#this got so much longer than I thought...

[pbaz7]

SOFT SPOT: CHAPTER 5

paige x azzi

word count: 9.3k

a/n: i’ve probably been slowly writing this chapter over the course of a few days because i randomly wrote here and there on vacation. may have also been a little drunk when writing some of it so bare with me ✨. i think people will like this chapter tho. as always leave any reactions/ thoughts or comments that you can!! thank you for reading.

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It had been about two weeks since the fight, and Paige was finally starting to feel like herself again…Ish. The swelling and cuts were mostly gone and the bruises on her side faded into yellowish marks. The relentless throbbing in her temples had eased a few days and now that she wasn’t grimacing every two seconds or wincing just from opening her eyes, the quiet anger she’d been too sore to entertain was beginning to bubble back up.

With the physical pain not being able to dull her thoughts or distract her anymore the humiliation she seemed to feel was sharper and it pissed her off.

She tried to watch the fight back a few times on different devices. Once with her phone propped up in her room, another in the living room with her remote in hand. Each time her heart started to beat faster every second she watched it and ultimately each attempt ended the same: disgust curling in her gut by the second round, mumbling “What the fuck was that?” to herself before turning it off. She hadn’t made it through the whole thing once yet.

Trying to subside her agitation she spent the last few days in the gym. Even though her body still wasn’t at a hundred percent she couldn’t sit still. Couldn’t let herself marinate in her version of a loss or the thoughts swirling around in her head about the fight. So she kept herself moving. She shadowboxed, hit some of the lighter bags. But seeing herself in the mirror was less forgiving than the fight footage.

She just felt stuck. Agitated. Claustrophobic in her own skin. So she did what any semi-sane person with too much money and not enough distractions would do; made plans to get the hell out of town.

Her fingers hovered over her phone screen for a moment before she typed a text:

Paige [10:47 AM]:

about that date

A few minutes passed before Azzi replied.

Azzi [10:54 AM]:

What about it?

Paige looked at the screen for a second with her thumbs hovering over the screen.

Paige [10:55 AM]:

i wanna take you on one

Azzi’s reply came back faster this time.

Azzi [10:56AM]:

Oh?

Tell me more

Paige smirked at her phone a little, pulling one knee up as she thought through how to present what she wanted to ask.

Paige [10:56 AM]:

you have a few days off before playoffs start right?

Azzi [10:57 AM]:

Yeah. Why?

Paige [10:57 AM]:

how you feel about leaving the state for a first date?

There was a longer pause than before. Then Azzi responded in the way Paige figured she would.

Azzi [10:59 AM]:

Excuse me?

You sure you aren’t still concussed?

Paige [11:00 AM]:

i’m sure

There was a short pause, then another message popped up.

Azzi [11:01 AM]:

Where are we going and for how long?

Paige [11:01 AM]:

pack a bag for two days

Azzi [11:01 AM]:

Okay…what am I packing?

Paige [11:03AM]:

something comfortable, swimsuits, clothes for an actual date

Azzi [11:03 AM]:

Ohh, so leaving the state isn’t the actual date?

Got it

Paige [11:04AM]:

no

i’m not a bum

Azzi [11:05AM]:

I don’t think a bum would take me to a different state under the guise of a first date so no worries

Paige [11:05AM]:

text me when you’re ready

The conversation ended after that.

…

The next thing Azzi knew she was back on a plane. It was the same private plane she’d taken to Paige’s fight a couple of weeks ago but this time, it was just the two of them on it.

The hum of the jet was steady and the cabin was dim. Paige was slouched comfortably in a Essentials sweatsuit with her hood up and her legs stretched out. Her hands were tucked in the pockets of the joggers.

“You got a deal with Essentials or you just hoard every color?”

Paige turned her head towards Azzi, chuckling a little. “Both.”

Azzi rolled her eyes, holding back a smile. “Gotta be cozy to keep secrets?”

Paige raised one of her eyebrows. “What secret?”

Azzi leaned forward putting her chin in her palm. “You know what secret. Where are we going, Narnia?”

Paige chuckled letting out a groan as she stretched, crossing her ankles when she was done. “Somewhere.”

“Oh wow,” Azzi said, completely deadpan. “Thanks, that really clears it up. You’re so generous.”

“I try.”

Azzi tilted her head. “Is it tropical?”

“Do we have tropical states?”

Azzi narrowed her eyes. “Paige.”

Paige grinned a little wider this time. “Bringin’ out the government name now?”

“I always do when I’m not getting what I want,” Azzi said. “And you’re keeping secrets.”

“I’m taking you on a date. Not smuggling you. Just relax.”

Azzi leaned back and Paige thought she finally gave up until she said, “So…is there a lot of sun?”

Paige didn’t answer.

“Water?”

Paige still didn’t answer so Azzi pouted. There was a short pause as Paige just looked at her. Then she sighed and said, “Maybe.”

“You suck.”

Paige shrugged. “You’ll like it.”

“I better. I packed a red bikini.”

Paige’s eyes flicked over to her hearing that. “You tryna threaten me or reward me? M’gettin mixed signals with that statement.”

Azzi grinned. “Depends on how fast you tell me where we’re going.”

Paige stared at her for a moment considering just telling her to end the interrogation but then she just let her head fall back against the seat. “You’re annoying.”

Azzi huffed and decided to leave it alone for now.

For the rest of the plane ride neither of them said much. There was just the sound of the engines. Eventually, Paige closed her eyes again and the tension from earlier slowly drained from her shoulders.

Azzi glanced over and watched her for some time before pulling out her phone and settling into her seat. While Paige slipped into sleep, Azzi worked on a few things she was planning to do before she was met with an impromptu trip. When she was done she sent a quick message to her group chat.

Azzi [4:13 PM]:

Don’t bother me unless someone dies

She glanced over again, catching Paige’s hoodie rising and falling and smiled to herself before turning her screen brightness down and putting her phone away deciding to get some sleep herself.

When the plane touched down, the sky was a muted gray that stretched over the open land. It wasn’t freezing, but it was colder than what Azzi expected after being told to bring a swimsuit. Cool enough to make her grateful when Paige pulled her hoodie over her head and handed it to her.

The drive from the airport had long stretches of trees and winding back roads that offered a silence and the kind of stillness you couldn’t find in the city. Eventually, the car rolled into a gravel driveway that opened to a wide clearing.

Azzi stepped out of the car first, her shoes crunching against the stones. “Okay…this is definitely not what I expected.”

Paige led her toward the entrance, carrying both of their bags like it was second nature. “That a good thing or a bad thing?”

“Definitely not bad.”

Just beyond the tree-lined driveway was a more modern cabin. It had floor-to-ceiling windows that looked out over a glassy lake. The water stretched endlessly and was framed by trees that swayed gently in with the breeze; some starting to lose their leaves. The cabin itself had high wood-beamed ceilings, an open layout on the first floor, soft light coming from the large windows. When they stepped through the front door, it smelled like cedar and fresh linen, like someone was doing laundry earlier in the day and it was warm from pre-set heat.

Azzi’s eyes wandered past the living room, through the back windows. She saw a hot tub on the deck overlooking the lake and just below that, an infinity pool with a perfect view of the water beyond the cabin.

She blinked at Paige in confusion despite how impressed she was. “Where are we?”

“Minnesota,” Paige answered plainly, dropping the bags by the stairs.

Azzi gave her a look. “Yes, thank you captain obvious. I meant here.”

“Family cabin,” she said, laughing a little. “It was one of the first things I bought cause it helps me stay connected to home.”

Azzi looked around again, this time a little slower with the new information. Everything about the layout felt purposeful. It was warm, quiet, had touches of Paige’s personal life tucked into each corner. “So this is like a special place?”

Paige gave a small shrug, like it wasn’t a big deal. “Guess so.”

Azzi folded her arms, her eyes sweeping across the cabin one more time before looking back at Paige. “Kinda crazy for a first date.”

“Don’t get a big head,” Paige mumbled. “Just didn’t want you thinking I was a sore loser who couldn’t follow through on a bet before I left LA.”

Azzi scoffed, walking slowly toward the windows. “Righttt. So you text me on a Thursday morning, tell me to pack a bag, fly me halfway across the country…to your family’s cabin...just to settle a bet?”

Paige looked at her for a moment, Her expression giving nothing away. Then, without answering, she chuckled a little and moved toward the kitchen. “You want something to drink?” she said over her shoulder.

Azzi shook her head, smiling despite her best effort. “Unbelievable.”

Paige’s voice floated back. “I got wine. All the wine you could think of probably. Tequila, beer, some tea I think.”

Azzi trailed into the kitchen. “Wine is fine.”

Paige glanced over her shoulder. “You got a preference?”

Azzi leaned her hip against the counter. “Surprise me like you’ve been doing all day.”

Paige shook her head, the corner of her mouth twitching up as she reached for a bottle of Chardonnay. “You’re annoying.”

“You’ll grow to love it.”

Paige didn’t respond, just pulled two glasses down from the cabinet. The soft clink of glass echoed slightly in the kitchen as she sat them on the counter. She uncorked the bottle and poured a generous amount into both glasses.

Azzi watched her do all of this, still half in disbelief that this was real. Paige handing her a glass of wine. In Minnesota. At her family’s cabin that she willingly .

“So…” Azzi said, raising her glass a little. “To first dates that start with mystery texts and end in the woods…?”

Paige tapped her glass lightly against Azzi’s. “Don’t make it weird.”

Azzi grinned saying, “Too late,” before taking a sip of the Chardonnay.

After a sip of her drink, Paige nodded toward the rest of the house. “Come on, I’ll show you around before it gets too dark.”

Azzi followed her through the cabin, their footsteps being heard against the wooden floors. The place was new but somehow gave off a rustic vibe with its vaulted ceilings and thick wooden beams. Paige moved through the house without thinking much, clearly familiar with the space.

They passed the open kitchen and a den before Paige led Azzi up the stairs and down a hallway. “Couple bedrooms down here. This one’s mine,” she said, tapping on the door. “You can pick whichever room…or you know, whatever.”

Azzi raised her eyebrow, pausing with her wine glass mid-sip. “Whatever?”

Paige cleared her throat. “Just pick a room.”

Azzi smirked. “Mmm, okay.”

Paige didn’t take the bait, just turned and kept walking, opening another door and motioning lazily. “Bathroom’s here. There’s another one in one of the guest rooms and there’s one downstairs too. Shower sucks in that one for some reason though.”

