Steve replies without looking up from his work, swift signature flying over the dotted lines of dock payments and shipments from Budapest.

Rumlow hums, folding his arms across his chest thoughtfully, his eyes linger on Steve’s, analysing him carefully.

“You’re fucking her aren’t you?”

“Excuse me?”

“That girl you’ve got us looking after, a goddamn wife, you know what he’ll do to us if he finds out we’ve got his little wife knee-deep in our shit?” Rumlow spits out, venom lacing his tone as his eyes glint with a certain fire.

“What the fuck did you just say?” Steve’s voice bellow from deep within his chest, but his face is unmoving, his features set in stone that refused to wither into clay.

“C'mon Steve, I know she’s a fine piece of ass but is she really that fucking worth it? I mean you’re putting a lot on stake for some tits-“. Before Rumlow can finish his sentence, a loud crunch envelops the room, Steve's fist flying into Rumlows mouth as he shatters his face.

The immediate scream of pain and anguish fills the room, as blood begins squirting out of Rumlows nose, spilling down his white shirt and staining it further, Steve has to restrain himself from killing the man for the way he talked about you.

The sound of Rumlows wheezing whimpers is drowned out by the loud stomps of boots against the hallway floors. The door opens with a thunk, slamming into the wall behind it before Bucky steps into the bloodied scene of Steve’s office.

“Fuck sake Steve” Bucky grunts, as his eyes reach Rumlows crouched position on the floor, holding a hand to his nose to try and seize the blood oozing from the imprint of Steve’s fist.

“Clean that shit up” Steve replies before wiping away the blood off his knuckles with a cloth towel, throwing it towards Rumlow.

“You don’t ever speak to her that way alright? Let this be a warning to all of you, what’s my business with her is just that, my own” Steve snarks, flicking off the splatters of blood that landed on his cufflinks.

Rumlow shuffles awkwardly, reaching for the rag with a blind hand before limping out of the office, his dignity and ego left in the pool of blood staining the plush carpet.

Bucky steps closer, his hands shoved into his pocket as he stares unblinking at the stained carpet.

Steve looks towards him, muttering profanities under his breath as he smooths out the wrinkles in his suit.

“What?” Steve asks Bucky, watching on as his closest friend refuses to meet his eye.

“When you have us shuffle in on rotation to watch her like some fucking fast food gig, you don’t think they’ll be asking questions??” Bucky murmurs

“That isn’t why I asked you to watch her now, is it? They're my closest men-you’re my closest man, and you want to question me? Bucky when have I ever done anything stupid? Huh?” Steve replies, eyes searching through the disappointment that covers Bucky’s face.

“Never, but I think you’re about to start now” Bucky replies, anger lacing his tone as he moves out of the room.

As much as it pained him to admit it, there was truth to Rumlow’s words, Steve had made a name for himself as a notorious bachelor who never slept with the same girl twice. He found a certain addiction in the debauchery of sex, but it was never love. Steve fucked because he liked to hear the sound of his name screamed into the city skies, watching the women he’d bring home unravel before him.

Now though, Steve has to take a moment to consider that his bed was left cold through most nights, the mantel and throne of the mafia king consuming him.

-- -

Pushing through the swinging doors of the diner restrooms, you cough out a gag as you breathe a lungful of air sharply. The diner's bathrooms were usually a mess by the time you closed your doors but god did it seem so much worse today.

Your eyes survey the diner for the crowds of patrons that usually occupied the leather booths but find them empty instead, a few drizzled customers sipping a coffee before folding their newspapers and making their way out.

The sun had dipped into the horizon soon after you had walked through the bathroom stalls, but the winter months caused the night to come quicker than ever, basking the outside with a darkness you can't help but shudder against.

Collecting the diner menus, you shove them into the shelving compartment situated near the doors, and as you reach for a washcloth a sudden feeling of eyes searing holes into your back envelops your senses. It feels like you’re being watched, and it feels like you're just now noticing, the suddenly ominous atmosphere created by the foggy darkness outside causing you to gulp. You crane your neck slowly to search for those pair of eyes, but all you can see is your manager’s head bobbing up from the diner counter.

