#proud of my questionable life choices | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

sparklingchim · 4 months ago

Text

next move; m | jjk

pairing: jungkook x reader

word count: 13.7k

tropes: hockeyplayer!jungkook, richgirlie!oc, college!au, fwb, brother's best friend

rating: 18+

warnings: alcohol consumption, lots of teasing, jk hooking up with someone else 🤢, oc goes a bit insane <3, smoking (ew), angry koo 😠, messy blow job, spit, cum on boobies, gagging, multiple orgasms, cum play, dick slaps on face n pussy, doggy, overstimulation, dirty talk, eating out, hair pulling, mirror sex, doggy, a few spanks, sum butt stuff, oc is addicted to shopping 🫂 (we both need help), pretends to help with uni stuff just to get dick, naughty thoughts abt jk at dinner with friends??, vulnerable oc <3, proud jk <3

summary: pov: you’ve spent so long pushing jungkook away, but now you’re the one trying to pull him back in.

a/n: i hope this feeds ur tummies well ! 😋

masterlist

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“What is wrong with you?”

These being the first words Taehyung directs at you when you enter the kitchen at 9 in the morning makes you want to claw his eyes out and head back to bed again.

“I’d fight you if I wasn’t sleepy right now,” you mutter as you shove past him to get to the coffee machine.

“No, I’m being for real,” Taehyung says, inspecting you through critical eyes.

“I’m not wearing make-up. Get over it.”

“It’s not that,” he presses. “You’ve been acting strange the past few days.”

He catches you off-guard with that. You can’t think of a lie fast enough to cover up the fact that you’ve been kinda dumped by his best friend and are no longer fuck buddies, hard times, so you blink a few times to keep your composure.

Your brain, struggling to function at this hour, lands on the most groundbreaking response: “Huh?”

“You didn’t want chicken when I asked if I should bring you some yesterday.” Taehyung crosses his arms, leaning against the counter.

“I already ate when you called,” you quickly – maybe too quickly? You don’t know – defend yourself as you watch the coffee stream into your mug.

“Right. Tell me one time – just one – where you’ve turned down chicken.” He raises an eyebrow. “By the way, I still got you some. It’s in the fridge. But I knew something was up, because you never-”

“Wait, really?” you cut him off, perking up. “You got me chicken?”

You rush to the fridge, flinging the door open. There isn’t much in there to begin with, so it’s easy to spot your beloved meal. You grab it and get it ready for the microwave.

Taehyung completely ignores your excitement over the food and continues his questioning.

“You didn’t react when I switched one of your reality tv shows for something else the other day.”

Did he? You don’t even remember that happening.

“You came home after a long day. I was just being a sweet sister,” you deflect, waving him off.

“Point is – I can tell when my baby sister is sad. And I don’t need you to feign indifference for me, because it’s okay not to be okay,” he says, gentle. “And I wish you’d come to me about whatever this is to make you feel better, because, I don’t know, I thought that’s what we’ve been doing as siblings.”

Your heart squeezes.

He just wants to comfort you. Be there for you. And it clearly pains him that you’ve been keeping this from him.

“No, yeah, I know, it’s just.” God, you hate this. Having to lie to him. “It’s honestly not that serious, Tae. I’m just being dramatic about it, you know how I am.” You try to laugh it off, but he doesn’t let it deceive him.

“It’s about a boy, isn’t it?”

You need to tweak your acting skills. And your reactions too, because why did you look away after he asked you that?

“A boy?” You stretch the word out in an exaggerated drag to make his inquisition sound ridiculous. “There’s no boy in my life.”

“If I find out Eunwoo is causing trouble, I’ll-”

“God, no.” You shake your head vehemently. “He’s fine. He’s not doing anything.”

You retrieve the chicken from the microwave and set it next to your coffee. A questionable breakfast choice, but right now, comfort food is comfort food.

“Want some?” you offer, grabbing your chopsticks.

Taehyung sighs deeply, shaking his head. His lips press into a thin line, but there’s no anger – just concern softening his features. “Wanna talk about it?” He pauses, voice dropping lower. “Who do I have to fight?”

Your stupid best friend, who walked out on me because, apparently, he doesn’t like it when I’m with other boys and was so dramatic about it, but I lowkey do understand him because I don’t like seeing him with other girls too but I can’t tell him because I don’t want him to know that I care and maybe everything is my fault but I am sad and upset and I can’t tell you anything about it because you’d hate me for it.

You keep these thoughts to yourself though and bite into a piece of chicken instead.

“Tae, no.”

“To both of my questions?”

“Mhm-hmm,” you answer with your mouth full.

His shoulders slump in defeat.

Placing your chopsticks down, you step forward and wrap your arms around him.

“You’re an amazing brother, Tae,” you mumble against his chest. “And I promise that I’m doing fine. You’d know if I wasn’t. I think I’m just getting my period soon, honestly. I’ve been hating everything and everyone lately.” You squeeze him tight. “But I love you.”

“I love you,” he replies, resting his chin on your head. “You’d come to me if you needed me, right?”

“Of course. I love to annoy you about my problems.”

You feel his chuckle rumble through his chest.

“You’re coming to dinner with us after the game, right?”

You draw you head back slightly, peering up at him.

“Define us.”

Taehyung’s brows knit together.

“Like, everyone.”

You so don’t want to see Jungkook. It’s been a week since he left you confused in your room.

Detangling yourself from Taehyung, you shoot him an unimpressed pout. “I don’t know if I’m in the mood for that many people.”

“I’m not gonna let you lock yourself up in your room, ___,” he says, a slight edge creeping into his voice. “You can bedrot another day.”

He’s right – you probably should socialise a little more. And with so many people around, you might not even notice Jungkook’s presence.

“I’ll come,” you relent defeatedly, picking up your tray with breakfast. “Good luck with the game.” You reach up on your tippy toes to ruffle his hair with your free hand, earning an exasperated groan from him.

So, when you thought you could just ignore Jungkook at dinner, you failed to consider one crucial detail – the universe lives to humble you. Because, of course, out of all the empty seats, he had to take the one right next to you. Rookie mistake. Amateur behaviour. A tragic miscalculation on your part.

Now, you’re stuck playing the world’s most intense game of Pretending He Doesn’t Exist, which, unfortunately, is pretty difficult when he’s breathing in your general direction.

“Can you guys believe that I got a C for my essay?” Seokjin announces after chomping down a big piece of meat.

“Was it the one with the ducks?” Jungkook questions.

“Yeah, I was so excited to hand it in ‘cause I had so much fun writing, and then I get a C.” Seokjin tilts his head in remorse. “I was at a Lotte World parking lot when I got the notification, and it felt like someone stole my firstborn. I hope that never happens to me, I don’t think I could go through the emotions a second time. Honestly, not even the bumper cars could distract me after that.”

“Sure you don’t wanna sign up for drama class?” Taehyung teases. “You’d be such an asset to it.”

“I’m so close to doing it.”

“Wait, you wrote an essay about ducks?” you ask.

“Not just about ducks, silly,” Seokjin explains. “I wrote an essay on whether someone would rather fight 100 duck-sized horses or 1 horse-sized duck. You know, deep stuff like answering questions if it is morally better to fight one large opponent or many small ones.”

“What would the world do without you, Jin,” Yoongi chimes in.

“I’d choose one horse-sized duck, I think,” Eunji says, who thankfully sits next to you, so you’re not completely surrounded by people who you dislike (yes, you might’ve forced her to come with you – she wanted to study in the library, but you dragged her here with the promise of showering her with your never-ending love).

“But a duck so big is scary, no?” you ponder, tapping your chopsticks against your mouth as you think.

Listening in on your conversation, Jungkook says, “The horse-sized duck would be easier.”

You frown, turning to him. “That thing would be massive, and it’s a duck. Ducks are unpredictable.”

“Okay, but 100 duck-sized horses would overwhelm you,” he argues. “You’re assuming they’re just gonna stand there like cute little ponies. What if they’re really aggressive? They’d be all over you, biting, kicking. That’s chaotic.”

“How would you manage fighting a huge duck, though? I don’t see that happening,” you scoff.

“I’m not saying it wouldn’t be hard, but at least it’s just one thing to focus on. It’s straightforward.” Jungkook leans back, dragging his gaze over your face before he says, “But of course you’d prefer the more chaotic solution.”

You raise your eyebrows. “What are you on about?”

You’re talking about ducks and horses. Or so you thought.

Jungkook shrugs. “Nothing. I just think your decision is stupid.”

His eyes don’t waver, and you don’t back down either, because what the hell? Jungkook’s picking a fight over nonsense and has the audacity to glare at you like you personally offended him. His brows are drawn tight, frustration evident in the sharpness of his expression.

As you glare back, you can’t stop your brain from taking an unexpected detour to memories in which Jungkook wore a similar expression. On top of you, a little sweaty, cheeks flushed and – oh my god, you feel the heat rush to your cheeks and swiftly turn away.

“You’re annoying,” you mumble under your breath, picking up your chopsticks again.

Where did these thoughts come from? Do you miss him? It’s been one week. You need a distraction.

"See how riveting my essay topic is?” Seokjin chimes in, pointing his chopsticks at the two of you. “A C is criminally underappreciated.”

“I don’t think anyone can get under ___ skin like Jungkook,” Taehyung chuckles, placing more meat onto your plate.

“Oh no, don’t worry, you still take the first place,” you quip.

“Don’t say that too loud. Jungkook’s too competitive.”

“He’s a mini version of you.” You turn to Jungkook when you say it, scrunching your nose to display your dismay.

“There’s nothing mini about Jungkook,” Yoongi interjects.

The boys laugh while Eunji and you choke on your food.

“Okay, gross?” Eunji coughs.

“What? Have you not seen his muscles? He’s a big guy,” Seokjin defends, eyes wide as he studies Jungkook’s physique. “That’s no secret.”

“That’s why Sooyoung wants him again,” Jimin teases with a wicked grin stretching across his face.

“Oh, fuck off.” Jungkook kicks him under the table. “I said we’re not talking about this.”

At the mention of a name that rings a bell but you can't quite place it yet – one Jungkook clearly doesn’t want brought up – you perk up. “Not talking about what?”

It’s silent next to you.

Jungkook tenses, his posture stiff, the only giveaway a rough, forced clearing of his throat.

One game. You miss one game, and apparently, all the drama unfolds without you.

“You should’ve been there, ___,” Jimin drawls, eyes twinkling with mischief. “His ex was practically his personal cheerleader.”

Your brows lift as you turn to Jungkook. “Sooyoung, huh?”

You never got the chance to meet Jungkook’s ex. He was dating her during your senior year of high school, and they broke up while you were still in school.

His jaw tightens, but he doesn’t look at you. Instead, he focuses way too hard on his plate, shoving a piece of meat into his mouth like it’s the most interesting thing in the world and then finishing his beer in a few, big sips.

Jimin, on the other hand, is thriving on the attention. “Oh, yeah,” he hums. “Front-row seat. Didn’t take her eyes off him.”

At that, Jungkook kicks him again, harder this time. “Can you not?”

“Oh, come on, man. It was cute.”

You tilt your head, watching Jungkook’s reaction. “And you didn’t like that?”

His eyes finally flick to yours, the slight curve of his mouth betraying him. “I didn’t say I didn’t like it, I just don’t want to talk about it.”

“She waited outside the locker room for him,” Jimin continues.

You hold back a roll of your eyes. You don’t care. You don’t care at all.

“Did she?” Eunji fuels the fire with her excited question.

“She said hi. That’s it,” Jungkook mutters.

Jimin snorts at Jungkook’s reply. “Man, that’s not what I saw.”

“And you,” Jungkook directs at Jimin. “You were eye fucking her friend the entire time, so don’t act all high and mighty when you could barely keep your hands to yourself.”

“Sue me!” Jimin exclaims. “Yeah, I do think her friend’s hot, lock me up for it. I need her ig handle or something. I wanna see her again.”

“You’re both hopeless,” you comment, nails tapping against your glass.

“Hey, if she’s hot, she’s hot.” Jimin shrugs, grinning from ear to ear. “You can’t blame me for appreciating the view.”

Yoongi gives him a pointed look. “I’m pretty sure you’ve been ‘appreciating’ the view from every girl in the restaurant for the last hour.”

Jimin laughs loudly, clearly unbothered. “Guilty as charged.”

“What else is new?” Eunji asks. “Besides Seokjin thinking being unhinged will get him an A in his philosophy class, Jungkook having an over-attached ex, and Jimin being a total playboy? Anything else exciting happened this week?”

“I bought a blind box today,” you announce. “And got upset because I didn’t get the one I wanted.”

“The sonny angel figures?” Jungkook asks casually – way too casually.

His tone is so easy, so natural, that for a split second, you forget, just like he forgot. You almost answer just as effortlessly, almost fall into the usual rhythm of conversation with him. But then it hits you—the sharp, perfectly timed reminder that you’re pissed at him.

So instead, you hesitate, fingers tightening around your glass. “Yeah,” you say, a little clipped “Those.”

“I say you stop spending so much money for dust-collecting shit,” Tae comments, and you don’t even have the chance to defend yourself, because Seokjin calls him out for his own questionable spending habits.

While they bicker, you giggle at their antics, distracted for a moment. You reach to dip your dumpling into the sauce, but just as your fingers hover above the dish, you brush hands with Jungkook, who was doing the same.

You kick his hand with yours, expecting him to pull back, but he doesn’t budge.

“Do you ever stop being annoying?” you ask.

“Not when the person I’m annoying is you.”

“You gonna be like this all night?” Your hand sinks, touching the table. “I thought you were mad and would want to ignore me,” you say, much quieter now, even though everyone else is too caught up arguing whether Taehyung’s fifa pack spendings are justified.

“Weren’t you trying to do the same?”

Well, yeah. You were trying to ignore him – that was the sole reason why you even came – but you somewhere along the way, you veered off that plan, and now here you are.

“I guess you’re just too pretty for me to ignore.”

Jungkook freezes at that. You use the opportunity to nudge his hand aside and dip your food into the sauce.

“Funny, didn’t seem to be a problem when you were texting that dude next to me the other day.”

Your chewing slows. The words hit exactly where he intended, sharp and precise, a reminder of exactly why he’s pissed in the first place.

The conversation around you carries on, oblivious, but between you and Jungkook, the tension is suffocating.

You pull away completely, shifting in your seat so your legs are angled away from him and into Eunji’s direction.

Ignoring him is easier, less of a headache – and less of a heartache – than acknowledging his existence.

Later that night, you drown yourself in reality tv, letting the mindless drama fill the living room and keep your thoughts from wandering to the interactions you had with Jungkook tonight, because you really need a break from that boy.

You and Eunji had left the restaurant before the boys, her excuse being that she wanted to study, and yours being that you’d had done enough socialising for the day and it was time to go back home. Yeah, you do realise that you have a self-destructive tendency to isolate when things get difficult.

So, here you are, curled up on the couch, journaling about feelings and situations and –

Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep.

You freeze, pen hovering above the paper as the sound of the front door code being punched in echoes from outside. The lock clicks, and the door swings open.

A familiar head of dark hair peeks inside first, followed by annoyingly familiar second one.

“You’re still up?” Taehyung asks, shrugging off his jacket and toes off his shoes.

“Tae,” you say slowly, looking at Jungkook. “Why is he here?”

“Figured we’d hang for a bit more. Play some fifa together.”

“You figured?” You turn to Tae with a deadpan expression.

Taehyung shrugs. “He looked sad.”

“I didn’t look sad,” Jungkook mutters, finally stepping inside and shutting the door behind him.

“You looked all emo when everyone got up to leave,” Taehyung says.

“Whatever.” Jungkook rolls his eyes and heads towards the kitchen, like this is his house now.

You exhale through your nose, pressing your fingers to your temple. “Do we look like a halfway house for emotionally constipated men?”

Jungkook’s voice calls out from the kitchen. “I can hear you.”

“Good.”

“Please try and act civil while I go change,” Taehyung pleads, already disappearing down the hallway.

Jungkook emerges a second later, settling onto the couch, a glass of water in his hand. His tatted fingers wrap around it, long and steady, as he takes a sip. You watch the way his Adam’s apple bobs, the way his throat moves, how the tiniest droplet of water escapes before his tongue swipes it away – completely unbothered. Casual. Like he isn’t taking up too much space in your head already.

“Headache from all that beer?” you ask, trying – hoping – that you sound unaffected by whatever it is about him that’s making your stomach flip.

He exhales, tipping his head back against the couch, stretching his neck just enough to make it unfair. The angle sharpens his jaw line.

His gaze flickers to you. “Something like that.”

Jungkook looks at you. Really looks at you.

His eyes drag over your bare legs, stretched out in tiny shorts that are basically just suggestions of clothing. They hesitate on the curve of your thighs, the hem barely covering anything, before sliding up to the delicate strap of your camisole, the curve of your shoulder. His fingers tighten around the glass just enough for you to notice.

You meet his gaze, unblinking.

Jungkook’s fingers twitch.

You smirk, stretching deliberately, arching your back slightly as you reposition yourself.

And then – his eyes flick downward, landing on the open journal beside you.

You don’t think anything of it at first – until his brows furrow slightly, head tilting as he squints.

“Wait,” he mutters, leaning forward. “Did I just see my name in there?”

Your stomach drops.

Panic sets in at lightning speed.

You slam the journal shut so fast it’s borderline violent.

“Mind your business.”

Jungkook blinks, then grins, slow and smug. Oh, you hate him.

“There is literally nothing for you to see.”

“Oh, but there was something,” he muses, stretching an arm along the back of the couch like he isn’t about to drive you insane. “You wrote about me?”

You cross your arms. “What if I did?”

“Depends,” he says, just momentarily allowing his gaze to drop to your chest. “What exactly are you writing about me?”

Jungkook’s smirk deepens, eyes flicking between you and the journal.

“You’re acting awfully guilty right now,” he taunts, shifting slightly, his thigh pressing against yours.

“Because you’re being nosey.”

“No, because you’re hiding something.”

You roll your eyes, gripping the journal tighter. “You’re not that interesting.”

He hums, tilting his head. “Then lemme see.”

“Absolutely not.”

It happens so fast you barely have time to react. One second, Jungkook is sitting there, all relaxed and smug. The next, he’s lunging forward, reaching for the journal with one hand, the other bracing against the couch to trap you in place.

“Jungkook—stop!” you shriek, twisting away, holding the journal out of his reach.

But he’s relentless.

He shifts closer, practically caging you in, his body warm and solid against yours. His arm brushes your bare thigh as he reaches again, fingers grazing the cover. You twist further, laughing, but the movement only makes things worse—your back presses into the cushions, and suddenly, he’s right there, hovering over you, weight balanced between his knees and one hand pressed into the couch beside your head.

The laughter dies in your throat.

Because now it’s just you and him, tangled up, breathing the same air. His face is inches from yours, the heat of his body seeping into your skin, the scent of his cologne mixed with something distinctly him. His gaze flickers downward – just for a second – but it’s enough. Enough for you to feel the shift. Enough for the teasing to suddenly feel like something else entirely.

Jungkook swallows.

Your heart is in your throat.

His gaze drops to your lips.

You freeze.

His fingers tighten slightly where they rest near your hip. The journal is still caught between you, forgotten, and for the first time, neither of you moves to break the moment.

Until –

A door creaks open down the hallway.

You both jerk back at the same time.

Jungkook moves first, clearing his throat as he drops back onto the couch, running a hand through his hair like that’ll somehow erase the past ten seconds. You sit up just as Taehyung strolls back in, glancing between the two of you with mild suspicion.

“Did you guys kill each other yet?”

“Nearly,” you retort, fixing your hair.

Tae grabs two controllers and plops onto the couch next to Jungkook. “Why’d you scream?”

“Your idiot of a best friend is obsessed with me and tried to sneak a peek into my journal,” you huff, dramatically clutching said journal to your chest.

“Oh, boy,” Tae clicks his tongue. “She’s serious about this thing, Jk. Wouldn’t advise you to –” he waves a hand vaguely, “–poke the bear.”

Jungkook looks like he is actually considering telling Tae what he saw in your beloved journal. His lips party slightly, brows furrowing, before he shakes the thought off. Good for him. You wouldn’t even know where to begin explaining why Jungkook’s name is written in there.

Taehyung hands one of the controllers to Jungkook.

“Is this my cue to turn off my show?” you ask, lips forming a natural pout of disappointment.

“Sorry, spontaneous boys' night,” Tae says with a shrug.

“Please never say that again.”

Jungkook snorts, finally looking at you.

You raise a brow. Challenge him silently.

He just grins, popping his dimples, rolling his shoulders back like he has the upper hand.

God, you hate him.

You stay in the living room while they game – despite considering retreating to your room multiple times when Jungkook and Tae started yelling at each like an old married couple.

But you quickly realise how fun it is to mess with Jungkook, especially when he gets roasted for his lack of skills by an oblivious Taehyung. Which, judging by the way Jungkook’s jaw keeps ticking and his grip on the controller tightens, is absolutely getting to him.

“Want more snacks?” you ask sweetly as you rise to your feet, collecting the empty bowls. One slips from your grasp, landing on the carpet. You bend over to grab it, in front of Jungkook, and maybe, just maybe, you move slower than necessary. Maybe shifting your hips a little too much. Maybe giving him a view he definitely does not deserve.

Tae, completely unbothered, waves you off like a fly buzzing around his screen. “___, get out of the way,” he complains impatiently, fingers rapidly clicking on his controller. “But I’ll have some more chips, thanks.”

Jungkook, however, isn’t saying shit.

You glance over your shoulder, just in time to catch the flicker of his eyes meeting yours before he collects himself and redirects his attention back to the game.

“You good, Jungkook?” you ask innocently.

His nostrils flare. Through gritted teeth, he mutters, “Just move.”

So you do, slow and smug, your shorts sliding back over your thighs as you pad toward the kitchen.

Right as you’re reaching for the drawer, you hear Taehyung ask, “What are you gonna do about that Sooyoung girl?” Your movements slow. “You interested?”

The nosiness and urge to gossip definitely runs through your genes.

“Nah, I don’t want her back.”

When you glance back, Jungkook’s still focused on the game, but there’s something absent in the way he’s holding the controller – like he’s playing on autopilot.

“That bad, huh?”

“Just wasn’t that deep.”

You busy yourself with the drawer, fingertips grazing over the handle as you bite back the urge to comment. Just listen.

“You never really said why you two broke up.”

“No, I did tell you,” Jungkook says, easy but firm. “You just never believed me.”

“That’s because it always felt like there was more.”

“There wasn’t. We just didn’t fit.”

Didn’t fit how?

You open the drawer and grab more snacks.

“Yeah...I don’t know. You never seemed truly happy with her.”

Jungkook exhales sharply through his nose. "I wasn’t miserable," he finally says.

“You weren’t happy either.”

“I don’t know. Maybe I stayed with Sooyoung because it was easy. No drama. No real emotions involved.”

With the snacks in tow, you walk back to the living room. “That sounds really sad, Jaykay,” you say, not trying to hide that you’ve been listening to them.

He shrugs. “Maybe. But at least it didn’t mess with my head.” His gaze lingers on you. “Didn’t make me feel like I was losing my mind.”

“Fuck, no, if someone makes you feel that way – leave, immediately,” Taehyung says.

You grab a bag of chips, tearing it open as you lean against the side of the couch. “You guys done being dramatic yet?”

Taehyung glances over his shoulder, narrowing his eyes. “You’re still here?”

“I live here.”

“Unfortunately.”

“Unfortunately?” you repat. “You were the one who happily agreed when mum and dad suggested that I move in with you. I wanted my own place!”

“Oh no, the princess didn’t get what she wanted. How dare they?” Jungkook mocks you.

You faintly remember the discussion of moving into an even bigger place, where all three of you would live together, but Jungkook denied that idea back then, saying the dorm that his athletic scholarship is providing him is good enough for him.

You scoff, shoving his shoulder as you pop another chip into your mouth. “Okay, first of all, you don’t get a say in this. Second of all, I’m not a princess.”

Jungkook tilts his head, a smirk playing on his lips. “Sure you aren’t.”

Taehyung snorts, eyes still glued to the screen. “You literally whined for two weeks straight about not having enough closet space.”

“That was a valid complaint,” you argue. “You take up, like, half of it with your stupid jerseys.”

“They’re collectibles.”

“They’re ugly.”

Jungkook laughs, finally leaning back into the couch, looking far too amused. “I see living together is going great for you two.”

“Oh, it’s fantastic,” Taehyung deadpans. “Every day is a blessing.”

“You’re so dramatic,” you mutter, but you can’t help the way your lips twitch. “I liked this conversation more when you gossiped about Jungkook’s life.”

Taehyung rolls his eyes, then jerks his chin toward Jungkook. “Dude, hurry up and lose so we can switch games.”

Jungkook, who has barely been playing at all, huffs. “I’m not gonna lose on purpose.”

“You’re already playing like shit,” Taehyung points out. “What’s up with you? Did Sooyoung get into your head or what?”

“Quit mentioning her,” Jungkook grumbles, jaw tightening.

Sooyoung?

No, that is not who is on is mind.

Why would he be thinking about her when – okay, you need to calm down. It’s not that serious.

You just need to call it a night, crawl into bed, and sleep it off.

“Heading to bed,” you announce, grabbing your journal from the coffee table.

“Alright, sleep tight,” Taehyung replies.

“Night, princess.” You flick the back of Jungkook’s head for that.

“Okay, very out of character for me, but we need to stop drinking for a sec and you need to tell me why the hell you keep looking back at Jungkook?” Eunji asks you all of a sudden, voice barely carrying over the muffled bass shaking the walls of the packed frat house.

The kitchen is one of the only semi-breathable spaces in the frat house, though the counters are a war zone of spilled liquor, sticky cups, and questionably abandoned drinks. The air reeks of cheap booze and sweat, but none of that is stopping Eunji from interrogating you.

You blink perplexed. “Out of character for you?” you ask back, eyeing the way she pulls back the cup you were just mixing a drink in. “I think that is very true to your character – very you. I’d be out of character for me to stop us from drinking.” You snatch back your cup.

“Did I say that?” She’s lost in her mind for a moment. “I don’t even remember. Am I that drunk already? I don’t wanna wake up hungover tomorrow.” She laments. “I still got this assignment due, and I wanted to get most of it done tomorrow, but – oh my god. Do not distract me from the question I just asked you.” She stares at you with sharp eyes. “Why do you keep looking back at Jungkook?”

“Am I?”

She huffs. “You don’t get to play this game with me, ___.” She pokes your tummy. “Answer me.”

You fully turn to her, abandoning the cup with the godawful alcohol mix – yes, it’s your creation, no, you’ve never had any talent for mixing drinks.

“I might have to tell you something.”

Her eyes widen. Immediately. Mouth opening in an unbelievable expression of pure, unfiltered drama. One that belongs in a reality show confession booth.

“Shut up. You did not – did you? Oh my god, shut up!”

“We might have hooked up for, like, a good few months.”

Her palm flies to cover her mouth. “Behind Taehyung’s back?” she whisper shouts.

“Well, obviously.” You point to yourself. “You think I’d be alive if he knew? You think he’d be alive if Tae knew?”

“You whore!”

“For Jungkook? Kinda,” you admit defeatedly.

You take a glimpse into his direction. Eunji shoves you on the shoulder for that.

“Don’t make it obvious!” she exclaims. “But you need to tell me everything. Right now.”

You sigh, leaning against the counter.

“The first time we hooked up was before I enrolled in uni. It was the summer before when Tae and Jungkook spontaneously visited and-“

“Okay, I need you to stop,” Eunji interrupts, fingers massaging her temples. “The summer before uni?” she repeats, exasperated. “You’ve been keeping it a secret since summer? I need more booze before you continue.”

“I’m sorry for not telling you, but we didn’t want anyone to know. He’d be pissed if he knew I told you.”

“No, don’t be sorry. I get it, I really do. I just didn’t expect this at all.” After pouring something inside her cup, she takes big gulps from it.

“I mean, what was I supposed to do? He’s hot, he’s pretty, and I’ve had a crush on him since, like, forever. I had to give in when he showed interest. What’s a girl gonna do?”

“How have you been able to keep it from Taehyung? They’re with each other 24/7.”

“He comes over when I know Tae’s gonna be out for a while. Or the other way around,” you reply, shrugging like it’s no big deal. “You can make anything work if you really want to, and I really wanted Jungkook.”

Still do, if you’re being honest.

You pause, then wave it off dramatically. “But that’s ancient history. We’re totally over that weird situationship.”

“What?!” Another shocked gasp escapes her. “Why?!”

“I don’t even know, to be honest. He just – we fucked, and then he...I dunno.” You grab your cup and down the rest of your drink, grimacing at the taste of whatever you concocted. “He got mad at me for texting Eunwoo after we had sex. I didn't even think he’d be all sensitive about it, especially since, you know, he’s with other girls too. But he got so pissed and we argued. And guess what?!” You throw your arms out, face dramatically incredulous. “He just leaves me in bed! Like, straight up walks out, saying stupid shit like I sleep around and only text him when I’m bored. Acting like we’re some exclusive thing, which we’re not! How dare he get so upset?” you argue theatrically, voice rising in pitch. “I’ve got better shit to do than this,” you mimic in Jungkook’s deep voice, eyes rolling for extra effect. “He’s so annoying.”

Eunji scrutinizes you for a brief moment before coming to her conclusion.

“Oh, he wants you bad.”

“Huh?” Your brows furrow. “He left me.”

“Because he wants you two to be exclusive and you don't. Why should he stay?”

Why should he stay?

You stare at Eunji, her words settling over you like an unwanted truth.

“He did ask me to be exclusive before,” you admit, twirling the empty cup in your hands. “But I always thought it would be a bad idea. Because being exclusive is so much more serious, and I want to be anything but serious with him. We don’t work that way. I can’t have that happening and risking Tae finding out. It would ruin everything.”

Eunji gives you a long, unimpressed look. “But being exclusive friends with benefits doesn’t have to mean more. It could just stay that way. Why do you always make things complicated?”

You huff, frustration bubbling up. “I don’t know.” You drop your forehead against her shoulder.

She pats your back like you’re a lost puppy.

“You’re and idiot, babe.”

“I know.”

“You also like him.”

You groan into her shoulder. “Shut up.”

“Just saying,” she singsongs.

It’s only now that you realise just how much you needed this – to talk to someone. To get all these tangled thoughts out of your head instead of letting them fester in silence. You’ve spent so much time convincing yourself that none of it mattered, brushing it off like it was nothing, but saying it out loud makes it real. And weirdly, that feels... good. Cathartic, even. Like exhaling after holding your breath for too long.

“Do you think I should-“ You start to lift your head, but Eunji pushes you back down with a firm hand.

“Everything will be fine, ___,” she babbles, patting your head a little too aggressively. “Just, you know, don’t be too sad.”

