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lo1k-diamonds · 8 months

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SX Seoul Series | Jungkook Entry 💜 Bubbles (Part 1)

PAIRING: Jungkook/Reader

SUMMARY: You're back in town and your first stop in a night out with friends is a new club: SX Seoul. You had no plans, but when you see your ex, everything changes.

WORD COUNT: 11.6k

GENRE: Exes to lovers, smuuuuuut, angst, making up

RATING: Explicit

WARNINGS: exes, explicit sexual content, in public, oral, slight degradation and rough cause you are both hurt

PARTS: [1] [2]

(You can also read it on AO3)

Masterlist | Masterpost | Scroll my stories on Tumblr | Schedule and WIPs

You smiled at the bouncer on your way inside the club and brushed a strand of dark hair behind your ear. Your group called you to follow as you got lost looking around the newest club in Itaewon. It was purposefully dark with red neon lights in wavy lines flowing in the direction of the dance floor but not before a huge sign with black and white stripes coaxed your attention with promises expanding over the several floors: SX.

“Come along.”

You smiled at your best friend and followed her and her friends to a reserved club area not too far from the bar. The Tech House music was making your ribcage hum comfortably and you sat on a couch before she turned to you again.

“I know the bartender on our side tonight! I’ll go say hi for a second!”

You nodded and watched her go as you took the space around you comfortably. The other girls were chatting, cross-checking who was there tonight and who they knew. You were used to hanging with girls like them — fun and wild at parties and clubs. You didn’t know them because you’d been away for a while, but you trusted your dearest friend to keep good company around.

Either way, you were there to have fun and enjoy being back home. You took a deep breath, the familiar scent of sweat and alcohol latching itself onto your skin before you even contemplated dancing. Everyone else was already doing it, flowing like a perfect wave in that crowd and you’d join them soon enough.

The lights were flashing all around to the generous beat making you tap your foot, and you contemplated getting up without waiting for your best friend when you saw him. Fully dressed in black in a way that avoided light and dancing so closely with a girl your guts burned with furious jealousy.

“Right? I’ve heard about him,” a girl gushed to your right. “He’s very hot.”

“You’re joking, look at that sleeve,” another one replied and your eyes immediately traced his arm. It was fuller now. “I wanna ride that bad.”

“Do you think he has other tattoos?”

“I’ll tell you tomorrow,” one answered and they all giggled and laughed around. Your eyes never diverted from him or the way he was dancing with that girl, firm hands gripping her waist over a sparkly deeply cleavaged top.

“But you know, I’ve heard he fucks without kissing. Without even acknowledging you.”

Finally, your eyes turned to the girl sharing all the gossip and you wondered how she knew that.

“First-hand experience?” You asked with a teasing smile, just making conversation. They didn’t have to know how truly interested you were in knowing.

“No,” the other girls turned to hear more and you could see they were all charmed by the picture the girl was conjuring. “Not my kind of thing.”

The other girls teased her reply for a moment while you paid them little mind.

“Yeah, right. Look at him,” another one laughed openly.

“He’s fucking sexy and has this cute smile,” one said almost wantonly. She was possibly voicing everyone else’s thoughts. “Face it, who wouldn’t want to touch those curls?”

“He can get any girl on her knees.”

“And a bad boy? Get serious. We’d all be lining up.”

“What if he changes?”

“What if we’re the one?”

They all giggled except you, starting to regret not having a drink in your hand.

“Guys like him don’t change.”

“Actually,” the girl with the gossip leaned forward. “Rumour is he was in a committed relationship and that when she dumped him, he did a one-eighty and never dated seriously again.”

Your friend neared you all with a tray of shots and a wide grin, “Who’s not dating seriously?”

“Whoa, what a bitch,” one replied, leaning forward to grab a glass.

“Who would waste that?”

“If I could tap that, I’d hook him around my little finger.”

Your best friend looked at you quizzically and you just twitched the corners of your mouth. You grabbed a shot glass as well while the gossip girl explained everything to your best friend. In an instant, her eyes shot to yours but you were purposefully avoidant.

“What’s his name anyway?” One of them asked, turning her back so they could toast.

“Jeon Jungkook.”

Your eyes immediately fell back on him and you ignored your friend’s worried looks. You cheered with the girls to a good and steamy night and drank the shot without much thought. It burned on its way down, but you were already burning from before, so no biggy. Who cared who he danced with, you were there to have fun too.

Your best friend called your name with a tinge of worry and all you did was smile, “I’ll go grab another round.”

You got up and adjusted your short strapless dress to make sure it covered your ass before trying to get in between the crowd to reach the bar. You didn’t have to go that far, but you couldn’t control your curiosity. As you moved in closer, you could see how he seemed taller, more built, and so buff. He had let his hair grow longer and it curled wildly around his ears, giving him an edge you found yourself liking a lot. Your lower belly was tingling already as you eyed him with hunger, especially those firm hands.

You were so hot that you were sweaty and by the time you leaned against the bar, you finally noticed something wasn’t right. The girl he was with was waving something small and flat between two fingers that she hid very quickly, and whatever it was got him angry. You knew that disgusted lip pull, and it made you smile.

He turned away from the girl and you instantly faced the bar, giving the whole scene your back. You were curious, hot, and bothered by the mere fact that he was there, that you got to see him, that there was a possibility that you would talk. It had been a while. You shouldn’t be curious, but the tingly sensation down your stomach wasn’t interested in shouldn’ts.

It was then and there that you almost took a deep breath and committed to not look his way the rest of the night. Your curiosity shouldn’t be enough, the girls gossiped way too much so you had all the information you could need, and there was really no need for your paths to intersect.

But fate wouldn’t have you choose that road tonight, it would seem. You turned to the side, curious as to where he would be, and you smiled. There were only two people in between you and an outstretched arm with a full sleeve over the bar counter. He was too close to be ignored, and you just couldn’t.

You made your way to him and luckily the two people between you had just gotten their drinks and were ready to leave. Jungkook didn’t notice you getting near because the bartender was listening to his order and you just leaned on the bar counter by his side.

“Order for me too, will you?”

He turned to you and his face was worth a million words. His lips parted to make way for air, but he wasn’t breathing, and that was when you noticed the lip ring. His skin was perfectly immaculate, the sweetness you’d recognize anywhere in the tender swell of his cheeks. Higher, his normally lovely eyes were wide in shock as he took in your presence. His eyebrows twitched and you noticed another piercing, which along with the new ones on his lip made you smile as you leaned to support your head on your hand. He was still figuring out if you were a ghost while you were in wonderland, wondering what had happened to all that sweetness.

“Here you go,” the bartender placed a whiskey cola on the counter and you turned quickly before Jungkook could react.

“Can you get me one too, please?”

You were already waving your credit card and the bartender acquiesced without wasting a beat.

It was the moment Jungkook needed to grab his drink and shug half of it like he was dying of thirst. Or maybe he just really needed a drink after seeing you.

“Thirsty are we?” You asked, reaching for the glass from his hand and taking a couple of sips while never breaking away from his darkened eyes. The ice-cold drink had you blinking for a second, thankful for the refreshing sensation down your chest. “You always liked them sweet.”

You placed his glass near his hand again before turning to smile at the bartender retourning with your card and your drink.

“You’re here.”

It wasn’t a question and if you weren’t interested in reading his lips, you might have missed it. So you smiled, letting the nostalgia fill you up in a nice kind of way. You had missed the little twitches of his lips while he mused or the way he scratched his nose bridge softly when he was embarrassed or at a loss.

“I am. How are you?”

His eyes were focused on the drink and he scoffed at your question, reaching to drink the rest of it. That was the first time you doubted this could end well. There was a bitterness in his features that dragged yours out of the deepest corners of you where you wished it would remain buried.

“Why are you here?”

Your lips twitched, “New club in Seoul.”

He sneered, “There were many new clubs in Seoul over the last year. Never crossed you before.”

“You know I wasn’t here.”

Your eyes locked and yours had all the meaning they could have. You weren’t in Seoul, so you couldn’t have crossed ways before. But you were here now.

He looked down and licked his lower lip while kicking the bar pensively. You let him process the fact that you were there in the flesh while you drank. When he looked up at you again, you caught his eyes and passed him your drink. He took a second but he grabbed it, turning to the bar to down it while you leaned into his ear.

“Dance with me.”

He looked out of the corner of his eye at you and you pulled back, waiting. You weren’t as crazy as anyone could assume, you knew the options. He could outright laugh in your face and move away like you were a plague, and it would hurt, but you would understand.

You kept your eyes locked on his, riding that heartbeat as you waited. You also knew that he could take you up on that offer, dance with you, and who knew what else. And it wasn’t as much as for the mystery, or a challenge, or anything of the like. You didn’t want him for any of those vain reasons. You wanted so much more.

He gave you a short nod and placed your empty glass next to his, with only the ice left. You gave him a cheeky smile before turning to go deeper into the crowd, far away and in the middle so that your best friend wouldn’t see you and advise you to be wise and think twice. What could you tell her; the moment fate challenged you with the chance of meeting him, you instantly lost.

You never turned back to check if he was following, you just assumed he did. You stopped with the flashing lights, sweating bodies, and thrumming music all around you, and you closed your eyes. You wanted his hands on you, his arms around you, his waist so close you’d be indistinguishable. You craved his presence, slick pooling at the thought of it alone.

So when two firm hands grabbed your waist and pulled you back flush against a firm chest, snaking arms holding your stomach and going up your sternum like they owned you, all you could do was freefall into him, releasing a moan that you knew he could have never heard, but he surely felt.

He hid his nose in your hair, lulling you two to the beat, and you melted against him. He was always a good dancer, the way he rolled his hips to guide yours reminding you of far sweeter times. His hand reached your chest and rested there, and you thanked the dark, the loud music, the crowd, the alcohol, the moment. It was in those moments that the deepest desires came out, hiddenly safely away. Only the two of you knew: how he was brushing his nose and lips on your neck, and how you were grabbing his arms to close around you tighter.

“When did you come back?” His lips were so close to your ear that a wave of shivers ran down your neck.

“Two days ago.”

His arms around you had you losing yourself further and further. You couldn’t care less what the music was or where you were. All you wanted was that chance and you were greedy.

“Are you alone?”

You sank your nails into his skin, “Youngjoo is here.” He didn’t react but you knew he would remember your best friend. “Are you?”

You forced the words out of you. You almost didn’t want to know, especially after what the girls were gossiping about. Maybe they were wrong and he was dating someone seriously. But then he would have never been dancing with that girl before, so maybe the rumors were true. And on that end, you had very mixed feelings.

He didn’t answer but he didn’t move away either. You loved everything as it was: every inch of his skin glued to yours, his lips ghosting your neck, his hands seconds away from groping you and making you beg.

But eventually, you needed more. You needed an answer. You’d beg, gladly, but not if he had his thoughts on someone else.

So you turned in his arms, the short dress allowing you to easily glue your bodies together as you hid near his ear. “Answer me,” you cooed, brushing his neck with your fingers until you were embracing and grazing his scalp with your nails. You leaned the side of your face on him, his sweat not bothering you for an instant. It reminded you of what it was like to feel him that close while on his lap. When he would fuck into you, sweetly and strongly until every breath was a moany whimper, and you buried your fingers just like that to keep him close. His delectable scent would invade you then and envelope you tightly in everything Jungkook-related until all there was left was his coarse words tensing the coil in your—

He breathed near your ear and you lost your breath, sighing instantly after when he said nothing.

“Answer me,” you asked again. This time you nuzzled his ear and pressed yourself even closer, “Tell me what I want to hear. Tell me you’re by yourself, that you have no plans, no one waiting at home, nothing stopping you from doing this,” you let out all your deepest desires, carried out by the close and delirious moment.

His hand was pressing up your spine and nape as you spoke until it latched onto your hair but it didn’t pull you away. You had moved by yourself to be as close as you could, breaths fanning each other’s faces as you waited for his reply.

You waited and longed, and tried not to rub your body flush against that familiar warmth that you were craving like the air you breathed. Unmistakably, your body betrayed you by leaning closer and closer until your noses grazed briefly, and that was when you felt the pull. His hand pulled your head back by your hair and you opened your glistening eyes, teeth deep into your lower lip with utmost desire, only to find his dark eyes and rigid expression. And that was enough to shake you and put out in the open everything you wished had stayed hidden: he was angry.

Suddenly, you remembered very well the last time you saw him. How much it hurt him, and you. How much of a coward you had been. How much you didn’t deserve a drop of his attention, let alone his time, touch, or warmth.

He let you go slowly as memories you thought no longer haunted you came rushing back, making you swallow a lump. And you smiled, because how could you not? He was angry, so very clearly, and you deserved it.

Your bodies were finally separated and despite the happiness in your chest at having had the chance to see him, your knees were weak and your legs wobbly. You couldn’t do this.

“I’m sorry,” you voiced, hoping that your expression conveyed how much you meant those words. For now. For before.

And you turned to leave with a deep breath. Were you running away? Yes. In a way, from the anger you created in him and the regret in yourself. From the chance of being rejected head-on, which you knew you had coming but you had never been the brave kind, so you couldn’t face it. You could even agree he deserved to have the pleasure, but you were far too selfish to let him have it. No. You’d remain the bitch who dumped him and couldn’t face the consequences, which was exactly why you were leaving.

It was chilly outside but it didn’t matter, you were too hot from all the emotions — the excitement and the shame and regret. You stepped to the street where you knew that among the cars stopping and passing you’d eventually catch a taxi dropping people off and took out your phone to text your best friend that you were leaving.

You had just hit send when someone grabbed your arm and you offered resistance, ready to fight whoever dared to try to grab you and—

Familiar dark eyes faced you back and you instantly let your body fall to his chest. His jawline was still firm as he clenched it, angry eyes stiffening his face, but you still let yourself get drawn in like a magnet to a polar opposite. You knew he was mad, knew he had reasons to hate you, despise you, treat you worse than the girls he fucked without kissing or acknowledging, but fuck were you—

He stepped back and dragged you along and you offered no resistance. You had no idea where he was taking you as he walked you down the street tightly by the arm, hiding his grip between you as you walked. You looked up at him, ignoring if you’d trip and fall with such high heels. He looked angry, and you cursed yourself for thinking it looked hot as hell on him.

He pulled you into a dimly lit back alley that led to a residential area and stopped you just behind a hidden corner covered by a parked car. Your back hit the wall and you looked up at him while grabbing the chain strap of your bag over your head so it wouldn’t be in the way.

That thought repeated itself — he looked hot as hell. You didn’t like that he was angry with you, but that tension on him was sexy as fuck and you wanted to be the one to relax him. To let him take out his frustration on you until he was vulnerable and sweet like you always remembered him.

Those were the thoughts in your mind when you raised your hands to touch him but he slapped them away harshly. You didn’t have time to react about it though because a second later he caged your face in his hands and crashed his mouth to yours, pressing you between him and the wall.

The cold wall was nothing when you were burning inside out. His mouth was hungry on yours and you paid him back in kind, getting your tongue to meet his just as eagerly. Your hands gripped his shoulders closely while you tried not to let the lightheadedness get you, but it was too late. All you wanted was happening right now, you’d keep kissing him and reaching for him until the end.

His hands lowered to your curves as his lips trailed down your jawline and you moaned when he squeezed your chest harshly. You pulled him closer, you wanted it all, and when he humped his erection to your hip, all you could think to do was beg.

“Yes,” you breathed, feeling how hard he was through both your clothes, from head to base. “Fuck me right now. Please.”

His lips quickly came to yours, if to shut you up or not you couldn’t tell. Either way, he gave you enough space to reach his waist, unbutton his pants and grab his cock firmly. He rutted your hand with wanton groans into your neck, and you felt like the world was yours. If you could have him, then you wouldn’t complain or whine ever again. If that thick cock would stretch you again like you wished so badly, then you’d shut up about everything wrong in this world because absolutely nothing would be wrong ever again.

Maybe he heard your prayers because suddenly he grabbed your hips and tapped them for you to instinctively jump on his lap. You supported yourself on his shoulders while he kissed you and let you play with his lip rings, rolling your tongue over them. Meanwhile, you could feel but not exactly know what he was doing at your waist level in between your two bodies. Only when he put the condom wrap near his mouth so he could rip it open with his teeth did you realize there was a good reason to interrupt your make-out session.

You let him have his focus while he put it on, lazily brushing your lips over his forehead, right until he searched for your panties only to rudely pull them to the side and push himself inside you almost instantly. You groaned with a hint of a whine at the burn, but soon he made you jump on his lap, piercing his cock fully into you and you let your head fall back. Fuck, had you missed this.

You didn’t have time to let the pleasure reach every corner of you, but your enjoyment was not cut short. His hips snapped into yours and your chin dropped, eyes hooded when you realized that was how you were going to get him. He did it again, grabbing your shoulder and hip into place and the corners of your mouth twitched. You almost smiled before biting your lip as he started a paced rhythm that didn’t give you a second’s rest.

His angry eyes were on you as the slaps echoed into the night along with your stifled moans until you couldn’t care. Who cared if someone found Jungkook fucking your brains out? You wanted him to, dreamed of it, remembered it, had wished on all your lucky stars you would one day get to feel that way again. And now? Fuck if you cared who caught you. That thick cock ramming into you was the sweetest thing—

He grabbed your hair to pull your face to kiss him and you kept on moaning into his mouth. His tongue didn’t meet the reception he wanted, and you blamed the way he was fucking into you so hard you couldn’t even focus on breathing. Maybe it aggravated him or it just gave him his next idea, but in a second he was kissing down your neck, which had you grabbing his head close so he would keep going.

Suddenly he yanked the upper part of your dress and as it didn’t have stripes, the elastic gave in and let the fabric slide. He did the same on the strapless bra, not stopping his hips for a second, until your chest was out in the open, bouncing with every thrust.

He buried his face between your tits, licking and bitting for a moment in which you knew you were dripping slick down both him and you and you fucking loved it. Your haze was so up in the clouds you couldn’t be bothered to come down until he did something that shook your heart.

He tightened your legs around his waist, leaned in an angle so he could hold you firmly against the wall, and fuck you in a way that rubbed your clit just like you loved it. Instantly, the way he dragged over it and reached deep inside with his cock had you moaning breathlessly. Then he straightened up, carefully perfecting his movements until your mouth was open and you were jumping on his lap with him to the best of your abilities. He knew he had you in the right spot, you were squirming but desperate to stay close, moaning and completely lost, trying to sink your nails into his skin but weak to the sensations leaving you adrift. He reveled in that, with such pride swelling inside him he didn’t know what to do with himself aside from grabbing both your tits and squeezing them harshly.

He felt the way you tensed around his cock and he knew he had you. With every snap of his hips, your eyes closed further, your moans became breathy, and your legs pulled him more in. He knew he could squeeze you to the point it bruised without as much as a whimper, but he stayed clear from doing it, taking pleasure only in the way his cock was so deep inside you that he knew you’d never forget it.

You took your hands to his over your chest and then it hit you that only he could do you like this. Only he knew every little thing that you liked, only he knew how to grope and squeeze without hurting you, only he knew exactly how to fuck you into oblivion every time. Because it was him.

Fuck, it’s him. After so long—

You tried reaching for him, but your hand dropped to his shoulder as you let the orgasm shake you and steal away your inhibitions if there ever were any. You closed your eyes and felt his body press closer to you, almost as if to hide you from the world as you moaned and cursed him for releasing you like this. He fucked you through it, then hid in your neck when it came to his, grunting and holding you tightly. You grinned and petted his head when he stilled, blissful with having him tucked deep inside you again.

Until he cursed into your neck and you weren’t sure if it was out of giddiness, delight, relaxation, or relief like it would have been for you, or if it was because he was pissed at himself.

When he let you down a bit more abruptly than you anticipated, you were left only with a stronger doubt.

He turned to the side to get rid of the condom and you took the time to put your bra and dress back in place. When he turned back to face you, you had already grabbed your bag from the floor and were just looking at him. Your lips twitched — he looked so fucking handsome with that spark in his eyes.

He cursed, then ruffled his hair for a moment before looking at you again, “I’ll take you home.”

You pulled your hair neatly back and pursed your lips, “I’m staying at Youngjoo’s. I don't have a place yet, so we… wouldn’t have privacy.”

He openly snorted, “You're assuming I want seconds.”

You sighed with a light shrug, “Isn't that what we just did?”

His derision fell through as his features hardened again but you didn't budge. You did what you did and didn't regret it for a second. You were both adults and he followed you, there was no point in pretending you didn't want each other. That was what you asked for and what he had given you, whether that made him angry or not.

But you didn't want to antagonize him. You gave him a short nod, “It's okay, I can—”

He clicked his tongue and gave you a dry look before giving you a nod to follow him. You considered for a second if you should — if it made him so angry, maybe you shouldn't. But tonight you were giving 0 fucks about shouldn’ts. You were doing what you wanted and what you wanted was your hands on him for as long as possible.

So when he stopped next to a red motorcycle and opened the seat compartment to get you a helmet, you smirked. You wouldn't tell him, but you missed exactly that — hugging him while he sped between every single obstacle and your hair flowed behind you with the wind. When you were free to go mad fast but remained safe as you could only feel with him.

He sat first, putting on his helmet expertly and starting the motor in a well-rehearsed move. You had seen him do it before when you were still together, but there was a certain magic in seeing that even if he changed, some things didn’t.

He leaned his head ever so slightly to glance at you and you smirked, finally getting on behind him and gripping him firmly. Maybe you shouldn’t, but you were feeling daring — and he looked back. He checked on you, despite the derision and silences. You took the small win.

“You remember where Youngjoo lives?” You ask in a bit of a shout as he is looking at the road to finally get on it.

He didn’t answer you, but seeing the direction he took, you immediately assumed he remembered. And with this, you allowed yourself to just lean closer, wrap your arms tighter around his torso, and relax. Inhale his scent unapologetically by sticking your face into his shoulder maybe a bit too much; the helmet was big and he surely felt it. Palm his chest and torso over his jacket; you hoped he wouldn’t get too distracted. You were petty, knowing he wouldn’t be able to stop and get angry with you or snap your hands away. Knowing this was perhaps the last chance you’d ever have to touch him, so you did. Wrong or right, it didn’t matter to you. You’d remember this later and all the little sensations and you’d be happy you did.

You were lulled by his warm body and the drum of the motor raging on, so you paid little attention to where he was going. All you knew was that when he stopped and pushed a button for a communal garage to open at the foot side of an apartment complex it was not Youngjoo’s place.

He rode more softly through the cars parked underground until he found his spot and stopped. You didn’t ask questions, you didn’t need to. You stepped out of the bike and handed him your helmet, and he took it and put it back, the both of you quiet. You made sure to remain quiet and you followed him, small as a mouse, into the elevator lobby, then inside one where he pressed the seventh floor, and even when the doors closed with only the two of you there.

Your mind was roaring on about him bringing you to his place and the only reason he would have to do that, and your chest would soon explode. With every passing minute ever since you laid eyes on him, it felt like you were living a dream. Only in dreams did you think you’d ever have the chance of being near him, so no matter what, you were winging it. Living the moment, even if all of this turned out to be an angry fuck, you’d gladly get on your back.

He typed the code to unlock an apartment door and you followed him inside, cheekiness left outside in the night right before you got into the bike and decided to make the most of your time with him. He threw the motorcycle keys on a table you couldn’t see because it was dark and turned on the lights, making you hold your breath. He had moved to that place, that much was certain, but even his space didn’t remind you of Jungkook as you expected it to.

You had only taken the step to peep into his home, you meant to turn back and take your shoes off as it was respectful to do, but he was a step ahead. You stepped out of the way to exchange places with him right after he got his jacket on the hanger, but he had something else in mind. His hands followed your movement to your waist, and as soon as you looked up, eager lips were searching for yours.

You instantly melted against the wall, hands raising to run through his hair as you let yourself dive into that contentment again. While you were relaxed, he was clearly impatient. His palms traced your curves in wide but quick movements, so firmly you knew you could have already been naked, he was learning the same. His tongue was inside your mouth almost as quickly as his body pressed to yours, stealing your thoughts and any possibility you ever had to change your mind. Not that you would, and you were sure he knew that. Your hands were gripping him close, your breathing was heavy and dragged and you weren’t fighting his kiss in the slightest, on the contrary. Your tongue was inviting him, your body was arching to expose more skin, you were taking what you could and you’d give whatever he wanted.

But then he broke the kiss and looked down, forcing you to stop as well. You looked at him under wanton fluttering lashes only to find him with that same stiff and reticent expression you had seen before.

Your first heartbeat stung — you could guess why he was hesitating and there was nothing you could do about it now.

The second revolted you — you were there, weren’t you? In his house? He brought you here, so why worry? Why hesitate? Why overthink?

The third got you annoyed — if he was that hesitant, why bring you there in the first place? Why bother?

The fourth rilled you up, and that was when you spoke, “What’s wrong?”

He refused to look up at you but never moved away.

His breathing was calming down and you spoke without thinking, “Changed your mind?”

His eyes finally moved to yours and you saw his anger. And again, like a well-rehearsed exercise, all you could think was how you were right there.

“I’m here,” you said quietly, reaching for the curling strands of hair under his ear.

He didn’t move, eyes fixed on the corner of your lips, and you knew he was forcing himself to stay like this.

“I can leave,” he finally said. “You can sleep here and I can leave.”

“Why?”

He finally looked up at your eyes as you let your head fall back to the wall in a languid movement.

“This is your place, why leave?”

His jaw tensed and you could swear you saw a vein pulsing.

You sighed, “You brought me here so here I am. What do you want to do? Fuck me until morning? Gladly. Just sleep? I’m sure you have a big bed. Drink until we pass out? I’m down. Talk?” His eyebrows twitched and you nodded. “Not sure how that would work, but we can. Or not. I won't say another word if you don’t want me to. Just stop this internal struggle of yours. Do what you want to do.”

You were as comfortable as could be between him and the wall and just waited for his decision. Your eyes stayed on his pensive expression, taking in the little details before going down to trace his wide shoulders and biceps. He was definitely more buff and you wondered if it changed things a lot or—

“You can shower first.”

He backed away from you and you couldn’t help your expression sobering up. He looked almost apologetic, hiding something deep inside while showing you something you could only call a mask.

But you knew him. All those women thirsting after him, wishing they could make him smile and fall for them didn’t know him like you did. For better or worse, all they had were rumors while you had memories.

So you nodded and stepped towards the bathroom, but not before turning around midway, “Please don’t leave.”

The look you gave him was enough — pleading whereas his eyes flickered with an emotion you had not yet seen on him. But even if you wanted to press it and ask, you didn’t. At the end of the day, it was still his choice and you were well aware of it.

You took a calming shower, cleaning the sweat and alcohol from your skin with a shower gel that smelled of him and wondering what your next step should be. You ended up deciding that if he had left despite your request, you would call a taxi and go back to Youngjoo’s. You honestly hoped as you toweled yourself that he would tell you to leave and be clear about it instead of leaving to give you space at the expense of his comfort.

You glanced around the bathroom and ignored your discarded dress and heels in the corner, searching for something else instead. Your eyes fell on a black tee thrown over the laundry basket but that didn’t quite make it in. You grabbed it and brought it to your nose, shutting your eyes instantly with a longing grimace — it smelled of him. You couldn’t bring yourself to admit the mess of feelings that his very existence created in you, but the tears in your eyes were enough.

You quickly put it on, looking at yourself in the mirror. He always enjoyed oversized clothes, which on you looked like two of you could fit. Your lips curved as you smoothed the fabric over your stomach, his scent gracing your senses every time you took a breath. Nothing beat that comfort.