They kept walking through the cabin, the comfort between them a little easier than any other time they’ve been together. Azzi brushed her hand along a wooden railing, admiring the space as they walked. “You’re definitely looking less wincey than last week when I saw you.”

Paige chuckled at the word. “I’m still sore in the mornings,” she admitted. “But my head doesn’t feel like shit anymore, so...progress.”

Azzi nodded. “That’s good.”

Paige glanced back at her. “You good?”

Azzi shrugged one shoulder. “Just trying to stay in game shape. First round’s in a few days. Should be easy though.”

Paige gave her a look. “Don’t jinx yourself.”

Azzi held up her free hand. “Alright, knock on wood.”

They stepped onto the back deck, the cool air wrapping around them. The lake was beautiful up close. String lights were wrapped around the wooden beams and they twinkled overhead, casting a hue across the deck.

Paige gestured with her glass. “Not bad, right?”

Azzi gave a small smile. “Not bad at all.”

Paige leaned on the railing next to her, the moment stretching just enough as Azzi looked out towards the lake before Paige said, “Come on. One more thing.”

She led Azzi down a set of steps and around the side of the cabin to a small building tucked against the tree line. She pushed open the door and flipped on the lights to reveal another fully-equipped home gym. Punching bags, racks, mirrors, everything Paige needed to get through a workout. It was simpler than her one back in LA, but it was clearly still made custom to what Paige needed.

Azzi smiled a little. “Okay, so this is probably where you’d disappear to if you decided to ghost for a few days.”

Paige grinned. “I had it added last year. I needed somewhere quiet to train without being bothered all the time.”

Azzi walked in fully, her eyes scanning the space. “It’s very you.”

Paige smirked. “Is that a compliment?”

Azzi looked over her shoulder. “Depends. You gonna train on our date?”

Paige tilted her head. “Mmm. Depends on if you’ll join me.”

Azzi laughed, walking back toward her. “I’ll think about it.”

By the time they made it back into the main cabin, the sun had dipped lower and it cast shadows through the trees and turned the lake a deep slate-blue color. Paige kicked off her shoes by the door and moved around the kitchen casually, topping off both their wine glasses before sliding one toward Azzi.

Azzi took hers with a quiet “thanks,” sipping as she leaned against the counter. Azzi didn’t even last five minutes before her eyes drifted toward the stairs that led back out to the gym. “I actually kinda wanna workout now.”

Paige raised an eyebrow as she sipped her wine. “Of course you do.”

Azzi smiled. “Only today though, tomorrow I won’t touch the gym if you don’t want me to.”

Paige gave a small grin, setting her glass down. “Alright. I’ll change.”

It didn’t take long for both of them to change and meet in the gym. Azzi had pulled her hair into a bun, already thinking about what she was going to do as she scrolled through her playlists and laid out some resistance bands. Paige was moving more slowly, stretching out her shoulder before wrapping her hands and putting on gloves before moving toward the heavy bag.

The space filled with the music from Azzi’s phone that she connected to the gym speaker. Azzi moved through a circuit. Some jump rope to start and warm herself up. She barely seemed to notice the time as she zoned into her workout.

Meanwhile, Paige worked the bag with a slower rhythm, testing her body, finding where the soreness still lingered and where it didn’t.

“Your form’s terrible today,” Azzi teased mid-lunge.

Paige laughed a little. “Thanks, coach.”

They shared a small grin before both of them returned to their workouts.

The whole workout passed like that. There was light conversation here and there, a comment tossed between sets, a playful insult when one of them slowed down. But mostly, they worked in tandem, both of them comfortable in the silence as they worked on their craft. It was the kind of peace only two athletes could understand as they both let the world fall away in a home gym in Minnesota.

Azzi slowed down eventually, her last round of the circuit tapering into stretches as her focus drifted across the gym. Paige was still at the bag, each of her hits landing cleaner than they were when she first started.

Azzi leaned back on her palms, letting her breathing settle as she watched.

There was something almost hypnotic about watching her. Paige’s shoulder blades were flexing underneath her sports bra and the controlled rotation of her core was visible as she pivoted through each punch. Her arms were glistening and every once in a while she exhaled just loud enough for Azzi to bring her attention back to her. Sweat slid down her neck and traced the lines of her back beneath the fabric of her bra.

Azzi found herself staring for who knows how long. Eventually she stepped back from the bag for a moment to shake out her arms, and her eyes drifted over and she caught Azzi watching and raised an eyebrow. “You wanna try?”

Azzi blinked out of her daze, a little caught off guard. “Me?”

Paige nodded, already walking toward the shelf where she kept extra gloves and wraps. “Unless you’re just gonna sit there drooling.”

Azzi scoffed. “I was not staring.”

Paige didn’t even turn around. “Right.”

Azzi stood up slowly, wiping her hands on her thighs. “I’ve never even thrown a punch.”

Paige glanced over her shoulder. “You probably couldn’t have a better teacher then princess.”

Azzi hesitated, rolling her lips together. “Promise you won’t laugh?”

Paige turned around holding wrap and gloves. “Scout’s honor.”

Azzi eyed her, skeptically. “I’m almost 100% sure you were never a scout.”

Paige shrugged. “Still counts.”

That earned a reluctant smile from Azzi as she walked over. “Alright. Let’s see what the hype’s about.”

Paige gestured for her to sit on the bench while she knelt in front of her. “Left hand first.”

Azzi held it out and watched silently as Paige began wrapping her hand. Her fingers were warm as she worked the wrap around Azzi’s hand and despite the teasing, Paige’s touch was careful, almost gentle, as she checked for tightness and comfort as she went.

“You nervous?” Paige said without looking up.

Azzi tilted her head. “Little bit.”

Paige glanced up with a faint grin. “Don’t be. I’ll go easy on you.”

Azzi just smiled at that as Paige continued to wrap Azzi’s hands. When she was done she slid the gloves on for her, tightening the straps just enough to be snug but comfortable. Once she was done, she sat back lifting her eyes.

“Good?”

Azzi nodded, holding her hands up awkwardly.

Paige smiled at her, rising to her feet. “Alright. Over here.”

She nodded toward one of the lighter bags, and Azzi followed her even though her movements were a bit hesitant. Paige motioned for her to square up when she got in front of the bag.

“Ight put your feet about shoulder-width apart,” she said, circling behind her. “Back foot slightly turned out. Yeah—like that.”

Azzi adjusted, and Paige stepped closer.

“Bring your hands up,” Paige said, tapping gently beneath Azzi’s elbows. “Higher. To protect your face.”

Azzi tried and her form was stiff. Paige chuckled under her breath before reaching out to nudge her arms into place.

“Here relax your shoulders,” she said, fingertips brushing over Azzi’s shoulder blades as she softened the tension there. “You’re not about to fight a bear. It’s just a bag, it won’t hit you back.”

Azzi huffed out a quiet laugh. “Feels like I’m bracing for war.”

Paige moved around to Azzi’s side, resting her palm lightly on her lower back. “You’re a hooper. You know how to move your body. Think of this as new muscle memory.”

Azzi gave her a sideways look. “Didn’t know you were gonna whisper sweet encouragements in my ear.”

Paige ignored Azzi trying to flirt but her mouth twitched. “You want to learn or not?”

Azzi smirked. “I’m listening, coach.”

Paige rolled her eyes but stayed close. “Throw a light jab with your dominant hand. Just test it out.”

Azzi did, and the glove landed against the bag with a gentle thud. Paige nodded. “Not bad. Do it again.”

Azzi reset her stance and this time it looked like she had a little more confidence as she threw another jab. The sound of her glove against the bag was harder, but Paige tilted her head slightly, trying to figure out the best advice to give her.

“You’re not bad,” Paige said, stepping in. “You’re throwing with just your arm though. You gotta turn into it. Use your hips, your shoulders. The power’s not going to be in the punch itself, it’s in the movement.”

Azzi gave her a confused look over her shoulder. “What does that even mean Paige?”

Paige sighed, a small smirk tugging at her lips. “C’mere.”

Before Azzi could respond, Paige was behind her with one of her hands resting gently on Azzi’s hip, the other on her upper arm.

“Alright,” Paige mumbled, her voice suddenly much closer to Azzi’s ear. “When you go to jab, turn this,” she said, nudging Azzi’s hip lightly, “just a little, like this.” She moved with her, guiding her body through the motion. Her chest brushed against Azzi’s back, and the space between them all but disappeared as Paige tried to show her what to do. Azzi blinked, suddenly hyper-aware of the rhythm of Paige’s breath behind her, the weight of her hands, how still everything else felt.

Paige didn’t seem fazed in the slightest, her voice stayed even the entire time. “See? It’s not a huge movement. You just need enough rotation to transfer your weight. That’s where the power comes from.”

Azzi nodded, but it was distracted. “Uh-huh. Got it,” she mumbled, even though it clearly sounded a little dazed.

Paige paused just long enough to notice, her eyes moving towards Azzi’s face. “You good, or did I break you or something?”

Azzi let out a breathy laugh. “I’m good. It’s just the unsolicited back hugs. Kinda distracting.”

Paige grinned, stepping back slightly to give her space. “Focus.”

Azzi turned her head, her brown eyes meeting Paige’s over her shoulder. “I’m trying.”

There was a lingering look between them. Then Paige nodded toward the bag again.

“Show me.”

Azzi threw a few more punches with her eyebrows slightly furrowed in concentration. The impact on the bag wasn’t perfect, but it was getting cleaner. Paige stood a few feet away with her arms crossed, watching her the entire time.

“Better,” she said, nodding. “But drop your shoulder a little—yeah, right there. Keep your chin tucked too. You’re not tryin’ to get hit if this was a real person remember?”

Azzi exhaled, adjusting, then threw a few more punches. She pulled back, glancing at Paige, searching for her expression.

Paige raised an eyebrow, the corner of her mouth twitching. “I don’t know. I might need to get you in the cage soon.”

Azzi laughed, bouncing lightly on the balls of her feet. “Relax. I just figured out how to throw a punch.”

Paige walked closer to her. “Mmhm. I can’t tell, definitely got me feeling some typa way.”

Azzi blinked. “Excuse me?”

Before she could say more, Paige was behind her again, her hand gently skimming down Azzi’s arm under the guise of adjusting the position of her glove.

“I’m just saying,” Paige said, her mouth unironically warm by Azzi’s ear. “Feels like you doing some of this on purpose. Like you know somebody watching or somethin.”

Azzi’s breath caught in her throat a little bit, from the words, how Paige’s fingers lingered and from the slight press of her body into Azzi's again.