“What are you on about?”

“Just stay here for a sec.”

“Eunji.” You force yourself out of her grasp.

She’s looking somewhere past you, eyes flickering toward the living room, but when she realizes you’ve caught on, she quickly averts her gaze. Too quickly. Suspiciously.

You turn around, scanning the area to find what she doesn’t want you to see.

Your tummy churns in an instant when you see it.

Jungkook.

Heading up the stairs.

With Nayeon.

Even in the hazy lighting of the party, he stands out – broad shoulders wrapped in a dark, well-fitted tee, his silver chain glinting against his collarbone. He moves effortlessly, the easy confidence in his stride something you know all too well. His hand rests low on Nayeon’s back, fingertips grazing the thin fabric of her dress as she leans into him, whispering something into his ear.

Your throat tightens.

Eunji shifts beside you, watching your reaction carefully. “Hey, maybe it’s not-“

“I’m gonna throw up.”

The words leave your mouth before you can even think. You grab Eunji’s cup and down the last of her drink, but the alcohol does nothing to wash away the bitter taste in your mouth.

Your eyes scan the room frantically. “Wasn’t Eunwoo somewhere here too?” You rise onto your toes, searching the sea of bodies. “I think I just need to get my mind off things.”

“Oh, no, no, no, no,” Eunji immediately cuts in, grabbing your wrist before you can make any rash decisions. “We are not doing this.”

“Doing what?”

She levels you with a look. “You are not about to make a dumbass decision just to get back at Jungkook. Not on my watch.”

“I really, really hate him right now.”

“I know,” she soothes. “But no petty comebacks for situations where we absolutely do not need to make fools of ourselves, yeah?”

Your brain is screaming at you to make Jungkook feel just as shitty as you do, to do something reckless and distracting, but deep down, you know Eunji’s right.

You steal another glance at the staircase. They’re gone.

The realization sinks in, and suddenly, the air in the frat house feels suffocating. The bass of the music thrums in your chest, the chatter around you blurring into an overwhelming hum.

“I need air,” you mutter, pushing past Eunji before she can stop you.

She sighs but doesn’t follow. She knows you need a moment alone.

You slip through the crowd, weaving your way toward the back door. The night air hits you instantly, cool against your heated skin, but it does little to settle the storm raging in your chest.

Leaning against the railing of the porch, you inhale deeply, forcing your nerves to settle.

This is fine.

“Can you promise you won’t puke on me?”

“I mean, I can, but I don’t know if I can keep the promise.”

You spotted Chanyeol with another guy—Jackson, you think—smoking and went over to chat with them. It wasn’t until they finished their joint that curiosity got the best of you. One thing led to another, and Jackson went inside to roll you one. Now, all three of you are standing outside, two pairs of curious eyes fixed on you.

“She’ll be fine,” Jackson says as he exhales a slow stream of smoke, watching it curl into the night air.

Chanyeol eyes you warily as he sparks up your joint. “I don’t know how much you drank tonight, but please tell me if you feel sick.” He holds it out for you.

You hesitate for half a second before taking it between your fingers. It feels weird, unnatural. “So I just…?”

“Inhale, but not too hard. Hold it for a second, then let it out,” Chanyeol instructs.

You follow his guidance, pulling in a slow drag. The taste is harsher than you expected, earthy and a little burnt, making you cough almost instantly.

“Classic first hit,” Jackson says, but it’s not as reassuring as he thinks. “Give it a sec.”

“How do you feel?” Chanyeol asks, watching you closely.

“Feels very icky,” you tell him, nose scrunched up. “But I’m feeling okay.”

“Yo, Jackson!” some dude yells from the back. Jackson disappears, leaving Chanyeol and you alone.

“You sure you’re fine?”

The night air feels heavier now, the music from inside muffled like you’re hearing it through a wall. Your fingers tingle slightly, warmth spreading through your limbs. You shift on your feet, suddenly hyper-aware of the way your body moves.

You blink at him. “I think my brain is moving slower than my body.”

He laughs. “Yeah, that happens. Just ride it out.”

You exhale, watching the smoke swirl in front of you.

“The fuck?”

Your head snaps toward the voice.

Jungkook stands a few feet away, brows furrowed, looking like he just walked into some kind of crime scene. His eyes flick between you and the joint in your fingers, then to Chanyeol, before settling back on you.

For some reason, your eyes wander to his hands. He’s probably touched so many things tonight, so many body parts. Did he wash them?

“The hell you’re doing?” Jungkook asks, walking towards you.

“Uhm, having fun?” you try, watching his frown deepen.

“This is not something you do, ___.” Jungkook directs his glare at Chanyeol. “Why the fuck would you give this to her?”

“Fuck, Jungkook, if you wanna be angry be angry elsewhere,” Chanyeol says, rolling his eyes.

“You fuck off,” Jungkook counters.

“As if you have never smoked.” Chanyeol raises his brows.

“I don’t smoke.”

“Trying to maintain a squeaky-clean image for those scouts who might be watching?”

“Mind your fucking business.”

“Jungkook, you’re being rude.” You turn to him, pointing a finger at his broad chest. “You’ve been going around, having fun yourself but can’t let other people have fun. That’s not nice of you.”

You stare up at him, a sullen pout on your mouth before pulling another slow drag and trying hard to not cough, but a small cough slips out anyway.

“Get that shit away, ___,” Jungkook demands, unimpressed by the smoke surrounding his face.

“Why do you care? Lemme have fun.”

“This shit fucks with your head.”

My brain’s already fucked, you think. Thanks a lot.

“It’s just weed?”

“Taehyung will lose his mind.”

“Is Tae with us now?”

Jungkook arches his brow.

“Oh, you wouldn’t.”

“Stop right now or I’ll call him.”

You hold his gaze, daring him. “You’re bluffing.”

Jungkook pulls his phone out of his pocket without hesitation, thumb hovering over the screen. “Try me.”

You wait, staring at Jungkook’s screen until he actually calls Taehyung.

Before the call can connect, you groan and shove the joint into Chanyeol’s hand. “God, fine, I’m done.”

He hangs up before Taehyung can answer.

You glare at him, but he only tilts his head toward the house. “Let’s get you some water.”

He guides you towards the house with his hand splayed across your side. At first, you shy away from his touch, mind racing with thoughts you’d rather not acknowledge. But as the night air presses cool against your skin, you let yourself relax, leaning into him slightly as you walk up the stairs.

“You’re so mean, you know that?” you huff.

“I’m just looking out for you,” he replies, in a softer tone than before.

“You didn’t have to be mean with Chanyeol. It wasn’t his weed. Chanyeol was actually very kind, made sure I was feeling okay-“

Jungkook stops at the threshold of the house.

“I’m gonna have a little chat with Jackson.”

“How do you know-“

His hand slips from your waist. He turns, leaving you standing on the porch, and disappears in the crowd.

Because that’s just easy for him – leaving you.

Why should he stay?

You don’t care.

And if you keep telling yourself that, maybe – just maybe – you’ll start to believe it.

Flash forward a week, and you can now say –proudly, with your full chest – that you do care.

You’ve never not cared. Pretended? Yes. But gotten over it? Not even close.

Which is why it’s not surprising that you find yourself at yet another party, drink in hand, scanning the room without meaning to. Or maybe you do mean to. Maybe you want to see him. Maybe you want him to see you. Maybe you want him to know that he didn’t get to you. Even though he did.

You’re sunk into the couch, surrounded by your friend group, half-listening as they go on about today’s hockey practice – boy gossip, oh how you love it.

“Coach told him he’s probably getting benched next game,” Jimin says, shaking his head as he leans back against the couch. “Too many penalties last match. Dumbass just keeps throwing hits for no reason.”

“That’s what happens when you let your ego get ahead of you,” Jin chimes in, stretching his legs out. “Coach is tired of his shit. And honestly? Fair.”

“I heard he almost fought Yoongi in the locker room,” Taehyung adds, arching a brow as he takes a sip of his drink. “Over something stupid too, like warm-up drills.”

“Swear to God, that guy needs to chill,” Jimin scoffs. “He’s got all the talent, but he plays like he’s trying to prove something every damn game.”

When Taehyung gets up to grab himself another drink, you catch him by the sleeve.

“Can you get me one too, please?” You hand him your empty cup.

Taehyung eyes the cup. “You’ve been drinking a bit more lately.”

“It’s just my second drink?”

His sharp eyes linger on you for a moment before he reluctantly takes your cup and walks off. He hasn’t missed the shift in your behaviour these past few weeks. You try to hide it, but there’s only so much you can do.

“Could say the same thing about Jungkook, though,” Jin says.

Jin’s words linger in the air, but you don’t dare react.

“Jungkook’s always been like that,” Jimin says, tipping his drink back. “Plays like he’s got something to prove, but I guess he kinda does. He wants to go pro, so it’s not like he can afford to slack off.”

It’s stupid, silly even, how easily his name can unravel you. How even when he’s not here, he’s everywhere.

“Isn’t your dad gonna come to the next game?” Jimin directs at you.

You shrug. “Maybe? I dunno.”

Given that your dad is an NHL executive, former team owner, he tries to find time in his busy schedule to attend the hockey games. The boys probably see him more than you do.

“Where is Jungkook anyway?” Hobi asks. “Is he gonna come over at all?”

Dear god, you hope, pray, he won’t.

You can’t live through seeing him disappear with another girl upstairs. You don’t have Eunji with you today to keep you from doing reckless decisions.

“He’d be all over Nayeon anyway. Doubt he’d even remember we exist,” Jin chuckles, unknowingly ruining the rest of your night.

The sound of their laughter grates against your nerves. The more you sit here, the more unbearable it becomes. The thought of him, of her, of what they could be doing, poisons your mind until you can’t take it anymore.

Taehyung returns, pressing a fresh drink into your hand. He barely gets a word in before his gaze sharpens. “You okay?”

You nod stiffly. “Yeah.”

“Liar.”

His voice is quiet enough that no one else hears, but it makes your stomach flip. He knows you too well. And if you sit here any longer, he’s going to drag the truth out of you, whether you like it or not.

So you stand abruptly, mumbling something about fresh air before slipping through the crowd, out into the cool night. The moment you’re alone, you let out a breath, pressing your fingers to your temples. It doesn’t help. Nothing does.

Before you can talk yourself out of it, you pull out your phone, scroll down to the name you should ignore, and press call.

Jungkook answers on the second ring.

“Did you call me on accident?”

You ignore his question, your fingers tightening around your phone as you shift your weight from one foot to the other. Instead, you ask, “Are you gonna come to the party?”

“No, I have some assignments to do,” he answers, hesitantly. “Why’d you ask?”

“Are you sure?” Your eyes close, waiting for the confirmation that you won’t have to see things (Jungkook and a girl that isn’t you) that you don’t want to see (him hooking up with someone that isn’t you).

“Yeah, positive.” There’s a pause, and then he adds, “Is there something you don’t want me to see? Or—wait, are you just making sure I won’t be around to ruin your night?” Jungkook laughs and you realise how you’ve missed that sound. “It’s your lucky day. You won’t see my face poking around in the crowd. You can have fun.”

You frown at the nonsense he’s saying. He couldn’t be more off.

“No, you don’t get it.”

“What am I not getting?”

You stare into the night sky, the stars blurred by the city lights. You consider hanging up, letting the moment pass, but then you remember what Eunji told you. Talk to him. Get the discomfort out of the way.

“You know I’m not an insecure person.” You cross one arm over your body, rubbing your bare skin against the rising cold. “Like, I’m confident in who I am. I don’t compare myself to others because, y’know, I don’t care enough about stuff like that.”

“Yeah, of course I know that. You’re a confident girl. Have always been.”

“But you know what makes me go crazy?”

“What?”

“Seeing you with someone else.” The words slip out before you can catch them, but now that they’re out in the open, you can’t take them back. You don’t want to. Or – I dunno if it’s just that. I want you to want me. And you don’t. Which I get, I’ve been a bit shitty, so you deserve to want someone that isn’t like me, but – it just makes me go a bit insane, because I thought you did want me again the other night. At my place.” Your voice drops on the last sentence, barely above a whisper. “But then I see you with Nayeon and you just don’t care.”

You take a break, trying to organise your thoughts, but it’s fruitless because it’s just a tangled mess up there.

“Eunji said to talk with you but still give us a bit time, but oh my god I just want it to be okay between us again. I’m feeling so confused, and I don’t even really know what’s going on, but all I know is that I want things to be like before. When you still wanted me, and I wanted you and everything was good, easy,” you say, exhaling a helpless breath. “Do you think that’s possible?”

It’s silent for a beat. You don’t blame him – you couldn’t recite half the stuff that just poured out of your mouth.

“Fuck, ___.” He sounds a bit helpless himself.

Jungkook sighs on the other end, and you hear the faint rustle of fabric, like he’s shifting, maybe running a hand through his hair. “I don’t know what to say to that,” he finally admits.

“Say anything,” you murmur.

“What do you want me to do, ___?” His voice is quieter now, more controlled, but there’s something simmering beneath the surface. “Stop seeing other people? Pretend like none of this ever happened? Or do you just want me to tell you that, yeah, I still want you?”

Your breath hitches. “Do you?”

“I thought I made that obvious,” he mutters. “But every time I think we’re on the same page, you pull away and act difficult. So, forgive me if I stopped trying to figure you out.”

“I don’t mean to act difficult.”

“Then why do you?”

You don’t have an answer. Or maybe you do, but you’re scared to say it.

Jungkook waits, but when you don’t respond, he lets out a dry laugh. “You know what’s funny? I wasn’t even gonna go to the party tonight. But now I kinda want to.”

“Why?”

“Maybe I wanna see what happens when you have to look me in the eyes.” His voice is lower now, rougher. “Because talking like this? It’s too easy for you.”

“No, don’t come.” You think of the worst-case scenario – arguing with Jungkook, him getting frustrated, turning to Nayeon because she’s easier, likes her more than you. And you couldn’t stand seeing that.

“Or maybe do, if you want,” you add, voice quieter. “I think I’m gonna leave anyway. Wanna go home.” Avoiding situations – your strong suit.

“How much have you had to drink?”

You stare at the untouched drink in your hand before lifting it to your lips. The sweetness hits first, masking the barely-there burn of alcohol (thanks, Tae). “Starting my third drink now.”

“I can walk you home,” he offers.

“It’s not a long walk to my place. You don’t have to.”

“I want to.” A rustle of movement on the other end before he adds, “On my way right now.”

“I’ll wait at the front for you.”

You weave your way back inside the house to find Taehyung, who’s still in the living room chatting with one of his teammates.

“Gonna go home, Tae,” you say, your voice cutting through their conversation. He glances up, distracted for a moment, before raising an eyebrow. “Also, here–” You hand him the drink he made for you. “This is not fun to drink at all.”

Taehyung rolls his eyes at your sassy comment but takes the cup from your hand. “Learn how to enjoy a party without getting drunk.”

“You tell me to get out of my room more, and when I do, this is what you say? Pick a side,” you grumble.

“Why do you wanna go home?” His fingers adjust the top of your strapless dress absentmindedly as he asks. “You okay?”

“Eh, just a bit bored.”

“We’re gonna play truth or dare in a bit,” Taehyung’s friend pipes up, raising his eyebrows in an exaggerated manner. “Maybe you should stick around.”

“I think I’ll skip,” you say. “But please do me a favour and fill me in on all the drama I’ll be missing out on.”

He winks at you. “Will do.”

“I’ll walk you home,” Taehyung says, stepping towards you.

You know he won’t allow you to go home by yourself, so you opt for telling him the truth. “Jungkook’s coming to take me home.”

“Jungkook?” he asks, surprised. “Did you call him?”

“Yeah, I asked him. Didn’t wanna annoy you. Go have fun doing...” You glance over at Jimin and Hobi, who are holding an impromptu drinking competition. Hobi’s attempting to chug straight from a bottle of something clearly too strong for him, while Jimin’s pretending to be the host of a weird, offbeat game show. “...whatever that is,” you finish, trying to hold back a laugh.

“You really can’t leave those two alone for a second, can you?” Taehyung lets out a low chuckle, shaking his head. “Tell Jungkook to swing by here once he drops you off.”

“He didn’t sound like he was in the mood to stop by, but I'll tell him.”

“Text me when you get home, yeah?” he says over his shoulder, already walking back toward Jimin and a very much unconscious Hobi, who’s sprawled out on the couch looking like he’s had one too many rounds.

Jungkook finds you almost immediately. You barely have time to register his presence before he’s already slipping his zip hoodie over your shoulders, his hands smoothing over the fabric like he’s tucking you in for the night.

“You should’ve waited inside,” he mutters, fingers lingering at the collar like he’s seriously considering zipping it up for you too.

You swat his hands away, glancing around quickly. “Jungkook, don’t – everyone’s watching.”

He raises an eyebrow. “Who’s watching?”

You look over your shoulder. “I dunno. People.”

Jungkook huffs a laugh, stepping closer. “Right. Because me making sure you don’t freeze to death is so scandalous,” he jokes. “But smoking weed the other day was okay to do outside? With all the people there?”

“As a friend you’re supposed to forget my mess-ups, not remind me of them.” You huff, faintly remembering when you tried weed for the first time. You did puke that night. Luckily not on Chanyeol. “You didn’t have to come,” you grumble, even as you tug the hoodie tighter around yourself, his warmth and the faint scent of his detergent wrapping around you like a second skin.

“I know,” he says, tilting his head. “But I wanted to.”

And then, because he’s annoying, he reaches up and tugs the hood over your head, effectively swallowing half your face in fabric.

You let out a muffled noise of protest, pushing it back down immediately. “Stop that.”

Jungkook just grins, stuffing his hands into his pockets as he starts walking. “You look cute like that, though.”

You glare at him but fall into step beside him anyway, the hoodie still draped around you like it belongs there. The night air nips at your skin, but his warmth lingers, and you swear he notices the way you pull the sleeves over your hands like it’s yours.

“So…” His voice is quieter now. “What you said on the phone earlier.”

Your stomach twists. “What about it?”

“I just—” He starts, then pauses. “I don’t know what you want from me, ___. One second, you’re pushing me away, and the next, you’re telling me you can’t stand seeing me with someone else. You –” He falters, his voice catching slightly. “Do you even know what you want?”

“I know that you ruined me for other boys, for one,” you say, sighing deeply before you continue. “I want things to be like before,” you reply. “When everything wasn’t so…” You gesture vaguely. “Complicated. I don’t like this. And I don’t like how I feel when I see you with –” You cut yourself off before the name can leave your lips. He knows anyway.

Jungkook watches you carefully, hands still stuffed into his pockets, shoulders slightly hunched. “I wasn’t trying to rub anything in your face,” he says after a pause. “I didn’t think it’d… affect you.”

“Well, it did,” you say, a little too fast, a little too defensive. “And I hate that it did, because it’s not like I have a right to be mad about it.”

Jungkook tilts his head. “Don’t you?”

That stops you in your tracks.

Because – do you? You don’t know what this is, don’t know what you want from him except for more. More of his attention, more of his time, more of him. But not all of him, right? Because that would mean–

“God,” you mumble, rubbing your hands down your face. “Why are you making me say things?”

Jungkook chuckles, nudging your side. “You called me, remember?”

You groan. “Worst decision I’ve ever made.”

“Harsh.”

“Accurate.”

Jungkook lets out a short laugh, but then he’s quiet for a beat before he says, “Look, I don’t wanna play games. If you want me, then say it.”

You swallow. “I do.”

“But we don’t want each other like that,” he adds.

“Yeah, no.” You chew on your lip, pulling his hoodie tighter around yourself. “I just… don’t want to see you with other people. And I don’t want to pretend that it doesn’t bother me.”

“I don’t wanna see you with anyone else either.” Jungkook exhales, running a hand through his hair. “You want to keep fucking but be exclusive.”

You wince. “Could you not say it like that?”

“What, say it like the truth?”

You purse your lips, staring at him. “Is it a no?”

Jungkook doesn’t say anything for a second. Then, he sighs. “It’s not a no. I’ve been asking you for this, and you always pushed me away.”

“You know am not good with serious conversations. I like it when things are easy.” You cross your arms, trying to shield yourself, but your eyes can’t help but flicker towards him. “I don’t mean to push you away,” you admit. “I just– I get scared.”

His lips part slightly, like he wasn’t expecting that. And then – without a word – he reaches out, pulling the hoodie up so the zipper meets your chin, like he’s tucking you in.

Your heart trips over itself. “What are you doing?”

He grins, hands still lingering near your collar. “Making sure you don’t run away before you finish talking.”

“I wouldn’t run,” you protest.

Jungkook raises a brow.

“…Okay, maybe I would,” you mutter.

His grin softens into something fonder. “Well, you didn’t,” he says simply. “You’re talking to me now.” His thumb brushes over the fabric near your shoulder. “And I know that’s not easy for you.”

Your face grows hot. You roll your eyes, looking away. “Okay, don’t be nice about it.”

Jungkook laughs, bumping your forehead lightly with his. “Sorry, can’t help it. I’m proud of you.”

Your stomach flips. You shove at his chest. “Ugh. Shut up.”

He just laughs harder, catching your wrist before you can push him again. “Too late.”

You elbow him, but he catches your arm, smirking as he tugs you closer. “So that’s it?” His voice drops slightly. “You’re mine, and I’m yours, but we don’t call it anything?”

The words send a shiver down your spine. Mine.

“…Yeah,” you say. “Something like that.”

Jungkook hums, his grip on your wrist loosening but not quite letting go. His fingers brush against yours for a second before he shoves his hands back into his pockets.

“Just stay with me.” You glance at him. “Don’t leave.”

“I’ll stay. Don’t worry.”

You continue walking, the quiet hum of the streetlights and distant city noise filling the silence.

“Taehyung said he wants you to stop by at the party once you drop me off,” you tell Jungkook, letting the information hang in the air before you ask, “But hang out with me instead?”

“You know, I was doing very important things before you called.”

“You never do uni stuff and this is the day you’re deciding to do a personality rebrand?”

“What do you mean? I’m on top of my grades...Kinda.”

You huff at his response. “Then, I dunno. Wanna be nerdy together? I can help you with your assignment.”

You’re pretty sure your marketing major and fashion design minor won’t do much to help him with stats, but you’re definitely down to stick around just to be close to him.

“I don’t think you can, but being nerdy together sounds extremely intriguing, so come on.” He holds his hand out for you and drags you the other way around to his dorm.

It’s not far, just a few blocks over, but the way his fingers loosely wrap around yours makes the walk feel shorter.

Here’s how the rest of the night goes: Jungkook, the ever exemplary student, continues working on his assignment, while you – an accomplished liar who successfully deceived Jungkook into believing you would help him – pretend to help for all of five minutes before succumbing to the far more important task of online shopping for cute clothes.

It’s being nerdy together (your version).

Every so often, he glances at you, probably wondering if you’ll suddenly become useful. You do not. Instead, you kick your feet up on his bed, adding yet another item to your cart that you definitely don’t need.

Your thumb hovers over the screen, eyes locked on the top that has no business being so cute. A strapless, velvety pink crop top. The entire front is held together by a line of sparkling, rhinestone heart clasps, leaving slivers of skin exposed.

“Do you think this is cute?” You turn your phone toward Jungkook.

“Very pretty.” Jungkook nods in approval, until his eyes flick down to the price. “What the fuck, ___.”

“What?” Add to cart. “It’s cute, no?”

“You’re a terrible study partner,” he mutters, typing on his laptop.

“I never claimed to be one,” you say, scrolling past a top that you absolutely do need. “Isn't being in my presence motivating enough?”

Jungkook snorts. “Right. I’m so motivated by your commitment to retail therapy.”

“Good,” you say, adding another item to your cart. “Then I’m doing my job.”

You watch him work on his assignment, your gaze drifting to his hands resting on the keyboard. His fingers are long and lean, the veins running along his wrists just noticeable under his skin. It's like every little movement is getting your attention, and suddenly, all you can think about is how good those hands would feel on you.

“What about this,” you say, a ghost of a smirk dancing at the corner of your lips. “When you finish your task, we can look through some lingerie. You can help me pick out a few things.”

The back of Jungkook’s head hits the wall. His eyes wander to the mirror on the opposite side of the room. You catch him staring – specifically at your propped-up legs, his gaze lingering a little too close to where your dress has ridden up, just enough to reveal a peek of lace.

“Hey, no peeking,” you scold, snapping your legs shut and stretching them out flat on his bed again, smoothing your dress down for good measure. “That’s also for later, when you finish your assignment.”

Smirking, you shift on the bed, just to test him.

“Must be so hard,” you muse, pretending to stretch as your dress slides just a little higher on your thighs. “Having a mirror right there, nowhere else to look.”

He scoffs. “If I wanted to see, I wouldn’t need a mirror.”

Jungkook doesn’t break eye contact, like he’s daring you to react. And maybe you should. Maybe you should roll your eyes, call him cocky, say you wish – but your brain isn’t working fast enough to form words.

“Remember how I fucked you against it?”

In his jersey. How could you forget?

And the way Jungkook’s lips twitch, like he knows exactly what he’s doing to you, makes your face heat up instantly.

“When has it become so easy to make you shy?”

“I’m not.” You glare at him, but it only seems to amuse him more. His lips quirk higher, that same infuriating twitch like he’s enjoying this way too much.

You sit up straighter, leaning forward just enough so your dress pulls a little higher on your thighs, the movement slow and deliberate.

Jungkook’s eyes move to your legs, and you see that flicker of desire flash across his face. His fingers twitch, like he wants to do something – anything – but he stays still.

“Wanna have a little taste to get some motivation to finish your work?” you tease, the giddy rush that heated your body fading as you flash him a mischievous smile.

“Anything to distract me from this shit,” he replies, already pushing the laptop off his lap, the screen still filled with charts and statistics problems. Ugh.

You shift to your knees and grab the back of his neck, crashing your mouth against his. He deepens the kiss a little, his lips soft against yours, the taste of him sweet and familiar. His breath mingles with yours, warm and steady. His hand lands on your waist, fingers lightly tracing the curve of your body.

You pull back just a little, eyes fluttering open to meet his, and for a second, you both just smile at each other, breathless and giddy.

“Should’ve been doing this instead of staring at those charts,” he murmurs, his thumb brushing your cheek as he gently tucks a strand of hair behind your ear.

You laugh softly, heart fluttering, before kissing him again – this time with more confidence, more warmth. His arms wrap around you, pulling you closer as if he can’t get enough. His touch is gentle, but you can feel the quiet desperation behind it.

His rosy lips are swollen after a few more minutes of kissing and touching and grinding.

You slide off the bed and drop down to the floor, your hands running over his thighs, silently urging him to move closer. He shifts toward you, letting out a sharp breath when your palm him through his grey sweatpants.

You want to start of slow, want to take your time, but you’re also so needy and greedy for him, that you can’t help but tug his sweatpants down his legs, along with his briefs.

You take his semi hard dick in your hands and begin to stroke him. You let a drop of spit fall onto his cock for lubrication.

Jungkook puffs out a deep breath. You want to hear more of that.

“What happened to a little taste?” he asks, barely able to contain the moans that leave his mouth.

“Can’t help it,” you shrug, watching him grow bigger and harder in your hand.

His hand reaches for the hoodie he gave you earlier, which was carelessly thrown on his bed. He places it gently on the floor in front of you.

“Sit here,” he says, smoothing out the fabric. “Don’t want your knees to hurt.”

You shuffle your knees onto his hoodie, adjusting yourself, and continue stroking him up and down. At some point, you use both of your hands. You missed feeling his heavy cock in your hands, sitting beneath him and just playing with him.

“Spit on it, baby,” he says, voice low as he grabs his cock by the base and holds it for you to spit on. “Good girl.” He watches you with hooded eyes rub your spit all over him, mixing it with the precum leaking from his tip.

His cock is shiny, glistening with veins adoring his length. You stick out your tongue, gently swiping it over his head. Jungkook hisses when you swirl your tongue around his tip, teasing him with slow moves. He strokes himself while you play with his tip.

“Missed this view.” He pulls away his cock and starts slapping it against your tongue, the heavy feeling and wet noises immediately making you press your thighs together. “Look so pretty on your knees. Such a pretty girl.” Jungkook slides his head into your mouth. “Suck, baby.”

You close your mouth around his cock while you lock eyes with him. Slowly taking him deeper until you can’t take more. Your eyes are already watery and you didn’t even get most of him inside your mouth. You bob your head up and down in a slow, leisure pace.

“Fuck, that’s it,” he praises, threading his fingers through your hair to push it away from your face. “Relax your throat for me, yeah?”

When you do, he presses his hand on the back of your head, pushing your down on his cock and forcing you to swallow nearly half of him. Jungkook lets out a pretty moan when he feels the tightness of your throat around his cock, closing his eyes for a moment. Tears sting your eyes when he pulls you back, your hands gripping his thighs for leverage.

He lets you catch your breath before pushing you down again, moving your head in a tempo to his liking. When he shoves his cock particularly deep into you, you gag, tears rolling down your cheeks. You’re an absolute mess when he pulls out.

“What a good girl you are,” Jungkook says, his voice hoarse and low. “You just love sucking cock, don’t you?” He rubs his sticky cock against your mouth before slapping his head against it. He moves to your right cheek, smearing the mess over your skin and lightly tapping his cock. “Hm, princess?” he asks softer, almost with fake sympathy. He raises his brows in question, looking down at you like there’s just you and no one else.

“Love it so much,” you agree, moving your head along to the mess he’s making on your face.

Putting his cock back into your mouth, Jungkook leans back, watching you with pleasure etched into his expression as you move your head swiftly, twisting your hand around the part you can’t reach.

“So good,” he mutters, his tatted hand against your cheek just to feel you.

You tug your dress down and bring his cock down to your tits. You spit between the valley of your tits, using his tip to catch it and spread it across your boobs. You moan when his head brushes over your perky nipples. You circle his cock around them in small movements, breathy puffs escaping your mouth with how sensitive you are.

“You’re so fucking hot.” Jungkook fondles one breast with his hand, kneading it with his long fingers. He lets a little drop of spit fall onto your chest too, hungrily watching as you rub it against your soft skin with his cock. “Just want a mess everywhere, right?”

You nod, dragging his cock back into your mouth because you just need to taste him.

Jungkook curses under his breath when you start playing with his balls with your other hand. “Fuck, baby. Gonna cum if you keep going.”

Music to your ears.

You continue, swirling your tongue around his cock as you move up and down, trying to go as deep as you can. You can tell he doesn’t want to cum yet, but he doesn’t drag you off his cock, he’s too needy and horny.

“Cum on my tits.” You shift, jerking his cock in front of your chest.

“You want me to?”

“Please,” you beg, pushing your tits together with your arm, looking up at him with big eyes.