You turned to leave the bathroom and hoped to find Jungkook still there. You hoped he’d let you keep the tee, though you wouldn’t be opposed to taking it off if it would be replaced with his strong arms—

The scent of coffee hit your nose quickly once in the living room and your brow furrowed. Not because it was coffee, Jungkook liked coffee, but because when you neared the kitchen, your guts twisted. On the counter, you saw a fuming mug and the cinnamon smell instantly teared you up. That plus the bottle of soymilk and the honey pot pushed to the back told you many things: he had those things he never really drank before laying around, he remembered your favorite latte, and he made it for you.

Your eyes jumped to his back; he was looking outside the kitchen window and by the intense coffee scent around him, you knew before he turned that he was having a black expresso.

He looked at you and your guts turned; all you could do was look into his eyes while your fingers gripped the hem of his shirt on you. You were tearing up in a way you couldn’t control, everything was too much. He didn’t leave. You were there, in his life, in his home, wearing his clothes, having your favorite drink that he prepared for you because he still remembered how. That meant he had to care, even if just a little, and you didn’t know what to say but—

Your chin trembled but before you voiced anything, he finished his coffee, put the empty cup in the sink, and passed you to enter the bathroom. The door merely clicked closed and you covered your eyes, trying to reel your emotions back in. You stepped to the counter to grab your coffee and as soon as the taste hit your tongue, your heart shook, creasing lines between your eyebrows as you teared up.

You didn’t want to have hope, but your stupid heart was turning a deaf ear. You never had hope before, you knew you fucked up and never handled things properly, and for the way you hurt him, you knew you didn’t deserve any kindness. You scoffed at yourself and drank more to have the comfort of that warmth down your chest as if it came straight from him. You knew and it made no sense but you were still there and you were willing to delude yourself for a moment longer.

So you took your mug and the opportunity to look around while you heard the shower noise faintly in the background. His place was bigger now and you looked around with a smile on your face. He had the same black leather couch, the same grey bean bag, and the same shoebox by the entrance. The fact that he had a projector screen instead of a TV made you smile, he spoke for ages that he wanted to do that if he ever moved out. But as you took in the rest of the place, your smile broke a little.

On the corner, there was a barbell weight set, dumbbells, a pull-up bar, and resistance bands. He used to work out before, but now you knew why he looked bigger — he definitely worked out more now. You pursed your lips with the sweet latte comforting you as you sipped it slowly; you didn’t want to think about why he was making that effort.

You moved on to peep at his desk, interested in what he was working on, and you stilled. He still had his gaming keyboard, mouse, and desktop, but now he had books about photography on the desk. He always liked photography and filmmaking, but the new camera and microphone spoke volumes about what he was working on at the moment. You searched around for the easel he’d always have with a recent work in progress or his sketch notebook but you couldn’t find them, and so you pressed your lips. You loved it when sketched you, always when you least expected it, showing you beautiful versions of yourself you only started believing because of him.

You finished the coffee, eager for the sweet trace to link you back to him — you wondered what happened to—

You turned when you heard the bathroom door opening, you never noticed he had stopped showering. Your thoughts tripped over themselves at the sight of him: wet raven hair ruffled by a towel you couldn’t see, dark eyes set on you as if he wanted to make sure he was seeing right, soft golden skin covering wide shoulders and swollen arms, chest, leading to firm abs that were always there, but not as marked. Your eyes lowered, but the black towel was hanging on to his hip like you could only envy.

You raised your eyes to find him serious, looking at you, tense features on a tense body.

“Thank you,” you smiled at him, waving the empty mug before placing it down. You swallowed a lump at the view of him walking towards you, despite his demeanor. “It’s my favorite—”

You weren’t startled when he grabbed your head and crashed his mouth to yours. You were praying for it to happen, and the burn running down your chest from the way your mouths tried to consume one another had you melting instantly. You wanted him, you weren’t hiding it, and whatever way he wanted to touch you worked as long as he did. As long as those lips pressing yours covered all of you. As long as his tongue fighting yours soon spelled your pleasure at his whim while his fingers pressed marks only he could trace on you.

Your hands moved to those wide shoulders that had your knees wobbly and he pushed them away before forcing your head up to face him better. He wanted your focus on your kiss only and you didn’t mind, but the temptation to grab him and scratch him was overriding your senses. You tried again, but this time he grabbed you by the waist and pulled you with him. You gripped his shoulders for support, finally sinking your nails in the soft muscle just like he was taking small bites out of your bottom lip.

Your ass hit something and when he pushed you on it, you just briefly freed one hand to throw whatever was on the dining table behind you off to have some space. You moaned with the bites he was leaving down your neck while you focused on keeping him close with your legs wrapped around him. He fumbled with the tee shirt to get his hands on you and quickly grabbed your chest in a push-and-squeeze motion that had you moaning and humping him. Fuck, you missed this. No one could ever mess you up like he could, you always turned into a whimpering wet mess with him.

He scratched down your stomach to your hips, squeezing them harshly, then pulled away. He grabbed the hem of the shirt and you raised your arms instantly to let him strip you.

He stepped back and threw the shirt on the floor, hungry dark eyes eying you from head to toe.

“Fuck, look at you.”

A subtle line showed between your eyebrows; his tone was abrasive in a way you weren’t familiar with. But the way he stepped back between your legs while getting on his knees was much more in line with what you knew. Him in a praying position tracing your skin with open-mouthed kisses while he groped and scratched every inch of you was one of the reasons you couldn’t forget him. You couldn’t let go of what it felt like to be desired by that man. The thought alone had you wet and whimpering, the only difference was that now you’d experience it again after only dreams and hopes.

His mouth kept tracing kisses on your inner thighs, just like he knew would drive you crazy, but you didn’t whine about it. No, you wanted it to last. Whatever he’d give to you, you wanted everything. You weren’t beyond begging, but you wouldn’t just with a little bit of torture. No, you knew how that mouth would move on you, how his tongue would lap at the perfect rhythm. You could wait for perfection.

He slapped your ass on one side, opening your leg further with a whimper from you. He repeated the motion on the other side and only then did you notice you were squeezing him between your legs. It made you smirk as you looked down — you could see his dark eyes with a few wet hair strands over them, the hint of teeth as he grazed your sensitive inner thighs. He could spank you all he wanted, you wanted him to. So you smiled and pressed your lips, clearly telling him that you’d keep your mouth shut.

He bit down, getting a deep moan from you. You were clenching around nothing, dripping with slick, and you were sure he noticed.

“Since when are you so patient?”

He sounded annoyed and you giggled wantonly, so fucking amused you couldn’t help it. “I’m patient when it’s worth it.” You could feel his hands pressing your skin, going to the swell of your ass to squeeze, and you nearly sighed. “I wouldn’t dare rush perfection.”

He scoffed but dropped his mouth on you instantly, having all your cockiness evaporating on the spot. He ate you like only he did, grabbing your squirmy self still while he made out with you. His tongue lapped at your clit in a fixed rhythm that you couldn’t explain and seconds later you released every square inch of air from inside your lungs with a deep moan. He knew you liked a stable slow rhythm, but keeping your thighs in place was irking you. It was right there! If only he’d let you move. Just a centemeter right— No! Just one or two to the left and you’d be lost to those sensations you hadn’t felt in months.

You whimpered, but you couldn’t talk while he did that to you. You reached for his hands on your hips and squeezed them, both looking for support and for a way to be free. His humming to your core had you sucking in a breath, but what broke you were his words.

“Stay still, bubbles. Let me get you there.”

And he licked you faster, keeping pressure on you with his mouth that had you whimpering and tensing up like a coil about to spring. Every lap of his tongue increased your tension, pitched your moan, and stole your breath, to a point you thought you’d explode. You sat up in your tension and grabbed his hair, ecstatic. It was him with his face half buried in you, eating you, getting you there, calling you by your pet name like nothing changed.

That thought alone pushed you to the edge and you hopped on the train. Steadily and surely, Jungkook would take you there just like he promised. Just like you wished.

So you started moaning louder, half derailed, “Fuck, baby. Fuck, you’re so good.” You could barely breathe, but you wanted him to know how much you loved this. “Take me there, please, I’m—”

Your voice broke because you suddenly were cold. You were panting and shocked, but your first instinct was to look down at him and loosen up your grip on his hair.

“Are you okay?”

He faced you and stayed silent, with your slick covering his nose, mouth, and chin while his digits dag at your hips. Your worry was clouding you, having your hand brush his cheek in search of an answer that only came when he stood up and turned away. Then, you blinked to reality and looked down and around. You were confused. Not because he stopped, but because he insisted on staying quiet and to himself.

You got up and were about to speak your mind when you saw that the towel had fallen to the ground. That gave you the impulse to walk up to him and look down shamelessly — he was so hard he was pointing at you. You raised your eyes and found his on yours, darker than before. He was tense and angry, that was clear, but he was hard, having rubbed his hand over his face to clean your slick off him. But then, why was he licking his lips and his lip rings, where your taste was probably stronger?

You took a deep breath and placed your hands firmly on his shoulders, pushing him steadily. He let you, walking back at your will until his calves hit the sofa. You tapped his shoulders once and he sat down. His hands were on your hips and started tracing circles absentmindedly, and you leaned closer to pet his hair. His sweet caresses were enough to soothe you, to become sure of something you weren't sure you had the right to be sure of. But it didn't matter — he chose the wrong night to be indecisive. You were willing to choose for you both.

You kissed his head before getting on your knees in between his legs. He gave you a dark cold stare and with anyone else you might have cowered, but not with him. You waited a moment with your hands over his legs, but he never gave you clear permission, incentive, or rejection. So you took the option that suited you best and leaned in.

You trailed your lips over his soft and built thighs, kneading the firmness with a whimper caught in your throat. You kissed closer and closer, releasing sighs left and right and paying little to no mind to what he would think of you for it. You both had always been like this: crazy for one another, praising and worshiping as quickly as you would use and abuse. You had never had another relationship like it, before or after, and to say you missed it would be an understatement.

But you weren’t going to sob over past mistakes right now. No, what mattered now was to not make a stupid mistake like not kissing, licking, and scratching every inch of him until he either begged or complained or you lost it.

You moved ever so closer to his crotch but stopped by his balls first, giving them wide-tongued licks that had him sighing. You glanced up to see his eyes closed, wet hair dripping down his shoulders, and the first hint of relaxation from him. That’s it, you coed in your mind. Fuck did you miss seeing him falling apart, you craved it and you’d do it.

You kept licking and kissing and as you moved up his shaft it occurred to you that it didn’t matter that you hadn’t come. It didn’t matter if he had given up or even why. You weren't opening your mouth around his tip and licking it with hunger because you wanted something in return.

You moaned as soon as that taste hit your buds and your thoughts became a blur. You bobbed your head mindlessly, drooling over him, using the expanse of your tongue on his tip, taking whatever you could no matter how because you fucking missed it. That taste, that hardness, the hand that came to grip your head but remained light as a feather, and finally, you looked up. His eyebrows were knit in pleasure with his mouth agape, tongue peaking through, and licking his lip ring while grabbing your head in a firm yet loving gesture — that was it, the prize. He was finally relaxed as you bobbed your head and drooled all over him and the perspective of making him weak exhilarated you in a way that had you going harder, firmer, stronger. You didn’t notice, but you were breathing in between his cock touching your throat, your cheeks stayed hollowed, and your hand accompanied your every move over his shaft while you played with his balls. When his precum invaded your mouth, all your thoughts went out the door.

You gripped his cock firmer and moaned all over it, adjusting your posture to focus even better. Fuck, did you want his taste in your mouth. You touched yourself to the thought of it before, of him, but now being there on your knees with his grunts finally adoring your ears, your focus was all on him. You could come later to the memory of that very moment, all he had to do was let go and shoot warm ropes of cum down your throat.

But he recoiled away and guided your head away. You had no idea if he pulled your hair, but you knew he never asked you to stop. The only sounds out of his mouth were grunts of pleasure and you had seen his face — he was on cloud nine with you. He liked it, he was weak for it, for you and the way you did it, so why?

You looked up, an arched eyebrow quizzically raised, but he had his bicep covering his eyes while his chest heaved up and down. You were done with him stripping away everything you wanted from you, so you got up and got on his lap with a knee on either side of him. You thought he might have shooed you away or told you to get off, but no. His hands went instantly to support your hips and you were even more irked.

“Why?”

He opened his eyes and the stiffness was back to his pleasant features. That had you pouting with tears in your eyes. Maybe you could figure out why, but you didn’t care — you leaned forward and brushed his cheek gently. He brought you there, he wasn’t rejecting you, pulling you away, or anything like that. It was time he made a decision.

“Why push me away?” You insisted, letting your nail graze his sweet cheek gently. He recognized that tone in your voice, and that was why he answered.

“I was about to cum.”

“So?”

He didn’t answer, his eyes only hardened, and you looked down at his erect cock between you. There were so many things you could say, and so many paths to choose from. You could get angry, whiny, blow him anyway, ride him, and you considered every option. But you kept reverting to that anger behind those beautiful dark eyes. And as you both faced each other, you knew why he was mad — because you hurt him the year before. Because what you were doing was maybe a source of conflict, it sure could have been for you as well if you didn’t still…

Well.

Your expression softened as you leaned to close your lips near the skin of his forehead, “Take it out on me.”

He didn’t move or respond and you just dragged your lips soothingly over his skin in small peppered kisses.

“Please,” you whispered. “Take it all out on me. I want you to.” You dragged your nails up his neck and he leaned his head forward. “I need you to.”

His hands gripped your waist as he seemed to hide in your chest and you sat closer to him. You petted his beautifully longer hair, still wet under your touch, and sighed when he pressed your back to keep you close. You smiled and kissed his head, taking that as a yes. So you waited like that until he decided how he would do it.

Your answer came when he glued his mouth to your chest and started nibbling down until he caught a nipple. You didn’t hide your sigh — he was a tits kind of guy and he always loved yours, worshiping them in every sense of the word. And you had always loved him for it and for the way he could leave you a moaning mess with his attention there only.

So you hissed and sighed with his mouth, tongue, and teeth driving you insane. To return the favor, you reached down in between your bodies and found his rock-hard boner. Your spit was drying, but not yet, so you jerked him off gently through your pitchy moans.

You could feel him twitching in your hand. You knew he loved your tits and got lost in licking and biting them. You knew he got crazy when you played with him at the same time, playing with his weakness while truthfully wanting nothing more than for him to play with all of you.

So you leaned down by his ear. “Come on,” you whispered in a low tone. “Take it out on me. Do it.” You gripped him a bit harder, earning a stronger bite from him that had you instantly hissing and clenching around nothing. “I want to feel you.” Your hand never stopped and he seemed to be listening to you — only his tongue was moving. “Hard. Deep. Fuck it all out on me.”

You buried your nose in his hair and waited, never stopping your hand on him. You’d prefer he fucked you senseless, but even jerking him off would be nice if that was his mood.

But you doubted it was, and indeed, it wasn’t. He let go of your abused nipple and faced you for a second. He didn’t comment on anything you said, he only grabbed you firmly by the hips and stood up, taking you with him.

You gasped mutely and hugged him strongly, only to realize that he was carrying you without an ounce of effort. He was truly stronger, which could mean he would fuck you harder—

He dropped you on his bed, making you whimper and your tits bounce around, then moved away. You sat up, worried about him just leaving, but then you tilted your head. He was adjusting a full-body mirror that was purposefully facing another wall to show the bed. You saw your reflection on it and mused over why he had that mirror set like that and took the time to change it.

He neared you while rolling a condom and you looked at him, breath slowing with the perspective of what would happen now. He traced a hand down your hip and you laid back, but he immediately gripped both your sides and turned you around. You puffed, half annoyed half melting at being handled like that, and got on all fours for him. You thought he’d toy with you and you’d patiently wait for what you wanted most, but he didn’t. He instantly put his cock at your entrance and you groaned, gripping the sheets with the desire bursting through you.

“You want it?” His tone was quiet but sure, almost cold. His hand struck your ass but you only gave him a gentle moan. “Get it then.”

You bit your lip and moved back, opening your mouth with the familiar stretch that had you curling your toes. You went slowly, thankful for his resistance that allowed his cock to brave more and more, inch by inch, until you felt full. You knew he wasn’t totally in, and he reminded you by jerking his hips once until he bottomed out. You gave him a little whine and he chuckled.

“There. Didn’t think you had forgotten how I fucked you a second ago, but I’ll remind you.”

He snapped his hips into yours and you knew he wouldn’t be gentle, but you didn’t care. He was doing what you asked, finally connected to you, giving you the pleasure of your dreams. It didn’t matter if he was treating you roughly, you asked for it. You wanted it, you needed it. Him, his anger, anything he would give you.

“Look at you,” he grunted before gripping your ass better. “I haven’t even started.”

You opened your eyes and tilted your head to face him through the mirror. You gave zero fucks about how vulnerable you were, needy, greedy, whimpering, and begging for more even though you knew how much more could come. No, you looked at him. At his focused expression telling you this wasn’t as easy as he made it seem. At his flexed abs, tense thighs, and buff biceps. At his hand on your ass, squeezing. At his eyes moving from yours to verify your position — not only if you looked good, but at your knees and elbows sliding. For your comfort. It had to be, right?

You were tucked in his grip, so when he went harder, you had nowhere to go. You took his hips slapping against you and moaned loudly, abandoned to the feeling that only he fucking you could tear out of you.

“Can’t take it?” His voice was mocking. “How’s that?” You couldn’t coherently answer. “Are you that desperate for a proper dicking?”

“Wasn’t that what you did before?”

You barely got it out but he heard you, not stopping for a second. “Clearly wasn’t enough. Your boyfriend must be doing a really sloppy job.”

His voice was tense, you wondered if bitterness was in the mix, but you were too high to think about it.

“No boyfriend. Maybe that’s the problem.”

His hand struck your ass so hard you whimpered a cry. In a second, he was rubbing that area and gripping you closer, fucking you harder. It made you see stars and you couldn’t get enough.

“So whiny,” he grunted, “so needy.”

You scoffed. He was the one fucking you as hard as possible.

“Do you always moan like that?” You felt his nails on your asscheeks. “Any cock can get that noise out of you.”

You grinned, “No, only yours can.” You expected another slap but it didn’t come. “Never met anyone who can fuck me like you.”

He smacked the other asscheek harshly and gripped you so hard that the constant hit of his cock deep inside you almost short-circuited your brain.

“But you searched.”

He was speaking between gritted teeth, but you were in no condition to notice. “So did you. Fucked how many right here, on this bed?”

He smacked your ass again, but looking through the mirror you could see he wasn’t just angry now. His eyes were closed as if in pain. But you were too rilled up to stop.

“Looking for what? Any tight cunt?” He was getting sloppy and you couldn’t shut up. “Or did you really think anyone else could get you this desperate?” You fucked yourself on his cock against his rhythm and you could swear he growled. But who cared, he was snapping his hips to yours again. “Why so quiet?” His hand striking your ass had you arching for him, but not quieting down. “Tell me. Do you cream yourself this easily with—”

He pulled your hair, forcing your back to arch and take him deeper. Your mouth opened, instantly melting in ways only he could cause until you shivered when you felt him near your ear.

“No.” You opened your eyes in his silence to find him looking at you through the mirror. If your opened mouth spelled how deep he was buried inside you, then his eyes told of how desperate he was. “Only you do this to me. Only you drive me this fucking crazy.”

He connected his nose to your shoulder despite ramming into you wildly and grunted together with you. You couldn’t stifle your moans, your curses, or your prayers. But you yelped when suddenly he let you go and rolled you over. He got between your legs and immediately slid inside, earning a sigh from you and a plea.

He pulled your legs over his shoulders and leaned down over you, seeing your eyes widen. You extended your hands, what for you weren’t certain, but he grabbed them and pressed them to the mattress on either side of your head.

His hips restarted their rocking and you moaned desperately. You squirmed, and moaned, and said his name, and begged, and squeezed his hands, and all the while he never stopped fucking you. He was sweating, it was dripping over you, but you couldn’t care. All that mattered was that he was as deep as possible inside you, torturing you with how good it felt, and you were there for it. Loving every moment.

“Fuck— You’re so deep—”

“You like it?”

His tone was gentle, almost as if he wished for nothing but to please you. You were lost. You wished for nothing else but him.

“Yes— Yes—”

You were desperate, at the edge of your emotions with tears in your eyes and he saw it. “Tell me what you want.”

“You!” Your answer was instantaneous, at the end of a moan. “You, fuck, please, you, just you—”

“I’m here.”

You gripped his hands and anxiety crossed your features for a moment, “Please.”

He kissed you, relenting his rhythm, only to whisper to your lips, “I’m here, bubbles.”

You opened your teary eyes to look at him and your heart shook. His eyes were sweet despite the pleasure and effort mingling in his features. He was looking at you, really looking, really seeing you, and he was there. He wasn’t taking it out on you anymore, he was really with you, like he once was.

You didn’t want to delude yourself, but the way he continued, staying close to your face to peck your lips and your cheeks, was swelling your heart too much to be contained. You moved with him, lulled by that movement you longed for for too long. That thought alone got you on the right tangent and you made sure to tell him through moans, looks, and your hands in his. He nuzzled you, sweat dripping down, and answered every plea and moan with signs of his own pleasure.

You let it grow inside you until you knew you couldn’t be contained, and neither did you want to. You opened your mouth to tell him and nothing came out, but he got it.

“Come with me.”

He grunted his words before kissing you and you whimpered and moaned your overwhelming pleasure without breaking away. He groaned into your mouth and pressed your lips firmly when you were both done, panting, sweaty, and spent.

You didn’t think about what would happen after that; truthfully, you wished time would stop. For a moment you believed it could be true — he stayed inside you with his mouth on your neck just suckling as you enjoyed his weight over you. You were drifting away, so utterly relaxed, happy, and fulfilled.

Until he pulled away and your heart cracked.

You couldn’t open your eyes immediately, you weren’t ready to face it again, not after the way you were just together. But when you finally opened your eyes, you were surprised.

Jungkook looked tired and sleepy, but that was it. He was extending his hand for you and you grabbed it. He pulled you up and dragged you to the bathroom, pointing at the toilet and turning to handle the condom. You peed but your mind latched onto nothing, you didn’t want to ruin that bliss.

He took your hand again and pulled you back to bed, opening the sheets before pushing you gently with an arm around your waist. You sighed and leaned back into him. He was holding you to his chest as he covered you both with a sheet and you could swear that was all a dream. All of it.

[Next part>]

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theweasleytwinsownmyjuicyass · 10 months

Text

You belong with me | L.N.

Lando Norris x driver!reader

Summary: Nothing is more painful than two people being scared of how much they love each other.

Warnings: angst, fluff, idiots in love <3

Word count: ~2.3K

^^ It‘s funny to look back at the past that had brought you into this situation. Which is being an F1 driver and helplessly in love with your best friend and racing partner.

Lando and you have been inseparable since your early karting days, in turn developing a strong bond over your shared love for the sport which grew more as you got to know each other better. You were both childish still, no matter the fact that you were nearing your mid 20‘s. But that was what you loved about you two as a pair. There was never judgment from the other and what one lacked the other filled perfectly.

Throughout the close friendship there were a few mishaps when the threshold of friendship had been overstepped but there was always a girlfriend or a boyfriend at the time holding you two restrained and loyal.

So naturally when you two finally became single at the same time and got signed into McLaren’s F1 team all you could think about was. This is it. Now is our time.

And as on queue Lando organized you a surprise. Just the two of you, middle of the starry summer’s night with the city lights below your feet. You were smiling so much that night, your cheeks had started to hurt, but how could you not smile when he was next to you, paying his whole attention to you and making you laugh.

You were sure that he was going to ask you out that night.

And then he didn’t’. It could not have been a more painful experience, but you kept up your smile even if your eyes had faded, no longer admiring the boy next to you, that was just too miserable.

Unrequited love was miserable.

Or so you had thought until about a month later when Lando brought in a girl for everyone to meet calling her his girlfriend.

Just then unrequited love became agonizing.

Your Lando was known for his cheerful disposition and infectious laughter. He was easily the happiest boy around! Well until the said girlfriend…

It was only a few weeks later that you noticed your friends’ colours fade.

About two months in the others started noticing and drilling you about it.

“What do you mean you don’t know? You two are best friends, you have to know what’s causing him so much stress lately” Carlos was making too many hand movements due to his own distress.

“I just don’t know, we don’t talk that much these days” you tucked your hair into your cap and stomped away from the Spaniard.

You didn’t want to admit it to Carlos or anyone else, but you and Lando weren’t the great friends you used to be.

You surely kept your distance since he got his girlfriend out of sheer respect to their relationship (and respect to your own mental health). Although it still seemed not enough for his girlfriend as on a few instances you caught her yelling at Lando in the cool offs to stop the friendship you shared.

To say the least that definitely put a wall between you two, but nevertheless it didn’t completely break your bond.

Now, nine months and one nasty breakup later the unrequited love feels excruciating.

A shadow has fallen over Lando’s already tainted personality. He was going through a painful breakup with his now ex-girlfriend. She had been a constant presence in his life for the past year, controlling his every move, every word and god forbid he didn’t get the right amount of points… Safe to say she was sucking life out of him as a ravenous vampire, though Lando was too blind to see that.

The breakup had taken a toll on Lando, leaving him almost senseless now that he was out of her hold, and it showed in his performance on the track. During the qualifying session for the upcoming race, he couldn't find his usual rhythm and ended up with a DNF after driving himself into a wall.

As he stepped out of his car, disappointment weighed heavily on him. Lando felt like he was losing everything now and the sadness from his failures compounded his frustration.

You had been there for Lando throughout the tumultuous relationship, supporting him in all the little ways you could, checking in before and after races and offering a listening ear whenever you could see him about to reach his limits.

But on this particular day, you could no longer listen to him whining about her, you have reached a breaking point. You couldn’t stand by and watch the man you cared for so deeply be consumed by a toxic woman who had done nothing but break him piece by piece for the past year.

"If I was better, she would still be with me." You heard Lando mumble as he laid on the sofa emotionless.

"LANDO STOP! You must be insane to be saying those things. How can you say that you're not enough? She was the one who didn't care about you, who was never here to support you. Lando, it's her who didn't deserve you, not the other way around!" you snapped, voice filled with tears.

"You don't get it. If I was enough, wouldn't there be girls who like me? Because not one of my girlfriends have actually liked me or, god forbid, loved me." Lando was drowning in self-doubt and it was suffocating you to the point where your heart physically ached seeing him so beat up.

"Can't you see why that is? Maybe you don't belong with any of those girls? Lando, maybe you belong with someone who loves you through your highs and lows, someone who can't bear to see you sad, someone who lets you cry into their shoulder in the middle of the night, and, most importantly, someone who can't stand watching you break yourself over some girl," frustration evident in your trembling voice muddled Lando.

"What are you trying to say, Y/n?"

You hesitated, heart racing, as you contemplated revealing your true feelings. "All this time, Lando, and you still can't see it."

Lando was bewildered, not comprehending your cryptic words. "See what?"

You were burning with passion, on the brink of confessing your feelings, but ultimately bit your tongue. You were praying for him, but he could not understand and you believed he never would and to express the delicate feelings right now seemed futile.

"Nothing," you replied, shaking your head to rid of the emotions taking over your rational brain, and left the room to preserve your patched up heart.

As you retreated, a storm of emotions raged within. You couldn't help but wonder if there would ever come a day when Lando would realize the truth you had left unsaid.

Your words left Lando conflicted and he hated it.

You were someone he could always count on to understand. Hell he never needed to read you, you were like a road he had taken day after day, he knew you so well, he could navigate without his senses.

Lando found himself seeking friendly counsel from Carlos, as he was still perplexed by your reaction and couldn't fathom why you had gotten so upset with him.

"I don't understand why she's so mad at me?! Can you believe it, she was even crying. I'm the one that got dumped, and she's pissed at me for picking the wrong girl?!" Lando vented pulling at his hair, frustration lacing his voice.