Azzi turned her head toward Paige, her smirk returning once she gathered herself. “And are you?”

Paige’s lips quirked as she squinted her eyes at Azzi a little. “Always.” Then she stepped away again, nodding toward the bag like she hadn’t just said what she said. “Alright, again.”

Azzi shook her head, smiling as she squared up again. “You’re ridiculous.”

Paige just shrugged. “Little bit.”

Azzi threw a few more punches and the sound of the gloves hitting the bag echoed through the gym, more rhythmic and steady this time around. Paige leaned against the wall that was nearby watching her closely.

“You’re still kinda stiff. Relax your shoulders.” She stepped forward, her hand grazing Azzi’s bicep before sliding down to adjust her elbow. “And bend just a little more in your knees.”

Azzi glanced back over her shoulder. “You sure this isn’t just an excuse to touch me?”

Paige didn’t even blink. “Would that be a bad thing?”

Azzi faltered again for half a second before she looked away, resetting her stance with a soft laugh. Paige smiled to herself, stepping back behind her.

“Okay, try it again.”

Azzi did and this time she got more hits in before Paige spoke up.

“You wanna remember to keep this hand a little higher, protect your face, remember?” Paige said.

“Feels like I should be paying you for this lesson.”

Paige chuckled. “Nah, first one’s free.”

Azzi shifted into the motion, punching the bag again, this time with a little more power. The sound made Paige nod in approval.

“There she is,” Paige murmured.

Azzi turned her head, catching Paige’s eye over her shoulder. “Guess it just depends on the coach.”

Paige smiled. “Good answer.”

They held eye contact before Paige stepped back, giving Azzi her space again. “Alright, again. Let’s see if the muscle memory sticks.”

They stayed in the gym for maybe thirty more minutes, the time passing without either of them really noticing. Paige kept her word. No laughing the entire time, not even when Azzi’s punch slipped a little and sent her stumbling forward into the bag. She caught herself, mumbling something under her breath, but Paige just walked over, nodding like it was no big deal.

“Keep your weight a little more balanced,” she said, crouching slightly to tap at Azzi’s back foot with her own. “You’re leaning too far forward.”

Azzi reset, adjusted, and went again, and with the slight adjustment her movements were cleaner. Paige watched her with a glint of quiet pride in her eyes, offering occasional comments. “Better…Don’t forget your guard…There you go. That one felt good, huh?”

Of course, it wasn’t all business. Azzi couldn’t help but toss a few comments in, especially when Paige came behind her again to adjust something miniscule. “You sure this is standard coaching?” Paige just hid her smile and said, “Nah this for special clients.”

Azzi rolled her eyes at Paige’s tone, but kept swinging.

By the time they wrapped up, both of them were a little flushed, sweaty, and grinning slightly for completely different reasons. Paige pulled off Azzi’s gloves for her and unwrapped her hands while Azzi stretched out her arms, exhaling hard.

“Okay, I get why you’re so into this now,” Azzi said, redoing her bun that had fallen a little too much. “Kinda makes you feel like a badass.”

Paige gave her a quiet laugh. “Told you.”

“You were right.”

“I usually am.”

Azzi nudged her. “Don’t push it.”

Paige smirked but didn’t say anything back. They lingered in silence while Paige finished unwrapping Azzi’s hands.

When she was done Azzi asked, “Hot tub now?”

Paige wiped the sweat off of her face with a towel. “Thought you’d never ask. Lemme hop in the shower first tho.”

Azzi took her time in the shower, letting the hot water soothe her muscles after the impromptu workout. By the time she made her way back into the living room, her hair was damp on the ends and pulled into another loose bun. She walked barefoot toward the kitchen, where she saw Paige at the counter with her head bowed slightly.

Azzi tilted her head. “I didn’t know you smoked.”

Paige glanced up, the flicker of a grin tugging at the corner of her mouth. “Occasionally.”

Azzi hummed, leaning on the counter with her elbows, watching her break the buds into the paper. “What’s occasionally? Like, once a week? After every workout? Only when you drag someone across the country?”

Paige chuckled under her breath, her eyes going back to her hands. “More like...when I feel like I earned it. So…rare.”

Azzi smirked, but her eyes were trained on Paige’s lips and the way they parted slightly as she rolled. Her tongue flicked to wet the paper and Azzi caught herself staring. Everything Paige was doing was slow and perfectly in place. Too slow, maybe, because Azzi’s brain had gone a little quiet as she watched.

“You smoke?” Paige asked without looking up.

Azzi didn’t answer right away. She was still watching, a little dazed as Paige’s mouth twisted and sealed the end.

“Azzi.”

The way Paige said her name snapped her out of it.

“Huh? Oh.” Azzi blinked quickly, standing up straighter. “What?”

Paige exhaled slowly, moving her eyes up to meet Azzi’s. “I said, do you smoke?”

Azzi cleared her throat, trying to act casual. “Not often, no. But...I mean, I could be convinced.”

Paige let out a laugh, moving her eyes back to the j. “We’ll see,” she said before flicking the lighter against the paper to finish sealing it. She held it up like a promise, then stood and nodded toward the patio doors. “Come on.”

Azzi grabbed the nearly-finished bottle of wine from the fridge and two more glasses from the cabinet, before she followed Paige outside. The sliding glass door opened with a soft creak, letting in the cool bite of a September night in Minnesota. It wasn’t frigid yet but the air was crisp enough to make the steam rising from the bubbling jacuzzi seem like a heavenly invitation.

Paige stepped in first, letting out a long exhale as the heat traced up her skin. She sank back against the edge, spread her arms to the side, and tilted her head just slightly to take it all in. Her hoodie and sweats were gone now, replaced by a black bikini top that contrasted against the paleness of her skin. Strands of her blonde hair curling slightly at the ends as they touched the water.

Azzi set the wine and glasses down with a clink on the edge of the jacuzzi, her fingers brushing her thigh as she stepped up onto the jacuzzi’s edge. She caught the way Paige’s blue eyes followed her unashamed. She didn’t look away once, even as Azzi sank into the water across from her, letting the heat settle over her skin.

For a moment, Paige watched her. Not saying much of anything. Once again like she was trying to figure Azzi out, or like she had already figured Azzi out and was trying to figure out what to do with the information.

Azzi raised her eyebrow after a while of Paige just staring and not saying anything, a soft smile on her lips as she said, “Good?”

Paige gave her a subtle nod, her jaw ticking slightly as the steam curled around her face. The warmth from the porch lights reflected in her blue eyes making them look even softer than usual, but her expression stayed unreadable.

Azzi tilted her head, still smiling out of shyness a little, “What’re you looking at?”

“You.”

Azzi let out a soft, “hm” at that, before she turned to pour the wine to distract herself from the light butterflies in her stomach. Her smile lingered as she reached for the bottle, but her eyes drifted back once, just quick enough to catch Paige lighting the blunt, her lips pulling from it effortlessly like she’d done it hundreds of times before. The faint glow from the cherry lit up the sharp lines of her face. She leaned back slightly, tipping her head to the stars as the smoke curled up from her lips.

It was honestly unfair how good she looked all the time. It was in the kind of way Azzi had no defense against. Like the brown haired girl wasn’t used to being this attracted to a person, let alone for such an extended period of time.

Paige took another pull then glanced back over, catching Azzi watching her again. “You just gonna stare or…?”

Azzi rolled her eyes, handing her a glass of wine before accepting the blunt Paige was oddering. She took it, her fingers brushing Paige’s just slightly in the process. “Getting me crossed on the first date?” she teased as she brought it to her lips.

Paige chuckled, her eyes already becoming a little low. “This isn’t the date.”

Azzi raised her eyebrow, inhaling again before passing it back. “No?”

“Nah,” Paige said. “Promise I’mma take you on one tomorrow, though. Don’t trip.”

Azzi leaned back with her wine glass in hand. “Who said I’m tripping?”

Paige laughed again, taking a second pull before passing it back. “Just a phrase, princess.”

The whir of the jacuzzi filled the silence of the night air, bubbles breaking the surface in gentle bursts. A cool breeze swept in from the lake, but the warm water countered the chill, steam rising in tendrils into the air. The light blue glow of the jacuzzi lights gave everything a softer hue.

Paige leaned back, stretching her arms along the ledge behind her. Blue eyes were half-lidded as she watched the way Azzi brought the blunt to her lips.

“You roll good,” Azzi murmured as she exhaled before she passed it back.

Paige grinned. “What, you thought I was gonna be bad at this too?”

Azzi smiled, swirling her condensation wine glass. “Nah. I’m just surprised you’re not more of a control freak about how I’m pulling it.”

“I’m healing,” Paige said dryly, taking a hit. The smoke curled up around her face, catching in the blue light, softening her features.

Azzi watched her a second before reaching for the joint again to distract herself. “You ever bring anyone else here?”

Paige shook her head, eyes still on her. “Outside of my family? Nope. Just you.”

Azzi raised her eyebrow, lifting the glass to her lips to hide the involuntary smile that was growing. “Hm. Should I feel special or concerned at how easy it was to get you to invite me here?”

“Both,” Paige said with a crooked smile as she took a long pull. “Balance, right?”

They settled into a comfortable rhythm. Smoke, sip, tease, repeat. Their conversations drifted from music to movies to random memories, the kind of stuff that didn’t need full context to laugh at. The night stretched on intimately as the warm water wrapped around them in contrast to the sky above that was wide open.

When the blunt burned down to the end, the last of its embers dimmed as Azzi flicked it into the nearby ashtray Paige had set on the edge. She let her head fall back as her eyes scanned the dark silhouettes of trees surrounding the cabin, the sky above streaked with stars she could never see in the city. The moment was peaceful in a way she wasn’t used to. There was nothing urgent tonight, nothing loud. Just a simple calmness in a Minnesota cabin with a blonde girl who somehow made her mind calm and chaotic at the same time.

Across from her, Paige looked like she belonged in this kind of silence. Her head was tilted back too, her eyes closed, arms stretched casually over the ledge behind her, her expression looked relaxed and her skin glistened with the mix of steam, wine and whatever haze lingered between them.

Azzi's gaze lingered on her. She took in the slope of her jaw, the flutter of her long lashes, the relaxed set of her usually clenched mouth. She wasn’t sure how long she stared before she finally said, quietly, “Paige.”

Without opening her eyes, Paige replied, “Hm?”

Azzi hesitated, exhaling softly through her nose. She didn’t want a half-aware hum. She wanted her attention more than usual. So she pushed herself up and moved slowly through the water until she was in front of her.