He moans at that sight, spurts of cum shooting across your chest. He paints your tits white with a big load. Your mouth hangs open slightly at the cum dripping from his cock. You lick his cock clean before looking down at your tits.

“You came so much.” You hold your tits in your hands. You flick your finger through some of the cum, putting it in your cum afterwards.

“Fuck, ___, please.”

You giggle at his reaction. You rub the cum into your skin with his still hard cock before it can drip down and create and even bigger mess. Your tits are all shiny from his cum when you’re done.

A shaky breath bubbles from Jungkook’s mouth when you stroke him once more, for good measure. “Pretty sure you got every drop.” He taps your elbow, motioning for you to get up. “Come here.” He pats the bed. “Get on all fours for me.”

While you get comfy on your knees on his bed, he takes off his clothes. Jungkook pushes your dress up your ass, the fabric bunched around your waist.

Jungkook slides one finger between your legs, slowly tracing your pussy through your panties.

“My dick in your mouth got you so wet, huh?” He pushes your panties aside, uttering a soft groan at the sight of your slick pussy. “So needy for me.” He bends down and you can feel his breath on your folds.

“Jungkook, please,” you whine.

“Please?” he repeats. “Such a well-mannered girl.” His tongue darts out, licking a stripe across your pussy.

You’re so incredibly sensitive, been yearning for this for so long, that you back arches immediately, thighs starting to quiver at Jungkook’s mild torture with his tongue.

Jungkook moves to your clit. He switches from little flicks to your nub and sucking on it, creating wet and filthy noises. He’s skilled with his mouth – perhaps a bit too skilled for your liking. But right now, you don’t have the energy to think too deeply about it, you’re just focused on the tingling pleasure that shoots through your tummy.

“Right there, Kook. Don’t stop.”

You watch him through the mirror – the way he is keeping your cheeks apart with his hands, face buried between your thighs, fluffy hair bouncing along with his movements. So handsome, so pretty, so yours.

“Pussy tastes so fucking good,” He mumbles, his fingers sinking deeper into your skin.

“So close. Wanna cum, Jungkook.”

Jungkook hums against you, the vibration making your breath hitch. It’s just his mouth on your pussy, but he knows his way around, knows how to make you squirm.

The pressure builds, winding tight in your core, seconds from snapping. “Jungkook,” you gasp, voice wrecked. “I’m–”

He groans into you, gripping harder, and that’s it—that’s all it takes. The tension in your body breaks all at once, pleasure hitting so hard your vision goes hazy. A choked sound spills from your lips, legs trying to squeeze shut, but he doesn’t let you. Just stays there, working you through it, dragging it out until you’re nothing but shivers and gasps, completely undone beneath him.

Only then does he pull back, breathing heavy, lips slick and swollen. He looks up at you through the mirror, something dark, almost possessive in his gaze, and swipes his thumb over his mouth like he’s savouring the taste.

You look back at him, smiling at his shiny face. His lips are covered along with his chin and his nose and a bit of his cheeks.

“This is, like, one of your best looks.”

“What, fresh out the pussy?”

You giggle. “Yeah,” you mutter, swiping your finger over the tip of his nose to clean him.

“I could have my face buried down there forever. I don’t think you realise how good you taste.” You feel his finger spreading your folds. “But I know my girl is very needy, so she wants cock, hm?”

You sigh, melting into his touch when you feel him slap his dick against your pussy instead. “You know me so well.”

The dick slaps are so wet, and your haze-filled mind craves nothing more than for him to shove his cock inside you, raw and deep, filling you the way you need – no barriers, no hesitation.

But Jungkook is actually able to still form sensible thoughts through the horny haze and grabs a condom from his nightstand.

He doesn’t tease you much before he enters you, just slowly, inch by inch, sliding his cock inside you.

“You good, baby?”

“Uh-huh, you can move.”

You gasp, the feeling almost overwhelming but exactly what you wanted. His hands grip your hips, pulling you back toward him as he starts a steady pace from behind, each thrust making your head spin.

“Missed this pussy,” Jungkook rasps, sneaking one hand down to your ass to spank it, eliciting a surprised moan from you. “So tight, so perfect.” He grabs a handful of your ass. “So mine.”

He fucks you rough, doesn’t give you any chance to think of anything but him. Your hands are clutching at his covers, holding the fabric tightly in your palms.

You feel him spit down on your ass. He rubs his finger over your puckered hole, making you whine and bite your lip at the feeling.

“Oh, Jungkook.” He slides his thumb inside, just the tip of his finger, and yet it feels like so much more, the pleasure intensifying.

“You’re such a slut for me, aren’t you?” he asks, not stopping his relentless pace. “Love getting all your holes filled. So, so dirty.” Contempt is dripping from his voice, and you can’t help but have your pussy throbbing at that.

“Just for you,” you breathe. “Just you, Jungkook.”

“That’s, right.” He pushes his thumb a bit deeper, making your fingers tighten around Jungkook’s sheets. “You’re my girl.”

Your heart is racing, pulse pounding in your ears, and all you can do is nod, your body responding to him without thought, your need for him overwhelming.

With his other hand he tugs at your hair, wrapping it around his hand and creating a makeshift ponytail.

“Look at how pretty you look.”

You turn your head to the mirror. Your back is fully arched, and Jungkook’s all over your, his muscled and tatted body towering over you with his cock deeply buried inside your pussy.

He withdraws his thumb from your hole, delivering another spank to your ass.

“Make me go fucking crazy,” he mumbles, wrapping his hand around your tummy and pulling you up against his chest.

“Kook,” you mumble, resting your head in the crook of his neck. You don’t know what you want, only that you’re feeling this irresistible pull to him, like you want to be even closer to him.

He lets your hair go, moving his hand to your tits and squeezing them.

“Cum with me,” he whispers into your ear, immediately sending shivers down your spine. “Look at yourself when you cum, baby. Want you to see how pretty you are.”

When he sneaks his hand that was wrapped around your tummy down between your legs and starts flicking his fingers over your clit, it’s officially over for you.

You still try to keep your eyes open like Jungkook told you so as you teeter off the edge, your climax consuming you. You watch him come undone too, his brows knitted together, and bottom lip caught between his teeth.

You’re weak on your knees, but Jungkook keeps you firm to his chest, not letting fall as he thrusts into you in a slower, sloppier pace. He peppers your neck and shoulders with little kisses, and you giggle a little, delirious on your high. Your hand reaches for his bicep and you squeeze it.

His skin is hot under your touch, muscles flexing as he holds you up, keeping you steady against him. The slow drag of his movements sends waves of overstimulation through your body, but you don’t pull away.

“I know, baby.” Jungkook hums against your shoulder, his lips still ghosting over your skin, pressing lazy kisses between heavy breaths. “Still with me?” he murmurs, voice low, teasing, as his fingers brush down your sides.

You nod, melting further into him, body pliant against his.

Jungkook pulls out. You whine at the loss. He tosses the condom on the floor – you're too spent to tell him how gross that is – and shifts on the bed, lying down together with you.

His arm drapes over your waist, pulling you close, your body naturally moulding into his like it’s second nature. His skin is still warm, his breaths deep and steady as he settles beside you.

You glance down on yourself – you’re a mess. Panties still on, just pulled to the side like he liked, dress bunched around your waist, evidence of him all over you.

“Can I take a shower before I leave?”

“Sure.”

You wait.

You look up at Jungkook. “You’re not gonna ask if you can join me?”

“I thought that was clear?”

You smile. “Good.”

“Hey – will you now tell me what you wrote in your journal about me?”

“I know we’re back to being friends with benefits, but please know your place.”

“It was worth a try.”

4K notes · View notes

grotesquevi · 2 months ago

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cw # 18+ mdni. deleted the question without knowing lmaooo, but this was requested by @orchidprincesss before my draft was answer privately (lol) this is purely self-indulging knight!vi & runaway!princess, fingering, dumbification, oral sex, the knee thing winkwink, mean!reader, longer than ellie's drabble i lied, wc: 3.5k.

‎‎‎‎‎ㅤㅤ ‎‎‎‎‎ㅤㅤ ‎‎‎‎‎ㅤㅤ ‎‎‎‎‎ㅤㅤ music || 1k directory || previous || next part!

"i'm politely demanding you to untie me" the sound of your voice seems to travel around the cabin as vi's busy working in keeping the fire burning, ignoring you like she's been doing the whole day. "did you hear me knight? this is the princess who's talking. show some damn respect, i'm the next in line for the throne."

it's been like that the whole day. whining, throwing empty threats about how you're going to tell everything to your mother when vi's acting under her commands. surrounded by a snow storm, you're lucky she's capable enough to find shelter in the middle of nowhere, cause if it was for your poor choices, you both be dying in the hands of nature.

“is your future majesty hungry?" her tone is laced with sarcasm and it makes you even more annoyed as you curse under your breath once again for your poor lack of choices. you didn't think about it enough to be fair, when escaping the castle. should've brought more money, better clothes, anything that would help you run far away from your royal duties "speak now. cause i don't know if there's going to be enough food tomorrow."

“yes” you reply still annoyed as ever as she's keeping your hands tied in a rope behind your back "i am hungry. thank you for actually thinking once in your life."

patience. vi just needs to be patient. she's getting a medal. she's going to gain honor, a name on her own as she's the only knight who's able to bring you back to the castle, the personal envoy of the regent queen who's capable of taking you back to the place where you belong. you're precious cargo, so when she's giving you some pieces of dry meat, she's careful of tying your hands back together over your front this time, free enough to let you eat in peace but not enough to allow any sudden movements, still in control since you're very good at disappearing without leaving a trace.

"ridiculous." you say as you eat with disgust: meat's too dry it seems "this whole charade. this entire act of bravery. it's ridiculous."

there's at least two more days of traveling back to the castle with you tied up like a prisoner cause vi´s too afraid of having you running the opposite direction anytime (you already did). forty-eight hours until she gains a decent reputation, a name that's good enough to make her sister proud: violet's not letting, under any circumstance ruin this for her. take all of her hard work just because you're throwing a tantrum.

"i'll say it to you again since you don't seem to understand, princess: you majesty gave me the permission to act in my rational behalf" she has dealt with this behavior before as she happens to have a sister, and jinx can also be a pain in the ass similar to your dashing personality — "i tried to do it your way before and you tried to poison me with belladonna. i'm not letting you out of my sight."

"did you saw the snowstorm outside?" you're planning to kill her with the rope around your wrists. how quickly you can wrap it around her neck until she's no longer breathing. it would take a big fight, but you're 60% sure you can take her, gain your desired freedom "do you really think i'm running away when there's no place to go?"

vi's good at ignoring you. so good it makes your skull tickle with anger, mouth dry when both of you eat in silence. stolen glances as you're too proud to keep talking to her, try to change the knight's mind when she's clearly too driven to her own ideas. she's been loyal to the family for how many years now? of course she's stubborn.

so when the night comes in and the mantle of dark blue covers the sky, there's no stars to guide you back to your stolen future, the bright freedom as the cold sweeps under your clothes and makes you shake unexpected. ends up making your plans dissolve as fast as they appeared in your mind when the knight's already sleeping under a thick blanket she found out while lurking around, and you, on the other hand, experience the sharp cold.

you're not asking for help. you refuse. refuse to ask for anything even when you'll die as your limbs begin to hurt in the first thirty minutes, swollen skin, you can barely move your hands as they seemed to be a victim of the frostbite.

and to be transparent with the whole truth, violet's been a knight since she has memory and she knows also when to expect bad behavior. what she doesn't expect instead is the clicking sound that wakes her up in the middle of the night, the chattering of your teeth when you're hugging yourself close to the fire and the knight is hit with a sharp stab of regret — she was going to give you the blanket before falling asleep.

"princess?" vi's voice irrupts in the silence, the tranquility while the fire's almost consuming. makes her jump out the bed cause you don't really move a muscle, the subtle shaking in your body barely visible due to the lack of lights in the cabin. "princess are you okay?" dumb question. holy fuck. she won't be getting any medal if you're not alive by the time she gets you back to the castle.

so vi's quick to reach you, long steps and calculated movements she's like a force of nature when she's standing in front of you, hand reaching down to swipe beneath the scarf you're wearing in nothing but a white linen shirt that covers right over the knight tights, and seems translucent at the pale illumination of the snow reflecting inside the cabin.

"i don't need your help. f-fuck off" the sudden touch makes you flinch. vi's warm and in contrast to the ice cold of your surroundings, it almost hurt for a moment at the direct contact against your skin. "turn the fire back on."

that's not a language for a princess. not a tongue worth of royalty, but vi's too worried about your state to even say something when her hand pushes against your pulse point and she can feel the subtle beatings of your heart as you try to push her away, prideful as ever.

so it comes to her choices, as the queen said. vi acts under her rational behalf, so that would explain why she's picking you from the cold floor you're seated in, untying your hands as your wrists are already sore: when the chimney has burnt out and you have no other choice than to cling to her embrace, take any kind of warmth you can receive as vi's carrying you back to bed, covering you with the blankets up to your neck.

rationality dictates her decisions, the knight's a loyal dog cause vi finds herself thinking in quick ways of making you gain a normal body temperature again, sliding against your side even when she's reluctant to any contact at first.

"what are you doing?" little shit. you can barely speak as you're stuttering on each word, shaking as she's getting closer to you "knight."

"my name's vi, not just knight" how can you be so annoying even when she's trying to save your life? good fuck. "i'm trying to help you make it through the damn night. now shut up and think about warm things."

vi. the name repeats itself multiple times as you can feel her hand wrapping around your waist, pulling you closer as you can experience the temperature of her breathing right over your neck, barely a blow of air that makes you shiver. she smells like ashes, like sweat after all those days without a proper bath and it has all the ingredients to make you grossed out, but instead of that, you find yourself defining it as comforting, as nice even if you’re asked.

ten minutes turn twenty, thirty as you're unable to surpass the cold, until vi’s suddenly moving away and you look at her from over your shoulder only to have your eyes widening in awe: why, the fuck, is she peeling the layers of her body away?

you turn back to the extinguished fire in the chimney, the pieces of wood consumed by the fire at the sight of naked skin, trying to give the knight any kind of privacy even when she’s the one that’s tossing her shirt to the side only to come back again to hug you.

“what are you doing-” is it the only thing you can ask? forever weirded out by her actions? a torment when vi’s hand begins to undress you without a single word of warning—. “can you answer me? what are you doing? i think you’re misreading this. sorry to say i'm not-”

your tone makes vi stop in her tracks for a second, her brows furrowed as she stares at you for a dead minute: are you nervous by any chance? despite the logic of her actions, her desire to keep you alive, are you nervous since she’s exposed right next to you? man. she realizes now that her lack of shame, is the result of always being exposed to the human eye, to the rest of her fellow knights.

“tell me princess, have your fancy teachers ever told you about skin-to-skin temperature?” she makes you feel dumb for a second as you keep you chin up in response — “you’re freezing even when i’m all over you, and i value my life as i don't want myself hanged. am i really the one who’s misreading things here?”

“of course i know what it is. i’m surprised you know about skin-to-skin contact.”

it makes you stay silent as vi keeps undressing you, pretending you understand the logic of her actions as she's leaving your cold clothes outside the bed until you need to hold your breath in, suddenly forgetting how to do something easy as breathe, when you’re naked under a thick duvet of what if must be animal fur, and you're experiencing the warmth of the knight hugging you again, pressing herself against your back and holding you close to her chest.

oh fuck.

it’s insane. the ultimate act of madness when vi’s once again leaning against your neck, pressing her chin right over your naked shoulder, just checking on your body heat according to herself. however, makes her worry when she's getting distracted by the smell of your skin right under her nostrils, how you’re able to smell like a field of recently blossomed flowers even when your gown’s messed up, when your hair is tangled in dirt and you’re covered in the sweat of now exposed to extreme temperatures.

“i’m sorry. for leaving you without anything that offered some sort of cover” vi’s heart’s beating again when she’s able to feel yours against her hands, when her fingertips cant help but caress the skin of your waist in invisible circles, covered in tenderness. “are you better now?”

“i'm okay” you say getting over the shame and finding truth in her words, leaning against her touch as vi’s skin is warmer than usual, makes you feel normal again, cozy. “my mother will still find out about how you almost left me to die, vi.”

"you're so spoiled" there’s no venom in her words more than just teasing. you’re saying her name and its strange how it gets so quickly under her skin, how she can see the way your teeth catch your lower lip when you pronounce the letter v “even when i’m helping you, you find ways of being a disrespectful brat.”

you’d say something. maybe tease her like you've been doing the whole day — but your ass is pressed against her front, her breathing hovers right over your skin, and you're enjoying the relaxed touch of vi's fingers when they go right over your stomach, roaming around like you've always been there to touch, to fit right against her arms.

"i'm not going to say anything" she has the perfect view of your neck, the back profile of your face, the shadows you project against the improvised bed she made up earlier: she's trying so hard not to think about your ass. "i'm just messing with you."

you turn your head to look at her even in the dark and vi's tummy hurt at the need that settles on the lower part of her stomach, the way your eyes glisten under the minimum light that slides inside, silent like a thief thats coming to steal your most prized belongings.

"before, you said i was going to poison you with belladonna" she don't care now before her gaze slipped to see the curve of your chest, the amount of exposed skin already driving the knight crazy as vi can see the curve and the stiffed peak of your breast as the duvet slips off against your sudden movement, the erotic shadow of your figure — "you're mistaking it with wolfsbane. you'd be hallucinating for a while. it was a very small dose."

"so you weren't intending to kill me?" she asks, and it's inevitable at this point, when the knight's lips brush against your back and the tip of her nose grazes against your shoulder, no turning back when vi's pressing a soft kiss right in the zone "is that what you're trying to say?"

"no intentions of killing. nope."

she's kissing the same spot again and it does things to you. makes your body respond to the tingles left in your skin at the contact of her lips, and at the lack of denial, vi keeps going when your breathing turns heavier, when she's making sure you want it too.

"tell me to stop your majesty."

the knight's brain turns into a pile of mush when you're pushing your ass back against her and your back arches almost asking vi to keep going, keep the eager caressing in your stomach now right beneath your breasts.

"i can't tell you that."

"then tell me about how i'm a hound dog destined to only serve and gain nothing more than the pride of the crown" she begs, hands tightening against your side — "how this isn't right for a princess as yourself."

"i don't care about the crown," the words slip like a secret, like an admission you need to make and it stays in the air for a while. "if you wish to serve, vi, serve me."

violet vanderson's the most loyal knight. she has served the royals with blood, sweat and actual tears, bent the knee to your father before he died, to your mother as the regent queen, and with you in a much different context as she's placing her bended knee right between your legs; makes you gasp for a moment as you can feel the warmth of her thigh pressing against your sensitive flesh.

"you're wet," vi mumbles against your ear, and how she's positioned — right behind you, it gives her the perfect path to let her hand previously caressing your skin, slide between your legs and reach its way to heaven, a couple of digits spreading your folds in the most intimate touch. "this turns you on?"

she can feel you nodding your head, admitting over and over again: yes it does. it fucking does. turns you on more than anything you've experienced before when she's touching you like she wants to know you, like she needs to discover what exactly gets you there, where to touch.

how a knight can begin to touch a princess in the way she deserves? she lacks of delicacy, vi's movements are rough, messy and erratic, incapable of keeping a pace as her calloused hands roam against your sex, staining the palm of her hand with what it could be visible arousal if having just a slight more light.

"you were so eager to talk back before, what happened to you" lost, vi's tone wanders in an empty head only to leave your right ear as fast as it enters. "tell me about how i'm misreading this again, how you're not soaked because some skin-to-skin contact to save your life."

mhm. you're breathing a soft affirmation, a humming sound that comes from your chest, an exhalation from your lungs as they seem to hold too much air inside. her free hand forces you to move against her leg using the right amount of pressure to create that delicious circle your hips make, and your cunt opens perfectly for her, parts right in the middle to feel the drag of your folds against her skin, the wet trail it leaves behind making the surface of vi's leg lubricated enough to just slide, to let your knight have the most comfortable reach to your clit who she's doesn't spend much time looking for, to rub at the most sloppy pace.

"please-"

"please what?" the words seem to get lost mid-way, trapped in your throat as her index finger reaches your entrance, and vi's teasing it without fully sinking in, testing for a moment as she keeps trying to hold on to this rationality that lingers in the back of her brain. struggling when your hole loosens up for her digits and she's wondering for at least then seconds, how correct is to fuck a princess using her fingers, how she should be pushing the very tip inside to just tease how tight you are, how good you'd felt enveloping her fingers; sucking them inside until they hit that space you'll learn to love.

"please just- i need to feel you closer, be full of you."

“yeah? do you want me to use my fingers?”

"yes-" you're so good like this. you forget about the attitude, let your guard down only to let her have you in plain devotion, in a need that makes the knight's hands act on their own. "need you to treat me like i've always been yours."

and vi's kissing you this time cause she needs to feel the gained warmth of your breathing against her lips, your moans muffling against her bucal fat as her tongue pushes right against yours in a messy kiss, one full of shared saliva, teeth and slurred words of praise.

her fingers push slowly at first, you're tight, warm, inviting, swallow her fingers ready for her until vi's knuckles deep and she's biting on your neck to keep her own moans in check.

fails miserably when you're failing miserably too. when you're loud as she's using a couple of finger to scissor them inside your sex, spreading you for what vi would love to be her strap, making room as she rubs against your walls, making you drip down your legs, making an entire new mess.

"keep rubbing your pussy against my leg m'lady" vi encourages you, voice rough, you're entirely sure she's enjoying this as much as you do. "i'm yours to use."

and at this point you can barely move, following the force of vi's hands pushing you back and forth until you're welcomed by the heat, the fire that comes from inside and spreads all over your chest when you're finally spasming over her hand and it's the final cue to your orgasm pouring over like warm water after a long day.

she's kissing on your back again, following the bones of your spine, burying her nose in your hair, keep you as humanly close when your muscles tense and you're leaking all over her leg.

"there you go," vi smiles against your skin when you're stopping on your clumsy movements, when your skin's now burning against hers and you need to uncover yourself from the duvet — "you okay, sweetheart?"

it's actually rewarding when you're giving a big breath before sinking down the blanket, positioning between her parted legs.

"can you hold my hair?" you ask, looking up to the knight as she's holding the cover up to see what exactly your doing when you're teasing her entrance with a couple of fingers seconds before spitting right over her swollen cunt.

she's dizzy already, lost in a haze of a contact that makes her shiver. it's not really necessary cause vi's already dripping, but it makes her skin violently shiver when the saliva's following a path back to her ass, sticking to the shape of her cunt already glistening from before.

"i'm giving you a medal" you reply, spreading her for your pleasure and gaining a suffocated moan — "an special one you cannot get with the rest of my family."

it makes her shut up when her hands grab a fistful of your hair in her hand, as vi can feel the movements of your head when you're going down on her and oh—

she's not tying your hands against your back the next morning.

no. in the next forty-eight hours vi keeps you trapped between her arms, in the same horse as her, riding your way back to the castle and being a victim of her neck kisses, her touchy hands as you comply pleased to her every need.

turns out what the runaway princess needed was being followed around by her most loyal knight — maybe you're ready to the throne. you can clearly use some power to your benefit.

1K notes · View notes

luceleste · 2 months ago

Text

Where Flowers Bow

Chapter 1

pairing – Satoru Gojo x f!reader summary – Invited to Duke Satoru Gojo’s palace as a potential bride, you arrive with nothing but a ruined name and perfect manners. Among jewels and judgment, you’re just another candidate in a parade of perfect girls — until a stranger in the garden, who isn’t what he seems, speaks to you like you’re real. In a palace of masks, someone has already chosen you. You just don’t know why.

warnings – renaissance!AU, female reader, eventual SMUT, strangers to lovers, angst with comfort, political drama, emotional tension, power imbalance, mentions of social hierarchy/class pressure, slow burn, manipulation, masks and appearances, gojo’s mother is named midora. reader’s mother is important in the story. the language leans slightly formal and poetic in tone to match the setting. more to be added.

word count – 7.7k

notes – This will be a long story because I love drama. I was completely obsessed with the idea of Duke Gojo after reading Silent Serenades by @madamechrissy and couldn’t get it out of my head. Thanks for the inspo, Chrissy ♡

divider by @thecutestgrotto

next chapter

It had never been a secret that you were meant to marry well — and soon. Since childhood, your mother had made it your life’s purpose. You were trained to move with grace, to speak only when spoken to, to always smile at the right moments. Every lesson, every correction, every praise was offered with the same quiet promise: become the perfect wife, and you’ll be rewarded. Preferably with wealth. Hopefully with influence. Love was never part of the arrangement.

You were raised knowing your fate, and it wasn’t as if you had any other choice, so you learned to accept it.

You also knew — though it was never spoken aloud — that your mother had pulled every string she could to keep your family’s downfall a secret. If anyone had learned the truth — the debt, the disgrace, the thin cracks in your inheritance — you wouldn’t have been offered to a tailor’s apprentice, let alone a Duke.

And yet, somehow, your name had made it to the list.

Now, as the carriage rocked gently beneath you, you pressed a hand to the velvet-lined wall and stared out through the narrow window. The estate was still far in the distance, but even from here, you could see the spires reaching toward the sky — proud, pale, and unreal. The Gojo palace was not meant for people like you. It belonged to stories. To legends. To those born into power, not those clawing at the edges of it.

You didn’t know what your mother had promised, or to whom. You didn’t know how many hands she’d kissed or threatened, how many secrets she’d buried. But she had gotten you here — one of the few young women selected to be considered for the hand of Duke Satoru Gojo.

And now, you would have to survive it.

The silence in the carriage was heavy — the kind that pressed against your ribs and made your thoughts feel too loud.

Your mother sat across from you, spine perfectly straight despite the uneven road. Her gloved hands rested in her lap, unmoving. Not a single strand of hair had escaped the smooth roll pinned at the base of her neck. She was composed, as always — the picture of control.

“You will remember what I taught you.” She said at last, not looking at you.

It wasn’t a question.

You nodded once. “Yes, Mother.”

Her gaze shifted to the window. “You must make yourself indispensable. But never too eager. You must appear grateful, but never desperate. If he suspects you want him—truly want him—it’s over.”

You said nothing.

A moment passed.

“You can’t ruin this.”

The words sat between you like an accusation. You turned your face toward the glass, watching the pale towers grow taller with every passing second. “What did you promise?”

Your mother’s jaw tightened.

“Nothing we can’t survive.” She said. “If you do well.”

You looked at her again then — really looked. There was something steely beneath her calm, something like exhaustion pressed behind her eyes. You wondered how many letters she had written. How many names she’d begged from. How many favors she’d burned to ash.

The silence returned. But you were used to it by now. In fact, you preferred it this way.

The carriage slowed.

The pale stone of the palace shimmered like a mirage — all towering columns and gleaming spires, its windows catching the sunlight like shards of cut glass. It didn’t look real. It looked like something out of a storybook, the kind your governess used to read aloud when you were small — back when your family still had a governess. Still had servants. Still had status.

Even the front yard — if it could be called that — was larger than your entire estate. Wide marble steps unfolded like a stage. Fountains danced in the sunlight as if they existed for no other purpose than to sparkle.

It was beautiful.

It was obscene.

And you were expected to belong here.

Your heart beat once. Then again, harder.

Still, your hands remained folded neatly in your lap. Your posture was perfect. Your face, serene.

Outside, servants moved with mechanical precision — polished boots striking stone in perfect cadence, crisp uniforms, faces impassive. No one looked at the carriage. And yet, you felt it. The watching.

This place had eyes. You could feel them the moment the wheels touched the marble drive — silent, faceless, everywhere.

Don’t show it. You told yourself. Not the awe. Not the fear. Not the ache in your chest that felt dangerously close to hope.

“Chin up.” Your mother said as the carriage door clicked open. Her voice was calm — too calm. The kind that disguised sharp edges.

She stepped out first, her movements elegant, unhurried. Then, with a gloved hand, she offered you help — not as a gesture of affection, but of precision. Ceremony. As expected.

You took it.

The breeze greeted you at once, cool and perfumed with something you couldn’t name — roses, maybe, or lavender crushed under carriage wheels. It brushed your face like a caress, but there was no comfort in it. Only the sharp reminder that you were no longer home.

Some of the servants nearby rushed forward to collect the luggage, moving with quiet efficiency, as if every step had been rehearsed. Then, a tall young woman approached — graceful and composed, each movement deliberate.

She had long black hair pulled back in a smooth coil, lashes dark as ink, and cheekbones so finely sculpted they gave her the air of something painted, not born.

“Ladies.” She said, bowing her head with effortless poise. Her voice was smooth, practiced. “I am Ysera. I’ll be attending you throughout your stay at the palace. If you would follow me?”

You tried to match her composure, straightening your spine just slightly. But something inside you twisted — not from fear exactly, but from the quiet, rising suspicion that even the palace’s servants were more prepared for this world than you were.

The moment you stepped inside, the air changed.

It was cooler here, like the walls had been holding their breath for centuries. The floors gleamed with such care that your reflection shimmered faintly beneath your feet. Tapestries the height of trees draped the walls, woven with gold thread and scenes you didn’t recognize. Stained glass windows filtered the sunlight into soft pools of blue, red, and purple that danced across the marble.

You had never seen anything so opulent. Or so quiet.

The corridor stretched endlessly before you. Every step felt too loud. You kept your chin up, your gaze steady, but your throat had gone dry.

Ysera walked ahead, graceful and unhurried. Your mother followed as if she belonged here — as if she’d done this before. Only you seemed to feel the weight pressing down from the ceiling itself, from the velvet silence, from the history threaded into every stone.

You tried not to stare too long at the grandeur around you. You couldn’t afford to be caught in awe. You were supposed to be used to this — supposed to belong among the gold and glass.

“You are to rest for now.” Ysera said as she led you down the hallway. “The banquet will be served at six. Please be prepared—Her Grace, Lady Midora Gojo, and His Grace, Lord Satoru Gojo, will see you there.”

You weren’t sure which name made your stomach twist more.

Ysera stopped before a tall white door and turned the handle with a graceful twist of her wrist.

“This is your room.”

You stepped forward — then froze.

It was a vision in blue and gold.

Sunlight poured through gauzy curtains, casting a soft glow over the white walls and spilled across an intricate carpet underfoot. The bed looked like something out of a painting: large enough to drown in, dressed in rich blue velvet and trimmed with golden tassels. Matching chairs stood beside a tall window. The room glowed with quiet warmth, like it had been prepared with care — not just for a guest, but for someone meant to be seen.

Your mother moved to enter behind you, but Ysera lifted a hand—polite, firm, immovable.

“I’m sorry, my lady.” She said. “This chamber is for your daughter alone. Don’t worry—your quarters are just as refined.”

Your mother’s lips thinned, but she said nothing.