Carlos regarded him thoughtfully before posing a question that made Lando pause and reflect. "Lando, let me ask you this. If Y/n was dating a guy who constantly made her doubt herself and feel like shit, how would you feel?"

Lando’s response was interlaced with confusion, "Why the hell would she even date someone like that?"

"So to say you'd be pissed as well?" Carlos continued.

Lando struggled to find words to counter Carlos's argument. He had a point, and Lando was beginning to see things from a different perspective. "But I..."

Carlos interrupted him with a knowing smirk forming on his face, "You what?"

Lando thought about it, connecting the dots between his protective feelings for you and the turmoil he had experienced during his recent relationship. Carlos decided to push him closer to an epiphany.

"When you like someone, you don't want to see them hurting, but it's different to feel the pain of the other person. That's closer to-"

"Love," Lando finished, realization dawning. He abruptly grabbed his jacket and rushed out the door with a clear destination in mind.

It was time for Lando to confront the truth he had been avoiding, and perhaps, in the process, he might finally get what he had always wanted. You and love.

Everything was suddenly falling into place for Lando. He began to understand why you had never wanted to hang out whenever he got into a relationship, why you cried when he cried, why you sacrificed your sleep just to listen to him rant about the terrible things his ex had done, and crack jokes to make him smile. It all made sense, and he couldn't believe he hadn't seen it before.

Deep down, he had always known that the girls he dated were just placeholders, a way to distract himself from the perfect girl he felt undeserving of his whole life.

He had a brilliant idea last year when you both secured your McLaren positions. He planned a whole midnight drive and stargazing, which he knew you loved (that also prompted him to learn constellations for weeks before the special day, only to impress you). He wanted to ask you to be his and make it magical, but ultimately chickened out.

When the next day came around he could not face you and instead of spending the last few days before training with you he headed to a bar where he met his now ex. She was pretty and showed so much interest in him he could not not get hooked.

In that moment of absolute weakness Lando decided that having a girlfriend would solve the problem of loving his best friend and potentially ruining the friendship.

He could not have been more wrong. The relationship was an absolute hellhole, filled with insecurities and so many fights that he could no longer see himself as he looked in the mirror. Still no matter how bad his life got, he felt he deserved the purgatory for letting you slip through his fingers when he just had to hold on to you a bit tighter.

He’d never forgive himself for wasting so much time pushing you away. But he wasn’t going to settle for that. Lando was still a fighter. And fighting for you… well that now felt like his birthright.

“It's you!" Lando exclaimed bursting through the door, his voice echoing through the garage, his eyes locked directly on your form, disrupting the calm chatter around the room.

The entire room came to a standstill, eyebrows furrowing, and the atmosphere thick with confusion. Your eyes found his, equally as bewildered as the rest of the staff in the room.

Lando repeated himself, his breathy voice much lighter and softer than before. "It's you."

"Me what?" You asked, face still a mix of confusion as you tried to grasp the meaning of his words.

With each step he took closer to you, your heartbeat quickened, uncertain of the nature of those words, and just how much was hidden beneath them.

"It's always been you," Lando confessed, his voice filled with sincerity. "I've never loved anyone because you've held my heart since you smiled at me on your first day in karting. I have loved you this whole time, but I was too scared and too stupid, honestly, to do anything about it, letting myself push away my feelings by running to someone else. But I'm not scared anymore because you don't deserve to be loved silently and from afar. You are the kind of woman that is meant to be loved loudly, with no second thoughts."

“Lan…” words deceived you.

“I love you Y/n and I’m not afraid to feel it and say it anymore. And I hope that one day you can tell me that you love me too” his hands found yours, the touch of his skin on your hands felt different.

Your cheeks heat up with his confession and you search his eyes who confirm his words to be true. He does love you. And you love him too. You’ve thought your love for him unrequited for so long that hearing him say those words to you seems like a daydream.

You realize by his fading eyes that you’ve been too silent through his confession. You know exactly what the look of doubt looks like on Lando’s face and you speak up quickly promising yourself that you’ll never be the cause of that distressing look on his face.

“Took you long enough to realize Norris” you chuckle pressing a soft kiss to his lips.

He catches up to you quickly wrapping his arms around you waist deepening the kiss.

“You belong with me.” He whispers, the warm words fall on your lips right before he kisses you again, both of you smiling into the kiss.

The room erupted in cheers and applause, congratulating the new couple. Finally, Lando had found what he had been searching for all along, right by his side, and you got what you’d been wishing for since you were little. A two sided love. You both were ready to embrace your love openly, no longer bound by doubt and hesitation.

A.N. back again with that Taylor Swift inspiration :3

P.s. I think my neighbors hate me because I be listening to one song on repeat for like 4h..... *skull emoji*

#lando norris #lando norris fluff #lando norris imagine #lando norris x reader #lando norris x reader fluff #lando norris x reader imagine #formula 1 x reader #formula 1 x y/n #formula 1 imagine #mclaren formula 1 #mclaren #ln4 x reader #ln4 #ln4 imagine #ln4 fluff

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ilguna · 1 year

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☼ perfectly timed pt1 (Finnick Odair) ☼

summary; when you figure out that the arena's a clock, Finnick promises that he'll be your bodyguard from then on, and he doesn't take that responsibility lightly.

warnings; swearing, death, death mention, murder, gore, blood.

wc; 10.7k

part two.

–

See, after you won your Games, you should’ve learned your lesson regarding how to properly wield a weapon in order to defend yourself. At the time, you’d decided that your effort would be wasted. You dipped your toes in the water when it came to combat techniques, and quickly discovered that you needed to have a little foundation of fighting experience in order for the new information to mean anything.

So, you spent your time learning other useful skills, ones that would help if you took a lighter approach. It had been done plenty of times before with the tributes that came from less fortunate districts. They hid the entirety of the Games, waited out every mutt attack, survived every storm, dodged tributes, and ended up being pronounced as the Victor when the other final tribute finally went down.

You went to all the stations that the gymnasium had to offer. How to identify berries, first aid, tying knots, making weapons and tools from nothing, how to build shelter, weave nets, starting fires, cleaning water, snares, fish hooks, sewing. It was an endless list that you eagerly spent your time going through.

Yet, it didn’t matter when it came down to you and the career girl from Two. She tracked you down, followed you from hiding spot to hiding spot, watching your routine. The one skill you needed to know was how to defend yourself in a fight, and you had no idea how to. It’s what almost got you killed.

And it’s what might get you killed this time around.

You made the same mistake, only worse. You didn’t learn anything during your three training days. They were spent trying to figure out what the hell was going on between the tributes. With Beetee not telling you anything, you were left to your own devices.

You caught on pretty quickly to the looks that were being shared, it was the districts that had you stumped. Four, Six, Seven, Eight and Eleven. As far as you knew at the beginning, you and Beetee weren’t involved at all. You’d find out later that he’d signed you up for the alliance, he was just letting you sort out the situation on your own, waiting for you to come to him.

In the meantime, you watched as the victors you’ve known for years attracted like magnets to the Twelve tributes. On the other hand, Katniss and Peeta didn’t seem to be owned by anybody. They dabbled in a little bit of everybody, which you figured was because they were trying to find who would be the greatest allies in the arena.

Katniss is a smart girl, you saw that when you briefly talked between her and Beetee at the fire starting station. Beyond that, you never spoke to her again. You knew that she was the center of the odd behavior.

When you’d had enough by the time the scores came around, you finally asked Beetee what was going on. He informed you that because of the possibility of a rebellion, some of the districts are coming together to become one big alliance for the sake of the Twelve tributes inside of the arena. It wasn’t until he told you that you were both invited into said alliance, did it all fall into place.

By then, you were too fixated on figuring out every detail you could before the arena came around. You’d missed your opportunity yet again on how to defend yourself with a weapon. The one good thing that came out of it was Katniss taking a liking to you and Beetee at the station, causing her to request for you two to be her allies.

Which has, for some odd reason, landed you right in the middle of an alliance with Johanna and Beetee. This is not something you would’ve chosen on your own, for several reasons. There’s a part of you that knows you should be grateful that you have them here, because they really are your only source of protection from the other tributes in the arena for the time being.

You’d offer up Beetee, except he can’t fight in the first place, and especially can’t now that he’s been stabbed in the back after he went into the Cornucopia during the bloodbath. He was seeking to find his wire, the one that he used to win his games. Luckily, he found it. Although, you’re not entirely sure what he’s going to use it for quite yet.

Anyway, the Seven tributes are a bitter pill to swallow when they’re making it extremely difficult for you to continue being an easy ally for them. They might have saved you from the Cornucopia, but the way they’re talking to you two is wearing on your patience. Between Blight’s judgemental looks and Johanna’s short and rude attitude, you’re about to run off with Beetee to find a better spot to hide and strategize on how to blow this arena wide open.

“I’m done.” Johanna finally says, throwing her axe down in the grass. “We can make shelter here and find water in the morning. I’m not going to run around for the rest of the night looking for it.”

You take in a breath, turning to look at the area she’s picked out. It’s clear enough for the four of you to stay in. Beetee sets his wire down on the ground next to a tree, and slowly lowers himself to sit down, wincing when his back hurts.

Blight nods, fixing his own axe in his hand. “I’ll go find something for us to eat.”

Your lips twitch, you bite down on your tongue, wanting to offer to go with, because you’re sure that your knowledge will help some. The words die in your mouth, deciding to leave it be. If he finds an animal or nuts, fine. If he doesn’t, then you’ll sit here and wait for him to ask for help. You’re tired of him brushing you off. Besides, you can go without food for a couple of days. It won’t kill you.

Blight walks off, disappearing into the large jungle. The trees are tall, easily stretching over thirty feet into the air. Not to mention, the leaves act as a canopy, hiding the sun in the daytime. It’s been an hour since sunset, meaning you’re left to the moonlight to help guide you. Which is impossible to see through the greenery, as well.

You wander around the small area, picking at the plastic on the belt around your waist. Beetee was the one that popped it open, the liquid inside working as a floatation device when in water. Whoever developed it and decided it would appear as a belt is brilliant. You had no need to use yours, you learned how to swim when you were young.

Speaking of water, there is none in the arena. You came to that conclusion fairly quickly. You’ve covered at least five wedges walking diagonally, looking for any sign of it. There isn’t a single running stream or the sound of a waterfall. The only water in this arena is in the middle, and it’s undrinkable.

The Gamemakers could be wanting the sponsors to get more involved and branch out by helping more than their usual bets. In that case, water could never come. Unless they’re planning something else, like a great storm that’ll provide enough water for the next few days before it rains again.

It would make sense for them to engineer something like that. The humidity proves that, you think. Then again, this is one giant terrarium. They’ve got you under a glass bowl like you’re some sort of science project. That could be said about every arena, though. That’s not what’s special about this one.

It appears ordinary, with the last Quarter Quell, it was fairly obvious that there was something going on. You watched the recap for the first time on the train just a couple days ago. The arena was perfect, too perfect. A healthy green meadow, blue skies with fluffy white clouds, a thick forest to hide inside of, and in the distance, a snow-capped mountain.

It was too good to be true.

Here, all the cards seem to be laid out on the table. It’s miserable. The idea of victors fighting each other, the sun glaring down on you, the humidity making you sticky and irritated, the elevated jungle floor, and not a single sight of water or food the entirety of the climb. If you didn’t know any better, you’d say that this is it. It can’t get any worse than this.

You know better, it’s the Capitol. You’re always waiting for the catch.

“Will you stop pacing?” Johanna asks.

You stop, pressing your lips together, looking at her. She’s got her eyes on you, leaned against a tree. She’s moved her axe to be against the tree, too. The handle in arm’s reach.

“Sure,” You say, annoyed. You can’t do anything with her. If you walk too loudly, she glares at you. If you try talking to Beetee, she hushes you. Now, you can’t even pace without her freaking out.

So, you turn to face away from her, staring off into the jungle, taking deep breaths to calm yourself. You hate working inside of a box that belongs to someone else. This is going to be a very long night.

—

A bright light appears from behind the jungle leaves. You squint, looking up to find the Capitol seal, the beginning notes of the anthem interrupting the silence. You push yourself up from where you’re resting next to Beetee, wanting to get a better look into the sky.

You find a spot that allows you a clear view into the sky, right on time for the first face to appear: the man from District Five. This means that all the careers survived the bloodbath. Finnick Odair is out there somewhere with his mentor, and they will undoubtedly be tomorrow’s target to find.

The next to show is the man from District Six, both Cecelia and Woof from Eight, both from Nine, the woman from Ten, and Seeder from Eleven. You pull on your fingers, eyes wandering off as the seal reppears and the music comes to an end, doing the math on how many allies are left.

With eight victors being dead, that leaves sixteen of you alive. Of those eight victors, four of them are allies. There’s still ten of you, more than half of the tributes left in the arena are part of the alliance. This leaves great odds still, nothing for you to worry about quite yet.

You wander back next to Beetee once the seal is gone.

“Finnick and Mags have to be around here somewhere.” Johanna mutters, her and Blight are gathered around a small fire. It’s not for warmth, but to cook the bird that was caught.

“We’ll run across them tomorrow. They’re looking for us, too.” Blight says to her.

At the very least, if you don’t find them tomorrow, you have the chance to find the other two allies that are left. The girl from Six, and Chaff from Eleven. As for Katniss and Peeta, you remember seeing Finnick get them out before you were attacked by Gloss. Johanna saved you seconds later.

You think that a meeting spot should’ve been established. You tried to suggest one, and you were drowned out by the many other ideas that were floating around in Haymitch’s head. If it had been up to you, you would’ve told him that you should all meet back at the Cornucopia on the second day. That way, you wouldn’t struggle with stupid directions. You’d just have to find your way back to the place you started.

Once the bird is ready, it’s split evenly between the four of you. You pick yours apart, down to the very last bone, not wasting a single piece of meat. You throw the bones over your shoulder, they land behind you somewhere in the bushes. At home, you’d boil the bones to make broth, here you don’t have any use to.

Beetee opts to lay down, tired. He keeps the spool of wire closeby, right between the two of you. He trusts that you’ll keep an eye on it, put your life on the line for it. You know better than anyone that he has a method to his madness, the same as you. If he believes that it’s important to have, who are you to say otherwise? You’ve listened to him for less.

“I’ll take first watch, Blight.” Johanna says, pulling the axe into her hand. “Go ahead and gather with Nuts and Volts.”

You press your lips together, glaring at Johanna. She catches this, giving you a taunting smile. Blight brings his axe with, creating a bed in the grass, and laying down a few feet from Beetee. You don’t move from where you sit.

If this bothers Johanna, she chooses not to mention it. She patrols, walking in a certain direction, and then turning around and going the other way without completing a full lap. It makes her moves unpredictable for the first fifteen minutes. A pattern develops, whether she intends it to or not.

You cross your arms, letting your head fall back against the tree, closing your eyes. The drowsiness doesn’t come immediately, leading you to believe that you’re too awake to fall asleep. In your Games, all you did was sleep, but that was because there wasn’t a constant threat hanging over your head the same way there is now.

You’re in an arena full of experienced killers. The stakes are higher than they’ve ever been before.

Still, you fall asleep to the sound of Johanna shuffling through the underbrush.

And wake to the sound of a bell tolling. You jerk forward, face twisted as you work through the haziness. You count each one, the number growing higher, until it stops. There is no announcement that follows.

Twelve.

You look up from where you’re staring at the grass, to where Johanna had been walking around earlier. You see that she’s gathered with Blight, frozen and staring at the night sky, waiting. She must’ve just woken him up so he can take over. If you were paranoid, you’d say that they’re plotting to kill you in your sleep. Which you’re not worried about, at all. Johanna’s desperate to get Katniss to like her; you and Beetee are her only ticket.

“Twelve.” Johanna echoes your thoughts. “Huh.”

“Could be signifying the end of the first day.” Blight theorizes, “It’s late, it has to be around midnight by now. They play the fallen right around eight.”

“Yeah, but why should we care that it’s the end of the first day?”

Blight shrugs. “Go ahead and sleep, I’ll take over from here.”

“Thanks.” She makes her way to where he made his bed, claiming it as her own now.

Blight could be onto something. It should be somewhere around midnight, meaning you’re officially in the second day of the arena. This could mean a number of things, but most importantly, the twelve bells can’t be a coincidence. The Capitol is far too smart to choose any random number, especially when it’s the exact amount of districts.

You almost stuff this in the back of your mind to go back to sleep, when a bright and strong bolt of electricity strikes a couple miles away. It continues into a lightning storm, shaking the ground and making it impossible for you to consider the idea of sleep.

You get to your feet, Blight whips around at the sound of movement. He lets out a loud sigh, “What are you doing?”

You walk right past him, ignoring him because you’re not really in the mood for what he has to say. You keep your eyes on the storm the best you can, trying to find a large enough clearing that’ll allow you to look at the sky. Blight calls after you, but you’re only twenty feet away when you stop.

The night sky is clear of any clouds. This means the lightning has to be engineered. Of course, you’ve seen storms with no clouds but for it to happen here, right after the twelve bells—it leads you to believe that this is far from a coincidence. This is just another piece of the puzzle.

Blight is waiting for you when you get back to camp. You shake your head, going back to where you’d been before with Beetee. You pick at your nails, watching Blight wander around the small area for a while. The storm doesn’t let up, persistent and angry.

With it carrying on for so long, you begin to relax next to the tree. Johanna and Beetee have no issue sleeping through it, so you should be able to sleep, too. You glance at Blight a final time, making sure that he’s still awake and moving, and then you rest the back of your head against the tree.

You don’t fall asleep, not fully. Too many ideas surface the moment your eyes have closed. Blight’s idea doesn’t sound too far off. It is something that the Gamemakers would do, but not without reason. For a second, you think that the twelve bells could be more than just for the amount of districts. It could be the number of allies in the alliance you’re in, minus two.

Then again, you’re not entirely sure how the Gamemakers would’ve been able to figure that out on their own. Everyone has done their best to be subtle about who belongs inside of it, and with the stunt that you all pulled at the end of the interviews; holding hands, showing unification. It would lead them to believe that you’re in this together, until the beginning of the bloodbath, when all of it had been forgotten.

Twelve.

It’s a specific number. The more you think, the more frustrated you get. There’s twelve sections in the arena, but you’re not sure how that helps. You picked up on that before you left the center rock with your allies. With two tributes to every wedge, it meant that there were twelve spokes.

That can be passed off as anything, though.

Right as you begin to think about how distracting the lightning is, and you can’t think straight, it ceases. The arena falls back into darkness, silence taking over the thunder. It’s eerily quiet for a few seconds, and then the nearby sound of gentle pattering against leaves begins.

You open your eyes.

It’s raining. For a long moment, you’re relieved; you have a chance at drinkable water, after all. And then you remember that there wasn’t a cloud in sight for the lightning. You press your lips together, eyebrows drawing in as you get to your feet for the third time tonight.

“Get Johanna up.” Blight orders, “We’ve got to catch the water with something.”

“Maybe a leaf?” You snark, walking right by a sleeping Johanna.

He must take you for some type of moron if he thinks that you’re going to wake her up on your own. You’re on her bad side enough as it is, if you stick your face in hers, you’ll be lucky if you don’t get your head cut off in the process. She can wake on her own when she figures out that it’s raining, or Blight can do it himself.

You walk in the same direction you had for the lightning storm, tilting your head back to try and find any clouds. A droplet lands on your forehead, it’s warm, leaving you no hope that you’ll get a chance to cool down from the heat. Another drop lands on your cheek, running down your chin.

You’re surprised to see clouds, and even more so that they’re dark storm clouds, the type that should’ve accompanied the lightning. You watch, bewildered because you can almost see each individual drop of water coming down at you. They’re darker than the clouds they’re coming from.

The rain starts slow, mostly catching on the trees above, maybe a drop here or there on your skin and jumpsuit. It begins to pick up, growing intense, as the leaves above can’t even protect you from the assault. You watch as the water lands on your palms, darkening the color.

That’s not right.

You shake your head, starting back to camp. This too, is Gamemaker engineered. It’s perfectly planned, right after a storm to make it seem innocent enough. If they’re trying to trick you into a false sense of security, it worked.

In the time it takes for you to join the others, the rain has reached its peak. You’re drenched, hair sticking to your face, jumpsuit becoming a second layer of skin, shoes squishing with every step. And the smell is overwhelmingly familiar. You can’t place your finger on it immediately.

“It’s not water!” You hear Johanna shout, “Beetee, get up!”

You wipe the thick liquid from your eyes, struggling to see through it. Even with your vision being clear, it doesn’t help much. You can hardly see a few feet in front of you at a single time. You follow the voices of your allies, who are beginning to panic.

“Where’s (Y/n)?” Beetee asks.

“I’m here!” You tell them, struggling to stay upright. The greenery has grown slick from the wetness.

“It’s blood!” Johanna shouts at you. “It’s not water, it’s blood!”

That’s what that nauseating smell is.

“We need to go, now!” Blight says.

You manage to stumble into the three of them, Johanna grabs a tight hold of you, dragging you to follow Blight. He heads uphill diagonally, you have to cover your eyes with your free hand in order to see him. With every swipe at your eyes, a stinging pain surfaces.

“Blight—?” Johanna calls, looking up. She gags a second later, stopping dead in her tracks to lean over and heave. She coughs out a mouthful of the blood.

You decide very quickly that your lips will be sealed from this moment forward. Johanna continues to pull you and Beetee in the direction that Blight had gone. You’ve lost him completely. It’s almost ten minutes later when a cannon blasts, and another five when you find Blight’s body, face down in the grass, unmoving.

The Gamemakers haven’t collected him yet because you three are too close. Your eyes dart around the scene, trying to find the source of his death. You can’t see any outward injuries, which is even more difficult to identify with the amount of blood being dumped from the clouds.

He was climbing the incline like you are now. Where he’s lying isn’t that far from the top of the hill. In the daylight, you’d agreed not to go down into the valley, wanting to keep fairly close to the Cornucopia. That was assuming there was a valley to explore, but now that you’re looking at it…

You yank Johanna by her own grasp, almost throwing her from the amount of force behind the move. She stumbles a step or two, taking Beetee down to the ground. You shake your head at her quickly, eyes wide.

There’s one more thing you found out during your training days, and it wasn’t anything about the tributes around you. It was about the Capitol, and how they found a much better way to hide things in plain sight. Beetee was the one to show it to you in the gymnasium, and it came with a warning.

Nothing is ever what it seems.

Blight ran into a force field, the force field that surrounds the entire arena. If you had to guess now, it’s in the shape of a dome. There is no valley, the force field just gives the appearance that there is one to fool tributes into walking into it. That’s exactly what happened here, with Blight trying to lead you to safety.

“What the—” Johanna begins, gagging.

“Force field!” You manage to yell at her through the drumming noise of blood on leaves.

Beetee raises his head, squinting through his glasses to see what you mean.

Johanna throws her head back, eyes closed, unmoving. You watch the blood run down her neck, maybe she’s trying to compose herself. She suddenly yanks Beetee to his feet, pulling you back down the way you came.

You think she’s trying to lead you to the beach, but at the pace you’re going, it could take all night. You keep getting your foot caught in roots, branches appearing out of thin air to make tiny cuts in your skin.

Right when it’s beginning to get hard to breathe, the rain stops suddenly.

Johanna lets go of you, letting you stumble a few steps before collapsing. You lean over your knees, taking deep breaths to resist the urge to vomit in the grass. You wipe the blood from your face the best you can, gathering handfuls and flinging it into the trees.

“Fuck.” Johanna says, her fingers are laced, hands on top of her head. She looks between you and Beetee.

“We should go down to the beach.” You tell her.

She scoffs, “That’s not happening.” She shakes her head, walking a couple steps away. You’re able to see Beetee, he’s more concerned about the wire than himself. “If the careers are down there, I won’t be able to protect all three of us against the four of them. That’s a stupid idea.”

“It’s stupid to stay here, too.” You tell her, “The Gamemakers did this.”

“So?” Johanna asks.

“They did the lightning too. Who’s to say they won’t do another?”

She’s not listening to you anymore. “I’ll take watch.”

—

The sound of distant screaming stops the three of you momentarily, peering to the right, as if you’ll be able to see through the trees to find the danger. The ground begins to tremble, Johanna has to grab Beetee with both of her hands to keep him from sinking to the floor.

He grew worse overnight, nothing the beach could’ve helped. He needs to have the wound on his back cleaned out, the blood rain from early this morning could carry a number of nasty diseases.

That’s why you’re heading there now. Johanna came to her senses, as soon as you woke up, she questioned you about your thoughts on the jungle versus the beach. You told her that the jungle offers concealment, of course, but no one’s going to be on the beach because everyone can see them, no matter where they stand.

And, once again, there’s a chance you could run across the other half of your allies on the beach. It’s worth the try.

“Come on, Volts.” Johanna grunts, jerking him. He follows her directions, but he’s dragging his feet. “I will drag you out of here by your feet.” She threatens.

“Don’t talk to him like that.” You snap at her. “He’s hurt, he can’t help it.”

“He wouldn’t be hurt if he didn’t go into the Cornucopia for that stupid wire.” She tells you, “So yes, he could help it. Either help me carry him or shut up.”

You glare at her, taking the other side of Beetee to help her bring him through the last bit of the jungle. You glance off to the right again, curious, and find a large wave cresting over the trees. Your heart skips a beat at the sight, wanting to turn and run in the other direction.

It doesn’t break its uniform shape, heading straight for the Cornucopia. You can kinda see the wave through the trees, joining the water in the center, and then skyrocketing. You throw your head back, watching it reach for the top of the dome, the force field, and then falling all at once.

“Gamemakers…” You murmur, eyebrows twitching in.

A cannon fires.

The beach is close enough for you to pick up the pace with Johanna, pulling Beetee with all the strength you have left. Once your feet hit the sand, it’s harder to pull him along. Beetee stops working with you altogether, falling forward, taking you and Johanna down with him.

Your hands and knees hit the sand, sticking to the bloody sweat on your hands. Johanna springs up, stomping her foot into the sand, letting out a frustrated scream through her teeth. You reach to touch Beetee’s temple, and find it warm.

“Johanna!” A voice shouts, you turn to look over your left shoulder, finding a figure running your way.

“Finnick!” Johanna laughs, relieved, “Finally!” She sends you a look, half a smile, “I guess you were right.”

You tilt your head. You want to tell her that you have a tendency to be right, but you decide to savor the moment. Maybe you and Johanna can end up being friends after this, no matter how unlikable her personality can be sometimes.

You get to your feet, brushing the sand from your knees. You take a step toward Beetee, prying the wire from his fingers to make it easier to flip him onto his back so he’s not breathing in the sand.

“Johanna.” Finnick breathes. He’s in nothing but his underwear, trident in hand. “We didn’t recognize you at first, covered in…” He swipes his finger across the skin on her arm, face scrunching when he finds out that it’s not liquid, it’s dried.

“It’s blood.” Johanna says, Finnick glances at you to see that you’re just as gross.

“Did you get into a fight?”

“No, it happened last night. We thought it was rain, you know, because of the lightning, and we were all so thirsty. But when it started coming down, turned out to be blood.” Johanna’s words are a blur, you didn’t realize she could talk so fast. “Thick, hot blood. You couldn’t see, you couldn’t speak without getting a mouthful. We just staggered around, trying to get out of it. That’s when Blight hit the force field.”

Katniss and Peeta have joined you, not dressed in anything but their underwear, either. Katniss is on guard with the bow in her hand, she must not feel threatened enough to need an arrow. You briefly meet Peeta’s eyes, he gives you a smile. The last time you talked to him was in the gymnasium, he came around while you were talking to the first aid specialist. He didn’t stay with you for long.

“I’m sorry, Johanna.” Finnick shakes his head.