The movement caused ripples that lapped at Paige’s skin. Azzi stood in front of her, directly in front of one of the lights that cast a glow across her curves. “Look at me,” she said.

Paige’s eyes slowly opened. They were rimmed in red from the wine and the weed, as she processed how close Azzi was. Her gaze swept over Azzi’s long curls, some of them damp as they framing her face. She looked at the water glistening on her collarbone, the way the wet red bikini clung to her skin, the quiet confidence in the way she stood directly in front of her. This was probably the longest Paige had ever looked at Azzi and she shamelessly let her eyes travel across every portion of the girl in front of her.

Azzi tilted her head, catching the weight of the look in Paige’s eye. “Why you looking at me like that?”

Paige’s lips twitched. “You told me to.”

That made Azzi smile as she moved forward again, now standing between Paige’s legs that naturally opened to make room for her.

“You always do what you’re told?” Azzi asked, lowering her voice on purpose as her eyes met Paige’s.

Paige looked her up and down again, not bothering to hide the way her gaze lingered on her chest, on the silver piece of jewelry resting near her belly button. Her voice was quiet when she answered. “Depends who’s telling me.”

Azzi quirked her head to the side at this. “If it’s me?”

Paige didn’t look away from her. “Then maybe.”

Azzi let a beat pass between them before taking a small step closer, her thighs brushing Paige’s. “Only maybe?”

Paige’s eyes dropped to her mouth for a second, then back up. Her voice dropped too, a little raspier now as she said, “You gotta earn the ‘always’ from me.”

Azzi huffed out a soft laugh, tilting her head as if she was considering that information. “That right?”

Paige nodded once. “Mhm.”

There was silence between them again. This version was thick, more intimate than their stretches of silence usually are. The water bubbled against them, steam curling upward making the moment seem...warmer. They were close enough to feel each other’s breath, their intoxication slowing everything down, making it heavier.

Azzi's hands moved beneath the water, her warm fingers gliding over Paige’s forearms before gently guiding her hands to her waist. Paige’s grip settled there naturally, her thumbs brushed over Azzi’s skin as she invited her closer with a soft pull.

Azzi let her legs drift, slotting herself against Paige until she was nearly straddling her in the water, knees brushing each side of Paige’s body. Her arms came up, looping around Paige’s neck, her wet fingertips tracing the damp edges of her hair. Neither of them still not offering any words.

The only sounds were the bubbling of the jacuzzi and the occasional noise of a grasshopper in the woods around the house.

Azzi leaned in slightly, keeping her eyes on Paige’s. All of her movements were slow, partly from the intoxication, partly from giving Paige time. Permission. An out if she didn’t want her in this way.

But Paige didn’t move away, contrarily Azzi noticed the way her gaze dropped to her lips, lingering there as she moved closer.

So Azzi closed the distance, her lips brushing Paige’s in a kiss that was slow, but not in a way that was hesitant. They just weren’t rushing, just the slowness of two people feeling out something new and inevitable. Paige’s hands held her waist while Azzi kissed her like she’d been waiting to, like she was learning the shape of her mouth, the rhythm of her breath.

The kiss deepened slightly, but stayed gentle, their lips moving in sync, intoxication softening the edges of everything around them, making them more attuned to the moment, to what they were feeling. Allowing the kiss to melt into something fuller, their mouths parting just enough for breaths to hitch and warmth to spill between them. Paige’s grip on Azzi’s waist tightened slightly, when Azzi tugged on her lip softly, but it wasn’t possessive. It was careful in a way that caught Azzi off guard.

For someone who fought for a living, Paige’s touch was unexpectedly soft. Her hands held Azzi like she might break her, her thumbs tracing gentle circles along her hips beneath the water. Azzi had expected heat and intensity the first time she got Paige like this. And it was there but it was wrapped in a kind of reverence that made her stomach flutter. The feeling had her in heaven but sick to her stomach at the same time from the feelings drifting from deep in her chest to her brain.

Azzi felt like Paige was kissing her like she was learning her mouth by heart. Each tilt of her head, each brush of her tongue was gradual but still somehow reflected the want she felt. Azzi responded in kind, one hand moving to tangle in the damp strands of Paige’s hair, the other still looped loosely behind her neck as she pressed a little closer, the water gently rocking around them at the movement.

They stayed like that for a while, tangled in each other, kissing like they had all the time in the world.

Azzi’s lips parted from Paige’s just barely, her breath ghosting over pale wet skin as she trailed soft kisses down the line of Paige’s jaw and to the curve of her neck. Paige’s eyes fluttered closed again, tipping her head back as her arms stretched out along the edge of the jacuzzi, giving Azzi full access to her exposed skin—silent permission to keep going.

Azzi smiled against Paige’s skin, her lips brushing the slope of her neck as she whispered, “You enjoying yourself?”

Paige let out a low hum. “Mmhmm.”

Azzi kept her lips moving slowly, before she pulled back just enough to look at her. “Good. But just so you know,” she added playfully, eyes flicking to Paige’s that had opened, “I don’t sleep with people on the first date. So don’t get any ideas.”

Paige couldn't help the smirk that formed, her eyes barely open as she looked up at Azzi. “That’s funny. I thought you wanted to sleep with me the first day we met.”

Azzi laughed against Paige’s skin, her lips brushing along her collarbone as she started to kiss her neck again. “That so?”

“Yup.”

Azzi pulled back again, just enough to glance at her with raised eyebrows, hands still loosely wrapped around Paige’s neck. “What gave you that impression?”

“Maybe all the eye-fucking you were doing from the bench before I was even introduced to you.”

Azzi scoffed, a disbelieving laugh coming out of her as she pressed her forehead to Paige’s shoulder thinking about it. “No I wasn’t.”

Paige tilted her head, smiling wider now. “Sure.”

Azzi smiled against her skin again, biting back her next laugh—because she kind of was now that she thought about it further.

Azzi lingered there for a beat, forehead resting against Paige’s shoulder, her breath warming her skin as she forced the warmth from the tips of her ears. Her fingers lightly traced over Paige’s collarbone, nails dragging just faintly against the skin. “You’re really full of yourself, huh?”

Paige’s hands slipped lower on Azzi’s waist beneath the water. “Just calling it how I saw it.”

Azzi tilted her head inwards, her mouth barely an inch from Paige’s jaw deciding to flip the script. “What are you seeing right now?” she whispered as her lips ghosted her skin but not quite kissing it.

Paige’s breath caught subtly, Azzi wouldn’t have noticed if Paige’s hands didn’t tighten slightly on her waist. “Feelin a lot more than I’m seeing.”

Azzi grinned, then kissed her again, deeper this time, a touch needier. There was still that slow intoxicated rhythm to it, but now it simmered with more tension. Azzi shifted in the water, straddling Paige properly, her body pressing in just enough to make them both feel it.

Paige’s hands slid up from her waist to the curve of her lower back, holding her in place. Her lips were soft. Patient in a way but leading them at the same time, coaxing Azzi to give more, as Azzi’s fingers threaded through the back of her damp hair, her hips instinctively rolling just once before she caught herself and pulled back slightly with a breathless laugh.

“Easy,” she whispered, resting her forehead against Paige’s again.

“I’m not doing anything,” Paige said, as she smiled a little, showing the amusement mixed in with her desire.

“Your hands are saying otherwise.”

Paige smirked, her fingers gliding back down to Azzi’s hips under the water. “Don’t matter. You didn’t sleep with people on the first date, remember.”

Azzi smiled at this. “This isn’t the date, remember? Makes things a little hazy”

Paige leaned in, brushing her lips along Azzi’s jaw, clearly distracted as she mumbleed. “Then what rules do I gotta follow?”

Azzi exhaled softly, her eyes fluttering shut as Paige’s lips hovered over the sensitive spot beneath her ear. “Shhh,” she whispered, one hand sliding into Paige’s hair as she guided her mouth lower, pressing Paige’s lips to the sensitive part of her neck.

Paige obliged, her lips finding Azzi’s pulse point as Azzi tilted her head to the side, giving her more to work with. She melted into it, her breath catching every so often as Paige’s mouth moved slowly, tracing Azzi’s pulse points with her tongue and teeth. When Paige bit down gently Azzi rocked further into her, a soft sound catching in her throat.

Each time Azzi rolled her hips closer, grinding against Paige she felt the perfect amount of pressure that was only heightened when Paige helped her press down further causing the water to lap around them.

They repeated this for nearly ten minutes. Azzi’s body straddled Paige’s, her fingers drawing patterns over her shoulders as she pushed herself into the blonde. Paige’s hands stayed low on Azzi’s back, then drifted lower when she sensed Azzi getting a little needier, her fingers playing idly with the string of her red bikini bottoms beneath the water. The way she toyed with the string was intentional. She was teasing Azzi but staying patient, waiting for the girl on her lap to make whatever decision she wanted.

Azzi felt the tension coiling in her stomach, breaking the kiss and hovering her lips near Paige’s ear. She was about to tell her breathily to take it off but then Paige’s phone buzzed against the ledge behind them.

Azzi stilled but Paige didn’t even lift her head from Azzi’s neck. “Ignore it.”

Azzi easily gave in, leaning back in to kiss her again, her mouth finding Paige’s. Paige slipped one hand up to cradle the back of Azzi’s neck and pulled her closer.

But then the phone rang again and for some reason in this moment it seemed louder…more insistent than usual.

Azzi laughed against Paige’s lips, pulling back to look at her as Paige chased her a little. “You sure I’m the one who was thirsty?” she teased.

Paige tilted her head back, closed her eyes and let out a frustrated sigh. “Unreal.”

Azzi smiled softly as she slid her hands down Paige’s chest and gave one last lingering kiss to the corner of her mouth before whispering, “Good night, Paige.”

Paige opened her eyes just as Azzi stepped out of the jacuzzi, steam curling around her silhouette in the cool air. Paige watched her go with her lips parted.

And the fucking phone was still ringing.

Paige let out a long sigh as she reluctantly snatched it off the ledge and swiped to answer when she saw the name Cam glowing across the screen. “What.”

“Hi to you too, grumpy.”

Paige leaned her head back again, the steam from the jacuzzi curling around her face as she exhaled, clearly annoyed. “What, Cam?”

“I was just checking on you. I hadn’t heard from you in a few days.”

Paige’s tone was dry. “I’m alive.”

There was a pause on the other end of the phone, then Cam asked, “What are you doing?”

Paige groaned at the pointless conversation, “You cockblocked me.”