You knew her well enough to recognize the displeasure in her silence. She didn’t like the idea of you being alone — not now, not in a place like this, where everything mattered and everything could be lost. But still, you couldn’t help the quiet relief that bloomed in your chest. For a few hours, at least, you would be able to breathe without being corrected. You could sleep without being jolted awake for sleeping in an improper position.

“Good evening, Mother. I hope you rest well.” You said, offering your most delicate smile — the one you’d practiced a hundred times in the mirror. “And thank you, Ysera.”

“I will return to escort you to the banquet hall, my lady.” Ysera replied, bowing with elegant precision before closing the door behind her with a soft, final click.

Silence.

Your knees wobbled. You reached for the edge of the bed, fingers curling into the thick velvet for balance.

Your mind spiraled — how were you supposed to become a Duchess when you could barely breathe in a place like this? How were you meant to impress a man whose palace made your childhood home look like the servant’s quarters? How could you ever convince a family like his that you belonged here?

The fear crept in slowly. Then all at once.

But you swallowed it, like you always did.

Because there was no room for doubt now.

You had to be perfect.

—

You couldn’t rest. Not even for a moment.

Lying in the enormous bed, you stared up at the blue and gold panels carved into the ceiling, your fingers drifting across the velvet sheets like they belonged to someone else. This wasn’t just a room — it was a throne disguised as a chamber, built for people born into power, not for girls like you, who had to be trained to imitate it.

The thoughts hadn’t stopped since the door clicked shut.

What would you do if he didn’t choose you? How would you face your mother then — look her in the eye after everything she’d risked?

Were the other pretenders just as close to breaking as you?

And the Duke… how did he look?

Not that it mattered. It wasn’t his face that would decide your future. It was his choice.

And it had never really been yours.

You kept repeating it in your head like a prayer — the way to walk, the right tone to speak in, how much to laugh, how little to eat, the exact pressure to hold a glass without showing a shake. Over and over. Again and again.

The walls felt like they were pressing in, gilded edges turning into a cage. Every breath you took felt shallow, like the air itself was too fine for your lungs. You knew this wasn’t how you were supposed to behave — a lady didn’t wander, didn’t drift unsupervised through a Duke’s palace like a restless ghost. But you needed air. Just a moment of it. Something real.

You stood by the door, frozen.

What if someone caught you? What if the Duke’s mother — Lady Gojo — heard of it? What if this single choice undid everything your mother had schemed to build? Your hands were cold, slick with nerves. But the thought of staying — of lying back on those sheets and letting the silence close in around you — felt worse. You couldn’t breathe. You couldn’t think. You had to move.

You remembered a door you’d passed earlier, tucked between gilded columns and half-shadowed tapestries — it had looked like it led to the garden. You hoped you were right.

With fingers trembling against silk skirts, you stepped out of your room. The hall beyond was quiet. Too quiet.

Your mother would skin you alive if she found out. But with any luck, she was already resting. Or pretending to.

Your shoes made no sound on the polished floor as you walked, heart hammering with every step. A pair of servants passed — expressionless, dressed in silver and navy — and though their eyes slid to you, they said nothing. Just a bow of the head. Polite. Dismissive.

You found the door. Tall. Glass-paneled. Cool to the touch.

You pushed it open.

And breathed.

The garden unfolded like something from a dream — all sculpted hedges and marble fountains, arching roses and soft grass that looked too delicate to walk on. The scent of jasmine hung in the air, faint and heady. Lanterns glowed in the distance like fireflies caught mid-flight.

You had never seen anything so beautiful.

A light breeze played with your hair as you walked, catching at the loose strands and brushing cool against your cheeks. For the first time since arriving, you felt something close to peace — fragile, fleeting, but real. The distant sound of water trickling from a fountain filled the silence without demanding anything from you.

Then, you stopped.

A bush of blue flowers caught your eye — their color so vivid, it hardly seemed real. Not sapphire. Not cornflower. Something deeper, stranger, like the sky just before a storm or the pigment of a dream you couldn’t quite name. It was a shade you didn’t know flowers could be — not in books, not in gardens, not in anything meant to bloom.

You knelt, skirts folding beneath you, fingers hovering just above the petals. There was something sacred in the way they bent with the breeze — not broken, not fragile, only reverent. Your hand trembled slightly as you reached out, not quite touching. As if afraid contact would wake you from whatever this was.

They looked too beautiful to be allowed. And yet they bowed gently toward your palm, like they were the ones drawn to you.

“Are you lost?”

The voice cut through the quiet — warm, unhurried, and far too close.

You startled.

Spine snapping straight, you turned so quickly your hand brushed the petals. The flowers trembled — or maybe it was you.

There he was.

A tall man with silver-white hair, his skin pale and glowing faintly in the evening light. And his eyes — blue, yes, but nothing like the flowers. His eyes were unreal. Too vivid. Too piercing. Like they didn’t belong to this world.

He wasn’t dressed like a servant. His shirt sleeves were rolled to the elbows, and he wore no coat, but there was an ease to the way he stood — like he belonged here more than anyone.

You stood quickly, smoothing your dress. “I’m so sorry, sir.” You said, breathless. “I only came to get some fresh air.”

He raised an eyebrow, clearly amused.

“Lady Midora doesn’t like people picking her flowers.”

You froze. His voice sent a chill down your spine. And then you noticed — the way he’d called Duchess Gojo only by her first name.

Panic tightened in your chest. You couldn’t get in trouble on your first day in the palace.

“I—I wasn’t going to pick them.” You stammered, cursing yourself. “I’m really sorry. I just meant to—”

Your words caught in your throat as he stepped closer, reaching past you. His hand moved with quiet ease as he plucked one of the vibrant blooms from the bush behind you.

“But she’ll forgive me.” He said simply, offering it to you with a faint smile. “Eventually.”

You hesitated before taking the flower. His fingers brushed yours — just for a second — and something in your stomach twisted in response.

“Thank you.” You said uncertainly.

He only nodded, studying you with quiet curiosity.

“You’re not from the capital.” Not a question, but a fact.

You swallowed. “No, I’m not.”

“So what brings you here?”

You let your fingers trace the petals, trying to mask the thudding of your heart.

“I’m here for the banquet.” you said quickly. “Just a guest.”

“A guest.” he echoed, the corner of his mouth lifting like the word struck him as unexpected.

There was something about him — the way he stood, so relaxed, so confident — like no one had ever told him to be quiet or careful in his entire life.

You took a breath. “May I ask who you are, sir?” You asked carefully, trying not to look directly into his eyes.

“Same as you.” He said. “Just a guest.”

The tension in your chest loosened just slightly. He was clearly someone important, but if he wasn’t part of the Gojo household… you could breathe a little easier.

“Oh. I see.” You glanced down, your grip tightening around the flower. “The garden was so beautiful, I just had to see it for myself. I hope Duchess Gojo won’t be too upset.”

“She won’t, if she doesn’t find out.”

You let out a small laugh, hiding your smile behind your free hand.

“Well… I hope she doesn’t, then.”

“I won’t tell.” He said, already turning toward one of the marble fountains nearby. “If you don’t tell I’m here either.”

“Your secret is safe, sir.” You replied.

And when he walked, you followed.

His steps were slow but deliberate, hands clasped behind his back, like your presence was a detail, not a disruption. He moved with a kind of ease — not arrogant, exactly, but far from the stiff grace you’d been trained to recognize in noblemen.

And just when you thought the silence might stretch forever—

“Do you think he’ll choose you?” He asked, casually — like commenting on the weather, eyes still fixed on the marble fountain ahead.

You blinked. “What?”

“The Duke.” He clarified. “You’re here as one of the pretenders, aren’t you?”

Your step faltered.

He glanced at you from the corner of his eye, a faint smile ghosting across his lips — but his voice had dropped lower now.

“Do you think he’ll choose you?”

The question landed softly — but it echoed through your ribs like a bell. You turned to him, uncertain if you’d heard him correctly. But he was watching the water.

You opened your mouth, then closed it again.

“I… I wouldn’t know.” You said at last, the words careful, almost measured. “I haven’t even met him. Or the other girls.”

He tilted his head, studying you.

“I imagine they were trained as well as you.” He said, leaning against the fountain’s edge. “They know how to pretend they belong.”

“Would you blame us? It’s not like we have a choice.” The words slipped out — too fast, too real — and you winced. That wasn’t how you spoke. Not here. But something about him disarmed your careful rehearsals.

He smiled, faintly amused. “No blame. Don’t worry.”

He looked to the palace — the gold-trimmed walls glowing in the twilight. “This place swallows people.” He said. “It’s made to. Most who walk through those doors forget who they were before.”

“You speak like you’ve seen it happen.”

He shrugged, trailing his fingers through the fountain’s water. “I have.”

A beat passed. You moved closer, the flower in your hand was warm from your grip.

“Why did you ask me that?”

His eyes met yours. “Because you don’t seem like you’ve forgotten yet.”

You weren’t sure if it was a compliment. Or a warning. But it landed somewhere deep — like he saw something you weren’t sure you meant to show.

Then, more lightly, he added, “Or maybe I’m just trying to make conversation with the girl who wasn’t supposed to be in the garden.”

You huffed — almost a laugh — tension easing from your chest. “Well, you said you weren’t supposed to be here either. So I’d say we’re even.”

This time, it was your fingers brushing the water’s surface.

He didn’t speak at first. He just watched the motion of your hand — not rudely, not with the judgment you were used to. It was more like… curiosity. The kind that didn’t need answering.

“So,” he said at last, voice mellow, “do you make a habit of wandering into forbidden places?”

You glanced at him, arching an eyebrow. “Only when they’re beautiful.”

He smiled at that. Not the kind you’d expect — not polite, not rehearsed. It was crooked, almost boyish, like he hadn’t meant to let it out. “Dangerous answer.”

“Is it?” You challenged, resting your hands on the stone edge. “Or is it just honest?”

He tilted his head, regarding you again. “Honesty isn’t common here.” He said. “I can tell you are really not from the capital.”

“I didn’t think it was that obvious.” You murmured, glancing down.

“I didn't mean it in a bad way, trust me.”

You turned to him again, surprised by his tone. There was no mockery in it. If anything, he sounded almost wistful.

Then he glanced back at the water and said, lightly. “You know, when I was younger, I used to think there were tiny spirits living in fountains.”

You smiled. “Spirits?”

He nodded. “They’d whisper secrets to anyone brave enough to listen. I spent a whole summer trying to make them talk to me.”

“And did they?”

He leaned in slightly, stage-whispering. “Only once. But they had terrible advice.”

You laughed, and it came out too loud — real, surprised. You covered your mouth again, embarrassed.

But he just looked pleased.

He grinned. “They told me to cut all my hair off. I did. My mother nearly banished me to the mountains.”

“You can’t be real!” You said, still trying — and failing — to hold your laugh.

“I mean it!” He insisted, mock-offended. “She was furious, and I was completely frustrated — the tiny spirits conspired against me.”

You gave him a look — amused, curious, surprised at yourself. He wasn't afraid to say what he wanted, like you always were.

“What about you?” You asked. “You’re a guest… you said?”

Where was this curiosity coming from? You never let yourself speak so freely — but your spine wasn’t so straight now, your voice not so careful. Around him, it was like remembering how to breathe.

“I did say that.”

“But that’s not all, I presume.”

“Isn’t it?” His smile sharpened, eyes glittering. “I’m not lying.”

“No. But you’re not telling everything, either.”

“I’m always more sincere before breakfast.” He said with a grin. “After that, I tend to talk between the lines and hang around gardens hoping someone interesting loses their way.”

It took you a moment to register what he’d said — and when you did, the corners of your mouth betrayed you. A smile, quick and involuntary, slipped out before you could hide it.

As you part your lips to answer him, something shifts in the sky — a single star, then another. Your heart skips a beat.

“Oh dear lord — I’m going to be late!” You breathe, panic clutching your ribs like a corset drawn too tight. You hadn’t even noticed the time passing.

You were supposed to be ready by now. Your gown — laid out across your bed, untouched. Your hair — had the pins held through your aimless wandering? Had the curls fallen? And your shoes — dusty now from the garden paths, the fine leather smudged with soil and crushed petals.

You turn on your heel, but your body refuses to move as quickly as your thoughts. Your feet, suddenly heavy, hesitate on the garden path like they knew something your mind hadn’t admitted yet.

You didn’t want to leave.

How could you? The garden had been the only place you’d felt peace in a long time. Your breath was easier, your voice your own. The quiet here had soothed you, wrapped around your shoulders more gently than silk ever could. And maybe it wasn’t just the garden.

Maybe it was the man beside the fountain.

You look back.

He hasn’t moved. Still by the fountain, the water now glowing silver beneath the deepening twilight. His expression is unreadable — but he’s still watching you.

“Go.” He says softly, almost teasing. “I’ll see you around.”

The words warmed something under your skin. Ridiculous, maybe, how much you wanted to believe him. That this wouldn’t be the last time.

But you lingered a moment longer anyway. Just one more breath. Just in case.

You walked back toward the palace, your steps quieter now, slower than urgency demanded. With each one, the garden slipped further behind you. The flickering lanterns. The scent of jasmine. The sound of trickling water.

But a part of you — maybe the most honest part — was still there, somewhere between the fountain and the blue flowers.

And you weren’t sure if it would follow you back.

—

You didn’t need help getting ready.

Not anymore.

Since your family’s fall, you had learned to pin your own hair, apply your own makeup, to fasten corset laces with aching arms and silent frustration. You had taught yourself to move with elegance, even when no one was watching. Especially then.

Tonight, all of that practice had paid off. You were ready on time.

You’d just finished polishing your shoes — a careful, obsessive effort to remove every speck of dirt from the soles — when three soft knocks came at your door.

“It is time, my lady.” Came Ysera’s voice, muffled through the heavy wood. The same servant who’d helped you and your mother settle in earlier.

You closed your eyes.

That was it.

The performance began now.

You turned to the mirror for a final glance. Your reflection stared back — composed, poised, unfamiliar. You adjusted a curl near your temple, tucking it neatly behind your ear. Then, slowly, you layered on the smile you had practiced for years: gentle, beautiful, convincing.

Perfect.

You reached for the golden handle and opened the door.

Ysera stood before you in her spotless uniform, her face calm, giving nothing away. Behind her was your mother — rigid, as always, her gaze slicing through you like glass.

Just looking at her made your stomach clench. You knew what she was thinking. You knew what was at stake. You knew how much she had gambled to bring you here.

And so, you locked your arm with hers. Chin lifted. Shoulders squared.

You would make this right.

Ysera turned and began to lead you down the corridor, your heels echoing against marble floors. You and your mother followed in silence, arms intertwined, your pace practiced, your steps too careful to be natural.

You wanted to notice the palace — to let yourself be awed by the arched ceilings, the embroidered tapestries, the decor. But your mind was somewhere else entirely. Trapped in your chest. Beating fast, too fast, as though your body already knew what you were walking into.

“You won’t have another chance.” Your mother whispered beside you.

“I will cherish this opportunity, Mother.”

She didn’t look at you. She hadn’t looked at you in a long time. Not really. Her gaze always seemed to move just past you — like you were an image she hadn’t fully decided to keep.

“This isn’t the pair of earrings I told you to wear.”

Your hand flew to your ear without thinking, brushing the tiny gold drops you’d chosen.

“You were supposed to wear the pearls. I told you twice.”

“I know.” You said, softly. “I forgot to bring them.”

She sighed. A short breath. Not angry. Just disappointed. And tired.

You were always tired around each other.

“Of course you did.”

You said nothing. There was nothing to say. You were already working so hard to hold yourself together, your smile strained at the edges, your spine starting to ache from how perfectly you were standing.

Ysera turned to you both, her voice gentle and practiced. “When you enter the hall, please sit immediately and do not speak until Her Grace, Lady Gojo, arrives. Do not interact with the others. Do not touch anything.”

You nodded. Your mother did the same.

Ysera stepped ahead and knocked on a tall, intricately carved white door.

It opened.

And for a moment, the world beyond it stole your breath.

The banquet hall was the largest room you had ever seen. The ceiling arched like a cathedral. Gilded columns stood in quiet rows along the walls, and between them, paintings — scenes of battles, saints, and heavenly skies — hung in golden frames as tall as you.

Statues stood like ghosts in the corners: marble maidens, a king holding a broken sword. Even the air smelled expensive — a blend of beeswax, rose oil, and something cool and sharp you couldn’t name.

But nothing — nothing — caught your attention like the table.

A single, enormous thing of polished mahogany, stretched the length of the room, set with silver platters and porcelain plates. Dozens of candles flickered in crystal holders, their flames casting shadows that danced across the glass. Every fork and knife was placed with precision, every napkin folded in identical perfection.

And around that table sat the other girls.

Three of them.

Each one more dazzling than the last.

Their dresses were made of the kind of fabric you’d only ever seen in paintings — silk that shimmered like water, lace so fine it looked like mist. Their jewelry sparkled with diamonds and pearls that didn’t catch the light — they commanded it. Their mothers sat beside them, regal and composed.

You had worn your finest gown. The one your mother had preserved from her younger years. You had tailored it yourself, adjusted the sleeves, stitched new embroidery along the hem.

You had thought it would be enough.

You were wrong.

They looked at you as you entered. All of them.

Not cruelly. Not even unkindly. Just… assessing. Like you were another item on the table, something to be weighed, compared, measured for worth.

And for the first time tonight, your smile nearly slipped.

You swallowed hard, forcing yourself not to flinch under their eyes.

You had come this far.

You had to be perfect.

Even if it was already clear that perfection might not be enough.

The walk to your chair felt like a slow unraveling.

The stone floor echoed beneath your shoes, each step striking sharper than it should have. In the silence of the room, the sound was unkind — like you were announcing your presence when you would’ve rather disappeared.

No one spoke. Not even a polite murmur.

The three girls didn’t look at one another. They didn’t need to. The awareness in the room was a current — unseen, electric. You could feel it tightening around you with every step. You hadn’t even sat down yet, and already, you were being measured.

You wanted to look down.

But your mother’s voice echoed in your mind — firm, steady. “Head high. Chin soft. Never let them see where it hurts.”

So you did as she taught you. You lifted your gaze and let it drift, slow and deliberate, across the table.

Lady Taira.

Her silver gown shimmered like the moonlight. Every fold fell perfectly, not by accident — but because she’d been trained to make it seem accidental. Her wavy blonde hair had the kind of polish no brush could give without servants. And she sat like a statue — not stiff, but still. As if stillness was her natural state.

Your mother’s words came back to you, clipped and precise: “Baroness by title, but richer than half the dukes in the realm. Her family could buy land from the crown and not blink. She grew up in court — learned how to smile without warmth, and bow without bending. Watch her closely.”

Lady Vale.

She looked like something carved from ivory — soft, luminous, too pure to be real. Her dress shimmered like pearl dust, but her eyes… they gleamed. Curls were pinned atop her head, each one meticulous. She blinked slowly, almost too slowly.

“She’s the youngest, but don’t mistake that for innocence. Her family’s been loyal to the Gojo house for generations. Her father commanded the guard of the late Duke Gojo. She won’t make a scene — she’ll make allies. And she’ll do it quietly.”

And then — Condess Shinto.

There was no softness in her. Her eyes were green like shattered glass — beautiful, but not safe. She wore a dress the color of drying blood, velvet with a neckline like a blade. Around her throat sat a string of emeralds, polished to gleam like envy itself. She didn’t smile, not really. Not in any way that counted.

Your mother hadn’t even hesitated about her:

“She’s the favorite. Everyone knows it. Her uncle sits on the Council. Her cousins command fleets. She doesn’t have to try. The game is already rigged in her favor.”

You still remembered the day you found out a Condess — a woman with rank, wealth, and lineage — wasn’t the automatic choice for the Duke’s hand.

It had seemed impossible. If Condess Shinto wasn’t already chosen, then what were the rest of you doing here?

Even now, you didn’t have the answer.

They sat like portraits in a gallery — elegant, composed, untouchable.

You, by contrast, were a question mark. A curiosity.

A last-minute invitation.

A gamble made by a mother with nothing left but her name.

Still — you sat without flinching.

Lady Taira adjusted her glove with practiced indifference. Lady Vale blinked — slow, measured. Countess Shinto tapped one perfect nail against her glass, the sound sharp as judgment.

It was a game, all of it. And you were part of it, whether you liked it or not.

You were all pawns.

The only unfairness was that you were playing against perfection — girls raised for this moment, sculpted like marble into their roles. You told yourself you didn’t care. You told yourself you had no illusions. But sitting here, surrounded by them, it was hard not to feel the crushing weight of inadequacy.

Of course, you had been raised to be perfect too — taught the art of posture, of quiet obedience, of speaking only when spoken to. But as you looked around the table, at the glinting jewels, the practiced stillness, the effortless grace stitched into every gesture of the girls before you, you knew with aching certainty: you could never compare. Not to them. Not here. Not like this.

You had known, the moment you received the letter sealed with the Gojo crest, that this was far beyond you. You’d told yourself it was a formality. A courtesy. A trap, perhaps. But seeing them — the daughters of power and pedigree — was far more harrowing than any whispered rumor.

Your thoughts were scattered, tangled with tension, until—just for a flicker—you remembered the man in the garden.

The memory came soft at first: a breath of wind, the scent of crushed petals, the way the late sunlight caught the edge of his smile. He had seemed too unreal to belong to a place like this — and yet, in that moment, beside him, you had felt more yourself than you had in days. Maybe years.

Next to him, you had felt human.

Real.

Like you could belong in a place where flowers bloomed without permission and skies stretched wide and generous.

You barely caught yourself flushing, the ghost of that smile threatening to surface again.

And that’s when the door opened.

The great double doors at the far end of the hall parted without a single trumpet. Just the hush of wood and silk and breath. You turned delicately, instinctively, unsure of what you were expecting.

A woman entered — tall, composed, resplendent in restraint.

Duchess Midora Gojo.

You had heard the stories. Everyone had. That she’d ruled the Gojo estate with a blade sheathed in velvet. That she’d survived the fall of her husband without lowering her chin once. That she’d raised her son — the son — with wolves at the gate and knives at her back. And yet, no story prepared you for the sight of her.

She didn’t walk.

She arrived.

Her gown was navy, trimmed with gold — the kind of understated elegance that made more extravagant outfits look like theater costumes. The fabric shimmered subtly, embroidery catching only the softest hints of light. Her silver hair was braided into a crown, regal and exact. Not a single strand rebelled.

She did not smile.

She didn’t need to.

The Duchess moved to the head of the table, placed a single hand on the back of her chair — and stopped.

Without a word, every woman in the room stood. Including you.

You bowed your head, not out of respect but instinct. The atmosphere demanded it.

Her gaze swept the table slowly, like moonlight across still water. Calculated. Cold. Not unkind — but far from warm.

One heartbeat.

Two.

Then her eyes found you.

It wasn’t just looking. It was the weight of being seen — truly, unmistakably seen. Her gaze was cool, discerning, a quiet threat wrapped in curiosity.

You didn’t blink.

Couldn’t.

Something told you that blinking would count against you.

So you held her eyes. Just long enough to feel the tremor of challenge. Until she moved on.

“Good evening.”

The women answered in perfect harmony. Like a prayer they’d recited since birth.

The Duchess sat. The rest of you followed.

Silence lingered, thick and reverent, until she spoke again — voice smooth but sharp as drawn steel.

“Ladies,” She said “you are here because your families have placed great faith in you. As have I.”

Her tone left no room for uncertainty.

“Conduct yourselves with composure. I expect grace. Poise. This is a demonstration.”

She didn’t raise her voice. She didn’t need to. Each word carried the weight of command — clean, final, unarguable.

“Each of you has been granted a seat. Whether you keep it,” She continued, her eyes gleaming with meaning, “depends on more than posture and pleasantries. The Duke will join us shortly.”

The mere mention of him was enough to set the air humming with tension. Some of the girls straightened in their chairs. Others held their breath.

The Duchess glanced toward the servants.

That was all it took.

They moved like clockwork — coordinated, efficient, silent. Wine was poured into crystal glasses. Platters were uncovered. Silverware gleamed. Aromas filled the air, rich and delicate. But no one relaxed. If anything, the tension only deepened. The ritual of dining had begun, and every movement now was a test.

You watched the girls — how they lifted forks with dainty precision, how they dabbed their lips, how they smiled just enough. Not too much. Never too much.

You mimicked them as best you could. Wrist poised. Chin tucked. Back unbending. You smiled when required. You didn’t breathe when you shouldn’t.

Across the table, Duchess Gojo engaged each mother in conversation — even yours. Her words weren’t warm, but they commanded. She dominated the room without trying. She didn’t need to try.

And then — it happened.

The door again.

You knew. Before you saw him. Before you heard a step.

The room didn’t just fall silent.

It held its breath.

You didn’t dare look. Looking would make it real. And part of you — the scared, unready part — didn’t want it to be real just yet.

There was no announcement.

No flourish.

No grand entrance.

Just the sound of footsteps.

Measured. Casual. Unhurried.

He moved through the room like the air adjusted for him. Like the space recognized who it belonged to. Like the walls bent slightly to accommodate his presence.

He took the seat beside the Duchess.

And your heart dropped.

No.

It couldn’t be.

But it was.

The man from the garden. The stranger who had spoken to you like you mattered. Who had watched you reach for flowers like it was allowed. Who had made you laugh like it was safe.

You hadn’t just ruined everything.

You’d ruined it before it had even begun.

He was dressed now in formal regalia — a coat of midnight blue, its collar open with defiant elegance. Silver embroidery twisted along his sleeves like vines. A ceremonial sword hung at his hip, glinting softly. At his throat, the Gojo crest, a six-petaled flower.

He didn’t hurry.

Didn’t bow. Didn’t acknowledge.

And worst of all — he didn’t look at you.

Not even once.

Not a flicker of recognition.

Not even the smallest glance.

You looked down at your plate, fists clenched tight in your lap.

And still, your hands trembled.

You took a sip from your wine, careful not to gulp — though part of you wanted nothing more than to drain the whole glass and ask for another. You tried to look composed, as the Duchess demanded. Composed, like every other girl at the table seemed born to be.

But your chest was too tight. Your throat too dry.

You could only hope this was some cruel dream.

At first, you thought he wouldn’t speak — that he’d sit through the evening like a shadow cast by his mother’s presence. But then, quietly, effortlessly, he stood.

He did not need to raise his voice.

“Thank you all for coming.” He said, his posture relaxed but his tone exact. “My mother — Her Grace, Duchess Gojo — and I are pleased that your families have placed their trust in our name.”

It was him. You knew it. You would always know him by those eyes. But nothing else was the same.

The warmth was gone.

“This banquet.” He continued. “is simply a gesture of our appreciation.”

A lie — all of you knew that. Every girl seated here knew this was no simple dinner.

“I look forward to getting to know each of you in due time.”

And then — he smiled.

Not the off-kilter, boyish grin that had slipped free in the garden. No. This smile was sculpted. Beautiful. Practiced. The kind of smile that could win favor, or undo alliances, depending on where it was aimed.

His gaze moved from girl to girl — smooth, precise, unrevealing.

And when it landed on you, it did not soften.

It did not linger.

It did not recognize you.

Not truly.

And that, somehow, hurt more than if he hadn’t looked at you at all.

You held the eye contact because you had to. Because the rules of the room demanded it.

But inside, something cold was settling in your ribs — the slow realization that the man in the garden may never have existed at all.

Because standing before you now wasn’t him.

It was the Duke — Satoru Gojo. And there was no room in his eyes for who you’d been, or what you thought you’d shared.

#gojo x reader #gojo x you #gojo smut #strangers to lovers #renaissance au #historical au #slow burn #jjk x you #jjk #satoru gojo #gojo satoru #gojo satoru x you #gojo satoru x reader #jujutsu kaisen #jjk fanfic #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen x you

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norrisainz33 · 9 months ago

Text

announcement || mv33

☆ summary: max and his private wife have been keeping a big secret

☆ pairing: max verstappen x private!nonfamous!wife!reader

☆ fc & warnings: amata alp & mentions of pregnancy

☆ requested: yes! thank you for your patience 🫶🏻

ﾟ. ✿ ୨❤︎୧⠀✿ . ﾟ

ynverstappen has posted to their story 🔒

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maxverstappen1: glad you’re with y/bff tho i do wish you were here my love

ynverstappen: i wish i was there too. i hate having to miss your races

maxverstappen1: i know you do sweetheart but you’ve got big things to worry about right now 🤍

ynverstappen: i know i just wish you were here to worry about them with me!

ynverstappen: ugh i’m sorry i know you have no choice in the matter

maxverstappen1: don’t apologize liefje. i know this is not like the easiest time for me to be away! i will be home so soon so i can help take care of you

carmenmundt: y/n where have you beeeeeeen it’s been so long!!

ynverstappen: been very busy with work and with holding down the fort here in monaco!! i hope to be back at some races soon 🤍

alexandrasaintmleux: gorgeous girl i miss you

ynverstappen: i miss you too babes

yourbff: my baby

ynverstappen: my girl

f1gossip has made a post

liked by user1, user2, user3, user4, user5, user6, user7 and 11,849 others

f1gossip: during todays redline stream the chat was flooded with questions about the whereabouts of y/n verstappen who has been absent from the paddock for the past couple of months. while y/n is relatively private and we don’t usually get many social media updates from her outside of her interior design firm’s posting, she almost never misses the opportunity to support max on a race weekend let alone several in a row. max assured the chat that y/n was ok and that she was just taking some time to herself and that she’d be back in the paddock soon enough. what do you all make of this?