“Yeah, well, he wasn’t much, but he was from home.” Her eyes land on you and Beetee. “And he left me alone with these two.” She nudges Beetee with the top of her shoe. “He got a knife in the back at the Cornucopia. And her—”

“Johanna.” You warn.

“She can’t stop talking about what happened with the twelve bongs last night.” She says, “Turns out that Nuts is nuts.”

You let out a breath, shaking your head. You’re not going to respond to her, you’re not going to let her antagonize you. You turn away, grabbing Beetee’s wire to move it into the treeline.

“Lay off her.” Katniss snaps.

You pause, turning to find Johanna glaring at Katniss. “Lay off her?” She hisses, stepping forward and slapping Katniss. Your mouth opens, and before you can speak, “Who do you think got them out of that bleeding jungle for you? You—”

Finnick strides toward Johanna, picking her up and tossing her over his shoulder. She squirms, still calling Katniss names, even after Finnick’s dropped her in the water, dunking her repeatedly beneath the surface.

“I’m sorry, Katniss.” You murmur, “She’s been on edge since Blight died last night.”

“It’s not your fault.” She tells you.

“I’m um, I’m going to clean up.”

You wade into the saltwater, watching the way it turns pink as the dried blood saturates. You dip your hands into the warm water, rubbing your hands free of the blood that you’ve had to deal with for the past couple of hours. The cuts on your hands begin to swing, but you don’t care.

You lower yourself into the water, using your nails to get it off better. It’s laid on so thickly in places, it comes off in chunks that you have to pick out. You scratch at your scalp, the blood turning into goop you squeeze out. Every time you think you come close to being done, you find more.

You pull off the purple belt, throwing it into the sand. You shed the jumpsuit, which has been stained from the blood as well. Here, you can see where the red is coming from. You rub the last of it off your skin, before making your way back to the beach. You’ll hang it up to dry.

You throw the jumpsuit onto a branch, and then turn around to see what the others are doing. Finnick and Johanna are still in the water, and it seems he’s managed to calm Johanna down. As for Katniss and Peeta, they’re bathing Beetee in the water, hopefully looking at his wound while they’re at it.

You start back to the water to join them, but not to help. They’ve got it handled so far, all you’ll do is get in the way. What you want to do is pick their brains about the jungle and what they experienced last night.

Peeta looks at you as you approach, once more offering a smile. “He’s in good hands.”

“I know.” You say, stopping a few feet behind them. “You’d never hurt him. I’ve actually got a few questions.”

What you need is for them to confirm the theory that you’ve had working since last night. You said that there is no coincidence when it comes to the Gamemakers, and that got you thinking after the blood rain. A sequence of events like that last night, one after the other… it’s not something they usually do.

First, it was the twelve bells, Blight said it was the beginning of the second day. What if it was for something else, though? The Capitol never exhausts all their tricks so quickly, because they want to keep unpredictability on their side. And that’s what happened, you didn’t think that they’d cause the lightning, and then the blood rain, and then presumably another event after.

There was another death last night, you were awake to hear the cannon. If you had to make an estimated time on when it happened, you’d say an hour after Blight’s death. You could chalk that all up to coincidence, or maybe the careers found a tribute, but that’s not what you’re considering.

“Sure.” Peeta says, Katniss gives you an apprehensive look.

“You three had Mags, didn’t you?” You ask. “Did you lose her sometime during the night?”

Peeta nods, “Yeah, we lost her during the fog.”

Your eyebrows raise, “The fog? What time did that happen?”

He shakes his head, “I don’t know. It was after that first cannon.”

You look at Katniss, “Were you awake?”

“Yes, I was watching the trees.”

You press your lips together, looking up and at the cornucopia. They’re not giving you much to work with. You clear your throat, “Katniss, how far away would you say you were to the lightning?”

When you look down at her, she’s thinking.

You motion to one of the wedges. “One of these sections over, two…?”

“Two, I guess.”

“And did you hear rain?”

Katniss nods, “Yeah, I was waiting for it to come to us, but it never did.”

“Did anything happen after the rain stopped?”

“The fog started.”

Your lips twitch, corners of your mouth turning up into a smile. You look up at the wedge you came from this afternoon, and then one over to the left to see the tree the lightning struck last night.

Lightning, rain, fog.

“The section you were just in, did anything happen?” You look between Katniss and Peeta.

“Monkey mutts.” Peeta says, “They appeared out of nowhere and kept multiplying. They um… they killed the woman from Six.”

You nod, backing away from them. “Thanks.”

The moment you have your back to them, you let out a quiet laugh. You’ve figured it out. It was fairly obvious last night, but with Katniss and Peeta’s help, it’s put the pieces together.

The arena works like a clock.

That’s the importance of the twelve, why the cornucopia is divided up so specifically. The bells last night were because it was midnight. The lightning started, lasted the entirety of the hour, and then the rain started. It didn’t reach you right away because it started off at the top of the hill and made its way down. When the hour was up, that’s when the fog started. And then the mutts in the section over when your allies successfully escaped the fog.

You should say something to them, but not before your suspicions are confirmed. If you’re right, then the lightning should happen again at noon. The tidal wave that killed the girl a few sections over wasn’t too long ago. It’s gotta be anywhere between ten to eleven right now. You have an hour to go.

You sit in the treeline next to Beetee’s wire, watching as Johanna and Finnick wade out, coming in your direction.

“Are you thirsty?” Finnick asks, “Hungry?”

“Sure.” You smile, “I’ll take some water, more than anything.”

“Not before me.” Johanna says, coming to sit nearby.

“I’ll be back.” Finnick laughs, heading down the beach.

When you officially agreed to join the alliance that Haymitch organized, you were surprised to find out that Finnick was part of it. In all honesty, you thought that he might have been more inclined to stay with Cashmere, Gloss, Enobaria and Brutus, considering they hold the same status.

They’re very popular victors. Well, not so much Brutus anymore, but the other three won a little more than ten years ago. With them being back-to-back career wins, it was easy to see why the Capitol took such a good liking to them. Finnick was probably the best victor to end that streak on, since he set a new record for the youngest tribute to ever win. That, and the trident he received in the arena was expensive.

In a way, though, Finnick has never been on the same page as Gloss and Enobaria. You picked up on it when you started mentoring for Wiress after your victory. At first glance, he seems like he fits in. He does go out with them to have drinks often, it just takes some convincing.

You’ve heard him talk about his riches, how it started with clothes, gifts, gems, money, and turned into something more. He never elaborates beyond that point, leading you to believe that either there isn’t anything more, or it’s so important that he can’t afford to give it away.

It’s obvious that he prefers people that are more down to earth and sensible—like Johanna, his best friend.. Cashmere, Gloss and Enobaria feed into the Capitol, they wholeheartedly embrace every aspect of it. They let the Capitol change and shape them into the figure they want, because it’ll keep them in the spotlight longer.

As for Finnick, you think he’s been trying to escape it since they latched onto him. It’s hard for them to let go. They thought he was attractive when he was young, and he’s grown into his face over time. He’s a fly stuck in a spiderweb, he’ll be lucky if he wiggles out before his looks wear out.

This is why he joined the alliance, you’re sure. It’s the same conclusion you came to before. If there are no Hunger Games, there is no reason to return to the Capitol every summer, then that means he’s finally set free. It’s the same reason the rest of you were sucked in. It’s a shame that he had to lose his mentor in the process too, though.

Finnick comes back down the beach, bearing several items in his hands. He throws down a woven mat, which Katniss and Peeta immediately work to get Beetee onto to rest. He carefully works a metal object into a tree, and with gentle tweaking, it begins to pour water, which he collects into a bowl he seems to have made, too.

Johanna drinks two full bowls before allowing you to have one. The two of you split the rest of the shellfish, which Finnick insists for you to finish, because they’re done eating. When he can’t stand the silence any longer, he begins to tell you about the long night they experienced last night.

They woke up in the middle of the night, alarmed at Katniss’ tone. Finnick carried Mags down the hill most of the way. The fog was sweet smelling and corrosive, that’s why they don’t have jumpsuits anymore. When it touched their skin, it had a paralyzing effect.

Finnick doesn’t explicitly say what happened to Mags, but you read between the lines, and Johanna doesn’t ask either. When he stops speaking about her, you catch on. Finnick and Katniss had to bring Peeta down the rest of the hill, because Peeta wasn’t at his best. He ran into the forcefield earlier in the day, and Finnick was able to bring him back.

Apparently, the fog corralled them to the bottom, where they tripped and tumbled down the rest of the way. They were sure the fog was going to kill them, until it stopped, creeping upward into the air, as if it had hit the wall.

“What do you mean?” You ask, sitting up.

Finnick shakes his head, Katniss speaks. “It was like we were out of reach.”

You hum.

This follows your theory; the threats have to stay within their wedges. If it goes out, then it breaks the rules that the Gamemakers created for the Quell. It wouldn’t work like a clock anymore. That’s why the wave an hour ago didn’t come in your direction, it hit the cornucopia and evenly dispersed into each section. Effectively resetting the beach.

Finnick goes on to tell you how the monkey mutts were orange, and didn’t seem to be worried about him and Katniss. However, the moment that Peeta made eye contact with one of them, they went berserk. They kept attacking, and appeared never-ending. They didn’t stop until the woman from Six got injured. Katniss and Peeta brought her out to the water, where they kept her company while she passed.

Finnick tells you that the mutts vanished into the vines and bushes, like they were being pulled in. When he tried to investigate, he didn’t find any evidence that they were ever there. Just their weapons left behind.

“Interesting.” You murmur.

This makes you wonder if the blood from the rain last night is also gone.

“Interesting how?” Finnick asks, watching you carefully.

You meet his eyes, shaking your head. “Nothing.”

He squints at you, letting you know that he’s not going to forget. “Well, if any of you want to sleep, I can take watch.”

“Or I could.” Katniss says, “I’m rested.”

“Well, I’m not going to sleep.” Johanna says.

You and Peeta look at each other. He shrugs.

“I’ll sleep.” He says, moving to lay in the shade.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Finnick asks Katniss, she nods. “Then I guess I’ll sleep too. Wake me if either of you get tired.”

“What about you?” Johanna asks you.

You press your lips together, “I’m going to stay awake, I’ll just sit back here.”

“You should sleep.” Johanna tells you.

You get up, ignoring what she has to say. You find a place next to Finnick and Beetee, pluck a large leaf off of a fern, and begin to pick it apart. You all sit in silence, allowing Finnick and Peeta to settle enough to fall asleep.

It’s got to be thirty minutes before Johanna turns her head to look at Finnick, and then back at Katniss. “How’d you lose Mags?”

“In the fog. Finnick had Peeta. I had Mags for a while. Then I couldn’t lift her. Finnick said he couldn’t take them both. She kissed him and walked right into the poison.” Katniss says.

“She was Finnick’s mentor, you know,” Johanna says.

“No, I didn’t.”

Johanna doesn’t say anything for a few moments, “She was half his family.”

When Katniss doesn’t respond, Johanna finally agrees to lay down to try and get herself some sleep. She picks the open spot between you and Finnick, and doesn’t speak another word. You can pinpoint the exact second she slips into unconsciousness, because her whole body relaxes and she lets out a content sigh.

“Did you sleep last night?” Katniss asks, looking over her shoulder slightly to see you.

“Some.” You murmur.

“Aren’t you tired?”

“Not enough.”

She catches the hint with your short replies, not pushing it any further. Neither of you speak, watching the sun rise higher in the sky. You pick at your nails, unable to sit still while the anticipation builds. If you’re right, this could change everything. This will give you the advantage, a step in the right direction on how to get out of here.

And then, a flash of light as the lightning hits the same tree it repeatedly struck last night.

You get to your feet, a smile spreading over your face as you inch forward into the sun. You can’t contain the laughter that spills from your lips, hand covering your mouth to keep from being too loud.

“Twelve.” You say.

“What?” Katniss asks, “What are you laughing at?”

“It’s noon.” You giggle, turning around to look at her. “Get the others up, I have something to tell them.”

There must be something about your demeanor that keeps her from questioning you any further. She takes her time shaking Peeta, Finnick and Johanna awake. The entire time, you don’t move your eyes from the lightning tree. Your allies are not very happy when they wake and see that there’s no danger.

You don’t care, turning to look at them. “I figured it out. I would’ve told you sooner, but I had to be sure.”

“Be sure about what?’ Peeta asks, rubbing the sand from his face.

“The arena,” you say, “It works like a clock.”

For the first few minutes, you’re met with skepticism, which you were heavily prepared for. As you meet their questions with answers and more information, they begin to open up to the idea.

“You told me all I needed to know.” You look between Katniss and Peeta. “I just had to be sure that the lightning struck again before I presented the facts.”

Finnick’s on his feet, collecting his belongings, “You are a genius, (Y/n). I would never have thought about that.”

“Well…”

“Seriously.” He says. “You got that all from a couple of hours? It could’ve taken us days.”

You press your lips together into a smile, “Thanks.”

“We have to move.” Katniss says, “If she’s right, then we’re way too close to the fog and monkeys. We should move further down the beach.”

“Works for me.” Peeta agrees.

While they make sure they have everything, you grab your jumpsuit down from the branch, finding that it's almost entirely dry by now. You pull it on, Finnick zips up the back. As for the belt, you offer it to Peeta, who has turned his attention to Beetee.

“He needs it more than I do in the water.”

“Are you sure?” Peeta asks, taking it from you.

“I can swim.”

You watch as Peeta tries to get Beetee up, but he objects. “Wire.”

Peeta looks over his shoulder, shaking his head at you, “I don’t…”

“Wire.” Beetee insists.

“Oh, I know what he wants,” Johanna says. She fishes the cylinder of wire out of the sand. It’s still covered in a thick layer of blood, no one has bothered to wash it since you got here. “This worthless thing. It’s some kind of wire or something. That’s how he got cut. Running up to the Cornucopia to get this. I don’t know what kind of weapon it’s supposed to be. I guess you could pull off a piece and use it as a garrote or something. But really, can you imagine Beetee garroting somebody?”

“He won his Games with wire. Setting up that electrical trap.” Peeta says. They must have done their research, trying to prepare ahead of time for the victor’s they’ll be facing. “It’s the best weapon he could have.”

Katniss turns her head to the side slightly. “Seems like you’d have that figured out,” she says, “Since you nicknamed him Volts and all.”

Johanna’s eyes narrow. “Yeah, that was really stupid of me, wasn’t it?” She asks, “I guess I must have been distracted by keeping your little friends alive. While you were… what, again? Getting Mags killed off?”

Katniss reaches for the knife on her belt.

“Go ahead. Try it. I don’t care if you are knocked up, I’ll rip your throat out.”

You shuffle away from them, sharing a look with Finnick. You clear your throat to speak, but he beats you to it. “Maybe we all had better be careful where we step.” Finnick looks at Katniss. He then takes the coil of wire and sets it on Beetee’s chest. “There’s your wire, Volts. Watch where you plug it.”

When Peeta goes to lift Beetee, he doesn’t resist. “Where to?”

“I’d like to go to the Cornucopia and watch. Just to make sure we’re right about the clock.” Finnick says. “No offense, of course, (Y/n).”

“Better safe than sorry.” You agree.

“Right. And that’s why I won’t be taking my eyes off of you, either,” He tells you, raising his eyebrows. “With Beetee being down, you’ve got to figure out a way to take out the careers. Are you up to it?”

You nod, pulling on the tips of your fingers. This shouldn’t be very hard. The four of them could put up a pretty good fight against the careers all on their own. Johanna and Finnick would want to play it closer to the safe side, to not put Katniss and Peeta directly in the path of the careers. You need the Twelve tributes to come out of this arena alive.

“I can see the gears turning already.” Finnick laughs.

Johanna starts her way down the beach and onto the nearest sand strip that’ll lead you to the Cornucopia. Finnick is the next to go up, insisting to stay in front of you in case the careers are hiding inside and haven’t shown themselves quite yet. Peeta and Katniss follow behind you.

“If you could figure this out, what other tricks do you have up your sleeve?” Finnick asks, glancing at you.

You let out a laugh, shaking your head. “Not much.”

“I don’t believe that.”

The golden Cornucopia shines brightly in the sun, as you get closer, you see that it provides a good amount of shade for you to rest in. It’s empty, no sign of the careers, or that they’ve been here recently. The weapons that lie around on the black rock are picked over, only the unusual ones are left.

“Set me by the water, will you?” Beetee asks Peeta, “I’d like to clean it.”

As he begins to dunk the wire into the water to clear it of blood, you wander around the side of the Cornucopia. The lightning stopped almost an hour ago, which means that at any moment…

“What are you doing?” Finnick asks, appearing beside you.

“Looking for signs.” You tell him.

“What time do you think it is?” He asks, leaning over your shoulder. “Blood rain?”

You squint at him, “No, we’re past that. It should be fog.” You take a step away from him. “Do you always stand this close?”

“I can’t let you out of my sight.”

“I guess an arm’s length distance is too much to ask for?” You muse.

“Entirely.” He agrees.

You grind your teeth, trying to seem annoyed while you wait for the warmth to leave your face. It doesn’t help that he’s half-naked, like he was during the Tribute Parade this year. You’re sure the Capitol is enjoying every second of this, and he is too.

Your eyes find the jungle again, and you straighten, “There.”

This seems to catch the other’s attention. “Yes, look, (Y/n) is right. It’s two o’clock and the fog has started.” Katniss says.

“Like clockwork.” Peeta says, “You’re amazing to have figured that out, (Y/n).”

“It’s really—”

“No, he’s right.” Katniss agrees.

Finnick nudges your shoulder.

“Oh, she’s more than smart.” Beetee says, pausing what he’s doing with the wire. “She’s intuitive. She can sense things before anyone else. Like a canary in one of your coal mines.”

You can feel your face begin to grow warm again.

“What’s that?” Finnick asks Katniss.

“It’s a bird that we take down into the mines to warn us if there’s bad air.”

“What’s it do, die?” Johanna asks.

“It stops singing first. That’s when you should get out. But if the air’s too bad, it dies, yes. And so do you.” Katniss says.

“So, you have been lying to me.” Finnick murmurs in your ear.

You push him off of you. “I’m not sure Beetee’s right. He’s just saying that.”

“Whatever you say.”

Johanna goes inside of the Cornucopia, throwing the axe that she’s been using since yesterday. Your eyebrows twitch, curious on why she’d abandon the one weapon that she knows like the back of her hand, until she emerges with a pair of better looking axes. The one she had before must’ve been nothing more than a hatchet.

Finnick leaves your side to briefly join Katniss, who’s reloading on her stock of arrows, which is a good idea. Finnick goes all the way to the back, before coming out with a knife. He turns it in his hand, blade in his palm, handle in your direction.

“You need something to defend yourself with.” He motions for you to take it. You carefully pull it out of his hand.

“I thought you were keeping a close eye on me.”

“In the case of an emergency.” He tells you.

While the rest of you have been wandering around, Peeta has begun to draw a map of the arena onto a large leaf from the jungle with his knife. In the center is the Cornucopia, with the twelve strips of sand branching out from it. There’s another outer circle representing the waterline, and a slightly bigger one indicating the edge of the jungle.

“Look how the Cornucopia’s positioned.” Peeta says to Katniss.

She examines the map to see what he means. “The tail points toward twelve o’clock.”

“Right, so this is the top of our clock.” He says, and then scratches the numbers one through twelve around the map in the order of a clock. “Twelve to one is the lightning zone.” He then goes on to write lightning in the corresponding wedge, working clockwise adding blood, fog, and monkeys in the appropriate sections.

“And ten to eleven is the wave.” Katniss says, he adds it.

Finnick and Johanna come to join the three of you, fully armed with tridents, axes and knives.

“Did you notice anything unusual in the others?” Katniss asks you and Johanna. You shake your head. “I guess they could hold anything.”

“I’m going to make the ones where we know the Gamemakers’ weapon follows us out past the jungle, so we’ll stay clear of those.” Peeta says, drawing diagonal lines on the fog and wave beaches. He then sits back. “Well, it’s a lot more than we knew this morning, anyway.”

You look up, going to check on Beetee to see if he’s made any progress on the wire. Your heart drops in your chest at the sight of a dripping-wet Gloss behind him, Beetee slipping out of his hands, his throat slit wide open.

Katniss sees this too, working quickly to kill him. The tip of her arrow lodges into his right temple.

“No!” You scream, jerking toward him.

A pair of arms grabs you from behind, turning and throwing you into the cornucopia, making you scratch the palms of your hands and your knees on the black rock. When you turn around, Johanna has buried an axe blade in Cashmere’s chest. Finnick has just blocked a spear from hitting Peeta, taking the knife that was aimed your way from Enobaria, into his thigh as well.

Three cannons sound, one after the other. The Two tributes have begun to retreat, realizing that half their alliance is dead. Katniss starts to run after them, not letting this go. Johanna follows after her, and you struggle to get to your feet.

The wire, you need it. You have an idea.

Finnick has turned his attention to the knife, letting you slip past him and begin to wobble to the edge of the island, when the ground suddenly moves to the right. You slam into the rock, as it begins to spin, slowly at first but picking up speed with no sign of slowing.

“(Y/n)!” Finnick shouts at you.

You stick your fingers and toes into the crevices in the rock, hiding your face in your shoulder as the sand on the island flies down from the top, to the water below. You grit your teeth, fighting the nausea that begins to arise.

The weapons are just starting to fly out of the Cornucopia, when the land slams to a stop without slowing. You lift your head, finding that Finnick has a tight grip on your wrist, wide-eyed.

“Are you okay?”

You nod, he helps you get to your feet. The knife that was in his thigh is now gone, and he’s bleeding. If it hurts, he doesn’t show it, limping to get Peeta to his feet, as well. Katniss is coughing, Johanna spitting the sand out of her mouth.

They sit to catch their breath, but you can’t. The bodies have been tossed into the water, and if that’s the case, the wire is out there too. Beetee might have it, or it might have sunk to the bottom already.

“(Y/n), sit.” Finnick tells you.

“I need the wire.” Your eyes searching the water.

“Oh good, Beetee’s spirit lives on in Nuts.” Johanna mutters.

You find Beetee floating on his back, the wire sitting directly on his chest. You point at it, and when no one comes, you drop the knife that Finnick gave you, preparing to jump into the water.

“Stop.” Finnick pushes you back, “Stay here.”

The water begins to dip and spray, the two of you look up to see the hovercraft. Finnick drops the trident in his hand, racing down the strip of sand nearest to Beetee’s body. You watch as he dives, and cuts through the water in the matter of seconds. The claw has been released to collect his body, when Finnick pulls the wire from his hands.

Finnick swims back to the sand, and as he’s pulling himself up, the hovercraft is fading into thin air, blending in with the sky. He walks toward you, the spool of wire is as clean as it was yesterday, before the rain had come. You hold your hands out for the wire, and he drops it in your hands.

“Thank you.” You look at him.

He collects the trident and your knife from the rock. “I’m sorry about Beetee.”

You nod, “I am too.”

The two of you go back to the others, where Johanna gets to her feet almost instantly. “Let’s get off this stinking island.”

“Let me patch Finnick’s leg first.” You tell her, “And then we can go.”

You spend the next ten minutes looking through boxes with Peeta and Katniss, where you find limited supplies. It’s better than nothing, and Katniss offers her ointment for you to use.

You place Finnick on a box, while you crouch in front of him. His leg had been washed out from the seawater when he jumped in, you’re sure that had to hurt. You finger the ointment into the wound. He grunts, gripping onto the sides of the box, refusing to take his eyes off of you for a second.

You place the bandage on top, having him lift his leg high enough for you to wrap it tightly to keep it from coming loose. It’s not your best work, but it’s what you had to work with.

“You should be good, now.”

It’s decided that you’ll go to the beach at twelve, since that hour won’t come around again for a while. Peeta, Johanna and Finnick head off in three different directions.

“Twelve o’clock, right?” Peeta asks. “The tail points at twelve.”

“Before they spun us,” Finnick says. “I was judging by the sun.”

“The sun only tells you it’s going on four, Finnick.” Katniss tells him.

A few eyes slide onto you. You swallow, looking into the jungle. “I hate to say it, but there’s a good possibility they shifted the outer ring of the jungle, too. What’s stopping them?”

Katniss nods. “So any one of these paths could lead to twelve o’clock.”

They wander around the Cornucopia, trying to see if there’s anything that’s out of place. This is when you see that each section of the jungle has their own giant tree. Johanna suggests to follow the Two tribute’s tracks, except they have been blown or washed away. There is nothing to go off of anymore.

“Maybe we should’ve kept quiet about the clock.” Katniss says. “Now they’ve taken that advantage away.”

“Only temporarily.” You tell her. “At ten, we’ll see the wave again and be back on track.”

“Yes, they can’t redesign the whole arena.” Peeta agrees.

“It doesn’t matter,” Johanna sighs impatiently. “Nuts had to tell us or we never would have moved our camp in the first place, brainless.” She squints at you briefly. “Come on, I need water. Anyone have a good gut feeling?”

You let them randomly decide a path. You follow Finnick quietly, adjusting the spool in your hand, looking out into the water. Beetee must have had some idea with this, too. If only he had let you in on his thoughts, they were likely better than anything that you’re coming up with right now.

The most obvious is that you use it the same way he had, by leading the careers to the center somehow and electrocuting them to death. The only way that would be possible is if the wire were wet on one end and the other had something to jumpstart it. There’s not many options for that, beside the metal plates you came up to the surface on.

To get inside of those could take forever, and you’d be exposed. You’d have to get out into the water and on a plate to remove it. That’s assuming it’s possible and you don’t blow yourself sky-high. Then what? You’d have to lure the careers down to the beach, which still isn’t wet… you could use the explosives from the plates, but you don’t know how much damage that’d do anyway.

You guess you could just set a plate beneath the sand, and when the careers step on it, it’ll kill them. That’s if they step on it if they go for the trap, which would have to be the group of you, or better yet, Katniss and Peeta, because they’re the main concern after their scores.

It’d have to be timed perfectly, too. If you set the explosives up before ten, but the careers don’t fall for it until after, it’ll be set off by the tidal wave. Then the beach’s sand won’t be able to hide the plates because it’ll be wet…

You gasp.

“What?” Finnick asks, “You can’t just do that.”

“I have an idea.” You tell him. “I think I know how we can kill the Two tributes.”

Finnick grins, throwing his arm around your shoulders as soon as your feet hit the sandy beach. “I knew you’d figure something out!”

571 notes · View notes

scoonsalicious · 6 months

Text

Unwanted: Chapter 8, Unexpected - Pt. 3*

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Avenger!Fem!Reader

Summary: When your FWB relationship with your best friend Bucky Barnes turns into something more, you couldn’t be happier. That is, however, until a new Avenger sets her sights on your super soldier and he inadvertently breaks your heart. You take on a mission you might not be prepared for to put some distance between the two of you and open yourself up to past traumas. Too bad the only one who can help you heal is the one person you can no longer trust.

Warnings: (For this part only; see Story Masterlist for general Warnings) Language, Bad jokes, Explicit Sexual Content Minors: GTFO; I don’t serve your kind here. (oral (m receiving), PIV), Bucky hating on himself :(

Word Count: 4k

Previously On...: Leading Jade to her new room turned a little bit awkward when she and Bucky started bonding over their shared Hydra experience. You had to put a stop to tit.

A/N: Pun most definitely intended. Here's the final part of Chapter 8! Yay-- more smut! And the answer to the long asked question of "Why has Steve been so fucking weird?" is revealed!

Thank you to all those who have been reading; if you like what you've read, likes, comments, and reblogs give me life, and I truly appreciate them, and you!