There was a beat of silence before Cam burst into laughter. “What?!”

Paige pinched the bridge of her nose, her patience wearing thin. “Do you need something Cameron?”

Cam hummed dramatically. “I don’t know…maybe just to hear my annoying sister’s voice.”

That pulled a soft chuckle out of Paige as she ran a hand through her damp hair and shifted her weight in the water. “Hi, Cam.”

She could hear the grin on Cam’s face through the phone as she said, “There we go.”

There was a brief pause before Cam’s tone turned curious. “So...who ya with?”

Paige snorted. “Mind your business.”

Cam gasped. “I’m almost 100% sure it’s Azzi so you might as well tell me.”

“What makes you say that?”

“She texted the group chat and told us all to leave her alone unless somebody died. That was like...six hours ago.”

Paige couldn’t help the laugh that escaped her lips as she leaned her head back against the ledge again. “Hm.”

The two of them talked a bit more, Cam giving her updates on Ben and her mom’s latest antics, Paige tossed in a few dry comments here and there to entertain Cam.

Mid-conversation, Paige’s eyes drifted up toward the second floor of the cabin and she saw Azzi moving past the window before pausing when she saw Paige looking. Her hair was pulled over one shoulder as she looked down at Paige.

Paige smirked as she tilted her head, silently inviting Azzi back downstairs with a playful look in her eyes.

Azzi arched an eyebrow.

Paige gave her best version of a pout, mouthing please.

Azzi rolled her eyes, her lips twitching at the corners before she exaggeratedly mouthed, no and walked away.

Paige sighed, but the smirk never left her face as Cam kept talking in her ear.

…

Much later that night, Azzi was in bed, restlessly kicking at the sheets. The air in the room she picked felt too warm and no matter how many times she flipped her pillow or changed positions, she couldn’t get comfortable. Her body felt tense…unsettled in a way she couldn’t just ignore to fall asleep. She was uncomfortable and needy.

With a frustrated sigh, she pushed the covers off and sat up. The silence of the large cabin settled around her and it was broken by the creak of floorboards as she walked barefoot down the stairs. The dim lighting from the moon spilled in through the large windows lighting up the open space just enough for her to see. She walked into the kitchen and grabbed a glass, filling it with cold water from the fridge.

She stood there a moment, sipping slowly, trying to calm herself down. Her eyes drifted to the sky outside. It was clear and scattered with more stars than she could count. She ran a hand up her neck, exhaling through her nose before pulling her shirt over her head, revealing a thin tank top that clung to her skin. Her small pajama shorts rode high on her thighs, and she tugged at the waistband out of habit as she redid her messy bun, a few stubborn curls falling loose around her face.

For a few minutes, she tried to focus on the quietness, on her breathing, on the cool glass against her lips but it didn’t work. Eventually, she gave up.

Setting her glass down on the counter with a soft clink, she turned and moved through the hall. Her knuckles hovered over Paige’s door for just a second before she knocked.

Paige heard the knock and stirred, blinking slowly as she registered the sound. She groaned softly, pushing the covers off and rubbing at her face before swinging her legs over the edge of the bed. Her body moved on autopilot as she moved across the room and opened the door still half-asleep.

Azzi stood there, her silhouette illuminated by the moonlight spilling in from down the hall. Paige blinked, her sleepy eyes scanning down the thin tank top clinging to Azzi’s body and the pajama shorts that left little to the imagination.

Paige blinked again, slower this time. “…Wassup? You good?” she asked, her voice rough from sleep.

Azzi shifted her weight, her lips pressing together for a second. “I’m hot,” she said simply, then added, “and I can’t sleep.”

Paige raised her eyebrows, a slow smirk tugging at the corner of her mouth as she tilted her head at Azzi’s choice of words. But she didn’t say anything, just stepped aside, opening the door further. “Come in.”

Azzi hesitated for a moment at the threshold as Paige moved back into the room. The cool air from Paige’s room brushing over her skin and making her exhale softly. It was a relief from the stuffy heat of her own room so she stepped inside, quietly closing the door behind her.

Paige was already crawling back in bed, flopping onto her stomach with a tired groan as she buried half her face back into a pillow. The sheet dipped slightly as her weight settled, the muscles in her back flexing faintly as she got adjusted.

Azzi walked over and carefully slid under the covers next to her, lying on her side as she looked at Paige.

“You always sleep like that?” she asked quietly.

Paige hummed. “Mmhmm.”

Azzi smiled a little. “Looks uncomfortable.”

“It’s not,” Paige mumbled into the pillow.

They were quiet for a moment before Azzi spoke again. “You okay with me being in here?”

Paige’s eyes stayed closed, but she shifted, turning her head toward Azzi. “Yeah.”

Azzi let out a slow breath, her body starting to relax as melted into the bed. “It’s freezing in here,” she added playfully.

“Better than melting,” Paige mumbled. After a pause, she added, “C’mere then.”

Azzi didn’t respond; she just smiled to herself before drifting closer under the covers and turning the other way. Paige shifted to her side and wrapped her arms around Azzi, pulling her in. Azzi immediately felt the heat from Paige’s skin and it was comforting; seeping into Azzi’s own skin and soothing the restlessness she'd been fighting all night.

Azzi whispered, “Thank you.”

“Mhmm.”

For a few moments, it was quiet. Paige’s breath was steady against the back of Azzi’s neck as she started to easily slip back into sleep.

But Azzi’s mind hadn’t settled. She spoke again, almost like a thought of hers slipped out without permission. “You sleep like this often? Holding people?”

Paige hummed. “Nope.”

Azzi smiled a little, her fingers brushing Paige’s forearm. “So, what I’m special?”

Paige gave a lazy, “Yup.”

Azzi kept going. “You’re warm...like stupid warm. I feel like I’m melting now…in a good way though”

“You’re welcome.”

Azzi chuckled under her breath, but when she opened her mouth again, Paige interrupted with a tired, “Azzi…”

Azzi paused, then tried to turn a little to face her. “Hm?”

Paige’s arms tightened around her, pulling her back into place as she mumbled against Azzi’s shoulder, “Go to sleep for me.”

Azzi was about to protest, but Paige somehow managed to pull her closer, her head gently resting on top of Azzi’s. One of her hands slipped under Azzi’s tanktop and her fingers drew patterns on her waist.

Azzi let out a quiet breath, her protest completely forgotten as she whispered, “Okay.” Her eyes finally fluttering closed.

[jocelynellie]

Whipped - OP⁸¹

Oscar Piastri x Reader

Summary: Oscar being so hopelessly in love with his girlfriend on so many occasions. Contains: so much fluff, time jumps, minor mention of Hungary '24, established relationship

Oscar had just finished qualifying. P1, not perfect, but damn near it. He stepped out of the media pen, peeling off his cap, hair damp underneath. His race engineer handed him a bottle of water and nodded him toward the scheduled interview with Sky Sports. Just another four-minute carousel of answers he’d given a hundred times before.

The interviewer greeted him with a practiced smile. “Oscar Piastri, in the championship fight and putting it on pole. You looked sharp in sector one and two, little wobble but great recovery in sector three. Talk us through the lap.”

He responded with the usual diplomacy. “Yeah, I felt strong in the first half. The wind shifted a little toward the end, and I overcommitted on the last chicane. Still, car’s feeling good. We’ve got a good chance tomorrow being on pole.”

Another question about tire strategy. Another about the standings.

Then, just as the interviewer was winding down: “You’ve been bringing your special someone into the paddock a little more recently. Fans are curious. Is she your lucky charm?”

Oscar smiled, not the showbiz grin, but something smaller, real. He could feel the answer rising before he even thought about it.

“Yeah,” he said quietly, eyes flicking away for just a second. “I mean, she’s not here for luck. I just” He paused. “I think... everything just feels better when she’s around. I don’t know how else to put it.”

The interviewer chuckled, clearly not expecting something so soft from a man known for his sharp focus. “That’s the most romantic thing we’ve heard from a driver all year.”

Oscar shrugged, not trying to play it down. “I think if someone makes you feel like yourself when everything else gets noisy... that’s worth holding onto.”

Later, she would see the clip online. She wouldn’t text him about it. She wouldn’t need to.

At Suzuka, just before race start, the sky was moody, crowd roaring behind fences, and Oscar stood in his grid slot, helmet in hand. She kissed his cheek, lingering longer than usual.

“You always do this,” he said, smiling.

“What?”

“Kiss me like it’s the last time.”

“Because I never know.”

He sobered. “Hey. Don’t say that.”

“I have to think about it. One of us has to.”

He pulled her into him, briefly, like the world would stop if they didn’t connect in that moment. “Then think about this. Every time I brake at 300, I’m thinking about coming back to you.”

“You better.”

“Always.”

The door shut behind him with a quiet click. He was still damp from the podium, shirt half untucked, champagne drying against his skin. It had taken forever to leave the circuit, media, debriefs, a hundred hands to shake. But this, this was what he’d wanted the entire time.

She was sitting on the bed, knees drawn up, one of his hoodies swallowing her frame. She looked at him like he was both ridiculous and beautiful, the way someone does when they’ve watched you chase something impossible and actually catch it.

He dropped his bag on the floor and crossed to her without saying a word.

Their hug wasn’t dramatic. No sweeping gestures or declarations. Just arms tightening around each other until it was hard to tell where one ended and the other began. She pressed her face into the crook of his neck. He closed his eyes.

“You did it,” she whispered eventually, her voice muffled.

“Yeah.” His voice cracked a little, surprising even himself. “I did.”

“You okay?”

“I don’t know yet.”

They lay back slowly, limbs tangled, the room dim around them. He exhaled, one hand resting on her hip, thumb moving in small circles like he needed to keep touching her to remember it was real.

“It didn’t hit me until I saw you in the crowd,” he said after a while.

“What didn’t?”

“That I’d actually won.”

She smiled against his chest. “So I’m the confirmation of reality?”

“You always are.”

They didn’t talk much after that. He buried his face in her hair, still smelling like sweat and podium champagne. She hummed softly, some melody he couldn’t name, and their legs twisted together under the sheets, warm and quiet and full.

Later, when she was nearly asleep, she murmured, “You looked calm up there.”

“I wasn’t.”

“I know.”

“But I am now.”

She didn’t answer. She didn’t need to.

He stayed like that for a long time, holding her like the trophy was just a formality, and this was the only victory that really mattered.

Between races, in the sleek quiet of their apartment in Monaco, he didn’t need to speak in laps or strategy. Here, he was stripped of the helmet, the overalls, the persona. Just Oscar.