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user1: i’m so glad y/nmax are fine

user2: you could even hear her in the background at one point asking max what he wanted for dinner!! glad we are getting some crumbs

user4: omg ok good!! i thought that was her but couldn’t tell

user3: i was about to email her interior design firm to ask if she was ok thank god max updated us

user4: walk with me here guys…. what if we haven’t seen her bc she’s…… pregnant???

user6: oh my god you might be on to something!! they have been married for almost 2 years now

user7: no this is so believable!!! they’d make the best parents

user5: y/n’s ability to stay under the radar and unbothered is incredible

user8: y/n is the coolest wag i wish she was chronically online like so many of the others

user7: ugh fr!! i wish we could follow her on literally anything 💔

ynverstappen has posted to their story 🔒

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francisca.cgomes: are you redoing part of your house? is this why you’ve been so busy and i haven’t seen my best friend for WEEKS

ynverstappen: partially yes!! we are redoing the spare room. BUT you’ll see me this weekend for my party kiks

francisca.cgomes: and my god i can’t wait!! i miss you

ynvertsappen: i miss you too

landonorris: plans for what?

ynverstappen: idk 🤷🏻‍♀️

landonorris: liar!

maxverstappen1: they’re going to have the sweetest room 🤍

ynverstappen: yes they are 🤍 i’m so proud of how it’s turning out

georgerussell63: the 🤭 makes this feel like i’m on the outside of an inside joke

ynverstappen: you just might be georgie!!

georgerussell63: well what does that even mean

yourbff: i am brimming with excitement i can’t wait for you to tell everyone this weekend

ynverstappen: me too!! keeping this secret has been so tough but ultimately it’s been really nice to have something that’s just for me and max even if just for a short while

yourbff: no i totally get that y/n/n!! max has to share his life with the whole world so im sure it’s nice to have those private moments

yoursibling: i need you to facetime me when you tell carmen and kika bc they’re going to lose their minds

ynverstappen: oh i absolutely will

ynverstappen has made a post 🔒

liked by carmenmundt, iamrebeccad, maxverstappen1, alexandrasaintmleux, francisca.cgomes, interiordesignbyyn and 201 others

ynverstappen: i’m so glad all my favorite people could come celebrate the news 🩷 baby verstappen due in january 🤍 mommy and daddy love you endlessly already 💙

view all 35 comments

carmenmundt: i can’t wait to be an aunty!!! best news ever 🤍

ynverstappen: and i can’t wait for you to be an aunty!! baby v is going to be so loved

carmenmundt: they already are!!

francisca.cgomes: can’t believe my favorite person in the world is going to be a mom 🥹

ynverstappen: love you kika 🥹

maxverstappen1: 💙🩷

ynverstappen: 😘😘

iamrebeccad: you’re going to make the perfect mom

ynverstappen: i really hope so 🤍

georgerussell63: blimey! i can’t wait to meet the little one!!

ynverstappen: only 3 more months!!

landonorris: uncle lando is reporting for duty

ynverstappen: baby v is going to love their uncle lan!!

maxverstappen1: baby v is already lucky to have you mate

alexandrasaintmleux: the most beautiful maman 🤍

ynverstappen: don’t make me cry again 😭

maxverstappen1 has made a post

liked by ynverstappen, redbullracing, charesleclerc, alex_albon, landonorris, and 765,248 others

maxverstappen1: grateful for moments like these away from the track. next week is race week again in vegas but for now, enjoy some family photos 🤍

view all 885 comments

user1: my favorite couple maybe ever

user3: y/n sign of life!!

user4: sticking to my delulu and thinking he said family bc she’s having a baby

landonorris: see you all soon🤍

ynverstappen: see you soon lannyyyyyy

user4: he’s feeding into my delusions here…. bc why did he say you all instead of you both

user6: omg does this mean y/n will be in vegas????

ynverstappen: i love our little family 🫶🏻

maxverstappen1: me too gorgeous

user2: not me crying over this post?? the heart shaped pizzas sent me over the edge

redbullracing: looking forward to seeing you back on track!

ynverstappen has added to their story 🔒

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maxverstappen1: i have a tracker on your flight. i think the anxiety of you and the little one being on a plane without me is going to eat me alive

ynverstappen: we will be ok maxie i promise!! im on air max, it’s safe here

maxverstappen1: it is but also i’m not there so it’s not as safe as it could be

ynverstappen: my sweet boy, take a deep breath. you have quali soon

maxverstappen1: yes yes yes i’m breathing deeply

francisca.cgomes: well thank GOD i need you in the paddock

ynverstappen: pls come stay in rb hospitality w me

francisca.cgomes: for you i will just don’t tell pierre

charlesleclerc: on a scale of 1-10 how stressed is max

ynverstappen: 16

redbullracing: we can’t wait to see you!!

iamrebeccad: yayayayayayya!!!!!!!

ynverstappen: 😘😘😘😘😘😘

maxverstappen1 has made a post

liked by landonorris, ynverstappen, redbullracing, carmenmundt, charlesleclerc, and 754,984 others

maxverstappen1: for all of you wondering where y/n has been…. needless to say we’ve both been a little busy getting ready to welcome baby verstappen. only a few more months till the little one makes us a family of 3 🤍

view all 999 comments

user1: best news ever!!!!

user4: i knew it!!! omg 🥹

charlesleclerc: congratulations mate! i am so excited for you both

maxverstappen1: thank you charles 💙 baby v is so lucky to have an uncle like you

user16: im violently sobbing over this interaction you don’t understand

redbullracing: having a mini rb20 made for baby v as we speak

ynverstappen: oh gosh admin no

maxverstappen1: admin yes!!

redbullracing: uh oh awkward

landonorris: yayyyyyy!!!!!!!! i can’t wait to babysit!!

ynverstappen: you’re going to be the best babysitter ever

user7: she is glowing

user9: max and y/n are going to make the most beautiful parents

f1gossip has made a post

liked by user1, user2, user3, user4, user5, user6, user7 and 11,849 others

f1gossip: here to share a recap of max’s first interview since announcing y/n’s pregnancy mere minutes after qualifying. he said he wanted to announce it before sunday because y/n was absolutely adamant about being in the paddock for vegas and there was no hiding her baby bump at 6 months. max said “i can’t wait to be a dad! it’s honestly something i’ve been dreaming of for years and i’m so grateful to my beautiful wife for giving me the greatest gift.”

view all 236 comments

user2: this is by far the happiest i’ve ever seen max and i am crying

user4: i love max and y/n so much i cant

user15: the way he talked about their baby ??? he already loves that little one so much

user18: i think having a baby is healing his inner child

user3: i love love love love love these 2

user19: crying screaming throwing up

user20: project verstappen!! lfg!!! next wdc champion incoming

user5: her refusing to miss another race is so real of her

user8: thank god she’s gonna be back in the paddock max needs her luck

ﾟ. ✿ ୨❤︎୧⠀✿ . ﾟ

a/n: thanks for reading!! likes and reblogs always appreciated 🤍

ﾟ. ✿ ୨❤︎୧⠀✿ . ﾟ

disclaimer: pictures are not mine and everything i write is fiction

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emeraldserenade · 2 months ago

Text

A Tap to Love ~ Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw

synopsis: Tapping a stranger out was the start to the rest of your life.

tw: fem!reader, reader's ex is an ass, reader makes the questionable choice of going with Bradley after just meeting him, friends to lovers, idiots in love, barely edited.

fic, ficlet, drabble, request

➽──────────────❥

It wasn't supposed to be like this, your boyfriend, well ex now, said he was just going to tap out a friend. Yet, she threw herself into his arms once she was tapped out and pressed her lips to his. Then he introduced you as his friend who just needed a ride here, and the two left you stranded alone.

You took a trip to the bathroom, you didn't want to cry in front of a bunch of Navy men. But when you left the bathroom, you noticed a man, one who was still standing at attention. You slowly walked over, wondering how odd it would be to tap a stranger out.

"Uh, hi," you said before placing your hand on his shoulder. You saw how he relaxed his stance and peered down at you, god he was tall. "I don't know if you have people coming or not, but I saw you from over there and it seemed like you were one of the last people still at attention. So, I decided to tap you out," you rambled, unsure if you made the right decision. But then he collapsed into your arms, pulling you tight to him as he breathed in your scent like you were the oasis in a desert.

"Thank you," he whispered, tightening his arms around you. You tightened yours in return, letting him hold you as if you were the only thing keeping him tethered to the earth. He pulled away slowly but kept his hands on your waist, his eyes searching yours. "I, uh, I didn't have anyone here to tap me out," he told you and saw your face flash a few emotions at once.

"Oh, what was going to happen then?"

"One of the COs would tap me out, or I would wait until everyone was tapped out before I moved," he explained and you pouted at the idea. Bradley would later tell everyone that your pout, the little crease in your forehead as you pouted, was the reason he fell in love right then.

"That's bullshit," you muttered, your pout deepening. It was only then that Bradley had a thought.

"Aren't you here for family or something?" His hands quickly moving off your waist in fear of you being taken.

"No, my boyfriend, well ex now, took me here claiming to be tapping a friend out. But when he did, he kissed her and said I was only his friend. They left me here with no way to leave," you told him. Bradley was outraged at the idea, who would cheat on you? "Wait, this is a big day. You survived bootcamp, we should celebrate," you told him.

"We?" It came out more questioning than he liked.

"Well, duh," your smile returning. "We're friends now, no take backs," you pointed at him and he laughed with you.

"Ok, come on, my car is parked in the parking lot," he took your hand in his and led you to his Bronco. Bradley opened the door for you to jump into the passenger seat before closing it once you were in. He rounded the car and got into his seat after throwing his things into the back.

"This is a bad way to start our friendship, but what's your name?" You sheepishly looked at him, you were very aware of the fact that you were in the car with an unknown man.

"Bradley Bradshaw, though my callsign's Rooster," he told you and you smiled.

"I'm y/n, it's nice to meet you," you told him as you watched him drive.

✧°˖ . ݁˖︵‿❀‿︵˖ . ݁˖°✧

You and Bradley ended up just getting burgers and going to his place for a movie.

"My mom would have a fit if she knew I was at a stranger's house," you said with a laugh.

"More or less mad that you were left by your asshole of an ex on a Navy base?" Bradley questioned, you were leaning into his side as you watched the movie play out.

"Probably tied," you told him, your finger absentmindedly drawing random shapes on Bradley's leg. "Though I think she'd be proud of me for helping you," you sighed, pressing into Bradley's side even more. Bradley adjusted to lay down and pulled you to lay on top of him, your chest pressed into his stomach while your head rested on his chest. You made yourself more comfortable against him and didn't even try to fight the pull of sleep.

✧°˖ . ݁˖︵‿❀‿︵˖ . ݁˖°✧

The moon was still out when you woke up, you were in a bed with a warm body pressed against your back and an arm thrown over your middle. You briefly recalled Bradley waking you up earlier to walk to you his room, let you use his face wash to remove your makeup, and give you a shirt and some of his sweatpants for you to sleep in. Now you were uncomfortably hot in the sweatpants and wanted nothing more than to strip them off. You tried not to squirm too much but apparently it was enough for Bradley to wake up.

"Are you ok?" Bradley questioned and it took you a full minute to respond after hearing his morning voice.

"Would it be weird for me to take the sweatpants off? I'm hot," you mumbled.

"Not unless you make it weird," Bradley answered you and you nodded while scooting away from him, you scrunched in on yourself a little before stripping the sweats off and throwing them on the floor. Bradley pulled you back into him as you both got pulled back into sleep, the last thought to cross both of your minds was 'I never want to leave'.

✧°˖ . ݁˖︵‿❀‿︵˖ . ݁˖°✧

Years passed like that, you and Bradley got close yet never enough. You spent more time in Bradley's bed than yours but nothing happened. Not when you would spend the last 24 hours with him before deployment and not when you were there when he got back.

Eventually you thought moving away, putting physical distance between you two, would be enough to keep your feelings away.

"I got a job offer in San Diego," you told Bradley one day, you were currently in his apartment a few minutes away from Oceana.

"Are you taking it?" Bradley questioned, he would never tell you to not take it, even if he wanted to be selfish and keep you with him forever.

"I think so, it pays a lot more and I'll be remote for all but one week a month," you told him, scooting closer to Bradley on the couch.

"When do you leave?" Bradley was understanding that this is what you felt like, the hollow feeling of knowing he wasn't going with you. That he would have to see you leave with nothing more than a goodbye.

"I start next week," you mumbled, looking down. "My grandma said I could stay with her until I found a house or apartment," you told him.

"I'll help you pack," Bradley said, he was determined to be with you as long as he could.

✧°˖ . ݁˖︵‿❀‿︵˖ . ݁˖°✧

You had been gone for months when Bradley told you he was going back overseas in two weeks. You decided to go into work the next week and spend the week before he left with him.

You stood at his door, your bag in hand and hesitated for a moment. You were worried he wouldn't be excited to see you but you shook your head at the though. You nodded on the door and Bradley opened the door, he was wearing his signature jeans and Hawaiian shirt.

"Hi," you waved a little but Bradley pulled you into a hug.

"What are you doing here, sweetheart?" Bradley questioned, his pet name for you falling from his mouth like it was natural.

"You leave at the end of the week, I'm here to spend time with you," you told him, a smile overtaking your face. "Phone calls and Facetimes are nice and all but it's not like being right here," you added on and Bradley lead you to his couch.

"Where are you staying?" Bradley secretly hoped you would say with him.

"I have decided, I have some points I could use at the Comfort Inn," you told him, relaxing on his couch like you were meant to be there.

"Or you could stay with me," he offered and watched the way you lit up at the offer.

✧°˖ . ݁˖︵‿❀‿︵˖ . ݁˖°✧

Then Bradley was gone and you were going back to San Diego, at some point you found yourself hoping he would come back to orders to Miramar. You suffered through phone calls when he had time and worrying if he was ok the other times.

You told yourself you needed to do something to keep your mind off of Bradley. So you went to the Hard Deck and offered Penny help when she needed it. You worked every other day mostly, sometimes everyday depending on how often the other bartenders were working.

You got called in, Penny told you there was an influx of Navy personnel and that she needed the help. It was normally a slower night, so it was only her there. You walked in after a bunch of people where there and a familiar voice was singing.

You saw Bradley sitting at the piano as he finished Great Balls of Fire, you made eye contact with him as he looked up and you made it to the bar. You gave him a small smile before placing your purse on the small shelf Penny leaves empty under the bar for that purpose and turning to work.

"Can I get a beer and possibly your number?" A blond was standing there, a smile on his face. You eyed his down, the name on the name tag on his khakis was vaguely familiar.

"A beer? Sure," you grabbed one of the bottles you had spied him holding when you walked in. "My number? Not so much," you gave him a smile as he payed and walked away. You looked back to the piano to see if Bradley was still there but you didn't see him, a part of you hoped he didn't leave.

"You're working at the Hard Deck?" Bradley's voice was to your left and you whipped your head up to look at him.

"Bradley!" You jumped a little to hug him over the counter and he laughed against you. "Not really, I help on nights Penny needs me," you told him as you spun to look at one of the regulars as they ordered another drink. "Wait, what are you doing here?"

"Secret mission," he told you and you nodded slowly, you looked him up and down. He wasn't in his khakis like the others but he was still distinctly Bradley.

"Where are you staying?" You leaned on the counter in front of him, your eyes locking on his.

"Barracks," he told you and you pursed your lips.

"Uncomfortable," you replied before you were interrupted by the blond walking back up.

"If you told me no because I'm Navy, I have bad news for you," he told you, his smile on his face. You removed your gaze from Bradley and back to him.

"I know he's Navy," you replied. "Just like I know his name is Bradley Bradshaw and that he spends too much time obsessing over his mustache," you added on and you saw the blond have a flash of recognition.

"Hangman, this is y/n," Bradley introduced you to the blond and they both saw anger flash on your face.

"You're the asshole!" You announced loud enough that the other khakis turned their heads. Bradley laughed, loud and unguarded, as Jake held his hands up.

"I'm known as the asshole?" Jake questioned.

"To me, he calls you Hangman. But you're an asshole," you informed him, the bar had emptied out after Bradley's song and you were grateful. You watched as Jake spluttered for a few moments before Penny came up behind you.

"You can leave if you want, it's empty enough that I'll be able to manage," she told you, her hand on your shoulder.

"Are you sure?" You spun to face her and she nodded.

"Go," she handed you your purse and urged you out from behind the bar. You only made it a few steps before Bradley laced his fingers with yours and pulled you to the pool tables.

"This is y/n!" Bradley announced and you smiled at them all with a small wave, your hand still being held by Bradley.

"Hi," you greeted them, waving your right hand.

"You're the one that called Bagman an asshole," a woman greeted you. "I'm Phoenix," you shook her hand with a smile.

"It's nice to meet you," you told her and the rest of the introductions went like that. You ended the night with Bradley trailing behind you in his Bronco to your house. You had offered to let him stay with you if he wanted to be more comfortable and Bradley jumped on the offer.

✧°˖ . ݁˖︵‿❀‿︵˖ . ݁˖°✧

You and Bradley really only had the brief early morning chats and sleepy night time hang outs. But it was time you cherished, you hadn't even noticed how much you were missing Bradley until he was with you.

You were sitting out back at the Hard Deck with Penny as she tried to balance her books. The entire group of pilots were playing dogfight football and you noticed Penny staring at Pete.

"What's going on with you and Mitchell?" You questioned, taking a sip of the strawberry lemonade you made yourself before offically joining Penny.

"Nothing, he's just an old friend," she told you but you raised an eyebrow.

"Old friend, huh?" You teased and she gave you a pointed look, you didn't hear her response as you saw Bradley chest bump someone before doing a little dance. A smile spread across your face as you watched it.

"What about you and Rooster?" Penny questioned and you whipped your head back to look at her.

"We're just friends," you told her and bit the bullet before she could try and tease you. "But you're right," you looked back at Bradley as they kept playing. "I do like him," you sighed.

"Why not tell him?"

"Are you kidding?" You looked back to her as they lifted Bob up as he won the game. "There's no way he likes me back," you told her, completely obvious to Bradley walking up to you.

"Who doesn't like you back?" Bradley asked and you looked up at him, your eyes lingering on his bare chest for a moment.

"Just some guy," you waved him off. "Why are you in jeans? Why are a lot of you in jeans?" You asked, disgusted by the idea.

"Not all of us have our entire closet or even thought we would be going to the beach," Bradley said and you raised your eyebrow while offering him a drink of your lemonade.

"Yeah ok, but you knew you were coming to San Diego and you didn't bring one pair of shorts?" You took your cup back and placed it on the table.

"You're just being judgmental," Bradley told you but you snorted a little.

"Sure," you replied, you saw how everyone was packing up behind him. "Go back to your friends, they're going to leave you," you waved him off and ignored the annoyed look on his face.

✧°˖ . ݁˖︵‿❀‿︵˖ . ݁˖°✧

"Here," you dropped a bag onto Bradley's lap when you walked into your living room.

"What is this?" Bradley questioned you.

"Shorts," you replied, sitting down next to him. "You'll need them if you and you're squadron are going to the beach," you told him, automatically throwing yourself against him.

✧°˖ . ݁˖︵‿❀‿︵˖ . ݁˖°✧

You were standing with Bradley at the dock, no one else had family or friends close enough for them to say goodbye to.

"You're one lucky man, Rooster," Natasha noted that you were the only non-Navy personnel there. "You're getting a hug before you leave," she added on at the confused faces of both of you.

"Oh!" You announced. "Here," you opened your arms and pulled the woman into a hug. She melted into your embrace and you held her just a little tighter. "Anyone else want a hug?" You asked the others, you ignored Bradley complaining that you were supposed to be there for him.

You hugged everyone, telling each of them to be careful and wishing them luck. You hugged them each like it was the last time you would see them. Not in a pessimistic way, in the way that if this was, in fact, the last hug they ever got, it would be a good one. "Thanks, y/n," Jake whispered to you as you hugged him last. You could hear the fear in his voice but you didn't comment on it.

"Ok, ok, let me say goodbye to my friend now, leave," Bradley shooed his friends away and you waved at them.

"You're selfish," you joked when you turned back to him.

"Can you blame me?" Bradley asked and you shook your head in amusement at him. "Come here," Bradley gently pulled you into another hug and you pressed your face into his neck.

"You come back to me, do you understand?" You questioned, your voice shaky. "I don't care what happens, if you're picked or not, you come back to me," you pleaded and Bradley wanted to promise, wanted to tell you that he would but he couldn't.

"I'l try, I'll try my hardest," he told you, the only promise he could make. Bradley pulled away when someone called for him and started to walk away.

You waved goodbye to Bradley as he walked away, he was walking backwards until he couldn't. Your smile was bittersweet and you stood by yourself. You could only stand there and hope that you would see the man you were in love with again.

✧°˖ . ݁˖︵‿❀‿︵˖ . ݁˖°✧

You were there at the dock when Bradley came back from the mission. You texted him where you were and what you were wearing, there were some people scattered around. It was a happier feeling then when they left, but you were worried. Bradley told you all he could, how he was picked and his plane went down. But he swore he was fine and that's what you wanted to believe.

"Y/n!" You heard Bradley's voice and started walking towards him. You were in his arms faster than you could process and you felt your tears running down your face.

"You made it back," was all you could say as you hugged him, your arms wrapped tightly around his neck.

"I did," he assured you and pulled away enough to see your face. You stared him down as you watched his eyes roam your face. You sucked in a breath and surged forward, your lips brushed over his for a moment before he fully kissed you. You melted into it, your arms pulling him closer as he pulled you in by the hips. You could vaguely hear the others cheering but you heard Jake loud and clear.

"Fucking finally!" Jake cheered and you laughed against Bradley's lips before pulling away. He chased your lips as pulled backward and you smiled at him. His eyes were still closed and he was continuously leaning in for another kiss, one that you indulged him in.

"I love you," you mumbled against his lips, breathless from the kisses. "I have for a while," you added as he gave you a love filled look.

"I love you, so much," he told you, his eye shining at you. "I have been since you tapped me out," he admitted and you laughed.

"Yo, lovebirds! You coming to the Hard Deck?" Jake called over and Bradley gently pulled you to his side.

"Nope, I've gotta take my girl to bed," he announced as you covered your face from embarrassment.

"That's a hell of a welcome home," Jake laughed as he saw your embarrassed look.

"Have fun at the Hard Deck!" You called as Bradley walked off with you tucked under his arm.

"Have fun in bed!" Natasha teased you.

➽──────────────❥

Masterlist | Requests If you want to be added to the tag list, follow the directions on my masterlist

#bradley rooster bradshaw #bradley bradshaw x reader #rooster bradshaw #rooster bradshaw x reader #top gun x reader #top gun maverick #rooster x reader #rooster top gun #dagger squad

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woundove · 11 days ago

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WHERE THE SUN SHINES ✧ AN ANGEL SINGS

astrology observations - volume one

note that this is purely my interpretation and to not steal my work.

gemini suns are naturally humorous and can make a joke out of anything. people might not take them seriously because of it though, which could turn into a problem when they want to let their walls down. these natives possess a unique vibrance that can't be replicated no matter how much others try, so it’s best for them not to dim their own light to appease others. there are times where they can’t escape being the center of attention, but sometimes they don’t mind embracing it with open arms.

aries suns are loud and proud. they are natural go-getters who have a clear goal in mind and will do anything to achieve them. these natives are the definition of persistence and can view tough situations as a learning lesson. they could be obsessed with the idea of revenge if they’ve been deeply hurt in the past, so it’s best for them to heal themselves before they end up hurting others with their cruelty. at their highest vibration though, they are warm and kind souls with unwavering ambition.

aquarius moons could struggle to find people who understand them beyond the surface level. it can sometimes feel isolating and hopeless, like they’ll never find the comfort you need to fully express themselves. conversations can become uncomfortable if the other person doesn’t grasp their situation, so they’ll quickly shut down. any concerns they have will be left unsaid and instead linger in their head until those thoughts temporarily disappear. there’s also detachment even from those closest to them and that distance can cut deep like a wound.

libra moons can feel like their life is a multiple-choice game. they want to explore every option possible but know that the toughest one is the best. they understand that logic > emotions in most cases, but impulsiveness can blur the lines for them. these natives will constantly question every decision they make and will ask those around them for advice and reassurance in hopes of pleasing everyone involved. their need to seek balance in their relationships can cause issues in them neglecting their actual needs and wants.

scorpio risings have such a powerful presence that strangers will immediately feel intimidated by them. this can grow into one sided animosity and fake relationships that could drain these natives of their energy. outlandish assumptions and rumors can follow them around like a parasite in an attempt to ruin their reputation. but if the right people with good intentions come around, they will feel safe enough to let those into their sanctuary.

leo risings can be idolized just for existing. they can light up any room they walk into, and people will be instantly drawn to them. they could attract many friends and potential suitors who might only be invested in the idea of them rather than who they actually are. those jealous of them can try to humble them to shrink their presence. they can be generous and thoughtful towards those that show them respect and gratitude.

sagittarius in the big three will make someone very extroverted even if their chart should say otherwise. they can find solace in exploring the world and what it has to offer. there could be numerous reasons for their sudden journey — to break away from the problems in their life, to connect with nature, or simply to learn new things through a different environment. these natives can either fall in love with someone overseas or have a love for travelling to different countries.

pisces in the big three will make someone exceedingly creative in their expression. these natives could have a special interest in the arts that they can incorporate in their appearance, hobbies or general way of living. their ideas are so out of the box that people might try to steal them, so they have to be careful with who they tell. in a relationship, they could handcraft gifts or have other unique ways of showing their love.

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sofiatarot · 7 months ago

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PAC: Whispers from your future spouse’s soul: a message your heart needs to hear

TIP JAR - FREE READINGS - PAID READINGS

Sometimes we miss someone we've never met

1->2

3->4

Group 1:

My love, I know how hard it’s been for you to keep standing tall when the world feels like it’s crumbling around you. You’ve carried so much responsibility, always striving to maintain control and stability even when chaos surrounds you. I see your strength, and I admire it more than you could ever know. But I want you to know it’s okay to let your guard down with me. You don’t have to be the one holding everything together all the time. I’ll be your steady foundation when the storms come.

You’ve been going through transformations that feel heavy, almost unbearable, but trust me when I say you’re shedding the old to make room for the new. I want you to look at these changes not as endings, but as doors opening to a brighter, more secure future for us. There’s a seed of something beautiful sprouting in the cracks of your old life—trust it. I’ll be here to nurture it with you.

I know there have been moments where you’ve felt like giving up, where your efforts seemed wasted. But don’t let those doubts consume you, my love. All the work you’ve put in, all the pain you’ve endured, it’s leading you somewhere incredible. I see you as a creator, even in moments when you feel lost. Together, we’ll turn those fragments of hope into something solid.

There’s something you’ve been avoiding, a decision or a truth you don’t want to face. I see you hesitate, afraid of what might happen if you choose. But I want you to know that you are stronger than the fear that holds you back. Whatever you decide, I’ll be beside you, ready to catch you if you fall. You don’t have to figure it all out alone.

When your world feels like it’s falling apart, remember this: sometimes destruction is necessary for rebirth. You are rising from the ashes of what once was, becoming the person you’re meant to be. And when you look around and feel lost, know that I’m here, already searching for you, ready to hold you when we finally meet.

Group 2:

My dearest, I feel your frustration and your impatience. You’re caught in a cycle that feels endless, like no matter what you do, things just won’t fall into place. But please, don’t lose hope. You’re not stuck—you’re learning. Every step, even the ones that feel like missteps, is shaping you into the person you’re meant to be. And I want you to know that I’m so proud of how hard you’re trying, even when you can’t see the results.

There’s chaos around you, and I know it feels overwhelming. It’s like you’re juggling too much at once, trying to keep everything balanced, but it’s okay to let some things go. You don’t have to do it all alone. I’m coming, and when I do, I’ll help you carry the weight. Until then, please don’t be so hard on yourself. You’re doing better than you think.

I sense that you’ve been questioning yourself, your intuition, your path. You’ve doubted your own wisdom, wondering if you’re making the right choices. But trust me when I say that deep down, you already know what’s best for you. You don’t have to second-guess yourself so much. You’re more capable than you realize.

The wheel may look like it's not turning in your favor right now, but this isn’t the end. Life isn’t a straight path; it’s full of twists and turns, and sometimes we have to lose our way to find it again. I believe in you, in your strength to keep going even when the road is unclear. And when we finally meet, I’ll remind you every day of how far you’ve come.

You’re a fighter, my love, even when you feel like you’re losing the battle. Your resilience is one of the many reasons I’m drawn to you. Hold on to that fire inside you, and don’t let the world dim it. I’m here, waiting for the day I get to tell you all this in person, and I promise, it’ll be worth the wait.

(IM SO HAPPY THIS ONE CAME OUT FOR YOU it's one of my fav songs 🤧)

Group 3:

My love, you’ve been feeling like your efforts aren’t paying off, like no matter how hard you try, it’s never enough. But I see your heart, your determination, and I want you to know that it’s not in vain. Every step you take is bringing us closer together, even if it doesn’t feel that way right now. Trust the process, because I already see the beautiful life we’re going to build together.

I know you’ve been hurt before, and it’s made you cautious, maybe even a little guarded. But you’re learning to trust again, to let go of the fears that once held you back. I see you opening up, little by little, and it’s one of the most beautiful things about you. When we meet, I’ll make sure you never have to question my loyalty or my love.

You’ve been moving so quickly, chasing your dreams, your goals, and sometimes forgetting to take a moment to breathe. I admire your drive, but I want you to remember that it’s okay to slow down. Life isn’t a race, and we have all the time in the world to create something amazing together.

You’re surrounded by love, even if it doesn’t always feel that way. Your friends, your family, they see the light in you that I see. Celebrate those connections, because they’re a reflection of the joy you bring to the world. And when I finally step into your life, I know we’ll create a bond just as unbreakable.

You’re on the brink of something incredible, my love. A new chapter is waiting for you, full of opportunities and second chances. Trust yourself, and trust that the universe is guiding us to each other. I can’t wait to meet you and tell you all the things I’ve been holding in my heart.

Group 4:

My dearest, I know how much you’ve been searching for answers, for guidance, for something to hold onto. You’ve been so strong, navigating the challenges life has thrown at you, but I see the exhaustion in your soul. You don’t have to do it all alone anymore. I’ll be here to support you, to guide you, and to remind you of the beauty in your strength.

You’ve been feeling stuck, like no matter what you do, you can’t move forward. But I want you to know that this is just a pause, not an end. Sometimes we need to step back to see the bigger picture, to understand what truly matters. Take this time to rest, to heal, and to prepare for the incredible journey ahead.

You’ve faced heartbreak, betrayal, and disappointment, but you’ve never let it define you. That resilience, that ability to keep going even when it hurts, is one of the things I love most about you. I promise to honor that strength, to never be the source of your pain, but the one who helps you heal.

There’s a part of you that’s afraid to let go of the past, to move on from what’s familiar, even if it no longer serves you. But I see your potential, your ability to rise above it all. Trust me when I say that the future holds so much more for you than you could ever imagine.

When we finally meet, I’ll show you what it means to be truly loved, to feel safe and cherished. I’ll be your partner in every sense of the word, and together, we’ll create a life filled with love, passion, and endless possibilities. Until then, know that I’m already loving you from afar, cheering you on as you take each step closer to me.

xoxo🌙

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ctrlhope · 4 months ago

Text

Red Carnations (m)

synopsis: District 11-- your home. Your fields to run through. Your flowers. Your everything before your name was called on that fateful day. Before you were forced into the arena. Before you fought to save your life. Before you knew you were never going to see it again. Because even a victor is never truly free, are they? Even victors are forced to fall to the will of the capitol. And you-- you especially have no choice in the matter. Not when he has fallen for you. When you've become his petal in a much-too grey world. When you're already his everything. As long as you're with him, you're still in the games, aren't you?

p.jimin x f.reader (ft. implied m.yoongi x reader)

⚘ ࣪ ˖ ┊: wc: 9.5k

⚘ ࣪ ˖ ┊: genre: hunger games au, yandere, fluff, angst, hurt/comfort,

⚘ ࣪ ˖ ┊: content: capitol!jimin, victor!reader, yandere!jimin, obsession, kidnapping, toxic relationship, forced relationship, forced affection, manipulation, implied isolation, kisses mwah, reader has trauma, unreliable narrators, hunger games typical violence (though it's only at the beginning, fic begins after reader has won), jimin swears yall are soulmates frfr, future smut

⚘ ࣪ ˖ ┊: notes: HIII!!! surprise!!! this is my love letter to the hunger games lol <33 requests are coming soon I prommie!!! :33 they are in my drafts as we speak!! planning on this becoming a series too, so stay tuned if you guys are interested!!