Banner By: The absolutely amazing @mrsbuckybarnes1917

Taglist: (Please let me know if you’d like to be added!) @jmeelee @cazellen @blackhawkfanatic @les-sel @marcswife21 @buckybarnessimpp @mrsbuckybarnes1917 @erelierraceala @hayjat @capswife @itsteambarnes @jupiter-107 @marygoddessofmischief @sebastians-love @learisa @lethallyprotected @rabbitrabbit12321 @buckybarnesandmarvel @fanfictiongirl77 @calwitch @fantasyfootballchampion @selella @jackiehollanderr @wintercrows

"Sorry to take you away from your tit-ilating conversation, Barnes," you giggled as he carried you inside and deposited you on your sofa. He draped his massive frame over you, peppering kisses along your jaw bone.

"Mm, someone's got jokes," he hummed as he began working open the buttons of your silk blouse. "Only one pair of tits I'm interested in, and they are right..." he undid the final button, exposing your lace bra to his hungry gaze, "here. Hello, ladies." He brought his mouth to the curve of your breasts, planting open-mouthed kisses on your heated skin. "I missed them."

You reached up to card your hands through his hair while he continued his loving attention. "Pretty sure you saw them both this morning, Buck," you laughed.

“But that was hours ago, sweetheart.” Bucky ran his tongue lazily down the valley between your breasts, taking his time to lap and suck at the flesh, his stubble tickling at your skin. "Remember the first time I saw these beauties. You had your tac-suit down around your waist, were wearing that purple bra. God, I love that bra. Couldn't get them outta my head for days after that."

"Ugh." You threw your head back against the couch pillow with a laugh. "That was right after you asked me if I slept with Steve in Latvia." You felt Bucky hesitate in his ministrations. The pause was brief, barely noticeable, but you were so attuned to each other by this point in your relationship it may as well have been a neon sign blazing at you. "Hey," you said, putting a hand on his cheek and turning him to face you, "what's up?" He avoided your gaze. "Buck," you said, more forcefully, "talk to me."

Bucky sighed and rested his head on the swell of your breasts. "'s nothing," he murmured. "Just lemme love on you like you deserve, okay?" He started running the finger of his metallic hand in circles around the clothed nipple of your right breast, the bud tightening and hardening beneath his touch.

"Stop trying to distract me, Barnes," you admonished, swatting gently at his hand. "Tell me what's going on in that pretty head of yours."

Bucky flicked his eyes up to yours, the sparkling blue reflecting back an emotion you'd never seen in them before: fear.

"Hey," you said, your voice turning serious as you sat up, taking his hands in yours as you positioned yourself to face him on the couch, "now you're freaking me out. Honesty, remember?"

Releasing one of your hands, Bucky ran his through his hair. He looked down at his feet. "I'm worried..." he mumbled, not meeting your gaze. "I'm worried if I tell you, you're gonna wanna leave me."

Your breath hitched with concern as you pulled your shoulders back, your mind wandering to all the possible worst-case scenarios of what he could possibly have to tell you that would make you want to leave him. Most of them involved Jade Carthage.

"It's Steve," Bucky said eventually, his voice so low you had to strain to hear him.

You released the breath you'd been holding. "Sweetheart," you said, climbing to your knees and pressing yourself against him, "why on Earth would you think anything having to do with Steve would make me want to leave you?"

Bucky turned to you, a look of complete devastation on his face. "Because he's in love with you, Pocket," he said, his voice so broken it hurt your heart. "He's been in love with you for years."

You couldn’t help it– you threw your head back and laughed. You weren't laughing at Bucky, or the pain he was obviously in, but the idea of Steve Rogers being in love with you, of all people, was absolutely hilarious.

"Steve is not in love with me, Buck. That's... that's ridiculous."

"'s not funny, doll," Bucky said, an adorable pout forming on his lips. "Right before I started going on missions, I told him-- I told him I thought I was fallin' for you. He told me he understood, because he'd fallen for you ages ago, but he was pretty sure he'd lost any chance he had with you after Berlin."

A memory hit you then, of the words Bucky had spoken to you that night at Gino's, when he was drunk on Asgardian liquor. "Don'tcha dare tell Stevie, though, doll," he'd said, "'cause he'd be real put out if he found out I was your fav'rite. Don't want 'im feelin' bad, but 'm not sorry. 'S not my fault, either. He had ages and he didn't do nuthin'. That's on 'im. Not on me, not on you. On 'im." And your argument in the elevator the night you'd finally gotten together: "Promise me: no matter how angry you are with me, don't sleep with Steve. You wanna fuck someone else to piss me off? ... I'll hate it, but if it's Steve, it'll fucking kill me."

You sat back on your heels. "Well, shit," you murmured, completely taken aback in shock.

"I won't get in the way of it," Bucky's voice was small, and when your eyes snapped to him, you saw his were full with unshed tears.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa," you said, crawling onto him to straddle his lap and cupping his face with your hands to ensure he was looking at you. "'Get in the way of it'? James Buchanan Barnes, do you honestly think I'm going to break up with you so I can go run off and be with Steve fucking Rogers?"

Bucky rolled his eyes and scoffed at you. "Why not? He's a God damned legend, for fucks’ sake! The kind of man you deserve. You don't think I know that you're too good for me? That it's just a matter of time before you realize I'm not worth it? I’m just an executioner with all his screws loose. You and Steve make more sense than you and I ever would."

You put a hand to your chest, his words causing your heart physical pain. He had made so much progress, but to know that he still held so much self-doubt as to think that he didn't deserve you? "Bucky," you began, tears coming to your eyes as you choked out the words, "I don't want Steve. I want you. I love you. You are everything to me."

"I don't deserve you, doll. I keep waiting for you to realize I'm no good for you and--"

You put your fingers to his lips, cutting him off before he could finish. "I decide what I deserve, Buck," you told him. "I decide what's good for me, and it breaks my fucking heart that you think you're not it, that you've been carrying this around inside all this time, on your own. You are the only man I have ever loved, the only man I ever want to love. How can I make you see that?"

Bucky's arms wrapped around you and he pulled you close, tucking his head into the crook of your neck. You hugged him to you, rubbing your fingers along the back of his head.

"I do see it, sweetheart," he murmured into your skin, "in my heart, I know it. I just... I'm just so fucked up I can't always make my head believe it."

"Baby, have you talked to Dr. Raynor about this?" you asked. You knew Bucky's relationship with his court-appointed therapist was... rocky, at best, but she had done a lot of good for him in the time they'd been working together.

Bucky shook his head. "She, uh, she doesn't know about you," he admitted, embarrassed.

"Oh," you whispered. You were surprised to find that the admission hurt you. Even before becoming his girlfriend, you'd still been Bucky's best friend, and he'd never thought to mention you to his therapist?

"Hey, it's not like that," Bucky began, having read correctly into your silence. "You know everything I talk about with the doc goes in my court record, yeah? I-I couldn't stand the idea of other people reading it, reading about you, how I felt about you. Because, what if someone used it against you one day? Or came at you to hurt me? I’d never forgive myself. So I kept quiet about you. I'm sorry."

"Oh, Buck." You brushed your lips to the top of his head. "That's not something you need to be sorry for, I promise, but, baby, I'm worried about you. It scares me that you still think so little of yourself that you don't think you deserve to be loved when you deserve everything good. Promise me you'll talk to Dr. Raynor about it, please? For me?"

Bucky raised his head from your neck and rested his forehead against yours. "Yeah," he conceded, letting out a breath. "I promise. I'll talk to Raynor."

You kissed his forehead. "Thank you." You moved down to kiss his eyes. "Thank you." His nose. "Thank you." You brought your lips to his, running your tongue gently across the seam of his lips until he parted them for you, deepening the kiss.

"'m sorry I ruined our afternoon, darlin'," Bucky murmured against your lips, his voice heavy with regret. "Shouldn’t have brought it up like that." His fingers traced soft patterns along the smooth skin of your exposed sides.

"Hey, nothing's ruined," you told him. "I'm just glad you finally said something. I hate the idea of you dealing with things alone, when you don't have to." You rubbed your nose against his before trying to lighten the mood a little. "So Captain America's really in love with me, huh?" you teased.

"Pocket," Bucky growled, nipping at the soft skin at the base of your neck.

"What?" Your voice was the epitome of innocence. "It's very flattering. Going to do wonders for my ego, having two Avengers in love with me."

"I've created a monster," Bucky moaned with a laugh. "I should have never told you."

You shrugged your shoulders. "Too late now; cat's outta the bag. No offense to Cap, though-- I'm only in love with one Avenger, so his feelings are irrelevant."

Bucky gave you a teasing smirk. "That so?"

You nodded, a mischievous grin sweeping across your face. "That's right. Think Thor would ever give me a second look?"

"Oh, you've got jokes, huh?" Bucky's fingers moved from gently caressing the skin of your sides to a full on onslaught of tickling.

"Barnes," you cried through your laughter as you struggled to get away from him, "you knock that off this instant!" Bucky just held you closer to him, his fingers dancing along your skin until you were writhing in his grasp.

"You gonna take it back?" he asked, grinning as you struggled.

"Yes, yes! I take it back," you managed to get out. Bucky ceased his assault and brought his hands to rest on your hips while you caught your breath. "You do not play fair, Barnes," you chastised once you could get a full sentence out again.

Bucky's blue eyes twinkled with laughter, the sight of it such a contrast to his earlier dismay that it made your heart soar. You'd give your life in this very moment if it meant that look would never leave his eyes (though, you were pretty sure that, if you died, he’d never laugh again). "You fired the first shot, doll," he said, pressing a kiss to your nose. "Though by this point, shouldn't find it that surprising."

"I love you," you said, all traces of levity suddenly leaving your expression.

He cocked his head, eyes questioning as he took in your sudden change in demeanor. "What brought that on?"

You shrugged, your silk shirt falling back slightly off your shoulders. "Just want you to know it," you told him. "Really, really know it. Trying to be serious, for once in my fucking life." Bucky chuffed, but you went on: "I don't ever want you to doubt it, or wonder if it's real, if you deserve it. I love you. With everything I have. Everything I am." You bit your lip, and though you'd told him countless times now that you loved him, something about this particular declaration left you feeling self-conscious.

Bucky reached a hand up and brushed a strand of hair that had fallen into your face behind your ear. "Sometimes," he said, voice low and husky, "I think I dreamed you up, that you're just a figment of my imagination. I'm terrified I'm going to wake up in some Hydra base, and the last year and a half's been a dream my broken mind invented to keep me from losing my shit, because how could someone so perfect possibly be real?"

Your breath hitched as he traced his index and middle finger of his human hand along your jawline and down your neck, across your collarbone, sending you into a full-body shiver.

"I promise, it's real, Buck," you whispered. "Tell me: Does this..." you rolled your hips to press your heated core against the semi-hard length of him "feel like a dream to you?"

The rakish, smug smirk that Bucky unleashed on you then was seduction personified. "That always feels like a fucking dream, sweetheart," he drawled, pushing his own hips up against you and stealing a soft gasp from your lips. He began pressing soft kisses to your neck and chest.

"Weren't we supposed to spend this afternoon fucking?" you breathed. Bucky huffed a laugh and began nipping tiny marks into your neck.

"That was the implied, yet unspecified arrangement, yup."

"Then why are we still wearing so many fucking clothes?"

Instead of a response, you felt Bucky's hands reach up under your ass, lifting you up as he stood. You wrapped your legs around his waist and let him carry you to your bed. Letting you down with the utmost gentleness, he slid your shirt all the way off your arms before he nestled himself beside you, lips never leaving your skin.

Your hands made their way under the fabric of his tight tee, fingers running along the lines of the taut muscles of his chest. Gently scratching your nails down his skin, you elicited a low moan from Bucky's lips.

"Fuck, doll," he murmured into your lips, "do that again." You did, only slightly harder this time around, and Bucky moaned even louder.

You reached for the hem of his shirt and tugged it, needing him to sit up so you could pull it over his head. Emboldened now, you took his hands and placed them on the button of your waistband.

"Too many clothes, Barnes," you warned him. Bucky didn't need to be told again before he started unbuttoning your pants, helping you pull them down and off. He made to reach for your covered heat, but you gently pushed his hand away. "Not yet," you told him before bringing your lips to kiss him again.

While your tongues gently swept across one another, you reached down and began unbuckling his belt and unzipping his fly. Once that was done, you broke the kiss and crawled down the bed, Bucky trying to chase your lips.

"Lie back," you ordered, eyes wicked. When he complied, you reached for his waistband, pulling his pants and boxer briefs down and off his muscled legs. His raging erection sprang free from the confines of its cloth prison. You pushed his legs apart as you positioned yourself between them on your knees.

"Well, isn't this a pretty sight?" you hummed, brushing your hair back from your face. Leaning down, you licked a long, slow stripe along the underside of his cock, letting your tongue twirl around the aching red tip that was already dripping with pre-cum.

"Fuck, Pocket," Bucky moaned. You felt his hands reach for your hair, but you pulled back.

"Nuh-huh, Sergeant," you admonished with a wagging finger. "No touching. You'll get your turn." Three things happened at once in conjunction with your words: first, you noticed Bucky's pupils dilate with lust; second, a blush began to spread up his neck; and third, and perhaps most revealing of all, his cock twitched beneath your hand.

"Well, well, well," you mused, realization suddenly dawning on you, "it seems like somebody has a Sergeant kink. Good to know."

Bucky chuffed and put his vibranium arm behind his head, propping himself up so he could watch you, and rested his flesh arm across his abdomen. Bless him; you knew he'd try to keep his hands to himself, but would ultimately end up failing. "I don't know what you're talking 'bout, sweets."

You just smiled at him before returning to the task at hand, you proceeding to devour his cock as though it were your last meal, bringing him deep into your throat and hollowing out your cheeks as you sucked before pulling back off.

"So fucking heavy, Sarge," you murmured as you rolled his balls in your hands. "Bet you're getting real close, huh?" You looked up to see Bucky's eyes screwed shut as he nodded, his human hand now fisting the sheet next to him as a dark red flush spread across his cheeks. "Hey," you said, tapping him on the thigh, "eyes on me, soldier."

When his beautiful blue orbs had returned to yours, you smiled at him, then proceeded to move from your position, crawling yourself up until you were straddling him. Moving the gusset of your panties to the side, you slowly eased yourself down on him, relishing in the stretch until you were fully seated, your clit rubbing against his public bone as you leaned forward.

"Jesus," Bucky groaned when you began moving yourself up and down on his length, riding him at a slow, steady pace. "You're so fucking perfect, doll. I love you. Love you so fucking much."

With a smile you leaned back, letting your spine arch as you moved. Without warning, you felt Bucky sit up to meet you. You knew he couldn't keep his hands to himself.

"Think you can throw these in my face and expect me to keep my hands off?" he asked with a grin, pulling the cups of your lace bra down to expose your breasts. He brought his mouth to your nipple, teasing and sucking at the supple flesh as his hands found your waist. He began fucking up into you, the sensation combined with his attention to your breasts building your high.

"Oh, God. Right there, Buck," you moaned when his cock hit the right spot inside of you. "Just like that; don't stop!" You moved your hands to his back, fingernails leaving long, red marks in his skin.

"Fuck," he growled. He increased the pace and intensity of his thrusting, working himself in and out of you like a piston. "God, you feel so fucking good. So tight. I wanna stay inside you for the rest of my damned life."

"I'd let you," you gasped, your thoughts becoming hazy as the tension inside you continued to build. "Always want you inside me."

Bucky's metal hand left your hip and made its way to your clit. The sudden, cold sensation as he began rubbing tight circles across the sensitive bundle of nerves sent you over the edge, and soon you were coming undone. You could feel your inner walls clenching around Bucky's cock, squeezing and begging it for his own release.

"Fuck, you're gripping me so tight. I'm gonna--" With a guttural moan that was practically a howl, Bucky reached his own peak, sending rope after rope of cum into your waiting channel. You draped your body across him in your spent state, resting your head on his shoulder as he collapsed back onto the bed.

"Was that real enough for you?" you asked him with a smirk as you worked to catch your breath. Bucky hummed, working both hands along the line of your spine.

"Mmm, I dunno, sweets. Felt like the best kinda dream to me." You nipped playfully at his jaw. "Thank you for being so good to me."

"My pleasure," you giggled, "truly."

"My girl and her jokes," he laughed, planting a kiss to the top of your head. "How 'bout I run us a bath, get you all cleaned up?"

You turned your head to look up at him, batting your lashes. "Bubbles, too?" you asked sweetly.

Bucky rolled his eyes. "Fine, bubbles, too." You tried to suppress your snort; though he would never admit it out loud, you knew Bucky secretly loved bubble baths, possibly more than you did. A simple indulgence of the comfort he'd so long been denied.

While he was in the bathroom, running the water, his phone buzzed from the pocket of his discarded jeans.

"Baby, you got a text message," you called.

"Can you check it for me, doll?" he called back. "Got bubbles on my hands."

You laughed to yourself as you crawled to the edge of the bed, picking his jeans up from the floor and searching the pockets for his phone. You stole a quick glance at the screen.

"It's Steve," you told him as you walked his phone back to him in the bathroom. You held it out to him, but he had his hand under the tap, checking the temperature of the water.

"What's he want?" Bucky asked. You didn't know; you hadn't wanted to invade his privacy by looking at his messages, and now his phone had locked itself. "Can you read it to me? Passcode's your birthday."

You held the phone to your chest, cheeks heating with affection. "Bucky Barnes," you said softly. "That..." You had trouble putting the emotions into words. First, that he trusted you with his passcode, and second, that he'd chosen your birthday.

He turned from the tub to look at you, shit-eating grin on his face. "What?"

"That is incredibly fucking sweet, thank you." You entered the numbers into the phone and checked the message from Steve.

"Oh," you pouted, the sweetness in your chest deflating somewhat. "Steve wants you to take point on Jade's training." You stuck out your tongue. "Ew."

Bucky laughed, running a wet hand through his hair, causing it to stick up adorably in all directions. "Tell him I'll think about it and let him know," he said. "I need to discuss it with my girl first."

You smiled as you thumbed the reply back to Steve. "Thank you, Buck."

"Of course, doll." He beckoned you over. "Now come here, time to get you all cleaned up."

"Aw, but Buck," you whined as you walked over, unclasping your bra and stepping out of your panties, "I thought you liked me dirty."

Bucky paused in his removal of his boxer briefs. "You keep that kind of talk up, I have half a mind to keep you dirty."

You tapped his chest as you stepped into the blissfully warm water of the sunken tub. "Promises, promises." He quickly followed you, and you soon settled, him with his back against the wall of the tub, and you against his chest. "57038," you said to him, once you both were submerged in bubbles.

"What now?" he asked in surprise.

"My phone," you told him. "The passcode's 57038. I want you to have it."

He leaned down to kiss the side of your neck. "Thank you, sweets, but you didn't have to tell me just because I told you mine." He paused, thinking for a moment. "Why does that number sound so familiar?"

You chuckled and turned to pull on the chain that held his dog tags around his neck. Holding it out in front of him, you pointed to the last five digits of his military service number. You watched him swallow thickly as he made the realization.

"You..." he paused to clear his throat, "you use my numbers for your passcode?" You shrugged your shoulders.

"Is that too much?" you asked hesitantly, feeling suddenly shy.

"No! God, no!" Bucky wrapped his arms around you and buried his face into the crook of your shoulder. "I honestly don't know how you're even real," he murmured into your skin. "Keep thinking I'll close my eyes and you'll disappear." Reaching around, you ran your fingers through his hair.

"I'm real," you promised him, leaning back into his chest, "I'm real, this is real. And I'm not going anywhere."

He nuzzled into you, as if he could burrow into your skin in order to be closer to you. "I know I said I'd get you all cleaned up but, fuck, doll, you keep saying stuff like that..."

You wiggled around in his arms until you were facing him, legs wrapped back around his waist and arms draped around his neck; your favorite place to be. "Tub sex?" you asked, voice full of hope and excitement.

Bucky threw his head back and laughed before coming back down to kiss you. "Tub sex," he agreed with a smile.

<- Previous Part / Next Chapter ->

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky x you #bucky x reader #bucky fanfic #bucky barnes #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky x female reader #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes fanfiction #james bucky buchanan barnes #james buchanan barnes #mcu bucky barnes #james barnes

180 notes · View notes

multifandomlover01 · 6 months

Text

The BAU’s Whore

Dom!Hotch x Fem!reader x Sub!Reid

WC: ~1.7K

Warnings/"tags": 18+ MDNI sub!reader, sub!Spencer, dom!Hotch, free use (use of “our girl” as a term of endearment), spanking, contracts, agreements, consensual, blowjob, doggy, slight hair pulling, guided deep throat, degradation along with praise of reader, breeding kink, cream pie

Summary: Reader is the BAU’s free use whore. Hotch and Morgan use you quite regularly, especially Hotch. Spencer never has. One day, he walks in on Hotch using you.

Key: Y/N = Your (first, preferred or chosen) name

Y/N/N = shortened form of first or chosen or preferred name or some other nickname

Gif cred: dudeitiskarev

Ignore that the Hotch gif is from S3 but the Reid one is from S2

Hotch used you the most. It made sense. He was the most stressed. You spent a lot of time in his office, usually in between his legs under his desk, on his lap, or bent over his desk (and almost always naked).

Poor Spencer would walk in from time to time and his cheeks would be instantly red. The whiplash he got from just talking to you about Doctor Who or Star Trek and then seeing his boss rail you as you’re bent over his desk was insane. And to have Hotch and/or you just casually talk to him while you’re fucking…was enough to make his poor mind reel.

Spencer was not often left speechless, but those experiences never ceased to leave him at a loss for words as he focused on not only your body and how it moved, but sometimes Hotch’s as well (depending on how much skin was showing).

“What do you need, Reid?” Hotch asks as he holds your hips and smacks his hips against yours. You are sprawled out on the desk, your clothes are off and on the floor, obviously having been thrown there without any care.

“Oh um…” his eyes are on your ass jiggling with each of Hotch’s thrusts.

“Reid…what is it?” Hotch asks him, a bit annoyed that he’s being interrupted and that he’s now being distracted by Reid being distracted.

“I…um…” he can’t stop looking at Hotch fucking you.

“You wanna wait until I’m done?” Hotch offers.

“Uh…”

Hotch chuckles. “Have a seat or wait outside.”

Spencer immediately sits down on the couch in Hotch’s office, seemingly not wishing to leave despite his embarrassment. A bulge forms in his pants. Hotch notices. Spencer is trying desperately to ignore it.

“Take it out if you want.” Hotch replies in a tone that is way too casual for the situation.

“Oh no I uh…” Spencer shakes his head. His cheeks are still very red. And he still seemingly cannot speak intelligently.

“You stayed to watch for a reason. You like watching me fuck our girl, don’t you?” Hotch smirks as he caressed your back lovingly before his hand goes down to caress your ass. He then smacks it. Reid winches at the sound. Despite having signed the contract…despite you technically being available for his use, Spencer had never used you and had never thought of you as being “his” or “the team’s”.

Your little whines and whimpers filled Spencer’s ears.

“You can come touch her if you’d like.” Hotch says, not really wishing to share you right now but knowing it was in the rules that both he and Reid had helped type up that anyone at any time could use you and that hogging you was prohibited. The men had a civil agreement about sharing but Hotch could not technically deny Spencer access to you if he wished to have it.

“Oh…I dunno…”

“That’s the deal, Reid. You wanna touch her? You’re allowed to.” Hotch reminds him.

Spencer hesitates still. This causes Hotch to sigh.

“Y/N/N, hon, tell our shy Dr. Reid that he can touch you.” He caressed your ass before he smacked it again.

“Come…come touch me, Spence. It’s ok, I promise.” You turn your head to look at him. You hold your hand out as you beckoned him over.

“See? She wants you to touch her. She probably would love it if you got your cock out and put it in that pretty little mouth of hers.”

(Pronoun or POV switch?)

Spencer cannot believe what he’s hearing his unit chief say about this woman. She was kind and caring and smart. But she was also the team’s whore. She was also currently getting fucked doggy style by the unit chief.

Like a siren, she called to him. And so he stood up and went to her. At her present angle, she managed to help him get his cock out and stroked it.

“Help her out and go over to the side or back of the desk.” Hotch ordered. He’d been next to them at one side of the desk, the “front”. He obeys his unit chief and goes to the back. He pushes the chair out of the way. She reaches forward to stroke his cock. She’d never touched his cock before. He’d never asked or guided it there. Her hand on it felt like heaven, though.

Hotch chuckled at his reaction to it.

“How’s it feel, Reid?”

Spencer doesn’t immediately respond.

“Reid…give her feedback at least. She likes it. Praise her, come on. Tell her how good her hand feels wrapped around your cock.”

“S-so good.” He manages to get out. “God…”

“Let’s move to the couch. So she can be more comfortable and suck your cock, hmm?”

Spencer just nods and follows back to the couch as Hotch pulls out of you and leads you over.

You all position so Hotch is back inside of you and so you can lean down to suck Spencer’s cock. You take his tip in your mouth and suck lightly. He moans.

“Holy…oh my god…”

“You like it? She’s a good little cocksucker, isn’t she?” Hotch said as he patted your bum before giving it a cheeky little smack.

“D-don’t…don’t call her that.” Spencer murmured as he tried not to lose his mind as you took a couple of more inches in.

“Why not? It’s ok. She likes it. You read the contract in full before you signed it. You know what was in there, even if you’ve never used her before now. You know she likes light degradation along with praise.”

“I kn-know what’s in…the contract but I still don’t like to hear th-those…things…said about her.”

“Alright. No party is supposed to be uncomfortable. I’ll respect that.”

“Th-Thank you, sir.”

“You’re welcome. It was all part of the deal.”

“Mhm…guess you’re…right…”

Hotch continued to snap his hips into your ass while you took more of Spencer into your mouth.

“Come on, love. Take all of him in. He’s not that big or long.” Hotch encourages you as he puts a hand on the back of your head and caresses.

“H-hey…” Spencer murmurs, offended.

“That’s not such a bad thing.” Hotch assures Reid. “I had to train her very well and very long to get her to take my cock. Morgan did the same. You won’t be that much of a challenge. She’ll happily and greedily gobble you right up right now. Won’t you, hon?” He caressed your hair more before grasping it a bit and pushing you down onto Spencer’s dick.

“Hotch, don’t-oh my…god!” Spencer choked out as you take him all the way in.

“She feels good, right?” Hotch asks as he looks up at Spencer to see his reaction.

“Mhm…s-so good…” Spencer nods. His mouth is open and his eyes are half shut.

“Tell her how good her mouth feels around your cock.” Hotch pretty much orders Spencer. It’s a shock to no one who is in charge here.

Spencer isn’t sure he can speak. But he tries his best to. “I…god…your mouth…feels so good, Y/N/N. I’m not…gonna last…long.” Spencer pants.

“Then cum when you’re ready. She can take it. She’ll swallow your cum like the good girl she is.” Hotch caresses your head again before trailing his hand down your back to grip your hips again as he continues to thrust into you.

You bob your head up and down on Spencer’s cock. Spencer has a hard time containing his moans and whimpers.

“I…I’m gonna…shi-aahh…” Spencer cuts himself off with a gasp as his orgasm hits him.

“That’s it, Reid. Be a good boy and cum in our girl’s mouth.” Hotch encourages him.

Spencer’s cum spurts out from his tip and coats the roof of your mouth. He shudders as he does so.

Hotch tugs lightly on your hair to get you to come off of Spencer’s cock and swallow his cum.

“You swallow all of it?” Hotch asks you.

“Mhm.” You nod.

“Open your mouth. Show Reid.” Hotch orders you.

You obediently open your mouth to show Spencer that you’d swallowed all of his cum.

“She do it?” Hotch casually asks Spencer as he continues to grip your hips and thrust into you, now at a faster pace, obviously approaching his climax as well now.

Spencer is so transfixed on your face as you’re getting pounded by the unit chief that he forgets to answer said man.

“Reid. She swallow?” Hotch repeats himself.