She gestures with a nod for you to come over, and you discard the washcloth on the table before meeting her eyes.

‘I’m going to head out, just serve the last few customers and lock up for me.” Mare replies, wiping a hadn't across her face as she slings a bag across her back.

“Where did Hazel go?” You reply as you notice her absence from the kitchen

“Oh, she had to attend this party or something so I gave her the rest of the night off” Mare replies nonchalantly.

You have to dig your diners into your thigh to stop from throwing a sharp remark. You had to beg Mare to let you stay home after you’d got that flu going around the city, and even then you had to make it up in overtime. And now she was leaving you to clean up the diner all on your own, so much for a positive working environment.

You think about stealing from the register just to spite her, but you know she would find out either way and then you'd be rotting in a jail cell with an officer calling for your husband to come to pick you up and throw you back into your other living hell.

So you bite your tongue and bid her farewell as she exited the diner without a second look.

You register her words soon after, customers? But you had sworn all of them had filed out hours ago. It’s then that you noticed the hunched figure almost lying over the diner counters, and you move swiftly to reach his stool.

The man from before is perched on one of the diner stools, his grip pressing into the counter until his hands were knuckle white. A stringy black wooden jacket now adores his body, a stark difference from the deep coal black of his tailored suit in that car hours ago. It obscures half his face, scrunched up to cover his nose and mouth.

His eyes dart across the now empty diner booths, ears catching every sound like a hawk, the scar stretching across his face like a white hand pinched and relaxed with every turn of his head.

He’s hiding from something that you know, but you also know he isn't a man to particularly be afraid of getting caught.

Stepping towards him with a tentative shuffle of your feet, you grip your notepad tight around your hand, a tight smile gracing your features as he slowly rises his head from your scuffled converse to meet your eyes.

“What can- what can I get you?” You gulp down the nervousness from your voice, there’s nothing to be afraid of. He wouldn't hurt you- he can’t, Steve had promised. And you don't know why but you take it his word is as good as gold.

“Just a coffee honey, just like the one from before” The man replies, a dead look in his eyes as you note down his order.

“Nothing to eat? I can’t promise you a fresh meal, but we’ve got a few sandwiches I could heat up for you” You reply, you ask just because it's customary, but god you wished he could be out any sooner.

“Haven’t got the appetite ‘m afraid” The man replies, a smile cracks over the ice of his features, that same jagged white scar folding across his face. There's a glint in his eyes that shine against the diner's fluorescent lights, like he knows something you don’t and it scares you to no end.

You nod slowly, before quickly shuffling your body to get behind the kitchen counter. Reaching for a clean ceramic mug, you make quick work of pouring a fresh batch of espresso into the mug, the black liquid swirls like a whirlpool, steam rising from the cup so you have to carry it gently towards his seat. You feel his eyes on you the entire time, and your hands shake a little as you place it out in front of him.

“Anything else?” You say, rocking on the ball of your feet as you watch him carefully.

“I’m all set, thank you” The man smiles up at you, and your eyes furrow at the disingenuous smile that fits all too big on his face, its almost disprorpoatnte like a Halloween mask, all white teeth and dead eyes.

“I would appreciate it if you could join me, however..?” The man adds, eyes meeting yours that burn into you intensely, he still wears that same Cheshire smile, but his eyes, his eyes almost challenge you to say no. To see what would become of you if you did.

“Uhm..I’m on the clock, can’t be chattin’ when I'm meant to be..” You reply, trying to find the right words to say.

“Serving..customers?” The man clocks his eyebrow, turning around to gesture to the empty diner.

“There hasn't been a soul hat walked through those doors ever since you took your little bathroom break honey, so how about you make my crap day just a little brighter by sittin’ with me?” The man frames his proposal like a question, but you know the way he grips the counter tight that he means it as a command.