18+ -> minors / blank blogs dni

The world is spinning– everything is shaking. Air is passing through your lungs, the sound panting through your teeth, yet you’re not entirely sure anything is happening at all. Not cognizant of anything around you, of yourself as you struggle. As you fight. As you move to grasp a single straw from the man pinning you to the ground, baring his teeth in your face.

You remember his hand, the way it reaches down almost as if in slow motion. Coming closer. Ready to grab your forehead. Ready to raise it and bash it into the ground below. Over and over again until you’re no more. Until the crops drop and weep to a shade of grey. To finally kill you. To put you out of this misery.

Allow you to leave painfully, yet with all the grace a man starved from another district could allow. Gracefully. Right.

You knew you fought your hardest until the end. Really, you do.

You hope your parents will be proud of you when you arrive home in those little metal boxes filled with ash. Hope they know how hard you fought to come back to them– to be with them once again. Hopefully your big sister will remember all the ways you tried to fight flowers in her hair when you were meant to be working. Hope your mom and dad remember the way you made sure to dye all your white clothes bright with colours of nature.

Maybe if you were more of a singer you’d comfort yourself with a tune, but you don’t know many songs. Your brother was always more creative. He made sure you knew it. You– you were just a girl of the buds. Nothing more, nothing less. Only glad to be the last child your family had of reaping age. At least they wouldn’t incur anymore loss, would they?

They’ve already watched you go mad. Nothing can be worse than watching their own daughter do what she needs to survive. Only a pity it had to be the last drawing before she was safe, too.

No, the fate before you is one that had been told too many times before. You were never a victor, you knew that. You were meant to be another pitying girl swept away by the slaughter. And that’s okay. You’re okay.

So, the question remains. How did that knife end up in his neck?

Did you do it? You don’t remember doing it. You don’t remember the movement your arm had to have made, or the way it must’ve felt to sink the knife in. You don’t remember much of anything to be honest but oh– oh, he’s fallen off of you. You can move. You can move!!

The shock remains present within you, though. You barely haggard a quick shuffle back, a hand clutching the skin where your heart lies. Your eyes are jittering, frantic. Looking. Trying to see, to make sense of what is happening around you.

Is anyone else coming? Wait– no, that wouldn’t make sense. No, it wouldn’t. You’re the last two alive. Alive? Are you? Wait, hold on. What is happening. What is happening. What is happening. You were going to die– he was going to kill you. But you moved, or maybe, you guess, he let up? But did you, did you really just stab him? Did you just–

There’s blood on your hand.

Bang.

That's the sound. That’s the sound!

You’re alive. You’re alive. You’re alive.

You won.

Trumpets are playing, maybe the capitol anthem. You can’t seem to hear it, not really at least.

No, all you hear is your lungs finally filling with air for the first time in a long time. For the first time since your name was called at the reaping. For the first time since you turned 12.

The next thing you hear is the breeze. Maybe the whole arena is taking a breath since these games started, too.

You look around, try to take in your surroundings. Feel the way the world inhales and exhales along with you. Make yourself finally feel one again after the days that all seem to morph together.

Huh.

Strange shapes crest over the horizon, the ground underneath your scraped limbs feels foreign. The scents that travel are a mystery and the skyline is nothing you’ve ever seen before. You don’t recognise anything. Almost as if you haven’t been here the last 6 days. As if nothing is real.

But it is. You know it is. The pain shooting through every inch of your being tells you as much– tells you everything of the stories you can’t seem to remember. Right along with the loudspeakers, the voice of Octavia Flickerman reigning supreme.

“Everyone, please give a warm welcome to the winner of the One-Hundred Eleventh Hunger Games! (Y/n) (L/n) of District 11!”

You won!! Oh!!! You won!!!!

Jimin practically squeals, jumps from his seat as he watches the screen. His arms flying into the air, brain spinning as adrenaline from the entire event courses through him. Finally settles into a gentle lull as he knows for certain that you’re alive.

He knew you would!! Of course he did! He would never want you to think otherwise, no. He knew from the second he saw your face projected into his apartment on reaping day that you would. Was sure of it when he sat front and centre at the parade, waving to you and only you.

Knew for certain (as if he wasn’t before, duh!) during the interviews when he first heard you speak. The cadence of your voice as you spoke into the microphone– your quipped yet nervous replies as the latest Flickerman worked you into a more relaxed state.

Your shy smiles, the flattery of your dress. Just!! Everything!!

Oh– how enchanting you were!! He knew the rest of the capitol thought so, too. He made sure of it. He knew to make you the star because of course you would be coming back alive.

He knew you would win.

You would be a fool not to with all the gifts he sent you, silly!! They may have cost anyone else a small fortune, but it was nothing for him, so you shouldn’t worry! He’d be sure to remind you of that the next time you meet. He knows you’re kind. He knows you’d feel some sort of guilt.

Oh!! But that doesn’t matter! He much rather thinks about how cute you were on your first day in the arena. How confused and bewildered you looked when his gifts started floating down from the sky. You ran from the center right away, of course you would, because you’re just so smart! But that meant you had nothing.

He didn’t want you to have nothing!!

Blah blah blah, your mentor wanted to wait a bit. Save any money pooled your way. But with Jimin funding everything, why did that even matter?

Soon, you were caked in more weapons than you knew what to do with. It was just too. Fucking. Cute.

You should only be covered in things from him from now on. He was sure of it when you stood there in the arena, trying to figure out how to tote around a spear, bow, sword, knife, club, and a pack full of food, and he’s even more sure of it now. You used his knife to win the games.

His gift he watched you take care of, cherish over the last 6 days.

It’s almost like he was right in there with you! Supporting you, helping you! He couldn’t even sleep the last days, knowing you were in there, scared.

My, he understands now why the skies saved you for him. You two truly are a match made for everyone to bear witness to you.

And now!! Now that you won he knows your fates were set out for in the stars.

He’s just so proud!! So– so proud of you!!

Soon!! Soon he can be with you! He promises, okay?

He knows Namjoon and Taehyung– the former more than the latter, will make him wait a bit before he actually can have you. There are duties you have to attend to, after all! Responsibilities! And he knows you wouldn’t want to neglect those. You’re very accountable like that, he knows it.

But that’s okay! He can be patient. He’s waited his whole life for you– 23 years to be exact! He can wait a little more. Wait for the right moment.

He knows you’ll be hurting from having to wait, too. It’s been so long since you last spoke! You really should have kept up better with your letters, you know!! You’re lucky he even remembered your name!!

He’ll have to scold you for that later– his cheeks puffed out in that way he just knows you’ll find adorable~

Ah!! But he’ll get to see you at the capitol parties!! Won’t that be fun? He’s sure of it! You two will get to dance and fall in love all over again. Taehyung will swoon and wonder when it’ll be his chance at love while Namjoon– well, Namjoon will probably be doting after his latest project or networking with politicians. But he’ll definitely want to hear all about everything from Jimin later!

Oh, he knows you’ll just look so sweet then.

Uhg. But now he just has to wait.

Disgusting it is, being without you for even a second longer.

Disgusting it is, that the eyes of the rest of the world get to bear witness to your beauty, as well.

Fucking peasants.

Namjoon should just let him have you. This whole thing is just ridiculous. Why should he have to wait when you’re soulmates? Why should you be kept from him? All of it is moronic and Namjoon wouldn’t understand the meaning of such love if it slapped him across the face.

Annoying.

Whatever.

…

Oh!! He can rewatch your pre-games interviews again!! Or your reaping– ooo.. He does love watching your reaping.

Or maybe!! Maybe the chariot ride when you wave at him– because he’s sure for a moment then you two locked eyes. And he knows you felt the spark then, too.

Or maybe he should rewatch his favourite scenes from the last 6 days, no matter how fresh in his mind they are. Watch as you become the perfect victor.

Or maybe he should go to the salon again! Get his pink hair fluffed up to perfection! Maybe the shops to get more new clothes for you! Oh, you probably wouldn’t know the renaissance is back in fashion, would you? Hmm, do you know what the renaissance is? What do they teach you in district schools?

Well!! It doesn’t matter! He can ask you soon, and he’s willing to teach you anything, regardless!!

Hmm hmm hmm…

Oh! Oh! Oh! Or maybe he should go around and clean his home again– make sure the apartment is just perfect for you! He knows you’ll love it already, but you know, it never hurts to do a little extra for the one you love!

Oh! He’s so excited to have you home! So, so excited! He just can’t wait! He can’t!

Solid memories, you realise, are hard to come by these days. There are things you think you know, of course. But nothing you can really wire down. Firm up into reality that isn’t mistied by some hazy expanse in the distance.

You remember the capitol– there were parties in your honor, an exit interview. You think you can see yourself rewatching a few clips of the games but… to be honest, it all feels as if you’re looking back in third person. The ghost of yourself watching a shell without a face. Maybe reacting, maybe sitting there in silence. You’re not really sure.

Though, you know all of it happened regardless of what your brain may distance from you. You know it did. But again, memories are… tricky. To say the least.

The next solid one you have after your games, you’re still at the capitol. Still at the world filled with glimmer and gleam. You remember sitting in the shower, water pounding against your skin as the world all to suddenly feels whole again. For the first time in weeks it feels as if you’re wearing your own skin, seeing things through your own eyes.

You remember your eyes casting down upon your hands. Droplets congregate on your palms as you have your first conscious thought since the night those games ended. Since the world became a mist no one would be able to see through.

You’re going home.

The realization is awe-inspiring. Stuttering, really. You know, then, that soon– in just a few days– you’ll be returning to District 11. You’ll be with your flowers and your bees. You’ll be able to walk through the tall grasses that fill your heart. Be able to see the sunset against the horizon and pretend as if you’re a bird dancing among those clouds.

You’ll be able to see your family again. To feel their hugs and listen to their stories. You’ll be their daughter again. Not a box of ash on the mantle, not a tale to avoid especially on the most harrowing nights. You’ll be free from the games. Your family will be free from the games.

You’ll see him.

You’ll see Yoongi.

He gave you a book on the old language of flowers— one of the last few standing after the history of before was erased from the public's eye. The original meaning of petals bound in worn leather, pages dried with colours of pressed flowers in their wake. In their entire glory for only you and him to see. To have together. Antiquities of a time you’ve never known, would never know save for the stories that were hushed in whispers of your attic walls between your voices alone.

The new language of flowers was something you didn’t like as much, not after learning the true words they spoke. Highly published novels depicting a different tale then the ones they murmured to you out in the fields. A language that was a lot more angry, spiteful. Filled with resentment of a darker time that bled into even the most beautiful, innocent things.

The book he gave you now held more meaning than ever before. While you don’t know much, you know that for certain.

You’ll have that book in your hands again soon. Him in your grasp again— soon.

Tears are in your eyes faster than you can blink them away. Sobs of a simple babe leaving your mouth for no one in the capitol to see. Just for yourself. Just for you, in your shower. Pathetic hands moving to try and wipe them away, yet there really is no hope. Tears will continue to flow, just as the sun will rise.

You needed this more than you could ever know. More than anyone would ever know.

Because then the thought is in your head again– about what you had to do to live. To survive. And for some strange reason, when you pull your hands away from your eyes, they look like they’re covered in red again. That boy in the arenas’ red. Your allies’ red. Strangers you didn’t know in the slightest’ red. The pasts’ red.

Tears continue to fall, but for a different reason now.

You’re out of your body again, and you think you might just stay there for a while. Until all of it just stops.

Fuck whatever the hell Namjoon says, actually. Jimin doesn’t give a shit anymore. Jimin doesn’t care about waiting for the “right time” or when you’re more “susceptible” (as if you even need to be!). You need to come home now. You have to.

He can’t just– he can’t just watch you destroy yourself like this in isolation! Especially when you have a warm, loving home to come home to. When he can support you.

Fuck that. He can’t watch this any longer.

This is all his fault, for going out earlier that day. Arriving home later than normal– missing your dinner together entirely. Oh, you’re probably so lonely without knowing he’s watching through the security cameras. Oh-so lonely.

That’s why you’re crying in the bathroom, that’s why you’re hurting inside. Because you’re so alone. Because you have no one when you need him.

You haven’t cried this entire time! There’s no other explanation as to why you’d be breaking down now! On the one day he didn’t have time to spend watching the cameras every waking second!

He always wakes up with you, falls asleep with you. Eats with you, showers with you. Does everything with you! Fuck! How could he be so stupid! How could he be so neglectful! He’s an awful boyfriend! Awful! Awful! Awful!

He can’t just watch you like this anymore. He doesn’t care if you’re more distressed, distraught– whatever. He’ll deal with that then. But you’re crying and it hurts him just as harshly as it does you.

He doesn’t even realise the tears that well in his own eyes. The stinging pain of his nails digging into his palm.

Fuck Namjoon. This is his fault! It is! He’s the one that kept you from him! He’s the one that’s been insisting on your isolation until the “right time”-- whatever the hell that is!

This is all his fault!

You’re so scared. So lonely. So heartbroken.

He’s going to save you. To help you. To bring you home.

Namjoon and Taehyung– they’ll understand, right..? He’s sure they will. They would do the same thing for their soulmates. He knows they would. Taehyung would do it in a second for his fletchling that got away! He could never be mad at Jimin! Never ever!

And Namjoon, Jimin knows that he was just doing what he thought was best– trying to help. But Jimin knows best when it comes to you.

He knows it's time for you to come home, even if it is a little more difficult. He can take it, he knows he can.

Jimin sniffles, wiping the underside of his nose as he mops up his lousy expression. Reminding himself that all of this is okay– at least it will be soon. When you’re with him. When you’re in his arms. Safe from the rest of the world.

Safe because of him.

The scent of sweet linen fills your nostrils to the very brim. Gentle fabrics twist in your palms, head leavered to the side, shoving your face even deeper into the too-soft sheets.

It smells almost like home. Like the fresh flowers you’d pick every morning to put on the table– the lilac, sweet pea, and babies breath mixture you made most often for the neighbours.

Something… Something is off. Something… artificial. But you choose to ignore that fact for the simple instance of staying sane. For the ability to lull your mind into a simpler place– a simpler time. A place before the games. A place so wonderful you don’t even allow yourself to dream of it anymore. Home.

Maybe that was your first mistake, thinking you might return to that place for even a moment.

Maybe it was a lot of things. It could have been imagining you just missed the entire train ride home– that you didn’t fall asleep in your stupid capitol apartment last night. Maybe it was thinking your mom’s bed could even afford such soft cottons to warm the lonely nights. Maybe it was letting your guard down for even a second, missing the footsteps that travel through the door.

Maybe it was missing a whole slew of other signs.

You’re too tired to know. Too tired to care.

Well, that is until a sing-song pitch feels like it breaks the sound barrier. Feels like it shatters your disillusioned peaceful world into a disarray of shards you can’t glue back together. Sends you tumbling from the bed, startling you. Making you remember exactly how you felt in those games all over again.

“Petal~ Are you awake yet, my love? Oh my–” He seems just as shaken as you as he watches you bolt from the bed. Startling back a few steps as you roll to the floor assuming a crouched, almost predatory position. Your hair messy, lips puffy from sleep. Eyes wide, almost unnerving as you try to take him in.

“Ah~” He resumes his original state, the one he had before you spooked him. One more relaxed– more carefree than you would ever be able to hold. A tray of food in his grip, filled to the brim with foods that used to be your favourites.

Food has tasted dull for awhile now.

“My, I must’ve scared you. I’m sorry, little petal.” He hums quietly, ignoring your flighty state instead focusing his path to the end of the bed– a bed you don’t recognise in the slightest. You’re not in any home that you’ve ever known. “I know, it must be pretty startling, hmm? I wanted to wake up in bed with you, but I didn’t think that would be the best idea.”

He lends a giggle to himself, though you can’t understand the humour in his words. Not when you’re reeling. Eyes darting around, taking in the scenery around you. The grandiose bedroom piled high with the most comfort the capitol can offer. A large bed in the center of the room– the bed you were just in. A large window taking space of the entire wall, giving view of the city down below.

How did you get here? What is going on? Who the actual fuck is this guy? How does he know you?

Well, the last question is easy enough to answer. How does anyone know you? The games of course. Your new victor status lends the title of celebrity.

You miss the days you were no one now more than ever. You need to get out.

Your eyes dart between his figure, now perched on the end of the bed next to the tray of food and the door. Could you make it past him? Beat him in a race? Sure, he looks taller than you. But from your position on the floor– practically in a runners start already, you’re sure you could beat anyone in the capitol who’s never had to work a day in their life.

What would you do after you make it out that door? You’re not sure. But you need to put more distance between yourself and this– this psychopath.

“I wouldn’t recommend that if I were you, love.” His voice is light, airy. Your mother would say he sounds like a songbird, however, you know that isn’t true. Only the capitol-created mutts would observe you as he is now. Close, pointnet. “The doorway has a sensor. I go through it, I’m fine. You— bzzt!!”

He grabs his collar, shaking a little to give off the appearance of being electrocuted, giving a light laugh at the end to show humour. What part of this is meant to be fucking funny?! You– you!! He kidnapped you!! What part of that is fucking funny!!

You feel heat in your face, air exhaling a notch faster than before as anger rises higher in your being. Who the fuck does he think he is?! You would be a fool not to go for it anyway. An idiot to just trust this man's words without a second thought.

“Not enough to kill you but–” You bolt for the doorway, running as fast and as hard as you can. Though, it doesn’t last long. The man did not lie, and you are frozen in place the second an inch of your frame has made it through the passage. A current shooting through your being, freezing you in place. Causing you to crumple to the floor without even a second's notice.

The pain is burning, though not as strong as you expected such a force to be. You don’t understand capitol technology, and you don’t want to. You don’t want to know how it could hurt so bad yet not hurt at all at the same time. How it could completely immobilise you yet feel as though it didn’t do any real damage.

A simple shock to your system, as he presumed this whole thing would be.

He tuts out a soft sigh as he watches you fall, standing from his place on the bed and allowing his legs to carry him to your form. “I told you petal, I wouldn’t recommend trying. It’s okay though– I expected this.”

He hums, easily scooping your body into his arms. And as much as you want to run, to push him away, to strangle him– you can’t move a muscle. Limp in his arms, useless to him moving you into bed, tucking you back under the sheets. All save for your face, and maybe your voice. Though, you haven’t tried to use that yet.

“Oh– don’t look at me like that!” He giggles, placing your body upright in bed. Back against the headboard, blankets pulled to your hips. You think you hate the smell of them now more than anything else. “You’ll be able to move again soon, I promise. 10-15 minutes max? I’m not sure the details– Joon set it up for me. I didn’t want to!”

He looks at you seriously now, almost a complete change in his demeanour. His hands moving to clench your unmoving ones, his eyes staring straight into your own still set in a glare. “I knew you would love me right away, petal. I promise. I didn’t think you would run. But Joon said it would be better to be safe than sorry, you know? And I didn’t want you to get hurt with all the shock this change would be! You understand, right?”

You don’t know what the fuck a Joon is or the bullshit the man in front of you is spewing. You don’t even know why he’s spitting it!! You don’t even know him!! You’ve never seen him before in your life!! A thousand words well up in your throat at once, yet you’re not sure which ones want to leave first. Hatred, as well as that puppy-dog look you already have come to despise forces your hand. You want him off of you– away from you. To give you a moment to think and to figure out all of his nonsense!!

“Fuck you.” Is all you can manage between your teeth, though you want to will so much more. Want to let loose every stupid, horrible thing you’ve thought since you first arrived in the capitol. The words you wanted to say during all of your interviews– the words that wouldn’t gain you sponsors or support.

Maybe you should have said them back then, maybe then you wouldn’t be in this position now.

Oh, you hate that he only smiles at your words. Moves, instead, to grab the tray of food abandoned at the edge of the bed. “They’ll be plenty of time for that later, petal.”

You know it’s meant to be a tease– the way he says it puts no real meaning behind his words. But their simple utterance leaves you wanting to spasm. To will your body to move– to make him not threaten you like that again. To yell, to scream, to throw fists his way. To throw him out that giant window. The one that taunts you of your freedom.

“No! No–! There won’t be!” You almost shout, attempting to force your body to move. To twist any part of it. To gain back any level of control. Slap that giggle that spills from his lips. “Who the– Who the fuck are you?!”

Your voice is practically a growl, but he doesn’t seem to care in the slightest. In fact he's– he’s jovial? His shoulders shake with amusement while his eyes crest with joy. And you, you hate every second of it.

“Ah~ There’s the petal I know!” He hums, cutting away at the pancakes below. Plucking a few pieces onto a fork, bringing it closer to your lips, “Though, if I’m being honest, I’m a little hurt you don’t remember me, my love! We’ve had so much fun together!!”

His expression softens now, almost appearing wounded. Like you had stabbed him somewhere you couldn’t even begin to explain. It only enrages you further, to be honest. Though, nothing to do about that now. You’ve already boiled over.

“What the fuck are you talking about?! I don’t know you!! We’ve never–” He takes that moment to shove the fluffy bread between your lips, knowing otherwise he would not have the chance. He takes his other hand, placing it on your lower jaw before you have the chance to spit it out. You hate how he seems to know your actions before you know them yourself. You hate everything about him.

“You need to eat.” His tone is harsh again. It switches so easily– everything about him does, honestly. It confuses you, but there isn’t much time to spend on that thought at the moment, is there? Not with a psycho in the room. Not with everything happening.

You still don’t follow his direction. Instead just hold it between your lips, not chewing. It gives you some sense of control you otherwise lacked in every other way. Gives you an ounce of strength.

“Chew. Or else you’ll be on a liquid diet. Neither of us want that.” The way he looks at you now sends a chill down your spine. Eyes half lidded, almost in a glare. Jaw set harshly in place, puffy lips pulled in slightly.

You feel like you’re in the arena again.

Maybe you never left.

“Eat. And I’ll answer your questions.” Begrudgingly, you oblige. Though it doesn’t come without some force, humiliation burns through as you actually listen to what he tells you. As you follow his command.

You want to die, maybe.

Or that could just be the shame that runs through your veins.

You’ve never been a strong person, you don’t think. And the thought feels even more apparent now. Your ally in the games– she would’ve never done what he said. You know that. She was strong. She always listened to her own conscience above all else. She would’ve never given in over a threat and a promise, while you, at least on the inside, feel as if that’s all it ever takes.

A threat and a promise.

You hate it. Even more so when his personality does a complete 180 once again. When he starts praising you. When he hops up next to you on the bed and nestles you into his side. Especially when he plants a kiss on the top of your head, telling you how good you are. How he just knew you wanted to please him and that there's no reason to pretend.

“See, baby? I just knew you could do it. I knew our little rough patch wouldn’t last long, would it? See, you’re already so good for me. Just the perfect little thing like I knew you would be, yeah? Wow~” His lips against your head feel like the first soft thing you’ve felt in the last month. You hate it. “What a perfect little Victor for me baby, you know that? C’mon! Let's eat up lots! I hate how much weight you’ve been losing since you got here from the districts. It’s so sad.”

You want to sob, actually. Burning humiliation feels unbridled in your core. You hate that you can’t push him away. That you can’t get away. Why does such a simple action of chewing food feel like so much more? Why does everything feel like so much more?

You want to go home. You want to be among your flowers and your best friend.

The fork is in front of your mouth again.

This time, you take it without a fight. Already knowing it will be going in your mouth, regardless. Especially in this new, feeble position. His arm around your shoulder, your legs soon tugged onto his lap the same.

“Who are you.” You ask again, hatred in your tone. Though he ignores it completely, instead favouring to focus on the way you took his offering without much physical fight. He could tell the mental one was burdensome, though there will be time to deal with that later.

He smiles at you, though you choose to focus on a spot through the window in the far distance. Hoping against all hope it is the glimmer of the sun rather than a hologram pasted on the glass.

“Jimin. My name is Jimin. Remember it this time, okay petal?” He says softly, as though it was just for you to hear.

You wish it wasn’t.

You wish it was at some sort of public hanging for the world to hear for kidnapping the Capitol’s much favoured victor. You wish he was being hung while you were in the arms of your best friend instead, far away from the entire mess. Far away from everything.

Why hasn’t your mind locked you away again? Made you incapacitated– a drop among the flowing river? Why did it have to make you so aware, now, when it was all you had ever hoped for before? Why couldn’t it lock away these memories like it did for those in the games?

The answer is obvious.

You’re still in them. Maybe not physically, but mentally, now more than ever, you’re in those games. Except now, the only enemy is one and if you make it out, there would be no trumpets signalling your victory.

There is no victory in these games, is there?

“Hmm, you’ve had a hard morning, haven’t you?” He’s still being soft. Still slowly feeding you bites of food you want nothing to do with while his other hand gently traces circles on your ankle. At least you’re still wearing the clothes you fell asleep in. You have that to be thankful for. “I’m sorry for scaring you so badly, I hoped the scents would calm you down but I guess I was wrong.”

You finally spare a glance his way, noticing his lips in a pout. He has nothing to be sad for, you know it to be true. So why is he acting like the burden of the world is on his shoulders? You have not a clue, nor a care. Though you keep yourself quiet all the same, knowing any words you say might set him off– especially the unkind ones you think.

“Don’t worry, I’m sure you’ll get used to it soon.” He smiles again, eyes cresting into half circles. His lips finding your hair once again, leaving a soft kiss in its wake. It makes you want to gag– want to cry in the way it mimics your mothers. But there's nothing you can do. Absolutely nothing for at least another 3 minutes. But where will you go– what will you do once that time does pass? You need to be smart about this.

You can’t run. You can’t leave this room without being paralyzed. You could grab a fork, you could stab–

Your eyes automatically trail down to your hands, as if they expect the red to still be there. As if you didn’t scrub it away countless times, a new red in its place. Raw and irritated, painful.

…

What will you do when the time passes?

The urge to scratch at your hands once again is insurmountable. An itch pulling behind your eyes as a meager way to force away the visions of that career in your face. Of his expression as blood dribbled from the side of his lips, eyes becoming hollow against the sandy ground.

You force your eyelids closed. Pressing them together. Willing away the picture of at least 12 other tributes– the slaughters you witnessed first hand. The colour draining from their skin from where you hid. The emptiness where there once held life.

You watched them smiling in training. You ate with a few. They were real people with real lives and now they are dead and you’re alive.

You want it to go away. You want it all to go away.

…

You’re not sure what you can do once the time passes. The wails in your ears at the mere thought of stabbing him are evidence of that enough.

You need more time to think.

“Why?” The question hangs heavy in their air, almost so quietly you’re not sure it left your own lips. You don’t remember it leaving them, surely. Nevertheless, willing them to move– but the question found its way out on its own.

You don’t know if you want an answer, but you can’t force it back in.

“Why?” Jimin, your captor, hums. His thumb tapping gently against your ankle bone in a way that you assume is meant to soothe. He takes a moment– thinking, contemplating, before a smile so bright it could be the sun itself takes over his expression. One filled with care, with such soft admiration you’ve only ever seen on one person before.

“Because I love you, of course. You love me too. You promised.”

The days– no, weeks, that follow are, disappointingly, similar to your first. An almost-routine forming between you and Jimin. Horrible, unnerving Jimin. Wake up every morning all-too aware, force yourself from his too-tight grip he’s managed to pull you into while you slept. Check the exits to see if they’re still locked or shocked. Eat breakfast with Jimin, deal with his mood-swings and tantrums.

Eventually he leaves for work– not before he clings to you again, whining about how he doesn’t want to go. You lash out, yell at him to stop touching you– you hate when he touches you– after which he either cries or gets mad. Whimpers about how he doesn’t understand why you’re being so mean. Why you hate him.

A little kid being refused their favourite toy, maybe. The same way your little brother might’ve done the same.

He’s got some sort of twisted reality, that's all you know. Has convinced himself you’ve loved each other for years, that you two are meant to be some sort of fairytale. That it’s fate you were drawn that day– something about letters. You have no clue how he’s come to that conclusion, nor find yourself wanting to delve into it. All you do know is that it’s tiring, too tiring.

To be honest, when he cries like that in the mornings, it almost makes you feel bad. Almost, because you’re not stupid. You know what’s real. You know that before he took you, you had never seen him in your life. You made no promises like he swears, you never showed him any sort of inclination otherwise.

On the other hand, it's clear he’s sick in the head. Clear that something in the capitol deluded him into believing whatever… this is. Maybe he’s never known what actual love is– you doubt the capitol knows anything about that. Maybe it was his friends you’ve been forced to hear about, maybe it’s just, everything else.

Either way, you wouldn’t know. He doesn’t talk much about himself– nor his family. He doesn’t talk about visiting them or introducing them to you the same way he does his best friends.Two people you’ve never met yet already hate. An already-assumed air to the presidency and the head gamemaker– Taehyung, Namjoon.

You really did get lucky with your captor, huh? Well, you knew he had to be in high places for the wealth he assumes. The wealth he practically forced on you in the arena.

Oh, the realization he had been the one to dump food and weapons on you was a sobering one indeed.

You often wonder where it comes from. What he had to do to become so rich when back home, all your family had to their name was a small two bedroom cottage in the far-reaches of town. When your father would become so skinny during the winter months that you found yourself sleeping next to his bed, afraid he might not wake up in the morning.

It had been worse when your parents were little, or so you were told. The capitol used to be worse– more vicious. Something about an almost uprising. An agreement made when a mockingjay flew. You’re not sure, it sounded like some sort of strange symbolism when your teacher spoke the words. And back then, when you were young, you didn’t care about the symbolism of birds. Flowers were much more your heart.

What did the capitol kids learn in school? Did they have it? Or were they already assumed geniuses. A silver spoon born into the mouths of the wealthy, their paths laid out by birthright alone. Never having to worry, never having to struggle. Jimin is most definitely the same, regardless.

Spite is an emotion often had, along with too many others.

You have too much time to think here. Too much time to reflect on your inability to act. Why you’re cursed with visions whenever you so much as have a passing thought about killing Jimin to get away.

Though, maybe it’s a blessing, in a way. What would you do if you did manage such a feat? Run with his friends tailing behind you? Find some way out of the capitol? Risk the lives of everyone you love by somehow returning home with nothing to your name? How would you even leave the apartment? Sure, he normally turns the bedroom shocks off during the day so you can roam, but you know the same device stands at the front door.