“Huh? Oh um…y-yeah.” He nods.

“Course she did. She’s such a good girl. Dirty little whore too.”

Spencer winces at the use of that derogatory term. He wonders if you really like being called that but recalls the persuasive essay you’d written. You’d made it clear how you liked a little degradation along with the praise. Hotch had been correct. Spencer cups your face while you look up at him as Hotch is very close to cumming inside of you. That had been discussed as well. Everyone got tested regularly to make sure everyone all stayed clean and no one gave anything to anyone else. But Hotch wouldn’t exactly be upset if he had another child. Jack had always complained about being lonely.

“You look so pretty, Y/N.” Spencer smiles down at you.

“Thank you…Spencer…” You smiled back up at him.

“You ready, honey? I got a nice full load for you.” Hotch warns you.

“Mhm… ‘M ready.”

“Good girl.” Aaron grips your hips as his thrusts stutter and he groans as he empties himself inside of you.

“Reid…go get…a warm wash cloth for our girl, would you? And some water and some snacks.” Hotch pants ever so slightly.

Spencer nods and goes to do what he’s been instructed to do by his unit chief. While he does this, Hotch pulls out of you and pushes his cum back into you with his fingers.

"Gotta keep that in there for just a bit." He repositions you so you're on your back on the couch. He caresses your cheek.

"You were such a good girl for us, sweetheart. I'm so proud of you." He smiles down at you.

#spencer reid x reader #aaron hotchner x reader #spencer reid smut #aaron hotchner smut #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds smut #spence reid #criminal minds #aaron hotchner #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds fic #spencer reid fic #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fanfic #aaron hotchner fanfiction #aaron hotchner fic

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writing-in-the-impala · 9 months

Text

Secret Smokes (Part 8)

Pairing: Teacher! Remus Lupin x Reader

Series Summary: When the reader bumps into the new DADA professor on the bridge in Hogwarts she begins to build a friendship with him all thanks to their shared feeling of not belonging and love for muggle cigarettes. Their friendship blooms while they both fight internal battles deciding what is wrong and what is right leading to a lot of fluff, angst, flirting and a rollercoaster of emotions.

Warnings: Swearing, Drinking, teacher-student relationship, Slowburn, angst, jealousy, fluff

Word Count: 2240

A/N: Merry Christmas I hope yours is better than mine is going this year, as usual, I apologise for the wait. If you all give me some love on this Part 9 will be out in the next few days I won't make you wait this time. Have a wonderful Christmas!

| SERIES MASTER LIST (All chapters) |

Previous Chapter, Part 8, Next Chapter

Weeks leading up to Christmas break felt like a blur of happy memories. You and your classmates were growing more and more nostalgic over the fact that it's your last Christmas at the castle. The decorations were beautiful as always and everyone's spirits seemed a bit more positive as these were the last weeks before you had to really focus on your exams. You grew closer with more people thanks to your friendship with Sebastian however your favourite person in the castle was always Remus.

You would meet most evenings sometimes on the bridge but increasingly more often in his office for a cup of tea and to listen to muggle vinyl records. The rule was no alcohol, no touching and no "dear" and sticking to those rules meant your friendship could blossom. It felt like hanging out at a friends house a lot more than being in your professors office. Some nights you would spend the evening with your friends but most nights were unofficially reserved for Remus. He introduced you to some music you've never heard of and you introduced him to some things he's surprisingly not encountered. "What do you mean you haven't heard Cosmic dancer by T.Rex, come on Remus I thought you knew your shit, it's like from your decade." You said laughing sitting on his large office armchair.

"Watch your language young lady. I listened to some amazing shit, I mean this one." He said pulling out a rare Bowie vinyl. "This one has songs you've never heard of girl and that's Bowie." He explained eccentrically.

"Well you don't own a single Smiths vinyl."

"The people who buy Morrissey record are the same as the ones who hate people just because they're muggle born." He said sternly placing his mug down on the desk.

"That's harsh."

"I believe it." He stated without hesitation. Remus had strong opinions when it came to music especially music that he grew up with but it was always fun to share this world of music with him, he felt younger when he spoke about music it's like he was transported back to just being a teen. You'd always leave Remus's office just before curfew but you kept a note in your pocket signed by him saying you're coming back from detention incase anyone stopped you. It was all working, a bit too well.

Snow began to fall two weeks before and as soon as you and your friends saw it you ran outside to celebrate throwing snow balls and acting like kids. You saw Remus speaking to Mcgonagall outside, he wasn't dressed for winter wearing just his classic suit jacket which was slightly too big on him. He looked up at the sky in awe while speaking to her, you could see he was also adoring the surroundings, you caught his eye as you were looking in his direction, you smiled and gave him a wave and he smiled softly back, that was it before someone threw a snow ball at you initiating another round of war. It was nice to be so carefree. You and the Weasleys decided to make your way up to Hogsmeade to experience it in the snow as it was always beautiful covered in snow, you got some hot chocolate and walked through the village. While standing under the three broom sticks with the last few sips of your hot chocolate you felt a snowball hit the back of your head. "Hey! Who was that?" You shouted turning around to see Remus standing there with his hands in his pocket, he looked straight behind him pretending to be confused and pointed with his thumb behind him while the other hand stayed firmly tucked in his pocket. "I think he went that way." His face turned into a smile soon after as he couldn't even fake it not being him.

"Professor you don't know the battle you've started." You said playfully.

"I fought in the Wizard war a bunch of students is nothing." He said and at that very moment he was bombarded with snowballs from every angle curtiste of the Weasley's, you and a little basic magic. Moments like this made you remember how life was okay, you might've spent years hating Hogwarts but Remus helped you see the good in the magical world. Lessons seemed a lot easier in the last few weeks of term, teachers paid less attention to teaching more to enjoying the last few weeks. DADA turned mostly practical with duelling becoming a more common event in class, it was everyone's favourite lessons as it was just fun practicing using spells. Remus would turn on some of those very familiar vinyls, he would always smile and joke around as students attempted different spells. The only thing that ached was not being able to be normal around him, you couldn't tease each other, comment on the songs, it felt like you had a huge secret to hide. You and Remus would always share a quick glance and smile when a particular song came on that was either a inside joke or a recent conversation, it felt like your own little secret and it felt good. No matter how many girls would flirt with him or ask him to hold their arm as they preformed a spell it was you who he couldn't keep his eyes off.

You asked your parents to send you a book and a vinyl for a friend, it was always amusing when muggle post arrived as it was stamped normally and not just bought with an owl. You purchased some Christmas themed wrapping paper in Hogsmeade and began to wrap all the presents you bought for your friends, some smaller than others just a few prank materials for the Weasleys, for Sebastian you got a signed edition of his favourite book and of course for Professor R.J. Lupin it was the most special present. You wrote a dedication in the book for Lupin "To my dear friend, thank you for showing me that the wizarding world is magical and thank you for all the secret smokes. Hogwarts feels like home with you in it Moony. Yours, Y/N" You were excited to give it to him and see how he reacts. You were worried he'd find you giving him a gift inappropriate or too much but at the same time it felt wrong not to get him something after how close you've grown. You went to his classroom for your usual evening catch up. Drinking tea while he had a record playing and catching up on each others days. Today you were finishing one of your last assignments that was due before the Christmas break for positions obviously because who else would set an assignment so close to Christmas. Remus was doing some marking but also helping you and answering any questions you had. Once you finished your assignment you shut the book and signed in relief, Remus was already done by this point just reading a book waiting for you to finish.

"Where are you spending Christmas this year?" You blurted out while you collected your parchment and put it in your bag.

"I'm considering staying in the castle this year there's not much for me to go home to if I'm being honest." He seemed slightly uncomfortable at the question.

"Where is home?" You asked curiously.

"Yorkshire, small cottage in the middle of nowhere." He looked proud of his home.

"How middle of nowhere? How far is the nearest shop?"

"Probably a forty minute walk if not more and that's just a petrol station garage, the closest village is over an hour away."

"Do you ever get lonely?"

"Sometimes... but it's safer for me to live far from people." He looked away not making eye contact with you as he said the words.

"You're not the monster you think you are. You're too harsh on yourself, you should spend Christmas and new years with friends and family not at work or locked away in your cottage."

He smiled gently. "Where will you be? Staying or going?"

"Going. My parents miss me, and I miss them so no matter how much I would love to spend one last Christmas with friends, family comes first."

"I'm sure Sebastian was devastated to hear that you're leaving." He said in a not too friendly tone

"What? I don't understand why?" You questioned.

"Nothing, besides I'm sure you'll be holding hands by New Year's Eve."

"The only thing I'll be holding on New Year's Eve is the tv remote and a glass of champagne while I watch the fireworks from the comfort of my parents sofa."

"When are you coming back to the castle? When term starts or later?"

"Probably just after new years I'd like the last few days to enjoy it here before exam season kills me."

"That's very wise of you but I'm sure exams won't kill you."

"I still don't know how to cast a partonus Remus."

"I'll help you. I may not be able to keep my promise of ending tutoring before Christmas but if you allow me a few more sessions when you're back I'll make sure you have nothing to worry about when exams start."

"Thank you, I guess you were right that you'll make tutoring fun... a part of me never wants it to end I really do enjoy duelling now."

"That makes me so happy to hear." He replied gently. "When do you leave for home?" He continued.

"Tomorrow after breakfast." You saw and his smile dropped.

"Oh, I didn't realise you were leaving so soon."

"Yeah, I'm picking up shifts at my muggle job to have some muggle money to buy presents with so I decided to take the first train to London. Although I will really miss seeing the castle in the snow."

"I bought too much tea and milk." He said with a sad tone.

"We can drink it when I'm back." You said with fake enthusiasm that wasn't tricking either of you.

"The milk will go off and the tea will dry out waiting for you to come back."

"Sounds like we need to drink a lot of tea tonight." You said lighting the mood.

"Perhaps we do. Now neither of us goes to bed until it's all gone."

"It'll take hours."

"I'm prepared to stay here all night and all day even if it means you'll miss your train tomorrow." He said making the two of you laugh.

"I bought you a present." You changed the topic.

"For me?"

"Who else would it be for if I bought you a present?"

"Hold on, I've gotten you something too." He said standing up and going into the annexed room which was presumably his private quarters. You heard a lot of rummaging around in his room before he came back with two small items wrapped in brown paper. "Do we open them now?" He asked softly.

"Wait until Christmas, so you don't forget about me while I'm gone."

"How could I dear?" His words burned to hear. A moment of silence fell upon the two of you where tension grew and all you did was stare into each others eyes as he broke the rules. After a moment he moved slightly back and cleared his throat. "How will I thank you if you're gone?"

"Write to me." You stated and he nodded gently.

You left soon after as it was getting late, it was hard to leave, you wanted to hug him to thank him for the presents but instead you waved him bye from the doorway. On the train back to London you daydreamed about what could've happened if you stayed in the castle, what would Christmas with Remus look like?

You imagined sitting in front of the fireplace with him, listening to Christmas vinyls and opening presents, how soft he would look in a Christmas jumper. You imagined what it would be like to go walk in the snow drinking a hot toddy or a mulled wine while you explore Hogsmeade on Christmas. The anticipation of what was in the present from him was killing you and you decided to open it on the train breaking your promise of waiting until Christmas. You opened the smaller package first it was a small metal tin for cigarettes with a small drawing of a camel standing on a bridge on the front. You opened the second one and it was a book about muggles in the wizarding world, on the first page Remus had written a small note to you.

"My dearest Y/N,

You've been such a important part of my first year teaching at Hogwarts I wanted to show my gratitude. You are one of the most impressive witches I've ever met and I am so privileged to be able to spend time in your company.

This book was my fathers, I hope you don't mind me giving you something pre-loved however I couldn't find another copy of this book. He used to tell me stories from this book of great muggle born witches and wizards and how they used their abilities to help muggles, I hope it inspires you for the future.

I've also charmed the cigarette box for you so if you say the words "healthy lifestyle" while tapping the front they will become invisible so you won't have to worry about being caught, I'm guessing this will become useful while you're home over Christmas I'm sorry for encouraging your addiction dear.

Once again thank you for all you have done for me this past year, I'll never forget the lake.

Yours, Remus."

NEXT CHAPTER | More stuff I wrote

Tags (if you aren't here but want to be leave a reply and I'll add you or DM me to get removed):

@thesoundresoundsecho @ahoyyharrington @merleisapartygod @sting-0f-ennui @starchaser-lily @ashisabitgay @livingordeadwhoknows @v0relino @evie-beanie @whotfskai @admiringyou @lily-mylove @kirubi @ghostbandghostcodghostface @rockymiles @99tech99 @almizz1 @standepechemode @lovingdilfss @artvoyager @sofacover @bubblegum9468 @spidermansolosurfav @harleyanderson2004 @kissmeunicornbaobei @marine-mayday @beelzebzb @universallyblizzardlove @liv2post

#remus lupin x reader #student x teacher #teacher! Remus Lupin #professor lupin x reader #hogwarts school of witchcraft and wizardry #remus lupin #the maruaders #harry potter #remus love you #secret smokes

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dreeki · 2 months

Text

ᯓᡣ𐭩.ᐟ ⊹ dance jam.

pairing: dancer!ni-ki x dancer!y/n

syn: y/n is new to the dance studio known for being the home of nishimura riki's dance team and goes there with no crazy expectations. nishimura riki has other plans.

warnings: none(?)

note: eng is not my 1st language, not proofread // ni-ki is both a dancer and a seasonal dance teacher assistant :]

+note: this is heavily inspired by my life and the things that have happened during some of my dance classes ^^

wc: 1.1k

☆ you anxiously woke up at 9am the morning of your first dance class at ni-ki's studio. it was a scary feeling to think that you would have to begin again, even with 10 years of experience under your belt. you were starting to outgrow your old dance studio; even with some great teachers, they were used to only teaching younger kids and you had just recently turned 18, making you unfit for the studio anymore.

luckily, you had been following nishimura riki, the greatest dancer you have seen, for some time and knew that the studio he went to was also open to older students, since he was only a few months older than you.

this seemed to be a great opportunity; in the past, you had wanted to go to his studio before but something, maybe fear, kept you from going.

the 2h class only started at 6pm, so you spent your morning and lunch fidgeting and pacing around the house like a madman. when it was time to get ready, you just picked a pair of sweatpants you had on your desk chair and a freshly washed baggy t-shirt. you packed your dance bag and made sure you didn't forget your water bottle and the black converse you were to change into before class.

once you arrived at the foreign building, you tried your best to go to the right practice room. after walking around the building for a good 3 minutes, you saw a group of teenagers around the same age as you huddled up at one of the rooms' doors. inside you could see through the glass door riki preparing the room for your class.

standing in between the unknown faces of the strangers that shared the same interest as you was a very awkward feeling. you wished to be a bit more open but it was just too hard. maybe once you start dancing it will be better; you've been told many times that you become a different person when you're on stage or dancing, so that calmed you down a bit.

the first thing you and the other students did, along with the teacher and riki, was to warm up really well. that's when you started to feel more at home. after that, the tall boy had to demonstrate the choreography you were about to learn in the following hour. watching his videos online was one thing, but seeing him so close and in his element felt like winning the lottery. it was almost an undescribeable sentiment; he looked so cool and charming while dancing and anybody noticing the way your eyes sparkle watching him smoothly move his body could tell you truly admired the boy.

now it was your turn to learn the combination of moves riki has previously showed the class. usually, you were a quick learner when it came to dance, but there was one certain move that you couldn't quite get. the teacher gave you a small break to take a breather and drink some water after she told everybody that if they have any questions you were free to ask her assistant.

suddenly, a small crowd of people was formed around ni-ki, so you waited a few steps further to ask your question. without meaning to, you heard the conversations started with the boy. "can we take a picture?" "can you sign this for me, please?" "would you be able to follow me back?" and so on.. that was until he let out a frustrates sigh and asked loudly if anybody had any questions related to the dance. "my moment to shine" you thought and stepped closer to ni-ki.

"hi.." you said quieter than you wanted to. the boy simply nodded waiting for you to continue. "i'm having trouble with this one move; i'm not sure what the timing is for it. could you please show me again?" the boy's gaze was so intense while you were speaking, maybe because he had a hard time hearing what you were saying over all the noise, but one thing you knew was that the stare made your heart race. "yess, of course! here, pay attention" and that's exactly what you did. "thank you so so much!!" "no problem!" and so, you returned to your place in the back with the whole choreography learned.

it took awhile for the rest of the dancers to memorize the entire dance and you were patient, as usual.

finally, it was time to be put into groups and for one lucky person to do the combo with the teacher and riki. some people don't get chosen at all, since there's too many people and too little time and that is what you thought your fate would be. but, ohh, how wrong you were. "now for the person that gets to dance with me and the amazing teacher we have here.."

ni-ki carefully scanned the place for the face he was looking for. following his gaze, you almost passed out when out of nowhere his eyes landed on you and the two of you made eye contact. "you!" what?! you looked around but everybody was just looking back at you. "yes, you!" it was the teachers time to speak. "riki and i decided you really compliment our dance style and we really love your fluidity!" wow.. you were ecstatic to hear that, especially since it was your first class after leaving your studio.

the recording went by in a flash and there you were now, checking to see if it was a good take. you were very satisfied with it, so that was your first and final take. after everybody else was done with their groups, the dancers listened to a few final remarks that were said and soon, you were all dismissed.

pleased with your performance that evening, you were heading to the changing room when all of a sudden someone grabbed your wrist in an attempt to stop you in your tracks. startled, you turned around, shocked to be met with the tall, charming figure of your favourite dancer, the one and only, nishimura riki.

"heyy!" he said in a tone meant to mask his nerves, but you could tell he was a bit hesitant for some reason. "hi.." you anxiously replied, thinking that maybe you had done something wrong during the class. "i was wondering.. are you interested in joining my team? i carefully watched you today and, i have to say, i really like your style and the way you prepare for a performance!" you looked at him in shock.

"oh wow.. are you serio- really?" "mhm!" he nodded cheerfully. "oh my god.. this is crazy but yes. yes it would be an honour to be part of your team!" "thank god!" ni-ki exhaled relaxed, as if he had passed the hardest exam of his life. "i was really scared you would refuse; a dancer like you must have many teams wanting to scout you" "you would be surprised to find out that i am actually on my own right now!" you laughed. "not anymore!" ni-ki brightly smiled at you.

who knew that this one singular class could change your whole life...

a/n: tysm for reading this fic!! 🫶 let me know your thoughts about it in the comments! if you liked it, likes and reblogs are much appreciated ☺️

#enhypen #enhypen niki #ni ki #nishimura riki #enha #enha x reader #ni ki x reader #enhypen riki #dance #ni ki fluff #enhypen fluff #enhypen imagines #enhypen scenarios #ni ki scenarios #ni ki imagines

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arandomdai · 6 months

Text

Leuce and Hades: A Tragic Love Story We Were Robbed Of

⚠️ WARNING: I'm just saying my opinions just like everybody else. So in Demeter fashion, put your tin foil hats on. It's going to be a LONG read. Enjoy!!! ⚠️

• Hades and Leuce: The Titanomachy

I feel like The Titanomachy should've been the start of the book. A part 1 and 2 (and/or 3) of what happened before and after the war. During the fight, Hades was severely injured by Kronos which caused him to be on bed rest. First, the scene with Hera helping Hades should've been Leuce instead. He could've saw how beautiful she was and she would've thought the same about him. Leuce would've talked to him about how brave he was, feeling bad about him being hurt and being trapped in his father's stomach. After, she's done with taking care of him, she could've kissed him on the forehead showing that she cares about him. Next, after the war is over, he meets with Leuce at the beach saying thank you for taking care of me while I was hurt and feeling sorry that she had to see him that way. Leuce would've said it was fine and that she was okay helping him. Hades then asked about the forehead kiss. Leuce would say that she liked him, and wanted to let him know that he was loved (in her own way). After talking about their troubles and giving advice to each other, both experience their first kiss (which could've been the backstory on why he hates the beach). Finally, everyone was ready to move on with their lives. Hades asked Leuce if she wanted to go with him to the Underworld ( Zeus didn't trick him into ruling the Underworld in the myths and Hades didn't need to eat a pomegranate to rule 🙄), and so she said yes. Once they get down there, they get started on building the kingdom.

•The Loss of Leuce

After building everything and trapping Kronos in Tartarus (with the help of Hecate's powers), Hades was planning to propose to her and wanted to do it at Zeus's party. But he discovers that she doesn't look well, and wanted to know what's going on. Leuce explains that she is dying and that she almost lived a full life (keep in mind that they are the same age in this tragic love story). Hades tries to find away to make her live long enough to stay and be with him forever, but it was no use. Using this picture because this could've shown while working in his office, the glowing butterfly could've been a sign that she was about to pass away (or she sends it to him to let him know to be with her). And so he goes to the room, but before he does that, the doctors warned him that he only has 2 minutes to talk to her until she passes. Hades wonders if it was anything they could do, and they shake their head no. Hades walks in with sadness in his eyes with a happy smile. Before Hades could say anything, Leuce tells him something like...

"When I first saw you, I knew that you were the one for me. The love I have for you has grown stronger and stronger than ever. You understood me in a way that no one else could. I witnessed your crystals, your stars, and the real you. Hades I will always have you in my heart for centuries to come. The laughs we shared, the fun we had, and happiness we both have for each other will live on in your heart. Hades no matter what happens, I will always love you and I want you to be happy. Promise me you will be happy (He would tear up and says "I'll try"). My time has come. I love you Hades. I will always love you."

Hades would be crying while holding her hand telling her I love you too. Out of grief and sadness, he turns her into a poplar tree and started wearing a poplar leaf on his suit ever since. Losing her could've been the reason he's bitter, mean, somber, drinking, sulking and having bad dreams. We could've had a enemies to lovers story about him and Persephone (without the "I can fix him" mentality). I feel like him going to that party mad and upset because he is still grieving would've made more sense.

Sidenote: I wish that Hades hair stayed long and his hair would be Obsidian Black (like the glassy mineral since he is the God of Wealth) with swirls and everything. A missed opportunity once again 😒.

•My Rant

The author calling herself a Greek mythology expert is just...not true. When going into the myths, it is a stated that Hades first love was Leuce up until she died, turned her into a poplar tree, and puts the tree in Elysium. So why call this a feminist retelling, when there's nothing feminist about it? Why is Leuce made to be this delusional and gold digging nymph? Why is Persephone being a asshole to her and saying "clout chaser" (which is so cringe)? Having a self insert and a fantasy boyfriend isn't doing this book or the character(s) any favors. Leuce deserve so much better than this. And to see this story just mentions Greek gods and goddesses without giving them their own stories (mythically accurate at that) is sad to see. Just bad writing, bad morals, and a dream.

#anti lore olympus #lo critical #anti lo #lore olympus criticism #lore olympus critical #tin foil hats

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shakespeareallanpoe · 7 months

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Talks With Father

Word count: Idk

Warnings: none, unless you're terrified of Bruce being a good dad 😕

Dedication: @purp1e-ph0enix & @bradshawsbaddie

_____________________

"You mention her often."

Damian turned to look at the vigilante beside him, his finely tuned senses and years of knowing his father filling in everything Batman didn't say. There was no prompt, no segway into this conversation. They were sitting in the Batmobile while the computer program inside was rebooting and nothing but comfortable silence between them only a few seconds previously. It was offered as conversation starter and Damian knew Batman wouldn't push. In his own bat-way he was telling his son he was aware- the greatest detective in Gotham City was always aware.

Damian didn't put much stock into his father's experience with relationships, and they both knew Batman wasn't offering advice. Damian could leave it there. Batman wouldn't tell anyone and his son knew he would likely never mention it again. Damian almost took it, and if it was a couple years ago he would've. But since he had joined and left the Titans, Damian had seen the effects of allowing relationships to deepen beyond the surface level his league training always taught him to maintain. Being back with the league as their leader, he saw just how inhuman they had expected him to be. Damian rarely got the genuine moments his younger self always scoffed at, and he knew his mental and emotional health wasn't benefitting from it.

It's how he found himself occasionally visiting Gotham. At it's worst it was a filthy city that reeked of crime, and never failed to have some crisis or another. Damian was a hero here. He knew he was violent and brash but that's what the city needed when the police failed. Gotham always needed him for who he was, and Damian remembered telling his father these things go both ways. He needed Gotham as well. To take a break from the league, when that world got so toxic it became hard for him to breathe. Hard to see the man in his mirror.

Only Alfred and his father knew. Of course they knew. But Batman put a great deal of effort for the sake of his son, and allowed Damian to come and go as he pleased. It was hard for the man with trust issues and severe paranoia, but a week before he passed Dick had spoken to Batman about letting Damian go. That he would fly true if he was given the chance to spread his wings. And everyone knew the bat was trying to live by his first son's final wishes.

It didn't weigh on Damian's mind for long. His relationship with his father had greatly improved, to the point that they now worked together during Damian's visits. His father already knew. And self growth could only make a person stronger for it, so why not?

"I want to know how she is. She has yet to leave my... heart."

Batman exhaled, a sign that he'd heard his son's even response. Damian never reached out to his old teammates, but he did occasionally inquire as to how they were after the spilt. Batman kept tabs on them for these moments, and while he knew little about Raven, what he did know he always shared. Despite it hardly ever being good news.

"Raven is strong. She is with Kent at the moment and doing all she can." Batman's dark voice offered.

Damian didn't hesitate. "Just because the burden is carried well does not mean it is deserved. She is innocent, suffering, and still trying to save those who are the same. Magic is the only difference between the people and their hero."

Batman knew he and his son's tendencies towards philosophical pessimism would only darken their conversation. This world was a mess and those who fought for justice rarely got justice of their own. His first son was dead. His biological son existed because someone he cared for took advantage of him without remorse. But Batman, in his heart, desperately wanted the best for the youth of his city. All the children who could have lives he never could if only he sacrificed himself in every way for his city.

Looking across the Batmobile which had 4.33 seconds left in it's update, seeing the face that looked so much like his own at the age when he was lost in his determination to become the hero his life never had, Batman smiled softly at his son. "That doesn't mean she isn't cared for."

Damian, halfway lost in his own mind, truly a mirror of his father, had no response. Raven deserved so much more. She worked so hard and never gave a sign of the pain and pressure she had to endure. This world was a mess and those who fought for justice rarely got justice of their own. Damian's oldest brother was dead. His father hated him in the beginning because he was the physical reminder of how cruel the world could be. But Damian, in his heart, desperately wanted the best for Raven. He wished he could rewrite her fate, which seemed to be carved with blood in the stars, and give her the peace she sacrificed herself for in every way for her world.

Damian eventually found his own voice breaking himself from his musings, spilling from his mouth as if it took no thought. "Please help them. Save her."

Batman nodded, his finely tuned observation filling in everything Damian didn't say. The older man silently handed his son the keys to the Batmobile and moved to get out of the driver's seat. "Damian. The things that mean the most to us are the things we sacrifice everything for. You both care for the world and one day, you have to believe that the world will give it back to you."

"Tt. That sounds like a Hallmark marathon in the Wayne Manor was finished recently." Damian shot back lightly, grabbing the keys with a grin.

"It might have been." Batman replied evenly, holding the driver's door open while his young superhero climbed in. "I expect the car in perfect shape when it inevitably returns past your curfew."

"High expectations. We'll see what the criminal underbelly of Gotham has to say about that. Could be a rough night."

Batman stood back from his car in anticipation for his youngest's depart. "Shouldn't be a problem then. But if you want your first date to be a seaside picnic on the Wayne Beach with Alfred's cookies, I look forward to seeing the Batmobile in good shape tomorrow morning."

Damian blushed- only faintly- as only a teenager talking to his father about his crush would. "Perhaps your Hallmark movies do provide a potential benefit, however miniscule and insignificant."