There is a beat of silence, of you just staring at him, trying to conceal your growing fear before your eyes dart to the diner doors. He catches your eye line, and coughs out a wheezing chuckle, clocking his head to the side.

“You aren’t that dumb, are you?” The man replies in a condescending tone, and you let your failure weigh down your shoulders.

“Follow me” The man replies with a smile, gathering his coffee mug with one hand before pressing the other to the small of your back, causing you to shudder unconsciously. He leads you to one of the booths hidden away from the door, and you sit with your back straight as he leans onto the booth table.

The silence between you both is filled soon with his hurried gulps of coffee, slamming it to the booth table and causing a crack to form like a lightning bolt through the ceramic mug. The violence causes you to finch, and he looks up at you with a grin.

And within a second, the man is quickly unmasking his hoodie from his face, and the scene that confronts you causes a sickening nausea to rise up your throat. The man’s face, which had been obscured by the hoodie earlier, now bears violent bruises and cuts that burst from his nose and jaw like flowers. They glint against the diner booths overhanging light, fresh and still swollen since the object or thing had cracked against his face.

The man grunts at your disturbed expression, slamming a hand down onto the diner counter that causes you to flinch.

“Your fucking protector gave me this, did you know that?” The man snarks with disgust, you're too afraid to meet his eyes but you take in his words slowly.

Your protector? Huh? No… he doesn’t mean-wait

Steve did this?

You can’t dwell on that realisation before the man is rambling to you angrily again

“And for what? You aren’t shit to me, to any of us, and frankly, we’re getting tired of watching your ass mop and clean after fucking truckers and shit. I used to take down fucking men, and I’m here babysitting. I think it’s about time to put out, alright?” He replies a knowing expression across his face that is soon morphed into amusement as he registers your confused expression.

“I mean you do know that’s why he keeps you? Wants to train you to be his little wife like you once were to little old Richerson’s. Or did you think we’d forget about your husband who’s hunting you down hm? Who’s probably going to throw my ass in the Hudson with a missing foot for even talking to you?”

You bristle at the mention of your husband's name, shaking your head as you press your fingertip to your squeezed eyes until you see stars.

No, no no. This was all wrong. Steve said he’d protect you, he had said that. He promised it like his life depended on it, but the truth was, yours did. And now, now he confuses you, your temples start to throb as a headache sets in as it does since that night when you think too hard or try to remember anything from before. Before your husband, before New York, before this very diner booth.

Did Steve really expect you to be some sit-in wife for him? Jump from one prison into another to finally be the last chest piece of his kingdom? You feel sick at the thought, the nausea burning your stomach as you press a hand to your mouth.

“You seriously didn't think you were anything else did you? Women can't be in this world unless they're whores or wives. That’s how it's always been and always will be. Don’t ever think otherwise, or soon you'll just be another fucking useless whore lying fast down in an alleyway” The man grunts, before pushing the cracked coffee mug towards you before rising from his seat, reaching into his pocket to throw a few scrunched bills at you.

“Clean this shit up, and I suggest you start putting out and doing it fast” The man replies, looking down at you before reaching for your chin, raising your face to meet his eyes.

He ticks at the tremble of your lips as you gulp down the nausea and fear still bubbling deep inside you.

“It's a shame really, that such a pretty face goes out like this, you see I didn't want to be the one to tell you this, but he gave me no choice.” The man sighs sadly as if it was the world's burden to carry that information.

“Reckon you could’ve been something if Richardson had not snatched you up like he did all those years ago. Funny how life works though isn't it? Used to be living in tower high walls and now you're scrubbing a dirty restaurant floor”. The man replies softly, yet the words spit out of him like blood, insincerity written all over his face that told you he didn’t feel bad. Not one bit. In Fact, he probably enjoyed it.

He lets go of your chin with a shove, before his loud boots stomp against the linoleum floors, slamming the diner doors behind him with a bang, and leaving you to drown in the ever-growing lies the people you’ve trusted have suffocated you in.

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