The windows are too tall to leap from, no fire escapes in sight. You would be stupid to not assume he already planned for you to try and kill him. Maybe if he dies the entire apartment explodes. Maybe he’s got some sort of medical implant that could patch all wounds instantly. You have no clue what kind of technology the capitol holds, much less one of its most important citizens.

What you can assume? He dies, you die with him.

You’re not sure if you could kill him anyway.

So there you are left, planning. Forced to listen to him. His day, his life. His friends. You. The people he deems actually important to his life, you presume.

Then there are his plans– what he wants to do with you that day, dates he hopes to take you on after you finally accept him. Proposals. Marriage. All things that twist your stomach– make it ache.

Of course, he asks questions, too. Makes it appear as though he actually wants to get to know you better. What a joke. This whole thing feels like one. Like some type of dream you won't be able to escape no matter how hard you thrash under the covers.

Most of the time, you find it easier not to answer. If you say nothing, he can’t use it against you. Can’t turn it into a tantrum from a wrong answer or stare at you with those warm-brown eyes while you open your soul. Can’t take a mile when you only bare him an inch.

You never can tell what he is thinking.

What you do know? He looks so pathetic when he cries during those times you decide to let hate fill your heart. When the band inside finally snaps and you just can’t take anymore of this. The demon clawing out from your abdomen, spewing vile from your lips before you can even think of what you’re truly saying.

Oh, how clings to your legs, looks up at you with tears streaming down his face. His perfectly styled pink hair a wreck, his puffy cheeks flushed red. Veins in his neck straining. Begging, pleading for you to just love him. For you to come to him like he does you, to crave him like he does you. For you to just say you didn’t mean it. To please, please just not hate him. He just can’t take it. You’re soulmates. You’re meant to be. You can’t hate him, you can’t.

Maybe sometimes you feel a small ounce of sympathy when he gets like that, knowing that you caused it. Humanity thriving within you when, at this point, in most it would be squandered away.

You feel too much lately, to be honest.

Though, that little bit of pity, small and waning, is wiped away all the same when he forces you to sit in bed with him at night. Most nights he’s able to hold you due to the same zap you receive every time you try to run out that door– still believing it would be stupid to not try. Others, it's because you’re simply too tired to fight him. Because it’s easier not to.

Either way, the result of your compliance forced or not is the same. Your frame tucked into his side, legs across his lap. His arm pulling you close, tucking the top of your head into his neck. All the while he plays reruns of your games, your interviews, your reaping.

He smiles watching them, eyes casting a fond glow on the projection of your nightmare. The things you wish you didn’t have to do.

You hate that you can see the fondness in his expression, especially. Makes his words seem even more true, that he wholeheartedly believes them. Whenever you appear on screen, his expression lights. His lips quirking whenever he urges you to watch– that his favourite part is coming.

He seems to have a lot of favourite parts.

At least it fills in a lot of gaps in your memory– maybe that’s one good that comes of it. Or maybe it’s another negative. Something that should be forgotten for your own sanity. That’s what your brain thought at least but now… You’re not really sure anymore, to be honest. It’s hard to keep things straight when you’re stuck in this apartment. When everything else your head is doing to protect you is oh-so-tiring.

You remember him showing you your reaping a month after arriving at his apartment– one of the projections you seem to have forgotten completely. A day entirely forgotten returned to you all-too quick. A shot straight to the heart.

You were standing there in line, waiting to have your face and fingerprints scanned for attendance. Hair a little wild, dress bustling in the wind. You watched as you walked forward, as they took you into the system. Corralled you into the area reserved for the oldest age group.

You feel like you look so young then, or at least felt a million years younger than you do now. So happy, so carefree. Waiting for the whole drawing to just be over so you could be free of it. Finally free of it. Of everything.

Fuck, your final reaping, too. How pathetic.

“You looked so pretty for me then, petal. That’s when I recognised your name.” Jimin whispered to you, nuzzling his face in your hair. Yet you paid little mind– eyes glued to the screen as the scenes shifted, bringing you directly to the drawing.

Hearing your name called, your face displayed on the screen was entirely mind-altering, to say the least. The girl on the screen is no longer you– maybe a body double, maybe a secret twin. It doesn’t matter which, because that girl, no. She doesn’t feel like you in the slightest. You don’t remember any of it happening at all.

Back then, you remember how your legs stumbled as they carried you. How they shook with terror. The world was ending, you were sure of it. You knew it was. But the girl on screen is confident. She’s bold. She bares an expression of neutrality– posture held high, chin up against the winds with a red carnation tucked behind her ear.

He tucked that flower behind your ear that morning, you know that for sure. It was tradition that he would. Petals tucked in your tresses, the promise of researching their meaning when you two departed.

Maybe you should have done so before the reaping that day– maybe that was another mistake.

Either way, it doesn’t matter now. Now you’re tucked in the arm of a deluded capitol boy who bought you from the president, being forced to watch the screen as it changes to something you were never meant to witness.

The camera cuts to a scene in the crowd. A group of 6 standing together, holding each other. Mother, Father, Sister, Brother-in-Law, Brother, Sister-in-Law-to-be all joined together to watch their last family members very last reaping.

Your heart shatters as you hear the syllables of your name called once again.

The shock, the horror. The terror. The tears. The realization that you were going into the games. You watched from your seat in the capitol as your mother crumpled in on herself– as your brother fell right alongside her. Trying to hold her, trying to console her while your father just stood in utter shock. Frozen in place from his daughter being taken from him.

He always did say your family was too lucky, to prepare for the worst. When you were young, it was a joke. But on that day it wasn’t, no. It was every nightmare a reality.

Your family’s realization they would never see you run amongst the fields again. Hope already mist in the wind. That’s what it was.

Then, then the weight of ten-thousand bodies feels as though it has fallen onto your shoulders.

The camera cut to him. Your best friend. Your Yoongi. The man who tucked the flower in your hair, who made you promise to come back to him. The man who said he would do anything for you facing the one thing he couldn’t do anything against.

You don’t even know how the cameramen knew to film him in that moment, but you wish they didn’t. You wish against all else that you would’ve never had to see his face like that.

This is the worst thing you could have seen. That Jimin is making you see. Worse than making you rewatch your games with that sickening smile on his face. Worse than making you relive the other lives you had to take in that arena with the weapons Jimin provided through sponsorship. Worse than finding out he had been privy to all the cameras in your capitol apartment.

No, seeing Yoongi again was worse than anything else. Especially knowing you would never see him again.

At least during the games you knew you had a chance. Now, it feels like you have none.

He’s gone.

You can’t stop the tears, from forcing your gaze away from the screen and hiding your face in Jimin’s neck. From breaking down against him– your captor, yet at the same time your only source of comfort.

Maybe that's what he wanted. Maybe that was the point of all of this. You don’t know anything other than the pounding of your head and the burn of your lungs as it tries to pull in air. The static that runs through the wires of your brain as it shuts down, succumbing to the pain. The hurt of just– everything.

“Hey, hey. Baby, it’s okay. It’s okay~” He tries to calm you, yet it does nothing. Your wails only grow louder. Nails scratching, grabbing for anything in their reach. Finding home in his loose linen shirt.

If you were any more sane, maybe you would know he was panicked in that moment too. Scrambling with what to do, how to console you. Eyes darting as he manages your form, tries to discern what to do or say. “That’s enough for today, I think…”

He turns off the tv, you know that. You thank the skies for it. You don’t think you could listen to your supposedly private goodbyes with your family and Yoongi at that moment. You think that might just break you entirely.

The actions that follow are foreign. Too consumed in your grief, you’re not sure how you wound up on his lap. How your body found itself clinging to him entirely. You’re sure of the sound of his voice, though. The way it gently shushes your cries with a smooth hum. Trying to comfort, to soothe while he strokes the top of your head with one hand. The other rubbing circles into your hip as you cry.

The terrible part? You let him.

You let him mumble into your hair. You let him be your support when he was the very thing keeping you away from them. The very being holding you hostage when you should be in the victory village with them. When you should be with Yoongi.

It’s too bad, but you really can’t help it. Honestly. Everything inside of you that you’ve been holding onto for so very long is flushing from your system all at once. Waves of emotion from the reaping, the games, the kidnapping have overflowed, and without something solid, you might have drowned. May have been washed away in a haze of memories you’re unable to come back from.

Can you really be blamed for letting the fire of hatred be quelled for only a night when a tsunami is about to pull you under?

“It’s okay petal, let it out. You needed all of this, hmm? I’m so sorry for upsetting you, baby. I had no clue it would, I swear. I’ll never do something like that again, okay? I don’t want you to hate me, baby, I’m so sorry. I didn’t know your heart was still all the way back there, okay?”

During the entire time you’ve been in the capitol, not a sole has offered you a single ounce of comfort. Maybe that’s why it was so easy to just let him. To let him comfort you. To let him take care of you. No matter how humiliating or awful it will feel tomorrow, you’re too tired to care.

You’re so tired of fighting. Why do you have to keep fighting? Why you?

“Worked so hard on being so strong. I’m proud of you. I’ve got you now, petal.” He whispered into your hair so softly. As if he could break you, as if he ever even conserved doing such a thing.

Maybe he could feel it then– the way you had given up. Even if it was just for the hour. Maybe he knew to use it to his advantage. That’s what you would have done in the arena. Or maybe he did actually care. Did actually want to be there. Wasn’t planning on using your vulnerability for his own gain.

You would never really know, would you?

You’re just so tired. And the way he gently pulls your face from his neck, tucks your face into his palm sure makes it feel like he cares. You don’t know. You don’t want to care. You just want to be free from thinking for a little while.

Maybe that’s why you don’t look away when his eyes search to find your own. To make a connection– to try and convey that he can be solid for you, despite how he acts most of the time. Maybe it’s the tears that fall onto his cheeks, fooling you into believing his pain is your own. Your head feels so screwy anyway– unable or unwilling to function any longer than it has to.

Maybe that's why you don’t pull away when he glances towards your lips. When his tongue darts out to wet his pretty pink pair. When he leans closer, his lips pressing against your own in a way that is utterly consuming, yet so soft at the same time. Dual worlds colliding together. The very definition of who Jimin seems to be.

The kiss is a short, gentle thing. Something meant to soothe, to help you relax more than anything else. One that you neither respond to, nor push away from. But the fact it happens remains. The fact you didn’t hate it remains a thing to ponder on another day.

His thumbs move up to gently swipe at your cheeks, collecting the last of your tears on his fingertips. Your head choosing to ignore the way he pops the digits in his mouth, tasting the salty tang.

You're too tired– too confused right now, to care anyway.

“Let's go to bed now, okay? You must be tired, baby.” He lifts you, placing you on your side of his massive bed. Tucking your frame in, moving your hair to the side before placing a gentle kiss on your temple.

That night, he doesn’t force you to cuddle him. He doesn’t touch you at all, something you’re grateful for. But it’s clear something– maybe everything has changed. The repercussions, unclear.

Yet the next morning, when you’re shocked awake by a gentle kiss to the lips and the floppy, too-happy face of Jimin in the morning, the memories of the night prior return. Then and there, for the first time, you’re sure you’ve made a mistake.

⋆𐙚 part ii -> coming soon to a theatre near you <33 and as always, feel free to ask hunger games!jimin anything you want along with all my other guys!! MWAH!! ily and i hope you enjoyed <33

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thedivinetarot · 8 months ago

Text

Closer to you than your breathe

Channeled message from them

☆ How to chose your pile?

Take a deep breath, clear your mind. Focus your intentions on receiving the message from this reading. And close your eyes, ask the question in your head " what is the message I'm meant to receive from them?" And open your eyes. The pic youa re drown to the most isnyour pile.

☆ Who is this reading from?

You can apply this reading on any person but I did it for your future spouse or future partner. Also, there will be non-explicit part and explicit part so if you are under 18 do not continue to the explicit part.

☆ Note:

I started doing paid readings so if you are interested here's my Masterlist which is currently open. Feel free to DM if you want a paid reading.

Lots of love

Arya❤

Pile 1 - Letter one

My Dearest Love

I’ve waited so long to find you, and now that you’re here, my world feels balanced and whole. You are the Queen of my heart—grounded, nurturing, and endlessly generous. With you, love is not a fleeting feeling but a steady exchange of care and understanding. I cherish the way you give so freely, yet remain true to yourself. I know we’ve both had moments of doubt, times when the weight of the world felt too heavy, or when we questioned if we’d ever find this connection. But I want you to know that you are my clarity, my choice—just as I hope I am yours. There’s no confusion in my heart when it comes to you. I’ve left behind illusions and embraced the simple truth: we are meant to be. Our love feels like destiny—two cups pouring into each other, endlessly full. With you, I see a home, a foundation built on joy and celebration, not just with each other but with the life we’ll create together. I dream of the family gatherings, the warmth of shared memories, and the way your presence feels like home no matter where we are. But love isn’t always light and easy, and I know there will be burdens to share and moments when we’ll need to lean on each other. I promise to carry those loads with you, to walk beside you, step by steady step, as we build a life we can be proud of. I’ll be your Knight, slow but steady, working tirelessly to give us the stability we both deserve. Sometimes, I feel the echoes of the past—familiar memories that remind me of what love can be. You feel like a wish come true, like someone I’ve known before, a soul I’ve loved in another time. I see so much potential in us, as if fate herself worked her magic to bring us together. You inspire me to believe in the impossible, to dream of all we can achieve together. With you, I am not just the person I am, but the person I aspire to become. You are my muse, my strength, my love. I can’t wait to grow with you, to nurture our love like the strong and enduring tree it’s meant to be. You are my moon, my light in the darkness, my guiding star. Together, we’ll create a love that’s as deep as the roots of the earth and as limitless as the sky.

Forever yours,

Your person

MDNI +18

My Beloved

From the moment we met, there was no question in my mind that you were the one. I feel the pull of your energy, your warmth, and the way you touch me—not just physically, but deep within my soul. You are everything I’ve ever dreamed of, and more than I ever expected. With you, love is not just an exchange of words or glances; it’s a delicate dance, an endless giving and receiving. You, my Queen, have a way of grounding me, of making me feel like I am both powerful and tender, all at once. In your arms, I find comfort and the freedom to be myself—completely and unapologetically. I crave the way your body fits against mine, how it feels to be lost in the rhythm of us, in that space where we both melt into one. There were times I wondered if I would ever find this kind of love, the kind that fills every part of me and leaves me wanting more. But the moment I laid eyes on you, every doubt faded away. You are no longer just a possibility, you are my reality. My heart has chosen you, and now, I only have eyes for you. The moments we share together are more than just memories; they are the foundation of a passion that burns bright, that fuels our connection. When I look at you, I see everything I’ve ever wanted. I want to explore every inch of you, learn the taste of your skin, the sound of your breath when you’re lost in pleasure, the way you moan my name in the quiet moments between us. We have something rare and deep, something that feels like it’s been written in the stars. When you touch me, when our lips meet, it’s as if time itself stands still. I feel you in every part of me—inside, outside, heart, and soul. I know the road ahead won’t always be smooth, but I am ready to carry you through it, to take on every burden, every challenge with you by my side. I’ll never let go of this love, of this connection we have. I’ll cherish you, adore you, and make you feel like the most desired person in the world. You are my magic, my everything. I want to give you a life of passion, of intimacy, of everything you’ve ever craved. And with you, I’ll always find my way back home, to your arms, where I am truly alive.

Forever yours,

Your Future Lover

Pile 2 - Letter 2

( With the cards I picked, it seems like this pile’s spouse has experienced some tough moments and inner struggles. There's a sense of uncertainty, heartbreak, and perhaps confusion, but also a desire for healing and balance. Their future spouse may want to reassure them of a love that helps them find peace, security, and emotional fulfillment despite these challenges).

My Dearest

I know you’ve been through much, and my heart aches when I think of the burdens you’ve carried alone. The weight of your past and the struggles you’ve faced are not unnoticed, and I see the wounds that have shaped you. You have endured, and that strength, though hidden beneath your pain, shines through in ways that I admire deeply. There’s a deep sadness in me, knowing that there have been times when you felt abandoned or lost. But I want you to know—none of that will remain when we are together. I will be the one who holds you, who sees through the fog and the fear that clouds your heart. In me, you will find a refuge, a sanctuary where you can lay down your burdens and let go of the sorrow that lingers. The path we walk may not always be easy, but I will guide you, patiently, through the darkest of times. I’ll be the steady presence, the one who lifts you when the weight of the world feels unbearable. Together, we will heal from what has hurt us. Together, we will find balance in a world that often feels chaotic. You may have moments of doubt, of confusion, or of wondering if things will ever truly change, but I promise you this: I am here. I see you for who you truly are, not the past, not the fears, but the person capable of immense love and joy. Your wounds do not define you; they are simply part of the journey that will bring us closer, that will help us understand each other on a deeper level. Though I know there may be times when you feel disconnected from the world around you, when loneliness creeps in, remember that I am always with you, even in the silence. We will create a space where trust is restored and where the pain of the past becomes a distant memory, fading with every passing day we share. I’ll be there to calm your restless heart and bring you peace. You are my treasure, the person who completes my life in ways I never knew possible. I will work every day to show you how much I cherish you, how much I desire to build something beautiful with you, despite all that has come before. No matter how long it takes, we will create a life of love, healing, and serenity. I see you. I understand you. And most of all, I am here for you—every part of you, no matter how scarred, no matter how uncertain. Together, we will shine again.

Forever yours,

Your person

MDNI +18

My Dearest

I know you’ve carried so much pain, and my heart aches at the thought of the loneliness you’ve felt. I feel it, the weight of your struggles, the scars that mark you, but let me tell you this: I will be the one to remove those burdens, to kiss away every trace of sorrow from your skin. In my arms, you will find a release like no other—where you can surrender, where the heaviness of the world can fade into nothing. You’ve felt abandoned, lost at times, unsure of whether someone could truly see the real you. But I see you. Every inch of you. I see the raw beauty in your vulnerability, the fire beneath your uncertainty. When you let me in, I’ll show you what it means to be wanted, to be needed, in ways that go beyond the physical. I’ll make you feel desired—not just for your body, but for the depth of your soul. I crave you—your softness, your strength, the way you carry both pain and passion. When we come together, it’s not just about the pleasure. It’s about releasing everything, every thought, every fear. In our connection, I’ll show you what it feels like to be lost in the heat of the moment, where the world outside ceases to exist, and all that matters is the way we fit together. There may be moments when you feel distant, when your heart is clouded with doubt or sadness, but I will always pull you back to me. I’ll take your hand, guide you through those dark moments, and show you how to let go completely. In those moments, I’ll taste your lips, feel the heat of your body against mine, and remind you just how much you are wanted, how much you are adored. Every part of you calls to me, from the way you look at me with those eyes filled with longing, to the way your skin reacts to my touch. You will learn what it means to be worshiped, to be loved in a way that burns, that leaves you breathless, that makes you forget everything except the heat between us. The journey we’ll take together won’t always be easy, but when I’m with you, I’ll make every touch, every kiss, every whisper, something you will never forget. You are everything I’ve ever dreamed of—more than I ever imagined—and I want to take you, every inch of you, body and soul. We will create a world where our connection is all-consuming, where every moment together feels like the first time. I will be here, ready to explore every part of you—your desires, your fantasies, your deepest cravings. Together, we will create a love that goes beyond words, a passion that will never fade.

Forever yours

Your Lover

Pile 3 - Letter 3

This pile seems to have a mix of longing, introspection, and fiery new beginnings. Your future spouse or person likely sees you as someone who has faced emotional challenges but still carries hope and passion for love. The Lenormand cards (ring, birds, and dog) suggest commitment, deep conversations, and loyalty.

My Beloved

I see you—your strength, your resilience, and the fire that burns within you despite the times you’ve been hurt. I know you’ve faced moments where the world seemed to take more than it gave, leaving you wondering if true, lasting love is even possible. But I want you to know, I am here, and with me, you’ll never feel that imbalance again. I will cherish you as you deserve, giving you my all with every moment we share. Your heart, so beautiful and tender, has been bruised before, but it hasn’t broken. That courage, that determination to keep hoping, to keep believing, is what draws me to you. I admire the strength you carry even when you feel uncertain or vulnerable. You don’t need to carry the weight alone anymore—I will be the one who stands beside you, steady and unwavering. When we meet, you’ll feel it—a spark, a passion, an undeniable pull that we can’t resist. You awaken something in me that no one else can. Every touch, every shared glance, will feel like it was meant to be, like we were created to fit perfectly together. I’ll make sure that every moment with me reminds you of how deeply loved and desired you are. Our connection will be unlike anything you’ve known—loyal, passionate, and endlessly fulfilling. We’ll share conversations that stretch into the night, where words flow as naturally as our hearts beat for one another. I’ll be your closest companion, your unwavering support, and the one who always chooses you, no matter what life brings. I promise to build a life with you that is rich in love and overflowing with joy. Together, we’ll create a bond so unshakable that no doubt or fear can touch it. With every kiss, every whispered word, I’ll remind you that you are my everything—the one I’ve waited for, the one I’ll never let go. So, my love, hold on just a little longer. The path may not always be easy, but it’s leading us to each other. When we finally unite, all the longing and waiting will be worth it. You are my wish come true, and I am yours.

Forever yours,

Your person

MDNI +18

My Beloved

There's a fire in you that I can't resist, a strength and passion that calls to me in ways I never known. I see the way life has tested you, how it left its mark on your tender heart, but it hasn’t dimmed your light. Instead, it made you more irresistible. You’ve carried so much alone, but when we are together, I will take that weight from you. I’ll show you what it means to truly let go and surrender to pleasure, to love, to me. When I look at you, I won't be able to hold myself back. I’ll crave the heat of your body, the way your skin responds to my touch, the way you sigh my name when I make you mine. There's an ache in me that only you can satisfy, a desire to explore every inch of you, to uncover all the hidden parts of your soul and your body. Our connection will be unbreakable, raw, and consuming. I’ll take my time with you, savoring every moment, every kiss, every shiver that runs down your spine when I touch you in ways no one else ever will. When I'm with you, the world will disappear, and there will be nothing but us, the rhythm of our bodies moving together, the sound of your moans filling the air, and the way you'll beg for more. You awaken something primal in me, a hunger that only you can sate. I will show you just how much I want you, how deeply I desire not just your heart but your body, your soul, everything that makes you who you are. I'll make you feel cherished and wanted, not just in words but in every action, every passionate moment we share. I’ll kiss away every tear, every doubt, and replace them with sensations that make you forget the past. When I touch you, it will be with purpose to remind you that you are mine, that no one else will ever know you the way I do. And when I take you in my arms, I'll make sure you never feel alone again. You are my deepest desire, my most sinful craving, and my sweetest dream. I'll be your lover, your partner, your everything. Together, we'll create a passion so consuming that it will leave us both breathless, a connection so deep that it will feel like nothing else has ever mattered before us. I am waiting for you, longing for the day I can finally claim you in every way. Until then, know that you are the one I burn for, the one I'll never stop wanting.

Forever yours

Your lover

Pile 4 - Letter 4

My Dearest

I’ve thought so many times about the day we will finally meet, and what I will say when I look into your eyes for the first time. I don’t know how it will feel, but I know it will be electric, like a spark igniting something powerful between us. I want you to know that when I look at you, I will see everything—the beauty of your soul, the depth of your heart, the strength you've hidden away. I see how much you’ve carried on your own, how many burdens you’ve shouldered in silence, and it will make me want to hold you even more. There have been many times when life has felt uncertain, when it seemed like we couldn’t go on. But there’s something about us, something I can’t quite explain, that makes me believe we were always meant to find one another. You and I, we will balance each other out, filling in the gaps that have existed in our lives. The weight of the world won’t feel so heavy when I’m beside you, and I will make sure you never feel alone again. I will cherish every moment with you. I want to take my time with you, to savor every conversation, every touch, every glance. I want to be the one who makes you feel safe and secure, the one who stands by you when life gets tough. I see how much you’ve given to others, how much you’ve sacrificed, and I want to give you everything you deserve in return. I want to show you that love can be steady, that trust can be built, and that when you give yourself to someone, it’s not in vain. There may be moments when we question if we’re ready for what we’re about to experience, but I know deep down that this connection between us is something extraordinary. It won’t always be easy, but we will navigate the storms together, side by side, knowing that what we have is real. When I’m with you, I will make you feel seen, heard, and adored. I crave the day when we can finally be together, when I can hold you in my arms and tell you that you are the one I’ve been waiting for. Until then, know that you are in my heart, that you are the person I am working toward, the one I will never let go of.

Forever yours

Your lover

MDNI +18

My Dearest

From the very first time I lay eyes on you, I will know that you are mine. There will be no hesitation, no doubts. You will awaken a desire in me that I can’t control, a fire that I’ve never known before. When we come together, it will be explosive—the kind of passion that burns everything in its path. I want to take you in my arms and make you feel wanted, desired, cherished in ways no one else ever has. I will trace the lines of your body with my fingertips, savoring every curve, every inch of you. When I kiss you, I won’t just kiss your lips—I’ll kiss your soul. And I’ll make sure that you feel every kiss deep within your bones, as if it’s your very lifeblood. There will be times when you’ll need me to show you how much I want you. I’ll make it clear with every touch, every breath, every word. You’ll feel my hunger for you, and you’ll know that it’s not just physical—it’s spiritual, it’s emotional. You will be the center of my world, the one I can’t stop thinking about. When we’re together, I’ll let go of all the restraints I’ve built around myself. I’ll let go of everything holding me back, and I’ll give myself completely to you. I’ll make you forget everything but the heat between us, the way our bodies move together in perfect harmony. I’ll make you feel things you’ve never felt before, and you’ll beg for more. But it won’t just be about pleasure. I want to take care of you, hold you, protect you in ways you never knew you needed. I’ll show you what it means to truly be loved, to be craved, to be desired—not just for your body but for everything that makes you who you are. I’ll explore your body and your mind, learning everything there is to know about you. And when I touch you, you’ll know it’s not just about the moment—it’s about creating something lasting, something deep and unbreakable. With every touch, every kiss, I’ll make you feel mine in ways no one else can. I am waiting for you. I long for the day we can finally be together, when I can hold you close and claim you completely. Until then, know that you are in my thoughts, in my dreams, and you always will be.

Forever yours

Your future person

Post date: 21st of Dec- 2024 / Sat

* Feedback is appreciated

#free divination #free tarot #pick a card #pick a pile #tarot community #divination #divination readings #metaphysical #tarot pac #tarotblr #pac future spouse #future spouse tarot #paid readings

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ozzgin · 6 months ago

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Welcome to the first round of Monster Dating, where five creatures compete in order to become your forever mate! For our Valentine's Day special - and given the festive occasion - we won't have anyone eliminated...yet. You can, however, vote your favorite of the round, which earns you a special date with the winner.

Get to know the participants in this little introductory round.

[Monster Dating Show Series] | [Participants Intro & Art]

Participant A: Exes? I couldn't care less about other monsters. I don't know, I guess I'd ghost them, or something? Look at me, I can just vanish the hell out of there.

[The camera zooms in, giving the audience a closer view of the pair of pants sitting on the chair. From the pocket, a small keychain dangles outwards: Human fucker for life.]

Mr. Host: Say, you're a bit of a human weeb, aren't you?

[The invisible hands are shoved inside the pockets, and the participant's chair groans lightly]

You: ...A what?

Participant A: I can't tell if you're trying to mock me with that kind of wording, but I'll let you know I'm a proud human fucker indeed! Why else would I be here? My beep only goes up for those sweet, little furless creatures.

[You look at the camera with an awkward smile as Mr. Host shuffles his papers and whispers another lecture about obscenities and lawsuits]

Participant B: How I deal with exes? Oh, I just devour them, really. How else would I maintain this?

[She leans sideways in her chair, pinching her plump thigh to prove her point. Mr. Host gestures at the cameraman to wipe the drool and zoom back out already]

Participant B: But you don't have to worry about that, (Y/N) darling. I'd never eat you! Well, not in the literal sense, anyway. [she glances down at your groin and smirks]

Mr. Host: Hey hey hey, behave yourself! [he snaps his fingers in front of the demoness]

Participant B: Of course! I wouldn't just jump out of my seat and actually act on it. Who do you take me for?

[After a short pause, she lunges at you, and you both tumble to the floor. Mr. Host begins screaming about etiquette, waving his arm at the camera crew and signaling for an ad break]

[The screen plays an advert about the latest flavor of monstrous instant noodles: Hellish Fires]

[Minutes pass. The channel finally switches back to live. You're sitting in your chair, legs squeezed shut and face flushed red. The succubus stares ahead with a smile and wet, glistening lips. Mr. Host is checking the remaining questions with a defeated expression]

Participant C: Oh, well...To be honest, I've never actually...

[The drider begins to fidget, avoiding the camera. You place a hand on his arthropod appendage]

Mr. Host: Right, you spent most of your life collared up, eh? Is that your thing, or...

Participant C: I didn't really...have a choice. [he scratches his cheek, searching for words] Anyways, I guess I'd-...Hmmm...strange. I can only picture myself as the ex. Which is probably the most realistic scenario. I mean, look at everyone else. What am I even doing here? I don't have any special powers - have I mentioned I can only create barriers? - and I'm rather plain-looking. You'd probably break up with me. Would I accept that? Sure. What else could I do? Don't get me wrong, I'd never move on. I'd mop around for the rest of my life, miserable and alone... [he continues rambling about his misfortunes]

[Mr. Host frowns at the camera crew, tapping his pen against the stack of papers. This guy's a special kind of pathetic, he thinks with pursed lips. Should they cut his interview short? No, not yet. There's some charm to it, after all. It'll tickle the sympathy of the audience. Poor, sweet boy, they'll think with shy tears. Hell, they might even watch merely out of pity! One can almost discern the dollar signs reflecting in the gorgon's eyes]

Mr. Host: Fantastic thing you got going there, boy! Save some of the sob stories for the later rounds, though.

Participant D: ...A what?

Mr. Host: You know, an ex-partner. Someone you're no longer dating.

[His screen goes black, and the eldritch creature begins computing]

Participant D: I'm afraid I've never 'dated' anyone. I have only existed within the void.

[A moment of silence. You glance at the camera, and Mr. Host flips through his pages. Clearly this wasn't part of the plan]

Mr. Host: Alright, let's put it this way; if you had a partner, and you broke up-

Participant D: Nonsense.

Mr. Host: Excuse me?

Participant D: I would not engage in any kind of courting unless I was certain of our compatibility. There would be no break up. [the TV head turns towards you, glitching eyes multiplying on the old screen] Rest assured, my dear (Y/N); I am not here out of some whim or mere desire. I have determined, with statistical accuracy, that we are fated to be together.

Mr. Host: A lot of confident contenders here, huh? We'll see how your math does in the next rounds, my man!