Batman smiled almost teasingly. "There's no need to suffer through the cinema you don't enjoy. I've already collected quite the list of romantic outing ideas I think the two of you would like."

"Father! Do not meddle with my life!" Came Damian's indignant and completely flustered response from the interior of the giant black vehicle. He didn't want to know how long his father had been collecting romantic ideas for a potential future he may have with his Raven.

Batman snorted. "Alfred's idea. Told me to put my time in the theater room to good use. Kate is the one who went out of her way to buy Raven a series of date night dresses. I believe she called them 'adorable' in her description to me. Do you think Raven would look suitable in them?"

Damian in that moment was busy thanking every god he didn't believe in that the blackout window was up to hide his scarlet face as he violently shifted the car into gear and raced out of the batcave.

Do NOT think about Raven in an adorable purple dress

#Follow up to a post that inspired me #Damian getting those fluffy moments under the embarrassment of dad #bruce is a good dad #Little embarrassing tho #But so are all dads #damian wayne #damian al ghul #damirae #damian x raven #demonbirds #dc raven #teen titans #rachel roth #apokolips war #dc comics #damian wayne al ghul

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xjulixred45x · 13 days

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In the crossover between Dead Plate and My Child Lebensborn, what measures would Rody and Vince take with the Professor Solheim matter? What legal (and illegal) means would they take against him?

TW: MENTION/IMPLICATION OF CSA, PTSD ON CHILDREN, MURDER, ETC.

Ow man...

First of all, I don't think that either Vince or Rody would go unnoticed by the changes in attitude in their respective children, but definitely at the beginning they thought it was because of the Bullying issue than anything else (although they knew about Professor Solheim thanks to the bad guys). moments they put the kids through before this, you can tell they hated it before).

Surprisingly I think Rody might be the first to think that something is wrong with Klaus at school. Rody is much more trustworthy than Vince, so it wouldn't be strange if out of the blue Klaus tells Rody that he doesn't want to go to school or that he doesn't specifically want to go to Professor Solheim's classes.

Rody finds it strange at first, but soon realizes that Klaus wouldn't ask to skip school if something really bad was going on (not just bullying). this + when Klaus starts having clear PTSD episodes, make Rody not let Klaus go to school and have a serious talk with him.

When does Rody find out? God, he's devastated to hear Klaus telling him what happened and repeating that it's not his fault and he's right! It's not Klaus' fault. Rody focuses on comforting his little brother and letting him know that he shouldn't hide things like that, that he loves him and is sorry he couldn't prevent this, etc. In general, both of them crying together for a long time.

As for the actions Rody would take against Solheim, it's canon that he would hide a body for Manon, so I can see him going to kick Solheim's ass and even threatening him to never go near Klaus again. and this guy is STRONG (canonically he could break your arm by ACCIDENT, imagine what he could do on purpose), so he won't be satisfied unless Solheim has at least 5 broken bones.

(I can't go into much detail about the legality because Rody is broke bad, but maybe he could convince the other parents to file a class action lawsuit, also being the 60s I don't think Rody would want to put Klaus in that situation or re-traumatize him, SO i think that's all that he would do, not because he wants to, but bc it's all he can do).

Vincent, on the other hand, would take longer to notice the warning signs, since while he is observant, he is also constantly busy during the events of the game, so probably the closest thing he would have to a direct signal would be a of Karin's nannies said that she is acting strange.

and Vince begins to notice these more abrupt changes, how Karin is now more reserved and even rude, how she almost doesn't talk to him anymore (it would take an EMBARRASSING amount of time), etc.

although the definitive warning sign for Vince would be 1) that Karin doesn't want to be bathed and 2) that she doesn't even want to eat. He knows that SOMETHING happened and that Karin is too traumatized to say it, but he is giving her quite direct signals, which leads him to realize what happened, horrified.

Vince is definitely more clumsy when it comes to comforting Karin, but he doesn't lack desire. He mainly tries to comfort her by giving her her favorite foods and giving her a free pass to do whatever she wants (skip school, eat outside food, etc.). and even trying to be more physically affectionate (mainly giving her more hugs, this experience definitely made him realize how much he misses that side of Karin).

As for Solheim...he will be lucky if Vince decides to take the LEGAL route (if that were the case, Solheim would never come out, since with how well-known Vince is, public opinion would definitely DESTROY Solheim if Vince don't do it first). Vince tends to be erratic at times like this, so it would be very easy for him to get rid of Solheim PERMANENTLY, it's better that way, he wouldn't have to worry about it hurting Karin anymore.

I think Vincent would feel more guilty than he lets on, precisely because Karin doesn't even feel comfortable telling him what exactly happened (she probably explains it with drawings) and would try to improve his pedagogical skills based on this.

Rody is really just doing his best and still doesn't feel like enough, plus he's probably going to dump all this guilt and bad feelings on Solheim (with a good beating), and ressure Klaus about that 1) it's not His fault and 2) he loves him nonetheless.

Mind you, I don't think either of them will let Karin/Klaus go to school anytime soon, good luck with that.

In general, they both react differently, but they will do ANYTHING to get Solheim out of the picture and give the kids peace/closure.

BONUS: MANON

She would definitely be the one who found out first! (whether being with Rody or babysitting for Vince), she has both Rody's sweetness and Vince's questionable methods (time to make Rody hide the body...)

____

(ESPAÑOL)

TW: MENCION/IMPLICACION DE ABU$O SEXUAL INFANTIL, TEPT EN NIÑOS, ASESINATO, ETC.

Hombre....

primero que nada, no creo que ni Vince ni Rody pasarian por desapercibido los cambios de actitud en sus respectivos niños, pero definitivamente al principio pensaban que era por la cuestion del Bullying que por otra cosa(aunque ellos sabian del profesor Solheim gracias a los malos momentos que hicieron pasar a los niños antes de esto, puedes decir que lo odiaban desde antes).

Sorprendentemente creo que Rody podria ser el primero en pensar que algo anda mal con Klaus en la escuela. Rody da mucha mas confianza que Vince, por lo que no seria raro si de la nada Klaus le dice a Rody que no quiere ir a la escuela o que puntualmente no quiere ir a las clases del profesor Solheim.

Rody lo encuentra raro al principio, pero pronto se da cuenta de que Klaus no pediria faltar a la escuela si realmente algo malo estuviera pasando(no solo el Bullying). esto + cuando Klaus empieza a tener episodios claros de PTSD, hacen que Rody no deje que Klaus vaya a la escuela y tenga una charla seria con el.

¿cuando Rody se entera? dios, esta destrozado de escuchar a Klaus decirle lo que paso y repitiendo que no es su culpa ¡y tiene razon! no es culpa de Klaus. Rody se centra en consolar a su hermanito y hacerle saber que no debe ocultar ese tipo de cosas, que lo ama y lamenta no haber podido evitar esto, etc. en general ambos llorando juntos un buen rato.

en cuanto a las acciones que tomaria Rody en contra de Solheim, es canon que el ocultaria un cuerpo por Manon, asi que puedo verlo llendo a patearle el trasero a Solheim e incluso amenazandole con no acercarse a Klaus nunca mas. y este sujeto es FUERTE(canónicamente podria romperte el brazo por ACCIDENTE, imagínate lo que podria hacer adrede), asi que no estara sarisfecho a menos que Solheim tenga 5 huesos rotos, por lo menos.

(no puedo profundizar mucho en lo legal porque Rody esta en quiebra, pero talvez podria convencer a los demas padres para presentar una demanda colectiva, igualmente siendo los 60s no creo que Rody quisiera poner a Klaus en esa situación o re-traumatizarlo).

Vincent, por otro lado, tardaria mas en darse cuenta de las señales de alerta, ya que si bien es observador, tambien esta constantemente ocupado durante los eventos del juego, por lo que probablemente lo mas cercano que tendria a una señal directa seria que una de las nannys de Karin dijera que ella esta actuando extraño.

y Vince empieza a notar estos cambios mas bruscos, el como Karin ahora es mas reservada e incluso grosera, el como casi ya no le habla(le tomaria una cantidad VERGONZOSA de tiempo), etc.

aunque la señal de alerta definitiva para Vince seria el 1) el que Karin no quiere que la bañen y 2) que ella nisiquiera quiera comer. el sabe que ALGO paso y que Karin esta muy traumada para decirlo, pero le esta dando señales bastante directas, lo que lleva a que se de cuenta de lo que paso, horrorizado.

Vince es definitivamente mas torpe a la hora de consolar a Karin, pero no le faltan ganas. principalmente trata de reconfortarla dandole sus comidas favoritas y dandole pase libre para hacer lo que quiera(faltar a la escuela, comer comida de afuera, etc). e incluso tratando de ser mas afectivo físicamente (dandole mas abrazos principalmente, esta experiencia definitivamente le hizo darse cuenta de lo mucho que extraña ese lado de Karin).

en cuanto a Solheim...tendra suerte si es que Vince decide tomar la ruta LEGAL(si fuera asi, Solheim no saldria nunca, ya que con lo conocido que es Vince, definitivamente la opinión pública DESTRUIRIA a Solheim). Vince tiende a ser erratico en momentos como este, por lo que seria muy facil para el deshacerse de Solheim PERMANENTE, es mejor asi, no tendria que preocuparse de que le haga daño a Karin nunca mas.

creo que Vincent se sentiria mas culpable de lo que deja ver, justamente porque Karin nisiquiera se siente comoda diciendole que fue lo que paso exactamente (probablemente lo explique por dibujos) y trataría de mejorar sus habilidades pedagógicas apartir de esto.

Rody realmente solo esta haciendo todo lo que puede y aun asi no se siente suficiente, aparte de que es probable de que vuelque toda esta culpa y malos sentimientos en Solheim (con una buena paliza).

eso si, no creo que ninguno de los dos deje que Karin/Klaus vayan a la escuela en un BUEEEEN tiempo, buena suerte con eso.

en general, ambos reaccionan de forma diferente, pero haran LO QUE SEA para sacar a Solheim de la foto y darle paz/cierre a los niños.

BONUS: MANON

¡definitivamente seria la que se entero.primero!(ya sea estando con Rody o siendo niñera para Vince), tiene tanto la dulzura de Rody como los metodos cuestionables de Vince(hora de hacer que Rody oculte el cuerpo...)

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joonlaksme · 4 months

Text

Sign Here: Chapter Four

Sign Here Masterlist

Summary: All of Min Yoongi’s partners never knew what he truly wanted. Too scared to tell them to their face, he decides to just invest into a professional. He didn’t know you were exactly what he was looking for.

Pairing: Min Yoongi X Reader

-> Genre: Yoongi x Dominatrix!reader, Smut

-> Warnings for this chapter: Breath play, handjob, Yoongi gets a little manhandle-y, semi-public stuff (briefly), masochist Yoongi, edging (m), aftercare

-> Word Count: 4,400+

A/N: After months of being in a stump, I’m FINALLY back!! Thanks for waiting and enjoy :D

Chapter 4: Maroon

Taking a break has never felt so stressful before. You sit down, an extended sigh resting hot on your lips and you feel the faux leather clinging to your thighs. With it getting hotter and hotter outside, humidity enters your older apartment through cracks in the balcony doors and no matter how often you shower, you can’t seem to get the sticky feeling off of you.

“Maybe we should eat something cold.” Mi-na interrupts your thoughts.

You lean forward and place your elbows on your kitchen island, marble feeling nice and cool on your skin. Kyung Mi-na has been your best friend ever since your shared second year of college where she became your new roommate. A cute 5’2 with pretty black hair and an even amber complexion. No one would think she had the same job as you considering her sweet appearance but she was the one who had gotten you into BDSM.

Your fingers feel around the plastic-y texture of the stool, a deep maroon color. It jogs your memory to check your bathtub later.

“What are you in the mood for, hm? Eggs? A muffin?” She opens your off-white fridge and rummages through it. There really isn’t much in there but you can see she’s smiling ear to ear, tapping her fingers on the fridge door and standing on the tips of her toes. You often wonder why she’s always in a good mood but you suppose you don’t always need a reason to be happy. Maybe she’s feeling content because nothing wrong has happened. Right now, at 9 in the morning, you want to complain and then stew in your pot of thoughts. You have a meeting planned with Yoongi and you have no idea what should be on the agenda. Of course you have a great variety of ideas but not specifically for someone who’s more of a beginner like Yoongi. You even think you went a little hardcore on him in your most recent session.

“Can I just get some tea for now?” You finally reply.

Mi-na tilts her head but turns around to turn on the electric kettle. “What’s on your mind?”

Of course you can never keep anything away from her. She majored in psychology and she was always the top of her class.

She’s subtly shaking her hips to the blasting music of an apartment down the hall. You gave up on trying to complain about them for a while now.

You’re distracted from the task at hand.

“Well, remember I was talking about my new client?”

She nods, “The one you said you were worried about because he was a total beginner? I told you that you should have just offered me. I know you’re uncomfortable with beginners.”

“Based on what he filled out on the form, I was fully expecting him to have experience. You should’ve seen him, Mi-na. He doesn’t look submissive in the slightest. I thought he was joking at first.”

Mi-na scoffed, “There goes you and your drawing to conclusions. So, what’s the issue?”

“I don’t know where to go from here to be fully honest.” And then you tell her what you HAVE done, assuming she can work from there.

She takes out a cup from your cabinet and pours out hot water, plopping a teabag in it and looks you in your eyes. “Hm…why don’t you touch him properly? Beginners feel better when something more familiar is implemented in play. I’m sure you can work your way from there, you know. I think that once you are both comfortable, you can start implementing the things you like to do like shibari, general bondage, sensory deprivation, edging, all of that.”

You nod. Of course. You have to be the more confident one in this relationship. After all, he is the one paying you for it.

“So what made him stand out?”

“What do you mean?” You reply, eyebrows knitting.

She lets out a short laugh, “C’mon. You never talk to me about your clients. I was a bit surprised by how much you talked about and described this new guy.”

“Like I said, you have to see him to understand where I’m from. He’s this guy with a composed look, stylish, tattoos all down his arms–”

“So? You’ve had hardcore bikers and models under you. What makes him different?”

You gnaw on the inside of your cheek. You knew exactly what made him different. You just don’t want to admit it to Mi-na just yet. Instead, you’re fiddling with the tail end of your tea bag, watching the water turn into a deeper red color.

When Mi-na leaves, you make your way to your bathtub. Walking into there is a bit of a pain nowadays since water covers the tiled floor and you’ve constantly found yourself too sluggish to lay a bunch of towels down. There, plunge your hands into the dark red water of the tub. You pull out the bunch of ropes you had just bought, feeling the texture on your fingers and then you drain the water, rinsing out the excess dye. You pull it out of the tub finally, the water making it a bit heavier and then you loosely coiled it on a specially made drying rack.

Then, here you were, standing in your closet and deciding what heels would be best for tonight. Something more comfortable or something more sexy? Why is this something you’ve been deciding on for as long as you have? You barely have an hour left and you’re thinking so critically about which shoe to wear on your next meeting. Something tells you that you need to keep your mind on what’s important: Keeping Min Yoongi satisfied.

So you pick a simple pair of black heels with comfortable soles and make your way out your front door.

When you arrive at the restaurant, you arrive 10 minutes earlier than you should be. You tell the host about your specific and private reservation. This is a place more familiar with your line of work and more specifically, in a collaboration with the company you work under. So, it’s no surprise when you’re led to a luxurious booth covered with maroon velvet seats and with foldable panels, separating you from the rest of the public. Here, there’s menus with small and fancy writing and no price next to the variety. There’s cherry blossoms decorating the walls and a dim but warm light hanging from the top.

You’re sitting close to the kitchen so you can smell all different varieties of aromas from food that vary from pasta to creamy sauces. You haven’t been here in a long time so you were looking forward to this.

Speaking of looking forward to something, that’s when Yoongi takes the corner and sees you sitting there with crossed legs and the small wave of your manicured nails. He takes a seat at the booth across from you, looking how he always does: calm and collected.

“I’m glad you found the place alright. I know the further you get to the back, the harder it is to navigate. The host and hostess often don’t come back here...” You start, trailing off. You’re looking at him with a piercing stare because he looks good enough to eat. His sleeves are rolled up and one button is down in a normal, white button-up shirt. His belt really shows his hips and his suit pants make his legs look nice and slender. Did he dress up just for you? You clear your throat. “How have you been?”

When you look closer, you can see the shade of Yoongi’s ears turn a nice pink and it sparks up your confidence. “I’ve been fine. Just a long day…So…” and he mutters something you can’t hear. It’s obviously aimed towards you by the way he meets your eyes but you can’t quite hear him.

“Speak up?”

“I asked…what’s on the agenda for today?”

“After dinner, we’re heading to your place but after that, it’s a surprise. You like surprises don’t you?”

He lets out a scoff, “I do but it takes a lot to surprise me.”

“Humor me.” You pick up the menu. “I’m paying so choose whatever you’d like.”

His lips twitch a bit, “Aren’t I paying you? Why are you paying?”

You hush him.

You choose one of your favorite things from the menu and as he’s ordering, you pretend to accidentally slide your foot up his leg. He does spring up a bit but he keeps his expression flat. You mutter an apology but don’t bother to try to hide the small smile that creeps up your lips. The waiter seems submerged in every word Yoongi communicates to him. You look back at your menu but in the corner of your eye, you can see his eyes flicker down to your foot that is a bit too close to his side of the table. He doesn’t acknowledge it outloud but his gaze lingers and then he shifts his weight from one leg to the other before finishing his order. Once the waiter leaves, Yoongi places his elbows on the table with raised brows.

“You gonna try anything else here?” He asks. His lips quirk up just for a moment.

“You should take your elbows off the table. That isn’t very proper.”

Instead of answering his actual question, you offer him a small smirk. Your heel is nudging his leg playfully. There’s an anticipation between you two. The sexual tension is becoming thick and as you reach over and grab his hand in yours, you can feel the goosebumps raise on him. He’s nervous when his mind is submerged in possibilities of what your surprise may be and you can read him like a book, even when he’s just giving you a blank expression.

Your fingers interlock on the table and you think about your first impression of him. He’s looking at you and slowly, you can tell he’s cracking. He takes a deep breath as tension grows and you slide your foot up until it’s resting on his knee. Then it goes back down to the carpeted floor. You want to tease him more. As your foot retreats, his eyes glaze over. Your foot returns to the floor and his gaze snaps back to yours, while you start up a new conversation and you can see the slightest hint of disappointment in his expression. He quickly masks it, however, and clears his throat.

“I think you’re easily surprised. You just choose not to show it to many but…I believe I can wrap you around my fingers.” You say, taking a sip of water.

The waiter returns with a basket of bread and a small dish full of seasoned olive oil for dipping. He leaves quickly after. Yoongi keeps his eyes on you. When he goes for a piece of bread, that’s when you decide to move your leg up until it’s at his inner thigh. His hand stops in mid-air as your foot drags up until it’s touching his crotch.

“What am I feeling here, hm?”

He swallows hard, his eyes widening slightly as he feels your foot against him. He tries to steady his shaking fingers. "I…uhm…I don't know what you mean."

You press harder and he can’t help the breathy sigh he releases from the sudden pressure. He pushes himself closer.

“I think you do. I think you have been anticipating something.” Your smile is kind but your tone is sultry, low. He’s having this conflict in his mind between keeping up his facade to keep cool or to give in and beg you to stop your torture. He thinks he can last longer but he’s burning up so he pops open a button.

Watching him attempt to compose himself is more fun than you expected it to be. His heart even jumps out of his chest when the waiter comes back with your food. That’s when your foot starts moving and he’s feeling so much that he’s getting lightheaded.

“Maybe we should get this to go? You look a bit tired, Yoongi.”

He presses his lips together. "I'm fine," he manages to say, his voice strained. You can see the vein on his neck popping with the effort of keeping himself under control. It doesn’t last long because as soon as the waiter walks away and there’s steaming plates of food in your faces, he’s holding your hand tighter. “Please?”

You raise your eyebrows and have to clench your legs closed, “I don’t know what you mean?” You echo his words back at him.

“You’re mean.” You can see the way the side of his lips quirk up into a smirk. “Okay, I think we should go.”

So you do. Your untouched food goes in boxes and you send your regards to the owner of the restaurant. When you make it back to Yoongi’s place, you can tell he’s nervous by the way his hands tremble when he brings out his keys to open the door. You lay your hand on his and help steady him. It’s when you start laying light kisses on his neck that he goes weak under your touch. You feel as if you’re sucking his energy from the way he lets out this deep exhale.

The door turns open and he stumbles in with you. His jacket is off and on the floor before you even make it to the living room. His breathes out in short and shallow gasps. His hands make their way in your hair when you find a particular part that gets him rowdy and suck on it. His back meets the couch and his knees buckle.

He gets confused you don’t come down with him. You don’t bother to fix your hair but you take off your own jacket slowly and get his remote from the coffee table.

“What should we watch…?” You’re acting as if nothing happened just a couple of seconds ago and as if he’s not half hard in his pants.

He whimpers your name to get your attention. You turn to look at him and sit down right beside him. Just by the way you look at him, he know you’re not going to give in until he does first and if there’s anything Yoongi is confident about, it’s his stubbornness. So he gives you a movie recommendation and then you lean back and watch it together.

However, as much as Yoongi wants to calm down, he can’t stop looking at you. You’re dressed like the goal was to tempt him and he’s wondering if this torture was his surprise. The movie begins, but Yoongi's eyes are not on the screen. He’s taking in every detail of your appearance. Your outfit, while it looks comfortable, leaves little to the imagination and Yoongi can't help but feel himself getting more and more worked up as the minutes pass by. He can’t stop shuffling by the time half an hour goes by.

His hand lands on your thigh to your surprise. “What do you think you’re doing?”

His lips are shut but his eyes are begging.

“That’s not exactly what I want and you know that…” You move his hand away with little regard for where it goes.

You look away but it’s quick when he takes hold of your waist. You’re on his lap almost immediately and you’re caught off guard for a just a moment.

“I thought we were going to watch a movie but you just can’t hold yourself back, hm? If you’re having so much trouble focusing, maybe we can do something else?” You guess he can win this time.

He stopped himself from eagerly nodding, “That would be nice…” He mumbles back.

You lean closer to him and grab his wrists, holding them together up above his head. While that hand is holding his arms away from touching you again, the other unzips his pants.

“Is this your surprise?” He lays his head back with a huff.

You pull out his cock, twitching in your palm. As you begin to stroke him, you start talking. “Let’s set some rules. I want you to last until I say you can. No touching and think about your behavior. I think that if you were more avid, I would be nicer.”

He finally lets out a full blown groan, the same sound reverberating down your body and all along your skin. For as long as he’s had this boner, he’s so sensitive.

“I don’t know how long I can l-last for.” He thrusts into your hand.

“C’mon playboy…” You let go of his arms and instead grip his jaw. The way you’re treating him has him submerged into what feels like paradise. He feels as if he’s been placed in a place where he does not have to think about anything but you and the way you skillfully make him feel. “You don’t last and there’s going to be an issue, understood?” Your voice is raised just a bit. He’s hesitant to admit that your voice turns him on in itself.

“Yes…” He replies with, hands lowering to take handfuls of his couch as you continue to stroke him at the same torturous pace.

“Yes, who?” Your grip tightens.

He moans out a blended mess of, “Yes mistress.”

You smirk at his response, “Better.” You’re pleased with his obedience so as a little reward, you lean close to his ear and the heat of your breath causes shivers to run down his body. If there’s anything that Yoongi has learned in your sessions, it’s that he’s definitely more submissive than he ever was dominant. He’s never felt so embarrassed about how he might cum soon if he doesn’t think of something else before and sure, pussy feels good but when he’s been edged for what feels like centuries, he gets desperate. He likes seeing how satistsfied you are, how much you feel from making him feel good.

You turn him to lay down on the couch just like how it was before when you discovered his seriously sensitive nipples. Only, this time, youre sitting on his face in a pencil skirt. Coming to a conclusion that he feels the most satistisfied when you are, it’s now a new torture to feel you stroking his cock while you’re needy and shuffling on his face. You gather saliva up in the cheeks of your mouth and spit a glop on your hand, using that to guide your hand in a more slick handjob.

His words and sounds are muffled under your skirt. His mind drifts off to when you made him cum before without even touching his dick.

“Hm?” You ask him, leaning off of his face for a moment.

“Can I…”

"Can you what?"

Yoongi swallows hard, his face flushed beneath your skirt. "Can I taste you?" He asks softly, pleading you for permission.

You think for a moment, considering his request. You know how wet you are right now but…“No. You can’t.”

“Please?” He’s getting whiny, out of his typical deadpan character.

Watching him beg only makes you want to get more mean, more cruel. You finally quicken your pace and instead of answering him with another denial, you sit back down on his face, only with more pressure and he’s damn near suffocating under it. All he can breathe in is the smell of your arousal and feel the limit of how much air his lungs can take. There’s some breathability when you open your legs but sometimes you shut them and practically suffocate him with your thighs. He’s way too into it and he twitches in your hand like crazy. It’s invigorating and pretty soon, he’s getting louder under your skirt. Every once in a while, you lift off of him to give him one big breath before he’s back.

So it’s a wonder with all the air you give him, why he grabs onto your hips when you explicitly told him not to.

You let go of his dick, wetly hitting his stomach and you lift yourself up again. There’s a mix of amusement and annoyance in your tone and even in your expression, “Didn’t I tell you not to touch me?” Your voice is cold and now, Yoongi can feel it. He can feel a slither of fear run down him and it does nothing but fuel his fantasies and increase his desire for you. He’s gotten himself enamered with you by now. If you react this way, he’s thinking that maybe he should do it more often; acting out and seeing how you punish him.

“‘M sorry…” He apologizes but any one would be able to tell that it was lackluster, pathetic.

So he admits he’s surprised when you land a slap on his dick. He thrusts up but is confused why. It burns at first but the shock of pleasure is addicting. His fingers are tingling and his brain is clouded. “Fuck–I’m sorry…” He says it again but it’s even weaker than the first one. It’s not on purpose though, he just can’t think straight anymore.

You slap it again and the moan he lets out is damn near angelic. If you weren’t wet before, you definitely are now and it threatens to soak through your skirt if it’s already through your underwear. “Oh…seems like you’re more of a masochist than I thought you were. You’re getting off to this, aren’t you?”

He shivers under your touch once you take his dick in your hand again. A mix of pleasure and pain courses through his body and before he can open his mouth and admit it, a moan comes out instead, gushing pre-cum as you slap it once more.

“I’m–I’m gonna cum.” And he says your name with such a shaky breath that you actually think he’s scared to cum.

“No, you aren’t.” You state matter-of-factly. “You’re gonna hold it for me and make up for your mistakes, aren’t you Min Yoongi?”

He whimpers but nods. There’s pressure building up in the pit of his stomach, the need to release almost unbearable but he doesn’t want to disobey you even more.

You lean back down so he can tell there’s new arousal, thick and heavier than before. “Good boy,” You whisper.

You can feel his chest vibrate at his groan. After multiple sessions, of course you could tell he liked praise and you found it amusing how much it affected him.

His words are muffled but he gets more and more despreate as you stroke him harder, tighter, faster. His tip is this bright and pretty shade of pink from your treatment. The last thing on your mind at this point is treating him kindly. It’s when you use your other hand to rub his tip that he really can’t stop moving. You watch and feel him squirm beneath you as you continue. Then you twist your torso and grab a handful of his hair, pulling him back slightly. The breath that touches your skin is quick and hot, chest heaving with every pant.

“That’s it, baby. Cum for me.”

His ears perk up and he lets out this long and low moan as you pull his hair and give him your final command. It’s like a switch flips in him as he bucks his hips and gets closer to your masterful touch. There’s sweat down his stomach as he trembles and rolls his eyes back.