She was curled on the sofa, reading a paperback, one of those tragic love stories she claimed she didn’t like but always read twice. Oscar was supposed to be reviewing data. The iPad lay forgotten on the table, his head resting in her lap instead. She absentmindedly ran her fingers through his curls, and each touch slowed his heartbeat until he felt like he could drift into sleep just to the rhythm of her breathing.

“You’re supposed to be working,” she said, not looking away from the book.

“I am. I'm working on not losing my mind over you.”

“That’s terrible,” she laughed, flicking his ear gently.

“I know. I'm better on track.”

“Debatable.”

He opened one eye, grinning up at her. “If I win next week in Baku, it’ll be because of this exact moment.”

“What, my lap therapy?”

“Exactly. You’re the secret weapon.”

After crossing the line first in Baku, she met him behind the hospitality unit, arms crossed like she hadn’t predicted it already.

“I told you,” he said, pressing a hand against the small of her back to draw her closer. “Therapy.”

“Don’t get used to it.”

But he already had. He was used to the way she made his pre-race nerves vanish with a simple touch. Used to how she wore his team hoodie like it was stitched from a part of him. Used to waking up beside her on Sunday mornings and pretending that the day’s risk didn’t weigh heavy in the air, just so she wouldn’t worry.

He was used to loving her so hard it made his chest ache.

────⋆˙⟡♡⋆˙⟡ ────

Word count: 1.1k

[heartyluv]

Note: DID I SHOCK YOU GUYS?!? COWBOY CALEB?!?!?!? Serious note, this has been in my mind for dayssss and it came out so much better than I imagined. I hope you think so, too. ♡

creds to @/saradika-graphics & @/anitalenia for the dividers/banners!

Rating: Explicit - !!Minors DO NOT Interact!!

Warning: Smut (kindaaaa slow getting there. hope that’s okay), Loss of virginity

Word Count: 4,272 (WOAHHH)

Summary: You and Caleb in the house alone + Unspoken feelings.

Cowboy!Caleb/Reader

When you handed Caleb a cup of your momma’s homemade lemonade, you had to make sure that you didn’t stare for too long.

You didn’t want to get caught eyeing the black tattoos that trailed down his sweaty arms. Or the thin material of his white tank top which clung to his abs that rippled beneath the partially translucent material with every breath he took.

Instead, you simply gave a quick nod to the man you’ve known since you were five years old.

“Thanks, baby,” he tilts up the corner of his mouth, catching his breath. You tried your hardest to ignore the pet name as you waited for him.

He pulled off the gloves he wore to move the horses’ hay around, his hand brushing against yours when he grasped the cool cup. You looked at everything but him as his thick neck worked to drink the refreshing beverage. After he handed it back to you, you didn’t wait a moment longer to scurry out of the stables.

When you first met Caleb, he was much younger and not packed with muscled or decorated with beautiful inked artwork. His family owns a ranch a little ways out from your parent’s small farm and when you all moved down to the pretty countryside, they were the first to pay you a visit.

Caleb teased you all the time like it was nobody’s business, and it was all because the boy refused to admit how much he liked you the longer he stayed in your presence. You were equally shy about your feelings, but you were more of a quiet mouse about it so he thought it was one sided.

The older you two got, the less time you two spent together, but the feelings never faded. Not when you when to college—at least attempted to before dropping out and coming home three years in—and not when Caleb’s name had become a prayer whispered off the lips of several women around town.

You weren’t hurt or phased. As an adult, he had the right to sleep with whoever he wanted to, be with whoever he wanted to, but no matter how many women he’s fucked—it’s been no more than six, but they’re all obsessed with him—Caleb always, always thought of and wanted you. When you left, he thought the best way was to get over you was to force himself to move on.

Despite the rift that naturally formed after you left, you Caleb would always be a part of each other. That unspoken vow between you two is why he’s here now.

Your father had a small accident, making him unable to take care of his usual duties around the farm for a few weeks. While you and your mother helped pick up the work, assistance was still needed. That’s why when Caleb got word about it, he didn’t hesitate to come by every day from sunrise to sunset, helping to take care of the animals and any work around the property.

He did it all without any payment or expectations, simply giving help to the people who he looked at as second family. His family’s ranch was so successful that he didn’t need the money and even if he did, he wouldn’t have taken it. That’s how humble he is.

And while it was incredibly sweet, it was still hard for you to see him. Still hard to act like you didn’t want to climb all over him, to talk to him like there wasn’t any time missed.

So for everyday that he’s been here, you kept your distance unless your parents explicitly asked you to interact with him. You had maybe two conversations in the three weeks he’s been around and even then, it was only because your mother or father had been there.

There were always subtle glances, moments shared and stories told when your eyes would briefly meet. But it never went beyond that, and you could never understand if you were grateful for it or not.

Before you make your way to the house, you walk up to Caleb’s horse Applebottom, who’s been free roaming while her owner is working inside. She nuzzles into your palm and you pat her wet nose with a chuckle as she swings her blonde hair all over the place to show how delighted she is to be petted. You admire her golden brown and shiny coat, loving how much Caleb really takes care of the sweet horse he’s had since he was thirteen.

Departing from her so that she can continue her frolicking, you climb the porch once you approach the wooden steps and walk inside to put the cup in the kitchen. As you wash your hands, you feel a gentle hand on your shoulder. You look over to see your momma.

“Hey babydoll, you give him the lemonade?”

“I did,” you nod. “He said thank you.”

“Good, good,” she huffs. “Listen, your dad and I have to go visit your grandmother. We should be back by tonight.”

Your eyebrows furrow. “Okay. Is Grams alright?”

“She’s fine,” she waves off. “She just wants to see her son is all. Been worried sick after we told her about the fall and you know she doesn’t leave the house, so I’ll just bring him to her since he can’t drive on his own right now.”

“Does Caleb know you’re leaving?”

“I’ll get around to telling him. You’ll be okay in the house yourself?” She plucks some stray hay from your hair.

“I’ll be fine, I promise.”

As the day progresses you find yourself on your momma’s rocking chair, subtly watching Caleb ride around with Applebottom. It’s safe to stare from a distance, so to the best of your ability, you watch how his strong thighs flex in his dark blue jeans, how his hips rock back and forth on the saddle. You listen to how he praises her and laughs every time she does something cute or funny.

The evening glow from the setting sun decorated the scene before you, the little amount of light left gleaming off the gold buckle of Caleb’s deep black Cattleman. He tips his hat off to you with a wink, making your cheeks hot. You turn away when he and Applebottom gallop further down the grass.

The screen door open and shuts behind you, and you look to see your dad with his cane. He sighs as he plops himself on the swinging bench beside you, looking out to where Caleb went.

“We might spend the night at Grams. Supposed to be a storm tonight.”

You tug at your denim shorts, getting uncomfortable with how they stick to you because of the summer heat. “You still sure about going, then?”

He nods. “I don’t want to leave her alone with this anyways. She’s never liked bad weather, just like your mother.” He and you laugh at that.

It’s silent for a moment. “Since Caleb lives a little far out, I told him he could stay the night so he doesn’t have to worry about trying to beat the storm.”

Your body freezes. You look at your dad, not knowing how to respond. He does it for you.

“He stays out of your room, you understand me?”

“Daddy, what are you implying?” you quirk a brow.

“I ain’t implying nothing. I’m saying that we all know what kind of character he is. He’s still a good kid, but he’s…slightly more experienced. Don’t want nothing happening between you two right now, is all. I know you’re grown and I’m not saying Caleb means harm or anything like that, but I don’t want him thinking he can try anything. Just want you to be safe.”

Your parents have never been oblivious to the way you and Caleb look at each other when you think no one’s looking. They’d never say it out loud in front of you, though. Because Caleb has become the town’s heartthrob—something you didn’t expect to return home to—your father still cares about and respects him, but he’d rather you not be another notch on his belt.

“He won’t,” you assure, and your dad looks at you with knowing eyes. “We won’t.”

Caleb stayed outside longer than you expected. You had whipped up a small dinner, telling him it was ready at some point, but he never came inside. He claimed he had a few more things to wrap up in the stables and said he wanted to make sure Applebottom was comfortable before he headed inside. You didn’t combat it, leaving his plate on the counter for him before you took yourself a shower to settle in for the night.

Your parents had left about an hour ago and they let you know they were with your grandmother who missed you something fierce.

It actually started raining as soon as they got there and your dad was right, had Caleb left at the time they found out about the storm, he would’ve been driving home in it.

You laid in your bed, looking at a whole bunch of nothing on your phone when you heard a loud clatter. Startled, you looked behind you to see that your curtain rod had given out.

“Not again,” you grumble, standing and seeing if you could pop it back into place. You couldn’t.

Deciding that you’ll actually have to put in a little elbow grease because you refuse to sleep with your window bare, you walk out of your room to head to the supply closet to find your daddy’s toolbox. At the same time you began your short trek down the hallway, the bathroom door opens to your left.

You look briefly to see Caleb. Shirtless and wet. With a towel slung low around his waist.

You quickly avert your gaze, not saying a word. He’s a walking wet dream, you think to yourself.

“Everything alright?” he calls to you. You halt for a beat, clearing your throat and hoping that your voice doesn’t betray you.

“Yeah,” you say simply.

You hear him chuckle. “You still avoidin’ me? Acting like we’re strangers.”

You turn to face him, keeping your eyes up. “I’m not avoiding anything.”

“Then talk to me. It’s just us,” he shrugs. “Nothing to be distant about.”

“I’m busy right now—”

“Let’s be busy together. I got time.”

“Caleb, really—”

“Please,” he says softly, his whole being softening. “I miss you. Miss talking to you.”

Unfortunately for your poor heart, you miss him too. So much. Giving in, you curtly nod. “Okay, we can talk while I fix my curtain rod. Go put some clothes on or something first.”

“Yes ma’am.”

He only put on sweatpants. And instead of letting you work on the rod, he takes over the tools that you found to handle it for you. You sit on your bed, ogling at his back muscles and how they move beneath his smooth skin.

“I’m surprised you still have it if I’m being honest,” he comments, adding onto the conversation you were having as he works on another screw. The thunder rumbles every now and then, making you feel nostalgic for some reason. Maybe it’s because you and him would have late night talks like this when he used to sleep over with his parents during nights with storms similar to the one outside, would happen.

“I’m keeping it even when it stops working. It’s a relic.” The beat up radio from the fifties that Caleb gifted you a couple years ago will always be sacred in your eyes. Not only is it because it was a send off present right before you left for college, but you love antique things.