Participant E: What a puerile kind of question. Is this how you plan to gain viewers?

Mr. Host [visibly annoyed and insulted]: It's a preliminary round, boy. The audience - well, (Y/N), I mean - needs to know you, build some rapport with you! Are you to be trusted? Do you keep your previous partners around? These things matter, you know.

Participant E: Complete fodder. [he sighs, then leans back] I don't waste my time with romance. There's no "exes" to be had. [he looks at you with a determined gleam] So don't bother worrying; once you're mine, there's nothing coming in between.

[You turn away from the camera, a faint blush on your face]

Mr. Host: Now wait a moment, no time for romance? Why the hell are you here, then? It seems to me that the human is some sort of treasure to be won and displayed, the way you put it.

[Mr. Host leans into his microphone and whispers something. The audio team plays a fake track of people gasping in shock]

Participant E: Call it however you want, it doesn't change the fact I'll win this foolish game. [he crosses his arms, unbothered] Mark my words, human. There's no one better than me here.

[Mr. Host opens his mouth to speak, but reconsiders it. He glances at the camera mischievously. Should he tell the proud naga that there won't be any battles, just 'foolish games'? No, he'll realize it himself very soon...]

Special Guest: If you ask me, there's no place for friendship once it's over. I go for a clean cut!

Mr. Host: I see your point. What if you meet them spontaneously, though? Say...on the street, out in the world.

Special Guest: Huh? No, I don't keep them around. Why would someone else take them?

[The mantis creature considers the question again, then looks at you sheepishly]

Special Guest: Unless you want to have them?

You [shuffling in your seat]: Y-Your exes?

Special Guest: Their heads. Oh, I'm sorry, perhaps I wasn't clear; I behead them. I could offer them to you as trophies, if you'd like.

[Your hand involuntarily wraps around your throat, protectively]

You: No, thank you.

[The mantis lifts a bladed arm, demonstrating a swing]

Special Guest: Well, if you ever need me to take care of a pesky partner...Not to brag, but I'm the best when it comes to keeping it spotless and quick. [he grins at you flirtatiously]

#monster dating show #monster x reader #monster x human #monster imagine #monster fucker #succubus x reader #drider x reader #naga x reader #terato #teratophillia

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starsofang · 9 months ago

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CALL OF THE SEA / PART SEVENTEEN

pirate poly!141 x f!reader tw: NSFW, MDNI, violence, degrading, mentions of death/blood, dove is called some nasty words, please heed warnings for this chapter masterlist a/n: girlbossed a little too hard and finished the chapter a day early. posting this after my 14 hour shift with nothing but hope and dreams. this chapter is a long one, i think the longest one so far, so have fun :p

When a group of unhinged pirates invade your small village, you're whisked away from your peaceful home and thrown on to a voyage out at sea. Forced to obtain a new role as their medic, you have no choice but to accept your fate as you join their forces and aid them in their treacherous travels.

Up close, Graves was even more sinister than imagined. It was as if you were living in your own nightmare come to life, with beady eyes crinkling back at you as a curled smile stretched over his face. Adorned in all black from head to toe, with the only spouts of color being the mess of dark blonde atop his head, nearly covered by the old, leather pirate hat.

His skin was deathly pale, a feat you knew to be from his reaping sins. To take a life in return for a piece of his—a soul bind.

If he weren’t such a sick man, you’d dare say he’d been handsome, if it weren’t for the look of rotting to the core. His personality did no justice, something cocky and mighty. He knew exactly how to play his game, and he played it well.

In your turmoil, you dared to wonder if all of this was indeed another nightmare. Perhaps you were still asleep, stuck in an endless loop until Soap or Gaz awoke you as they always did; but with a sharp pinch on your thigh beneath the thin covers of Price’s bedspread, the world remained at ease.

This one wouldn’t be easy to get out of.

“You look like you’ve seen a ghost,” Graves mused, smile so wide you worried the corners would crack and bleed. You wished you could see him writhe like a helpless roach beneath your shoe. “Why the long face?”

“How—” You swallowed, fisting the sheets. “How are you here?”

Graves stood straight, glancing around the room. He pretended to ponder, holding his arms up to shrug. “I let myself in.”

Your eyes followed his every move as he slowly stepped throughout Price’s quarters, taking it in. You sat as still as a statue, completely frozen in place. The sound of his heavy boots along the wood floors rang alarm bells.

The air in the room fell icy cold, rising goosebumps on your skin. There was that frigid chill that felt as if you’d just stepped into a slaughterhouse, a hint of decay tickling your nostrils.

This was the feel of death you’d always felt, lingering behind you, watching. He’d always been there, even if only in your mind.

“Where is the Captain?” you asked, attempting to make your voice firm. Show no weakness—it was the very thing you’d been taught since your first day on the ship. You hoped Price would be proud that you remembered.

Graves’ eyebrows raised and while his smile remained, it only seemed to glimmer with excitement when the question was asked, as if you asked a dog if he wanted a bone.

“He truly has you on a leash,” he snickered, finding something amusing in all of it. “You’re like their little bitch, aren’t you?”

Your blood ran hot at the demeaning nature his words brought, but you knew better. They were for show, something to make him appear taller. If you fell for it, you’d only be digging a deeper grave for yourself.

“No,” you muttered, eyes narrowing. “I am a pirate, just as them.”

Graves barked out a laugh, one that made your ears bleed. It was meant to deplete your confidence, poisoned with arrogance.

“Is that right?” he asked with a shit-eating grin. “A pirate, are you?”

Graves stalked towards you, agonizingly slow, stopping when his knees bumped the side of the cot. He leaned down so his face was level with yours, empty eyes peering deep within your soul. His breath reeked of death and despair, nearly knocking you unconscious.

“I’d like to test that.”

His icy hand wrapped around your bicep, hauling you out of the bed. With a yelp, you stumbled to your feet, bare of their shoes. The world beneath your soles felt foreign now, ever since Soap had given you your gift and you’d never take them off unless you were falling asleep.

The grip was tight, causing your heartbeat to thump through your muscles angrily. Your skin under his hand paled from the sheer force.

Graves tugged you along as you fought to resist him, squirming and attempting to plant your feet to the floor. Without the help of your shoes compared to his unruly strength, your fight was deemed useless. He continued dragging you, so much so you could feel little splinters begin to dig into your soles and invoke dull pangs of pain.

Fear filled your body from head to toe, your heart pounding against your rib cage. A lump filled your throat, coated with anxiety. Your mind filled with millions of thoughts, smothering any confidence you previously had and replacing it with the idea of death.

Was this where all would end? Your crew was one of the most feared among the seas, a healthy bounty placed over their heads. But there would always be one person above, and that person was Graves.

Every kick, bump, resist was fruitless as Graves hauled you to the door. What lay beyond it terrified you, images of your men dead flashing before your eyes.

Coated in their own bloodbaths, bodies laid limp amongst the floors of their own homes, sprawled out as if they meant nothing. Oh, you couldn’t bear it. You’d have to go, too—you’d have nothing left.

When Graves opened the door, you weren’t sure if the sight was any better.

It was dark, the moon only a sliver in the sky, granting no room for light. A single lantern was all that was left to cast orange shadows, its fire flickering in a dance for a way out.

Your crew was lined shoulder to shoulder, on their knees in a submissive front, hands bound with thick rope behind their backs. Graves’ men, his Shadows, held the barrel of their guns to each of their heads.

Though the sight was an improvement from what you initially prepared yourself for, it was far from good. It was bordering those images, a glimpse into what could be a massacre.

The moment you were out of Price’s quarters, Graves let go of you, shoving you. You lost your balance, tumbling to your side, your head slamming into the deck. Pain blossomed under your skull and you hissed in pain.

“Dove?” you heard one of them call out. Your head spun, making it hard to figure out who it was.

A heavy blow landed on your side where you lay, and you wheezed, Graves’ boot unexpected. It kept you in place, applying pressure to guarantee you wouldn’t try to flee and fight back.

“Get the fuck off of her,” Price growled. You could recognize it, filled with a burning venom that dared to kill anyone that was in its crossfire. “This has nothin’ to do with her.”

“It’s all to do with her,” Graves spat, digging the toe of his boot into your rib cage. His previous cockiness had melted away, revealing his boiling rage. “Isn’t that right, dove?”

Graves lifted his boot, granting you a brief moment of relief before it slammed back down. It knocked the air right out of your lungs, leaving you croaking out a plea to stop.

You coiled in on yourself, curling into a ball in attempts to lessen the damage. It did nothing to stop his boot from weighing on your side. The pain felt like nothing you’d experienced before, and you were sure you felt a bone crunch.

“Dove,” Gaz called out, frantic. He tried leaning forward to get a glimpse of your face, to search for your eyes, but the barrel of the gun only pressed deeper into the back of his skull in warning. “Dove, it’s okay. Just listen to my voice, alright? I’m right here.”

Your eyes were widened with fear, chest heaving to catch the breaths that were stolen from you. You couldn’t move, frozen in place, even as Gaz called out for you with the threat of a bullet through his head.

“I don’t know what you’re plannin’, Graves,” Price snarled, “but this is between us.”

Graves laughed diabolically, throwing his head back. It only made everything much more tense.

“Isn’t she apart of you now?” Graves humored, cocking his head. His fingers drummed along the gun in its holster on his hip. “If I’m not mistaken, she’s a pirate. I believe those were your words, Price.”

The realization that Graves knew had you going cold. The closer he got, the stronger the connection became.

“What the hell is it ye want?” Soap asked through gritted teeth. His eyes were darting back and forth between your crumpled form and Graves. “S’always somethin’ with ye, aye?”

Graves eyed Soap, a glint in his gaze. There was something unfamiliar in it, as if he held a personal grudge towards the man in question.

“There is something I want,” Graves agreed, letting out a dramatic sigh. He tapped at the gun once again, staring up at the sky in thought. “I think dove here knows exactly what that is.”

Graves dug his boot once again, peering down at you as if you were scum. You couldn’t stop the small whimper from the agony drumming in your side.

“Go on, dove,” Graves taunted, grinning. “Tell them.”

“I don’t know,” you panted. You were unfocused, eyes staring at the old floor from where your head rested.

You tried recalling what it is he could want, anything at all, but nothing was becoming clear. You scavenged through the deepest parts of your brain for even a simple clue, but the blows had made you dazed.

“I swear, I’ll fuckin’ kill you—”

“You do know,” Graves repeated, cutting off the Captain. His tone grew annoyed. “Think real hard, dove.”

“I don’t know,” you cried, shoulders beginning to shake. All the built up confidence to fight back had vanished into thin air. Now, you felt like a scared little girl, begging for mercy.

Graves’ boot lifted, then returned back down. A string of curses were thrown his way from your crew, who were thrashing in the binds, unable to aid you under the lineup of guns to their heads.

You felt wetness cascade down your cheeks, dampening your skin and falling down to the side of your head from the angle you laid. It was then you realized you were crying, embarrassingly so.

Only mere hours ago you were deemed a pirate, and yet at the start of war, you fell apart like a damsel.

“The telescope,” Ghost said, voice low. It was the first he’d spoken, only sitting there silently as you were beaten down. His head hung low, as if ashamed, though the darkness in his eyes was enough to cast doom across entire continents. “He’s talkin’ about the telescope.”

You blinked away the tears, eyes burning. Realization dawned on you the moment Ghost spoke. Through your huddled position, you tried to tilt your chin down to meet his eye. As if thinking the same thing, he lifted his head, connecting your gazes. You could see that familiar apology pooling out of him, expressing everything he needed to say.

Washed away to land and shore,

shall be the looking glass for ocean eyes.

The telescope you found for Gaz was an innocent gesture. The sight of it called out to you, as if meant to be owned by you. If you would’ve known it was Graves it was calling, you would’ve thrown it into the deep sea so it could never be found again.

“So he speaks,” Graves mused sarcastically.

Ghost broke contact first, eyes boring into Graves. He looked murderous, plotting his own bloodbath with just a simple look. The dim light of the single lantern did nothing to lessen the ominous glow, only highlighting it.

“Don’t fuckin’ talk to him,” Soap hissed, scowling. The look of pure disgust was such a contrast to his normal, boyish grins.

Graves paid no mind to him, stuck in a contest with Ghost. The two of them had a dark force swirling between them, one that even outside made the air heavy and suffocating.

“A point for your bravery, Ghost,” Graves sighed dramatically, breaking his stare. He looked between each and every man, sparing you no glance while his boot remained in place. “My telescope. Give it to me, and I’ll let her go.”

You instantly shifted your eyes to look at Gaz, who seemed to be struggling with a decision. You knew why he was having a hard time—you gifted the telescope to him, unknowing of who it truly belonged to. It was something he treasured, something he didn’t want to let go of.

“I have it,” Gaz said lowly, head bowing. “It’s in my quarters. I’ll take you to it.”

Graves sucked his teeth, feigning pity. He shook his head, hand fully resting on the gun at his hip. “Not going to work on me, Gaz. I’m quite capable of getting it myself. You sit tight, aye?”

Gaz stiffened, expression growing grim. Nevertheless, he said nothing, deciding silence was the best contender for a fight bound to end in loss.

Graves gestured for the man behind Price to fetch the telescope from Gaz and Soap’s shared quarters. Price didn’t tear his eyes away from Graves once, even as the Devil of the Seas took out his own gun and pointed it right at Price’s forehead.

He pressed the barrel of the gun into Price’s forehead, indenting the skin. It was a snug fit, a perfect shot for Graves if he wished to end things the easy way.

Graves didn’t like it easy. He liked it fun.

“Scared we’ve caught on to your trail, aye?” Price bluffed, voice gravelly and malicious. “That’s why you came out here like a fuckin’ mutt, hidin’ in the storm until you found the right time to ambush us?”

“You have your dove to blame,” Graves replied nonchalantly, rubbing his boot back and forth along your side. The pressure had you sucking air through your teeth, eyes clenching shut. “She might be your new toy, but she’s just as much a mutt as I am.”

“You shut your fuckin’ mouth,” Price snarled, body shaking with feverish rage. If he could pounce on Graves, you knew he would.

“Looks like you finally grew some balls, Captain,” Graves snickered, pulling back the hammer of the gun. It resounded a loud click, which translated to a warning bell in Price’s favor. “Such anger. That anger has never worked for you, Price. It didn’t work for Ghost—it won’t work for her.”

Price let out an animalistic growl, his lips pulling back in a sneer. You’d seen the Captain angry, and you’d seen him under the guise of a scary, ominous pirate who would kill any innocent bystander that stood in his way.

This was entirely different. This was personal. A build up. This was a storm that had been coming for ages, and you were only toeing the edges.

The Shadow returned, holding the telescope you’d gifted Gaz. It shimmered in the lantern’s glow, glinting its gold details and showing it off. It felt like a goodbye.

“I’d be real careful from now on, Graves,” Price warned. It was the first you ever heard him speak so menacingly, like the demon inside of him was erupting with a stream of hot lava filled with nothing but spewing hatred. “When I find you, I’ll fuckin’ kill you myself. String you up on my sails until you’re dry, toss you into the ocean to the sharks. I’ll take pleasure in watchin’ you burn until there’s nothin’ left but ash and dust.”

Graves took the telescope from his Shadow’s hand, inspecting it. The words Price spoke clearly struck a nerve, for the arrogant grin had vanished, replaced with a gloomy, threatened expression.

“Hm,” Graves huffed, letting his gun fall and placing it back in its holster. He signaled for his men to follow suit, and you watched as all weapons dropped. “I await the day that happens, Captain. Until then, keep your mutt on a leash, aye?”

Graves made no effort to untie the crew, leaving them bound as he gathered his men to walk the plank connecting the two ship. A long, woden plank that creaked under the weight, one od wish you could kick from its balance and send them flying into the dark sea.

The moment was brutally silent as they left. Nobody moved a muscle until Graves was on his ship, the plank pulled from its placement, and the skull flag waved goodbye as they set sail into the pit of the night.

Time stood still, but the second Graves and his crew were hidden in the waves, all hell broke loose. Price and Gaz worked together to unbind each other with their backs to one another, frantic to be released. Ghost sat silently, eyes staring into the floorboards as if they’d speak to him.

“Say somethin’, dove,” Soap begged, scooting on his knees to be by your side.

As if the dam broke, you began to cry once more, heartbreaking sobs coming right from your core. You curled up tighter into your ball, your hand resting on your side as if it would magically ease the pain.

“It hurts,” you replied, voice cracking.

You’d stayed strong up until that point. Now, you couldn’t hold up your front.

You were scared. You felt more helpless than ever. You couldn’t remain strong for the sake of pretend anymore. Everything hurt, and Graves’ presence shook you to your very core.

“I know,” he cooed. He made a frustrated noise when he struggled against the binds. “I know, dove. We’re right here, alright?”

It felt strange, being on the other side of the spectrum. You were used to being the one to aid people in their injuries, but now, it was you being comforted. You couldn’t grasp what your life had become.

Price was released from his binds, quickly helping Gaz slip out of his. While Gaz made quick work to move to work on Ghost, Price was by your side in an instant.

One hand rested on your hip, turning your body towards him while the other found your face, resting his palm on it. His eyes were filled with worry when you faced him and he urgently wiped at your tears with his thumb.

“Dove,” he breathed in relief, his heart aching at the sight of you so broken. This was his fault. “You’re okay, I have you.”

You whimpered when he shifted so he could slide his arms beneath you, one under your shoulders and the other in the bend of your knees. The movement flared pain all over again, and Price murmured apologies, unsure of what to do.

He hurried to his quarters, his men following closely behind like scared dogs with their tails between their legs. Gaz held open the door, and you only caught a glimpse of his guilt-stricken expression before you were ushered in.

Price carefully slid you on to his cot, wincing every time you whimpered or cried. The pain felt excruciating, your breathing quick and labored.

“She needs a medic,” Soap stressed.

“She is a medic,” Gaz reminded, resting his hands on the edge of the cot so he could lean over and inspect your face. “We have no help besides her.”

“Well, she can’t treat herself, ye fuckin’ oaf,” Soap snipped, shooing him away from your space. “Cap, she needs to get checked. She can’t even breathe properly!”

Your head began to pound from the sheer loudness that filled the room. You squeezed your eyes shut, trying to will away the ache while simultaneously trying to correct your breathing.

You knew well enough that there was something shattered or broken. A rib, though small in theory, but dreadfully painful without the correct medicines. Not to mention the amount of force Graves had used—it was pure hell.

Price was silent, as was Ghost, the two of them sharing a conversation with just a look. There was an understanding shared, and Price gently shoved Gaz and Soap aside, replacing them.

He mimicked Gaz’s previous stance, leaning on the bed. His hand came to brush a stray tear away, frowning embedded in his mouth.

“Tell me what to do, dove,” he said softly. “I’ll do whatever it is.”

You sniffled, hand shaking where they rested on your side. You shook your head, nearly deranged from the shock and horror of it all, unable to snap out of it.

“I—I can’t fix it on my own, Captain,” you quivered, lips trembling. “It hurts.”

Price nearly broke, filled with guilt. He glanced behind him at Ghost, who quickly looked away, hands balling into fists.

“I know,” he assured calmly, brushing his finger along your cheek where he wiped the tear away. “We’ll fix it, aye? You just have to sit tight until we can. Can you do that for us, dove?”

Though you knew the wait would be cruel—a slow healing process until you could receive proper care—you found yourself nodding shamelessly, instantly trusting Price and his promises.

Price nodded along with you, giving your cheek a comforting pinch. “Attagirl,” he praised, calming your nerves.

“I’ll fuckin’ gut him,” Soap muttered, jaw pulled tight. “He’s fuckin’ dead.”

Gaz reached up to grip Soap’s nape, tugging at his hair. Soap threw him a glare, one Gaz promptly ignored, turning his attention to you.

“Listen to Cap, birdie,” Gaz encouraged warmly. “We’ll get you all fixed up. You won’t even know you’re hurtin’.”

Price had a look of hesitation when you caught his eye. You furrowed your eyebrows, frowning in confusion before he spoke again, causing you to grow uncomfortable.

“We need to check it first, dove,” he said apologetically. “If you don’t feel well with all of us bein’ here, you can pick who you prefer. No hard feelin’s, hm?”

The idea that one, if not all, had to see you undressed in order to inspect the damage was one that made you a bit dazed. You’d never been seen beneath your raggedy clothes in the village, and the same applied for your time on the ship. It felt sacred, like your vulnerability was on the line, but you had to remind yourself that it was purely medical—you’d done it plenty of times when in practice at your old home.

“It—it is fine, just… just turn away, yes?” you pleaded, unable to meet any of them in the eye.

You heard a round of shuffling, only seeing Gaz elbow Soap in the corner of your vision. Once you were sure they feasted their eyes upon the old wall, you began to carefully lift your hips, biting your lip to muffle the pained noise that threatened to leave.

The hem of your dress was swiftly pulled up past your thighs, all the way until your torso was exposed. You stopped it beneath your breasts, quick to tug the blanket over your nakedness that remained uninjured and in no need to be checked.

The anxiety that pooled in your stomach left you queasy, but you toughed through it, knowing how important it was. If you had more than a mere fracture, it could become worse over time.

“Okay,” you said quietly, cringing when they turned to take you in. The men did their best to make you feel as at ease as possible, gearing their focus towards the nasty swelling on your side.

You dared to take a peek yourself, fearing for why they were so quiet. What you saw was ugly—swollen and puffy, beaten to the point it was already turning purple and blue. It was tender to the touch, even more so without clothing as a barrier.

The worst was the gnarly, black veins that spouted out like roots, dipping deep into the new bruising. It was inhuman, something completely out of the ordinary. You knew it was Graves’ dirty work, and it reminded you of when Ghost had cut his finger in the kitchen and his blood turned black, vanishing into thin air.

When you shifted your eyes from your injury, you searched for Ghost’s, who was hard-stuck on the veins. His body was tense, a darkness swirling in his irises.

“Ghost?” Soap tried, nudging the brute lightly. “Any idea what that is?”

Ghost glanced over to Soap before returning to your side, taking in the sight. “Could be anythin’,” he muttered, unsure. “I don’t know what all he’s capable of. For all we know, it could already be infected.”

“Infected?” you asked, a worried chill racking through you.

Price reached out a careful hand to spread his fingertips along the veins. You choked on a gasp at the immediate discomfort, face scrunching up into a wince.

“We’re goin’ to a doctor,” Price nearly growled, taking his hand away. “I don’t care where. The moment we spot land, we’re goin’.”

“We still have bounties on our head, Cap,” Gaz reminded with a frown. “We can’t just go anywhere. It’s not the same as shoppin’. If we end up in the wrong place, we might get ourselves in deeper shit.”

“That is a risk I’m willin’ to take,” Price argued, firm in his stance. “If we start nitpickin’ where to go, it might be too late. You’re either in or out.”

The room fell silent as the men stared at their Captain. The answer to them was obvious, though you knew why they hesitated; if they were imprisoned, it would do you no good.

Emotions were high and the clock was ticking. It placed everyone on edge.

“I agree with Price.”

All heads turned to Ghost, who stood with his arms crossed, eyes boring into yours.

“It’s my fault she’s marked. So long as she gets fixed up, I could care less about bein’ thrown into a cell. I’m with Price,” he finished.

“Ghost—” you tried.

“I am quite firm in what I’ve decided,” he interrupted harshly before realizing his mistake, calming himself down. He looked away from you, crossing his arms a bit tighter. “I’m in no mood for arguments.”

You went quiet, watching Ghost turn towards the door and plot his escape. You knew out of everyone, he was affected the most, tormented with sickening guilt for all that’s transpired. You could only imagine how he felt, now that times had grown darker.

“Let him go,” Soap murmured softly, gaining your attention. “He’ll be alright. Let’s just worry ‘bout ye, aye?”

You were torn, but you nodded nonetheless, silently agreeing.

“You’ll stay with me for now,” Price explained. “No use in movin’ you anymore than I have. I’ll get you situated for now, and then you can rest.”

Gaz, Soap, and Price muttered amongst themselves, discussing a brief plan of what to do. The two set off to find more pillows to extend your comfort while Price remained by your side, plopping himself in his chair with a heavy sigh. His elbows rested on its arms, his fingers coming up to rub at his temple.

He looked exhausted, the bags under his eyes becoming more prominent the longer you looked.

“I am sorry, Captain,” you said quietly, eyes glueing to the ceiling.

“What have you got to be sorry for?” he asked, frowning. “Got nothin’ to apologize for, dove. Our worry stems from care.”

“Yes, but,” you paused, gathering the words, “I have caused much trouble since my arrival. Things only seem to be harder for you.”

“Life was hard before you, dove,” he assured, letting his hand fall from his face. “That’s the way it goes. It is to no fault but the world.”

You took in his words, letting them sink in. You hadn’t known a true life of trouble before, the only hardships being your utter loneliness and daily taunts from the local villagers. This was something beyond your knowledge, and you were beginning to understand that there was more to life than simply displeasuring people. There was more than what meets the eye, but there was also light at the end of every tunnel.

“You do not see me as a mere burden?” you asked, and he huffed.

“What have I told you before?” Price pressed in return, tilting his head. “You are one of us. A true pirate, if that is what you’d like.”

“I am far from a pirate,” you scoffed to yourself, ashamed. “I could not even defend myself or any of you.”

“Dove,” Price called out softly. He scooted his chair closer to your bedside, forcing you to turn your head and look at him. “A loss is not always a failure. Some wars are too big to handle on your own. There’s nothin’ wrong with that. Why must you speak so lowly of yourself?”

You stared at him unblinking, studying the furrow of his eyebrows and the curl of his lips, hidden beneath his beard. The worry lines on his forehead showed years of hardship, and you wondered how he managed to live through it if you could barely survive your own smaller ones.

“I have known nothing else,” you confessed bitterly, though not towards him. You were angry, not only with yourself, but at life for dealing its deck of cards in such an unfair way.

“I see,” he hummed, leaning back in his chair. He tapped his fingers along the armrests, getting lost in thought. “It was the same for me as well.”

Your eyebrows shot up in surprise. “Really?”

“Mhm,” he sighed, picking at the splintering wood of the armrests. “My father was a captain before me. Had the tongue of a devil. Always angry, always cold—treated me like scum, even as a child.”

“I am sorry,” you murmured quietly. Price bristled, frowning.

“That is not the point, dove,” he replied. He leaned forward to rest his elbows on the side of the bed, mere inches away from where you laid. You waited patiently for him to continue, keeping your gazes connected to show you were listening. “Some may treat you like a mutt on the street and deem your worth how they please. The only thing that matters is how you take it and how you come out of it.”

It dawned on you what he was implying. It was his way of comforting you, shielding you from your own burdening insecurities that never seemed to escape your mind.

“I could’ve remained angry and bitter, but now I captain my own ship and crew. The same applies for you—you may have experienced cruelty all your life, but you must take the reins on your own worth and decide what it is, dove.”

A blinding warmth shrouded you, like a blanket after being trapped in the icy cold, and you welcomed it with a smile. You’d never known Price to be so well with words, not int he way he was expressing now.

He knew what you needed to hear after being trapped in your own world of darkness, and he provided the light you needed to find your way out—all of them did. A glimmer of hope in a world full of loss.

“I am very thankful you kidnapped me,” you blurted, unable to contain your inner thoughts.

Price laughed, boisterous and loud, a smile washing over his face. It was a lovely sight, one that made your heart pound. Even through your pain, you found solitude in the aftermath, reaching a level of comfort you’d always wished to feel.

“I am happy to have you here despite it,” Price teased warmly. “I can say the same for the rest.”

You laughed, almost immediately regretting it at the shooting pain coursing in your side. He shot you a sympathetic smile, slowly standing from his chair.

“I will let you rest,” he said, giving you a gentle pat to your thigh over the blanket. Your heart jumped at the action, and you repressed it.

“You are not staying?” you asked, deflating.

“Soap and Gaz will be here with some more pillows soon. I must gather a plan so we can get you to a medic as soon as possible.”

It made sense, and you knew it was important. There was no telling what was flowing through the black veins, but your heart longed for more of his presence.

“Just for a moment longer?” you dared to request, voice small.

Price peered down at you from where he stood over you, a hint of surprise flashing on his expression before it softened. He nodded, reaching over to give your hand a gentle squeeze. You held on as long as you could.

“Just a moment then,” he repeated. “I will do it for you.”

You squeezed his hand in return, feeling as if you were on cloud nine. Your feelings were uncertain, but the more you spent with them, the clearer your vision became. It was an inner battle, forcing yourself to push them back in order to protect yourself. Now, though, you decided to allow yourself the comfort, just for a little while.

“Thank you,” you told him, unaware your voice had become a mere whisper. The air between you felt heavy, as if something unspoken was there.

Price glanced down at your hands that remained interlinked before shifting his gaze back at you. The gears in his mind were turning, and just as you were about to ask if it was alright, he beat you.

“I am not an emotional man,” he murmured quietly, seeming just as unsure as you were. “I make very stupid decisions and take paths I shouldn’t take. One of them is tellin’ me to kiss you, and I’m not sure if that’s alright.”

You froze in place, eyes growing wide. You were unable to look away, lost in your own little moment. Everything in you was yelling yes, yes, yes! and it was hard to ignore. You had always been weak in your feelings.

“Gaz tried to when I gifted him the telescope,” you said, unsure of why you did. “I hope that is okay.”

Price broke out into a smile, huffing out a breathy laugh. “So long as he did not beat me to it.”

You released a relieved breath, a shaky smile spreading on your lips. Price did not seem angry, and for that, you grew more enticed for a kiss. While your feelings for the others were all different in their special ways, having Price be the first was not something you could deny. It excited you more than it should.

Before you knew it, Price leaned down, capturing your lips in his own. There was no spark like you’d read in books you’d read at merchant stands when you couldn’t afford them, nor were there fireworks.

Instead, it was a calm sea that smothered you in peace, easing every worry that crowded your mind. They washed away, replaced with a warm buzz.

He was gentle, hand still grasping yours, the other coming to rest beneath your jaw. His skin was hot to the touch, rough from the callouses on his palm.

The moment wasn’t long, and when he pulled away, you wished you could reel him in for more.

“Rest,” he encouraged, his smile brighter than a thousand suns. “We’ll get you fixed up and better before you know it, alright?”

You nodded dumbly, your head empty. You were practically vibrating with excitement, the feel of his lips still tingling on yours.

He stroked his thumb over your cheekbone before pulling back, stepping away from the bed. He gave you a soft farewell, reminding you that the boys will be back soon and to try and sleep until then.

Once he was out of the room, the quiet didn’t bother you. It wasn’t maddening, driving you up a wall, suffocating you with loneliness—it was peaceful and kind, welcoming you with open arms as you slipped into unconsciousness, the images flashing behind your eyelids of the four of them in your life only bringing you true comfort after the storm.

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