You keep stroking him and nudge yourself off of his face. “Let go for me. Focus.”

You know he’s stuck at this moment and he just needs a little nudge. That’s what your words do to him and he finally bursts, cumming all over your hand and on his stomach. He’s heaving so hard that you go into aftercare mode immediately. When he’s done. You come off of him and hold his face in yours. Even when his forehead is sweaty, you press it to yours.

“Breathe…You did so good for me, Yoongi. So good.”

He’s almost completely limp in your hold but you can see his smile. He’s already starting to feel achey everywhere even when you just finished and that lets him know that he’s going to feel this even more in the morning. He only starts talking when his breath is nearly calm and he’s realizing how dirty he is. Sweat all over his body and he hadn’t taken off most of his clothes. There’s cum on his stomach and dried up tears on his cheeks. You’re flattered.

“Fucking hell…” He mumbled. He whinces as he hears how raspy his voice is.

You kiss his cheek, noticing a nice purple mark on his neck. “Did I go too hard on you?” You ask him, taking his safety into mind.

He laughs, “Honestly, if you keep doing things like that to me, I’m gonna fall in love with you.”

You both laugh. “Where’s your towels?”

He points to a closed door, “In the bathroom, in the closet next to the sink.”

So you make your way there. You find the closet and take out a rag but before you can close the closet, your eyes catch on a black box. Curiosity takes the best of you and you open it just for a peak inside.

You find a variety of women’s clothes. Cute turtle necks, skirts, knee-high socks, the works. Your jaw drops. This could mean so many things depending on which way you plan to look at this from.

When you come back to him, he’s completely calm but just uncomfortable. You bring a bowl of warm water and a rag and wipe him down, assuming he doesn’t want to make his way to the bathroom. He looks at you through it all and feels himself overwhelmed with a certain feeling. Maybe he’s just horny again but the silence is sweet and he doesn’t want to do anything but look at your face. His blinks are slow and eventually, he starts to feel really sleepy.

“I’m just gonna get you some new underwear and then we can make our way to your bed, okay?” You’re kinder with him now that he’s completely weak.

He feels a bit fresher and knows he’ll have to shower later tomorrow but he feels nice when you lay with him on his bed. You play with his hair with let him lay between your breasts, gentle in reflection to how you treated it before. When he falls asleep, you slowly move his arm from on your hip and make your way out of his home.

You’re chewing on your lips as your mind is busy with other thoughts. What was up with that black box?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

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wolfjackle-creates · 10 months

Text

The Two Ghost Motel

So, as I mentioned, I joined the DP Ecto-Implosion Event this past month and it's Posting Week now! So I get to finally share with you the first chapter of my fic. Still working on editing the second half of the fic, but it's fully written as of this time.

For those who don't know, for the Ecto-Implosion event, artists drew/animated/composed some piece of art and writers then went in and wrote fics based off their art.

I was lucky enough to be paired with the super talented @i-think-in-metaphors who made this gorgeous artwork:

You can read on AO3 here (this fic is not locked to AO3 users only).

And for those of you who prefer to read on Tumblr:

Word Count: 5k

Warnings: Minor Original Character Death (not in this chapter)

Fandom: DPxDC (though no knowledge of DC is necessary for this fic. I use a single character and he has amnesia, it takes place in an original setting or Amity)

Summary:

Danny is tired. Endless ghost fights with too many responsibilities and too little time; he barely passed sophomore year. When Ember visits town for a bit of fun, she mentions the Two Ghost Motel, a place of peace and refuge for restless ghosts who aren't ready to cross over. “I’m fine, Ember.” Danny’s got a home and friends. He’s fine, really. But when his parents begin experimenting with electricity to destabilize ghosts, it’s too much for Danny. Unfortunately, neither Sam nor Tucker can host him for the night and he’s left wandering in the night, alone. Then he sees it: The Two Ghost Motel. He checks in. “Welcome.”

-----

Danny wasn’t sure when he first saw the neon sign. Honestly, he didn’t even realize it was something ghostly when he did. He just thought it was one more ghost-themed business that had come to Amity since the portal opened.

But when he mentioned the motel to Sam and Tucker, they looked at him like he was crazy.

“I’ve never heard of any Two Ghost Motel,” said Sam. “Where’d you see it?”

Tucker was typing into his PDA. “Nothing’s coming up online, either.”

“Oh come on, you’re pulling my leg. We’ve passed it at least a half dozen times. Last night when we were leaving Nasty Burger for one! And I think, what, three nights before that? On patrol? Where were we?”

“Dude, that night we were near the library. No where near Nasty Burger. No way you could’ve seen the same place both nights,” said Tucker.

“Danny, when was the last time you got a full night’s sleep?” Sam’s brow was knit in concern.

Danny waved off her concern. “Whatever. I know I’ve seen it. The sign is bright pink and orange with blue ghosts on it.”

Sam just shrugged and shook her head. “Point it out next time you see it.”

Before Danny could reply, his ghost sense went off and he groaned. “Ugh, looks like someone’s around. I’m too tired for this.” Danny glanced around. They were in the park and no humans were nearby so he let his transformation wash over him.

He flew into the air and tried to listen past the sound of his breaths echoing through his mask. Even though he didn’t breathe when transformed, something about the hazmat suit remembered and the sound was inescapable.

A guitar chord played behind him and Danny instinctively threw up a shield and fell ten feet right as a blast from Ember’s instrument headed his way.

“Hey there, baby-pop!” she called. “I was sitting around, bored out of my mind, when I remembered I could just come here to have some fun!”

Danny turned to face her. “Come on, Ember.” His voice always sounded so robotic when filtered through the mask. “I’m tired.”

“Too bad. I’m not.” She grinned at him and strummed a few notes, sending more attacks his way.

Danny dodged, only to have to watch one of the blasts hit a bench and destroy it. He flew higher, hoping her next attacks wouldn’t cause more collateral that would be blamed on him.

“What, you just gonna dance around like that? Come on, attack back!”

“My moves not good enough for you?”

“You need to step it up if you want to be my back up dancer.”

Danny couldn’t help but laugh and when she sent her next blast his way, he avoided it by doing a backwards dive towards the ground only to circle back up until he was facing her. “How’s that?”

“Better, but you’re still not there. Your moves have to match the music!” She played a tune with a fast beat and Danny dodged and spun. And if he added some flair to his movements, well, he deserved the chance to have a little fun.

Another blast his way, and he twisted his hips. Matching Ember’s beat, he sent a few ectoblasts back at her.

Ember laughed. “Now you’re catching on!”

Danny allowed himself a quick glance down where he saw Sam and Tucker not even trying to hide. Tucker was filming them.

Which, of course, is when it all had to be ruined by the unmistakable sounds of the GAV driving cross-country.

“Through the park?” he moaned. “Seriously?”

“Shit, that’s your folks, isn’t it.”

“Yeah. C’mon, let’s get out of here.”

“You’ve got it, babypop. I came here for fun, not to mess with them.”

The GAV came to a stop and Danny saw his mom rush out of the passenger side with one of their new, long-distance guns. He tacked Ember, only just getting her out of the way of the blast.

Without any discussion, both turned invisible and flew out of the park. Danny didn’t let them stop until they were in a forest out of range of his parents’ trackers. Exhaustion set back in as soon as he realized they were safe, and he just plopped down on the ground and leaned against a tree.

“Ready to resume your dancing lessons?” asked Ember.

Danny groaned and rested his head against the rough bark. It was probably stupid, but he let his eyes close. “Maybe next time. I meant it when I said I’m tired.”

She didn’t say anything as one, two, three breaths sounded from his mask. And then he heard some leaves rustle. He cracked open an eye to see Ember making herself comfortable on the ground a few feet away.

“You really are tired, aren’t you?” she asked.

“Yeah. Finals are coming up and if I don’t do well, I’m going to fail sophomore year.”

“Y’know, I’ve heard of a place…”

Danny waited for her to continue, but when she didn’t, he hummed. “A place?”

“Yeah. Haven’t been there myself. But, there’s this place. It’s for ghosts who aren’t ready to move on from Earth just yet. Ghosts who live only on Earth without ever going the Zone get tired and weak. There’s just not enough ectoplasm around. Except for here, of course.”

“So what’s this place do?”

“Gives you somewhere to rest. And recharge. It’s not really on Earth. It’s a sort of in between place. Called the Two Ghost Motel. Might be worth checking in for a night if you ever don’t want to be at home for one reason or another.”

Danny hummed. “I’ve seen it around. Thought it was just a regular motel, but Sam and Tucker didn’t know what I was talking about.”

Ember picked out a tune on her guitar, but this time no attacks emanated from it. “It’s not a place for the living from what I’ve heard. Just the dead.”

Danny looked up at the stars through the tree branches, but he shook his head. “I’m fine, Ember. Just need to get some sleep.”

“Whatever you say, baby-pop.”

---

After that conversation with Ember, the motel began basically haunting him. Every night, as soon as dusk started to fall, he’d see it. Always a few streets away, just sitting there calling to him; it’s sign bright in the dark.

Sam and Tucker couldn’t see it, no matter how often he pointed it out to him. Jazz could sometimes see something out of the corner of her eye, but when she looked on more directly, it was never there.

Danny never approached. He was fine. He had a home and friends. There was no reason to go to some random motel.

Finals came and went. He managed to scrape by with at least Cs in everything. His parents, especially his mom, had not been happy with those grades, but Danny was just glad to have passed.

Didn’t stop him from being grounded and forced to help out more in the lab. One afternoon, he was in his room playing Doomed with Sam and Tucker when he got a message from his parents calling him back down to help them out.

“Ugh, I’ve got to go down to the lab.”

“Seriously?” complained Tucker. “Again?”

“Yeah,” agreed Sam. “Seems you’re always off helping them lately. Can’t you say no?”

“It’s this or having my phone and computer taken away. I’ll take the lab work.” He saved his progress. “Will you guys be on later?”

“Can’t,” said Sam. “My parents are forcing me to go to a fancy dinner somewhere. And they’re not giving me any more information than that to keep me from planning anything disruptive.”

“And mine have declared we’re having a tech-free family bonding night,” said Tucker, rolling his eyes. “With board games! Who plays board games in this day and age?”

Danny laughed. “I’ll see you both tomorrow, then. Later.”

Danny signed off and went downstairs. The hazmat suits were kept in a closet right next to the door to the lab, and Danny went through the process of pulling it all on. The mask that came with it was even more annoying in human form than ghost. The filtered air always tasted strange, but he’d given up complaining about that years ago.

He unlocked the lab door and went down to the lab.

“Dan-o!” called his dad as soon as he saw him. “Come here! You’re job will be to control the current!”

“Uh, current?” asked Danny.

“We’re trying to figure out how to disrupt the electrical signal in ectoplasm that gives ghosts their shape,” explained his mom. She had a bowl of ectoplasm in a glass terrarium and was arranging two metal probes so they dipped into it.

“Exactly!” agreed his dad. “So you’re going to sit at this computer”—he pulled out a chair before one of the lab computers and gestured for Danny to sit—“and adjust the frequency and voltage.”

Danny took a seat and stared at the program that was loaded on the screen. At least he wouldn’t be anywhere near the probes? A glance at the puddle of ectoplasm had him holding back a shudder.

“First we’re going to try and force the ectoplasm to form a shape,” continued his mom. “We’re going to do that with probe A. You’re going to start with a low frequency and voltage and slowly increase it while your father and I mark down how it affects the ectoplasm. We have some hypotheses about when it’ll start to form a shape.”

“And once it forms a shape,” said his dad, “you’ll use probe B to send a contrary electrical signal to destabilize it!”

“And then no more ghost!”

Suddenly Danny was glad his suit had a face mask. His parents were going to do what? Figure out how to use electricity to destabilize ghosts? It wasn’t possible. There was no way it could work. Right? He had to stay and prove to himself they were talking crazy.

“What—” His mouth was dry and he had to try again. “How should I start?”

“The settings are already loaded,” said his mom. She grabbed a tablet and sat down in front of the terrarium.

Dad sat next to her, grinning widely. “Go ahead, Dan-o!”

Danny’s hand shook as he placed it on the mouse. He sat on the other to hide it. Then he turned on the probe.

At first, nothing happened. The ectoplasm stayed a puddle and there was no visible change in it. But as he adjusted the current, it began to ripple. His parents loudly exclaimed over every change as they shouted instructions back to him.

Each change had Danny’s heart beating harder in his chest.

Two hours in is when it happened. The ectoplasm started to form a ball that rose up out of the bowl. Danny could feel something cold in the back of his throat. Not his ghost sense, but something close.

“This is it!” yelled his dad. “Danny, what’re the settings?”

Once more, Danny was glad for the way the mask muffled his voice just enough to mask how horrified he was by the thing that was forming. His parents’ theories about electrical currents couldn’t be true. They couldn’t.

“Now for us to try disrupting the current!” The glee in his mom’s voice made bile rise in Danny’s throat. But when she told him to turn on probe B, he did.

It only took twenty minutes to find the settings that made the ectoplasm fall apart back into a puddle.

Danny was up on his feet, chair toppled, in an instant. He held a gloved hand to his masked face as if he could keep from throwing up with the motion alone. It had looked so much like Ellie when she was destabilizing.

“Danny?” asked his mom, tablet forgotten on her chair as she rushed over to him. “What’s wrong? Are you okay?”

“I… I’m feeling a bit sick. Can I, can I go? Bathroom?”

His mom reached out to brush a hand over his covered forehead as if to check his temperature. “Oh sweetie, of course you can. You should’ve told us you weren’t feeling well. There’s some soup in the fridge if you think you can eat that.”

“I— yeah. Thanks.” He didn’t wait to hear anything else she had to say and just ran up the stairs. He shed his gear in record time and ran all the way up to his room. He slammed the door shut and grabbed his backpack from where it hung on his desk chair.

With shaking hands, he took out everything in the main compartment. Then he ran to his dresser and grabbed a change of clothes and something to sleep in. He couldn’t stay here right now. He just couldn’t.

From the bathroom, he grabbed some toiletries and added those.

Less than fifteen minutes after leaving the lab, he was out the front door and walking down the street. It was late, dusk starting to fall.

He considered going to Nasty Burger to get some dinner, but then he remembered the way the ball of ectoplasm had melted and he changed directions. Eventually his wandering brought him to the park where he found a bench in an empty area and sat down, dropping his backpack at his feet.

Danny buried his face in his hands as he forced himself to just breathe. He and Tucker could mess with the results from these experiments just like they had so many times in the past. It was going to be fine.

His phone vibrated in his pocket and he pulled it out.

Jazz: Hey, Danny. Mom said you weren’t feeling well? Jazz: Where’d you go? You’re not in your room. Danny: Sorry, Jazz. I had to get out of the house. Danny: Ask mom and dad about today’s experiments. Danny: You’ll understand why. I’m gonna spend the night at Tuck’s. Jazz: Okay. See you tomorrow? Danny: Yeah. I’ll be back tomorrow. Jazz: Love you.

Of course, Tucker was having a family night. He couldn’t crash that. And Sam’s parents had banned him from their house. Where would he spend the night?

And then he noticed it. Right outside the park glowed the sign: Two Ghost Motel.

He was on his feet and walking there before he’d even consciously made the decision to go. A glance around showed he was alone, that night had fully fallen on Amity so he let his transformation wash over him.

He reached the street and, for the first time, was staring directly at the motel rather than catching glimpses from a block or two away. The parking lot had a few cars in it, the oldest looking like it might’ve been from the twenties with the newest looking like it was ten or fifteen years old.

A glance in either direction showed no cars coming, so Danny crossed the street.

As soon as he stepped off the sidewalk and into the parking lot, Danny could feel a change in the air. It was nothing obvious, but something integral was different. The sounds of the city were muffled, the sense of life dulled. The air felt lighter and the door seemed to call to him. Most importantly, it was easier to push away the memories from his afternoon in the lab.

The sign, when he reached it, buzzed softly in the night. He held a hand up towards it and felt an echoing buzz under his skin.

He stared at the lights for a moment more before continuing towards the building at the other end of the lot. It hadn’t been repaved in ages and was riddled with cracks. But the plants that grew up through them weren’t the normal grasses and dandelions. He wished Sam were with him to help him identify them.

Instead he knelt down and pulled out his phone to take a picture. They glowed slightly in the night, their stems ectoplasm-green with blue leaves and red bulbs. Danny reached out to touch one, only for the bulb to open and snap at his finger.

Danny laughed in surprise as he pulled his hand away. Something inside him relaxed. A night away would do him good and maybe he’d see other cool things besides the flowers.

The motel itself was a long, two-story building. The main entrance was smack in the middle of the building with rows of rooms extending to either side. Next to the office, a passageway through the building led to the back side of the building and had stairs leading up to the second level. It was clearly old, worn in the way only time could do.

The office door wasn’t automatic and the handle stuck slightly under his hand when he tried to turn it. But just a little bit of force had it opening.

Inside, the carpet was worn, beaten down and dull in the middle. The walls were covered in floral wallpaper rather than paint. Against one wall buzzed an ice machine and against the other sat a vending machine. A man with slicked back hair and a cane stared at the vending machine without moving. A two-seater couch was next to the vending machine with a wooden coffee table in front of it. Two women sat side-by-side on it: one in modern jeans and a windbreaker, the other in an old-fashioned dress that looked like it may have come from the sixties. They were holding magazines, but in the time it took Danny to look around, neither had flipped a page.

Cutting off the back of the room was a long desk, behind which sat a closed door. A woman sat behind the desk. Her blonde hair was cut shoulder length and curled inward. She wore bright red lipstick and heavy eye shadow. But strangest of all, she wasn’t moving. Her chest didn’t raise with her breathing, she didn’t shift in her seat. The women on the couch, at least, made the little movements people make when they’re engrossed in their reading. And the man at the vending machine was tapping his fingers on his cane as he tried to decide what to get.

But the woman at the counter was utterly still.

“Evening.” Danny’s voice was loud in the small room.

The woman in modern clothes cocked her head slightly as if trying to hear a distant noise.

“What are you reading?” Danny asked her.

She just shook her head slightly and looked back at her magazine. Slowly, she turned a page.

“Oh-kay,” said Danny to himself. He walked past them as he made his way to the desk.

As soon as he reached it, the woman came to life. She turned and smiled broadly at him and her finger started tapping on a paper log book that sat in front of her. “Well hello there. Welcome to the Two Ghost Motel!” She had a slight southern accent. “What can I do you for?”

“Uh, well. I heard you might have a room I could rent for the night.”

“Sure do,” she agreed with a nod. “Can certainly set you up with one of those.” She looked him up and down then nodded to herself. “Ah, yes. We knew you might need a place soon so we made sure you’d be able to find us. Glad to see you finally stopped in.”

“What, uh, what do you know about me?”

“Same as we know about any of our potential patrons, sweetie. That you’re a restless spirit that isn’t ready to pass on yet. Two Ghost was set up to give you a place to rest while you’re still on Earth.”

“How much would it cost for one night?”

The receptionist threw back her head and laughed. Her teeth were sharper than a normal human’s. Behind him, another voice joined in the laughter. Danny turned to see the modern-dressed woman was finally looking at him, though it was only to laugh at him.

Danny rubbed the back of his neck and smiled self-consciously. “I take it that was a stupid question?”

“Honey, there’s no charge for spending the night. Wouldn’t be much of a place to rest if we forced y’all to pay when no dead has money.”

“Right. So do you want anything in exchange? I’m pretty good at fixing things up.”

“All we want is for you to have a good night’s rest.” She turned the log book around. “I’ll just need you to put down your name here and I’ll give you your key.” She waved her hand to indicate a pen that was chained to the desk.

Danny grabbed it and hesitated just a moment before signing “Phantom” on the page. The ink was ectoplasm-green.

She took the book back and made her own marks before smiling at him. “Well that’s all in order. Now just to get you your room key.” She opened a drawer which was filled with a number of small envelopes, each with a handwritten number on them. She flipped through a few before stopping on one, seemingly at random, and pulling it out. “You’ll be in room 214. Leave the office, take a right. You can’t miss the stairs. Climb ‘em, continue to the back side of the motel, and take a right.”

Danny took the envelope from her. On it, the numbers 214 were written, with Two Ghost Motel in cursive below it. “Thank you, ma’am.”

“Enjoy your stay at Two Ghost,” she smiled one more time at him, then looked down at her logbook and froze exactly as she had been when he’d first entered.

“I appreciate your help. You sure there’s nothing I can do in exchange for the room?”

But the woman didn’t stir again. Danny shifted from foot to foot. Should he try and wake her? Was she hurt? Was this a normal ghost thing? He tapped on the desk again.

“Ma’am?”

No response.

Danny looked down at his key and back at the woman. Hesitantly, he turned towards the door, but he couldn’t help looking back frequently. He paused by the women on the couch, but neither looked up from their magazines. At the vending machine, he peered around the man.

“Do they have anything that looks good?” he asked.

The man didn’t move, so Danny shifted until he was standing right next to him and could look inside the machine.

The bottom two rows were filled with drinks, water and Gatorade took up space right next to shots of ectoplasm. And were those beers? What? Above those were a few types of nuts and candy bars and chips. Danny only recognized half the brands.

Then he noticed the package of bottle caps. “Oh man, been ages since I’ve had some bottle caps. Mind if I grab those if you haven’t decided yet?”

The man hummed and moved to the side so Danny could get to the bill input and number pad.

“Thanks, sir! Appreciate it.” He pressed the numbers for the candy to see the price, but the machine whirled to life and it was dropped down without requiring Danny to put in a single cent. “Oh, shit, did I just use your money? What do you like? I’ll get it for you as an apology.”

“I don’t… I don’t remember,” said the man. His voice was very quiet, but clear. Danny couldn’t place his accent.

“Are you looking for a snack or a drink? Sweet or savory?”

“My son always pretended he didn’t like sweets. I was going back to him. How did I end up here?”

“Dunno, sir. But if you like candy, I’d recommend the skittles if you want chewy, m&m’s if you want basic chocolate.” He opened his own package. “Hold out your hand, I’ll give you a few of these so you can see if you like them.”

The man did and looked at his own hand as if he’d never seen it before. Danny turned his package so a few bottlecaps fell out. “Thank you,” said the man.

“Sure thing. Hope you enjoy!”

The man stared at his hand a moment longer before bringing one to his mouth and chewing the candy with a pensive look on his face. “I think I remember these, but it’s been so long. Thank you.”

“Anytime. My name’s Phantom; I’m in room 214 if you need anything.”

“Phantom. Pleasure to meet you. I’m Tom.”

“Well, Mr. Tom, hope you find something to eat that you like.”

Tom hummed and turned back to look at the vending machine. Danny took one last look at the receptionist, still entirely frozen, before slipping out the door. He slipped the package of bottlecaps into his pocket; he’d eat them in his room when he could take his mask off. In the passageway to the back of the motel, two boys played jacks under a flood light.

Danny couldn’t help but pause to watch them. He’d tried playing a few times when he was younger, but Tucker wasn’t into the game and none of the other kids had been willing to spend enough time with the weird ghost-hunter’s kid to teach him.

He waited until the kid who’d been picking up the jacks tossed them back on the ground before asking, “So, who’s winning?”

Both boys looked up at him with the same blank expression. The one on the right was a red-head while the one on the left was brown haired. They were about the same age, maybe ten years old and Danny wondered what happened to bring them here.

“I never learned to play,” Danny admitted, waving a hand to indicate their game. “So I don’t know how to tell. Or, is there even a winner in jacks? I might be completely off the mark.”

The red-head raised his hand. “I’m wining. I’m on the foursies round. Alan is only on twosies.”

“Matt cheated and made me drop my jacks.”

“It wasn’t cheating, just strategy,” protested Matt.

“Cheating,” repeated Alan.

“Prove it by beating your threesies round perfectly this time.”

Danny smiled to himself as the boys returned to their game and ignored his presence entirely.

“How’d you do that?” asked someone behind him.

Danny spun around to see a boy around his own age on the stairs leaning over the railing. He had dark hair and light eyes and was dressed in modern jeans and a t-shirt.

“Do what?” asked Danny.

“Get them to talk to you. Everyone ignores me entirely.”

Danny glanced back at the two boys who were entirely absorbed in their game and not paying Danny or the stranger any attention. “They’re mostly ignoring me, too.”

The kid rolled his eyes. “But they still talked to you. I haven’t even gotten that much.”

Danny shrugged. “I just asked them about their game.”

He groaned and kicked at the railing. “I’ve tried that. Who’re you, anyway?”

“I’m Phantom. Staying here for the night because, well, just because. Who’re you?”

“Jay.”

Danny cocked his head. “Like the bird?”

Jay’s eyes widened in surprise, then he grinned back. “That’s it! I knew I was forgetting something. I’m a bird. Thanks, Phantom.”

Danny laughed. “Sure thing, birdie.” He adjusted his backpack. “Let me put this down. I’m in room 214. What’s there to do in this motel?”

Jay shrugged. “More if you can get the other people to talk to us. But the TV always has your favorite show or movie on and the vending machine in the office always has your favorite snacks.”

As Danny made his way up the stairs, Jay fell in step besides him. “What’s your favorite movie?” he asked.

Jay shrugged again. “Dunno. But every time I turn on the TV it’s playing.”

“What did you watch last, then?”

Jay hesitated a moment and when Danny looked at him, he was frowning. “I don’t…” He shook his head. “I don’t forget things. My d— Someone made sure I could give accurate reports. But I don’t remember.” He looked at Danny with his brow furrowed. “Why don’t I remember?”

Danny shrugged. “Well, when we get to my room, we can turn on the TV and see what comes on.”

Jay brightened immediately at the suggestion. “Duh! That’ll remind me. Thanks, Phantom! Come on, your room’s this way. We’re neighbors; I’m in 215.” He jogged the rest of the way up the stairs so Danny had to speed up, too.

At the top of the stairs, Jay took a right and Danny’s door was several down.

“Home sweet home,” he said, gesturing to the door.

Danny laughed as he unlocked it. “So how long have you been here?” He pushed open his door and took in the space. The carpet looked like it hadn’t been upgraded since the seventies. A double bed sat against one wall covered by a faded, green paisley quilt. A low dresser and box TV against the opposite wall. Most of the wall facing the walkway was taken up with a large window, though the closed blinds kept it private.

It wasn’t until Danny stepped in and dropped his bags on the bed that he realized Jay had neither responded nor followed him in.

“Birdie? Jay? You okay?”

Jay was frozen outside the door staring out into the distance away from the motel. The back of the motel had very few lights, and the night made it seem like there was nothing out there but endless black. When Danny called out, Jay shook himself and grinned as he entered the room and sat down on Danny’s bed with enough force to bounce. “Course I’m okay! Why wouldn’t I be?”

“You spaced out there for a minute.”

Jay rolled his eyes. “No I didn’t. Where’s your remote?” Before Danny could do anything, Jay was already standing and picking it up from the dresser. He turned on the TV. “Oooh, the Godfather! Told you it always has your favorite movie.”

“So The Godfather is your favorite?”

“Of course.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever actually seen it all the way through.”

“Then you’re in for a treat! Come on, sit next to me. I’ll make sure you notice all the good parts.”

Danny did as told. Which is when he remembered he still had the candy. Wordlessly, he held it out to Jay who grinned as he took a few to snack on.

-----

Chapter 2

Hope you enjoyed chapter 1! This was so much fun to write. I loved taking part in the event so much. Please consider checking out the rest of the art and fics from this event because there are so many talented people who took part. (My reading list is gonna be filled for at least the rest of the year, no lie.)

Just search the tag #ectoimplosion2023 to see what I mean.

#dpxdc #ectoimplosion2023 #danny fenton #jason todd #the two ghost motel #my writing #danny has electricity trauma #and seeing his parents make then destroy a proto-ghost #...#well it wasn't good for him #but will where he ends up be any better?

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