“Since we’re talking on the topic of things we’re surprised about, the tattoos? What made you get all that?”

He lowers one of his arms, using the other to rattle the rod a little to see how sturdy it is and once satisfied, he gets down from the step ladder you gave him.

“That’s right. Last time you saw me, I only had Applebottom’s name on my side. But it’s nothing sappy or anything. I thought they looked good and figured, why not?”

“I know your mom lost her shit when you got the big ones,” you shake your head with a smile. Caleb’s mother has always been against anything tattoo or piercing related, so you wonder how he’s still standing.

“She did. Until I got the ranch tatted down my arm. Had me get the same exact piece framed and put it on the wall.”

You laugh, thinking about his theatrical mother who you need to get around to visiting. After you came back, you hesitated because you were always nervous about bumping into her son. As you speak with him though, you wish you didn’t. It doesn’t feel forced and it’s nice to talk to him again.

“You ever notice the one on my chest?”

Your frown in thought, moving your head side to side to tell him no. You’d been so busy trying to make sure you didn’t look.

He steps closer, making you crane your neck to look up. You squint, ignoring the fresh scent coming from him and his intoxicating size. The warm light from the floor lamp by your window helps you see and is that…

“My name?!” you exclaim, standing up.

“Least I could do for my favorite girl. Got it when you left for college ‘cause I missed you so much. Wanted to surprise you after I found out you came back, but then you avoided me like the plague.” He stares at you as you run your fingertips across the cursive writing with several small birds flying above it.

“You mean one of your favorites?” you roll your eyes. He grabs your hand before it can fall away from his skin completely. You choose not to speak on the avoiding him like the plague part, because he’s 100% right.

His jaw clenches. “A lot of things changes for a man who isn’t afraid to admit something out loud anymore, you know that?”

“I’m sure.”

“And if I told you that it’s always been you? That it can only ever be you?”

“I’d say the amount of women who knows what your dick looks like means you’re full of shit.”

He smirks. “Jealous?”

“You want me to be?”

“A little bit, yeah.”

“Tough luck.”

“Cute. But your nipples are telling on you, pretty girl.”

Your facade drops and you try to pull your hand away to cover your peaked nubs beneath your pink tank top.

“Want me to leave?”

You don’t answer and that solidifies all the hope he needs.

“How about if I told you that I’ve always imagined what you’d look like wrapped around my cock. Would you let me stay and find out?”

He stares at your lips as you stand dumbfounded and at a loss for words. “I’d say,” he takes your response and smirks as he twists it. “That based on your dilated pupils and the raging pulse in your neck, the idea intrigues you.”

“Just for you to conquer another sexual fantasy, then leave after you’ve gotten your sample?”

“You wound me,” he kisses your fingertips. “You’re smart, baby. You know I didn’t just start wanting you.”

“You said nothing.”

“Wanted to before you left, didn’t have the guts. Then you came back and it felt impossible to try. Well, with how you’ve been dodgin’ me, is all.” He places your palm to his cheek, kissing your wrist. “And I used to feel like you were too good for me, that I didn’t deserve someone as perfect as you. And while I still do, I want you to make that decision on your own.”

“And if…If I said I wanted you? Then what?”

“Then you’d have me.”

You shudder as he keeps kissing. His eyes are glazed with lust, the desire for granted permission pumping his heart. And when you shakily nod, his mouth is on yours faster than you can brace yourself.

Your arms wrap around his neck and he makes quick work of lifting you, using his strength to climb into the bed with you hanging onto him as he presses in between your legs. Your back arches as his teeth bite the skin of your neck, soothing each nip with an erotic lick from his tongue.

“I’ve never done this before,” you blurt out, making him stop. His eyes look up, his cheeks slightly flushed.

“You’re..?” You nod to answer him so that he doesn’t have to say it.

“Fuck, baby…” He gathers his thoughts. “I’d be honored to be your first. I promise to treat you real good, give you what you deserve.”

“It doesn’t bother you?”

“Not one bit,” he assures, kissing your jaw. “Ain’t nothing to be embarrassed about. Want me to keep going?”

“Please…”

He smiles, pressing another to your nose. “Spread your legs wider for me.”

You listen to him, letting yourself feel as his hand snakes down your body, past your sleep shorts and into your panties. You whimper as he collects some of your slick, bringing it to your throbbing clit. He kisses you deeply, gently circling your bundle of nerves beneath his middle finger.

“I’m gonna make you cum at least once to get you ready for me.”

You nod, withering beneath him as he works you so easily with just one finger. As he shoves it into your hot walls, you cry out. Then when his thumb continues to please your clit, you feel like he’s raging his own storm within you. You’ve masturbated before, but it’s never felt like this.

Your moans are uncontrollable, falling from you and entrancing him like an ancient siren that has ruled the waters for centuries.

“I knew you’d sound beautiful,” he whispers into your neck. “I’m adding another one, okay?”

A second digit fills you, making you brace your hand on his bicep. The rain hitting your windows is loud, but it has nothing against your cries of pleasure. His fingers slide in and out, curving just right and stretching you deliciously. His hand is like magic with how it’s able to make you feel something so powerful.

He trails down your body with his lips, kissing your tits and sucking on your nipples.

“Caleb…I’m gonna—”

“Come for me, my sensitive baby. I’m right here…”

He rubs your clit just a little faster to help send you over the edge and you pull him back up, tasting him like he’s the epitome of salvation.

As his mouth mingles with yours, you start to shake when your orgasm washes through you, ridding yourself of anything that wasn’t entirely him. His fingers don’t stop until you’ve gone completely slack and he swallows your whimpers as if they’re his fuel.

He’s ravenous now, pulling his fingers from your cunt and bringing them to his mouth to taste your sweetness. Sitting on his knees, you breathe frantically as he pulls off everything keeping you from him. And you’re just as desperate, sitting up to help him pull off his sweatpants.

“Caleb, that’s not gonna fit.” You look between his eyes and his cock once he’s naked too. “How are you even walking around with that thing?”

He laughs genuinely at your shock. “You don’t want it?” He grasps himself, using his tip to push against your clit. You don’t want to seem dramatic, but you swear you almost came again, just from that. He’s so entranced by how your pretty face does nothing to hide how good you feel.

“Just relax for me, yeah? Anytime you need me to stop, just say the word.”

You nod, but put a hand to his hard stomach as he gets ready to slide inside. “I’m not on any birth control. Do you have a condom?”

His eyes slightly enlarge. Caleb has always worn a condom when he had sex. No one could get him to pull his pants off if some form of contraception wasn’t available. But for you? He was ready to go in raw and not give it a second thought. “Fuck. Fuck, I don’t have one. We don’t have to—“

“It’s okay. I trust you.” You trust him. It’s like falling in love with you all over again.

“I’ll pull out and I’m clean. I would never hurt you.”

“I know.”

You watch your name on his pec move in rhythm with his chest as he inhales and exhales. Bracing a hand beside your head, he uses his other to slowly begin to put his cock inside your cunt. He catches his bottom lip in his teeth and when the head slides in, you clench tightly, wincing at the unfamiliar fullness.

“You feel so good,” he breathes out a laugh, knowing that he’ll come quick if he doesn’t get a move on. His fingers and your first orgasm prepped you nicely with how easily he glides inside. He inches in slowly, trying to gauge your comfort level, but there’s nothing but pure bliss on your face.

“All the way,” you beg impatiently. “I can take it…”

“Anything you want,” he promises with a kiss. He loves kissing you.

In one fluid motion, he’s buried to the hilt.

He throbs inside of your velvet walls, making you attempt to push yourself forward to really feel him. “Move, please move..”

As commanded, his hips start to move back and forth to gain momentum before snapping into you like you’re an experience that will fade away if he doesn’t give you what you want. The bed shakes, gently thumping against thea wall every time he sinks all the way back inside of you. That ache you initially felt is long gone, replaced by a something that not even a dictionary has the words to describe.

“This pussy is mine,” he growls in your ear, sucking on the lobe while you make a mess of his semi-dry hair.

“Let me hear you claim this cock, pretty. You need to understand how devoted we are to you from now on.”

The feeling of his fat tip kissing your cervix is mouthwatering. “Your cock is mine,” you mewl as tears form in the corners of your eyes.

His balls slap against you, the continues smacking itching a part inside of you that you never knew needed scratching. You feel how his veins slide against you, feel how your pussy sucks him inside every time he slips away because you can’t even think about this ending.

“I’ve never felt anything this fucking good,” he moans as you chant his name the closer your orgasm approaches.

“I’m about to come, baby. I feel you, you’re right there. I can’t finish until you do.”

His pelvis grinds against your clit, his hair gently ticking your skin. You scratch at his back, your nails making him fuck you harder and his strong arms keep you enclosed in a safe cage. Finally, for the second time, you come so hard that it makes you cry genuine tears because it was so overwhelmingly pleasing.

Swiftly he pulls out, his cum shooting out to land onto your pussy and stomach. You watch how he pumps himself in his hand, edging the rest of his spend out of his leaky tip as it droops slowly.

You look at each other and he’s crawling back on top to kiss you with so much gentleness. He kisses your tears away first and you share a humorous laugh as he gives you more, especially when his featherlight caresses down your sides tickles you.

“You don’t have to say it right now, but…I love you. So much.”

You smile. “I just might love you, too.”

The next morning, the rain has completely stopped and a strong mass is holding you tightly. You stir awake first, humming gently to yourself as you recount last night.

All the way from when you saw him fresh out the shower, u until he cleaned you up and held you until you fell asleep. There’s a pulse between your thighs, both from wanting him again and from what he made you feel just hours before.

A gentle peck to the back of your neck startles you. “You’re up?”

“You know I am,” you chuckle.

“Good.” He inhales your sweet scent. “I’m not one to push my luck, but I’m more than ready for a repeat.”

“Caleb, you just woke up.”

“So did he,” he emphasizes when he grinds against your bare ass, making you bite your lip. He pulls you to lay on your back, causing you to giggle as he gets between your legs and kisses all over your face.

“I wanna take you riding again. Applebottom would love it. Maybe we can get you your own stallion, hm?” He smiles sincerely. “And I wanna show you off now that we’ve stopped playing around. Maybe get around to putting a ring on that finger.”

“You’ve got a lot of wants, cowboy,” you smirk.

“That only you can fulfill.” He goes to attack your mouth again.

Then you heard the front door open and close.

“Shit,” you whisper. Caleb is confused by your shock because you never told him what you and your dad talked about before he left. You completely forgot about them coming back and now, you have no clue how you’re going to quietly get this naked ass man off of you and back in the guest room before either of your parents get upstairs.

With no plan in mind, you accept your—well Caleb’s—fate: Your dad just might actually beat him with his damn cane.

Tags 🏷️: @honeymoonfleur (you said you wanted to be on my caleb tag list and i wasn’t too sure if you meant in general or just for the ex-husband fics. just let me know!)

[no-144444]

always does- i.hadjar

꩜summary: as isack's best friend, you're a little oblivious until you're not

꩜pairing: isack hadjar x fem! reader

You never understood why Isack kept you so close-by (in a metaphorical sense, of course). You were his best friend, yeah. You didn’t wander away from him, even when he moved. You just… worked through the distance and the time differences, and you were as strong as before. You didn’t pull away too much when he had a girlfriend and you didn’t expect him to pull away too much when you got a boyfriend. When you guys were together, you were there to be together in whatever you were doing. It didn’t matter if it was a simple walk, or a day out at a theme park, time together was few and far between, so you had to make it count. Your other friends stepped back for the day, Isack stood or sat by your side, his hand brushing yours until he eventually took it. And you’d stay like that. Sleep in the same bed. Make morning coffee together. Brush your teeth together. Domestic shit, but it didn’t matter. Isack and you weren’t like that, you never would be. 

Obviously, you knew he was hot. Anyone with eyes and a brain saw the fact that he was conventionally attractive. But you never had that switch in your mind that your other friends had with their guy friends. They spoke about it like some day they just started seeing them differently. Like it was quick. Like it was a snap of fingers, and suddenly you're in love with him. It wasn’t the same for you. Isack was just… Isack. Your Isack. The Isack who bought you ice cream and held your hand walking down the streets of Venice, and that same Isack who would push you into the bushes in his back garden when you raced each other. He hadn’t changed much, just got taller, his voice got deeper, and he was an F1 driver. You hadn’t changed much either, ass and tits, hair longer than when you were five, and you finally didn’t work on the other side of the world, you were in Paris and he was in Monaco. 

“Come to Monaco,” he begged over the phone. “I’m so bored on my own and it’s so weird here.”

“I literally told you so, Isack,” you chuckled. “And anyway, I’ve a date this weekend, so I’m busy.”

He stopped. “A date? Like with a guy?” he asked. “Why do you have a date?”

You scoffed. “Wow, thanks. And it’s just this guy who asked for my number at work. He’s sweet.” 

“Seriously?” he scoffed. You didn’t notice the way his chest tightened and his jaw clenched. You didn’t see the way his breath hitched. “Just reschedule, please. I want you here.”

A younger you would’ve given in with the way he pouted, but you had a date. A date you wanted to attend. “No can-do pretty boy,” you shook your head, and he nearly passed out from the pet name. You didn’t see it, but caught a glimpse of the time. “Oh shit, I better go. Work,” you sighed, getting up. You didn’t wait for an answer. “Love you,” you smiled into your phone camera and hung up, knowing he'd say it back. 

“You’re so fucked for her, aren’t you?” Liam chuckled, sitting beside Isack. It pulled him out of the small world he created on the phone with you. When he saw your apartment, he just thought of the nights he spent there, the smell of the vanilla candles, the warm lights, the wool blankets, you. Isack groaned, putting his phone back into his pocket and looking at his hands. He didn’t like to talk about it. He didn’t really know what to say about it. “Talk,” Liam shrugged. “What’s going on?” “Nothing,” he shrugged. “That’s the problem.” 

“She doesn’t like you back?” he asked, cracking open a can of redbull and handing it to him, then opening one for himself. 

He sighed. “She doesn’t. She doesn’t notice me. I’m just her best friend.” 

“Have you talked to her about it?” Liam asked. 

“How am I supposed to admit something like that?” he questioned. “What if she hates me and doesn’t ever want to talk to me again? What if I lose her completely?”

It was his worst fear. More scary than crashing the car, than losing his seat, than anything. He couldn’t lose you. He refused. 

“I think you need to evaluate what you want and whether or not you can keep going like this,” Liam offered. “And I’m happy to listen more, if you need it.” 

Since when was Liam so philosophical? He listened to Zach Bryan for god’s sake. He got up, tapped Isack on the shoulder, and left him to ruminate. 

He remembered the exact moment he’d fallen for you. You were 15. You had come to visit him at Spa for one of his F4 races, and he’d won. He ran out of the car. You were waiting at the barrier. He couldn’t keep his eyes off you. You stood there, looking so proud, so caring, so you. He couldn’t get enough. He’d race the hell out of any car anyone handed him if it meant he saw that look on your face. And you’d hugged him. You’d kissed his cheek. You stayed up all night celebrating and fell asleep beside him. You didn’t question the way he was looking at you, because maybe he’d always looked at you like that. Maybe it was just him realising then.

But you didn’t feel the same, and that was fine. He didn’t care. Well, he cared a lot, but he wasn’t going to make it your problem. 

Quali was long and which was good and bad. Good, because it meant he was starting 4th in Monaco, which was incredible. Bad, because it meant he didn’t have his phone on him to track your location and watch your date play out in real time. Which is a totally normal thing to do, right?

He jumped out of the car, searching for Liam, or Ollie, or someone to talk to about how shitty the tires would be the next day, but he turned his head to the left and caught a glimpse of a face he knew all too well. 

“What the fuck are you doing here?!” he practically squealed. Ollie would have laughed, but he didn’t care. He wrapped his arm around your waist, lifting you up and against him. “Holy shit,” he breathed into your hair. Like he didn’t believe you were real. Like he couldn’t trust his senses. 

And it was like your eyes opened. 

You liked sleeping in the same bed as Isack. You like brushing your teeth beside him. You like the way he treats you. You liked the way he had kissed you on your 18th birthday when you were both wine drunk in Paris, walking along the river. 

You froze for a moment. You didn’t let him go. He didn’t seem to care, though he untucked his head from your neck and stared at you, confused. “Are you alright?” he asked, his face changing to panic. “Y/n.”

“You’re incredible!” you shook yourself back into the moment, as if you hadn’t just had the most insane realisation of your life. “4th in fucking Monaco!” 

He chuckled, his panic easing. “I know right,” he smirked. “I might just have to be your favourite driver now.”

“Of course you are,” you rolled your eyes. “Always have been,” he didn’t recognise the way you were looking at him, but he welcomed it all the same. “Come on, let’s get you something to eat.”

“You’re quiet,” he whispered, nudging your arm with his own. The paddock was loud and full of his name, but he still noticed you. Well, it would be hard no to, for him. “What’s up?”

You looked down, seeing where your foot collided with his in a constant, soft game of footsies. “Nothing, the sky,” you listed, stifling a giggle. He rolled his eyes and looked up, sighing. It gave you time to look at him. Notice the way his neck had gotten bigger, see the progress he’d made with his training, observe his bulging biceps and arms. Holy shit you had it bad for him, maybe all your mates were right? No, it couldn’t be. Because it wasn’t fast. You’d slowly fallen for him, over a matter of years. Slowly, you’d gotten used to the small things he does for you, you appreciated the hugs and cheek kisses, the protective arm around your shoulder every now and then, that stupid laugh you’d fallen so hard for. It wasn’t this quick, free-fall. It was slow, like a leaf falling down in the autumn wind. It was different. It was Isack. “I don’t know. This weekend just feels… different. Maybe you’ll get on that podium.” 

He chuckled, turning to face you. “I think something’s gone to your head,” he teased. “You sure it’s redbull in that can?”

You scoffed, playfully pushing him. “Never say never. Some things change, even when we don’t expect them too.” 

He stared at you, seeing that look in your eye again. “We’re alright?” he questioned. 

You nodded. “Always.” 

And once again, you walked away, leaving Isack all alone with his feelings. Liam always walked by at the right time, it was disturbing. “She’s in love with you, mate.” 

Isack jumped, not hearing his teammate join him on the bench (he was too busy looking at you longingly). “What the fuck-?!”

“She has it bad for you mate, I know these things,” he nodded. “You should ask her out, she’ll say yes.” 

“Do you remember any of our conversation from the other day?” He stared at him in disbelief as Liam shrugged. “And, I didn’t even think she was coming this weekend so what has changed between then and now, huh?” he questioned, his accent coming out the more he spoke. 

Liam cleared his throat. “Exactly mate, you’re welcome,” he smiled. “Nothing like an unrequited love story in Monaco, anything can happen here.”

“You brought her here?” Isack’s jaw dropped. “For what?!”

“For you, you fucking loser,” Liam chuckled. “Talk to her! Ask her out! Take control of your destiny!” the more he spoke the less Isack knew what he was saying. He stared at him dumbstruck as he walked off, winking at him. 

What a strange weekend. 

Every bone in his body ached to fall into bed, but he just couldn’t sleep. He’d tried everything. Meditation. Breathing exercises. Tea. that navy sleep technique. Visualisations. And now, walking the dark streets of Monaco. The barriers were up. The fanstands were empty, but by tomorrow morning they’d be full. And he’d be in a car on the second row. Part of him couldn’t believe it. Part of him didn’t want to. He had trouble sometimes with taking pride in his work, maybe because in his mind it was an obligation more than an ambition. He didn’t think he’d be truly happy with his career until he lifted that Championship trophy. It didn’t matter how many races he won, how many people called him the goat, or what people said about him. If he didn’t have that trophy it wasn’t worth it. His life’s work wasn’t worth it. And that scared the shit out of him. 

“Fancy meeting you here,” you spoke and he turned his head in disbelief. “Missed me too much already?” 

You had gone to bed earlier than him, and he didn’t have a chance to offer you his bed. Which was fine. But there you were, standing there in the streets he knew like the back of his hand (well, the hairpin he knew like the back of his hand), wearing your pyjamas out in the mild Monaco air. You couldn’t have looked more beautiful. He took a deep breath. “Always,” he smirked, walking up to you. “What are you doing out here so late?”

You rolled your eyes playfully. “Do you always have to be so protective?” you chuckled. “I couldn’t sleep.”

You started walking in step with each other, your hand wrapping around his arm as you spoke. He cleared his throat. “Worried about tomorrow?” he asked, watching your side profile as you kept your eyes ahead. 

You turned to him. “Isn’t that supposed to be my line?” 

There was humor in your voice but it fell flat against the tension between the two of you. He was close. Too close. So close. You could feel his breath on your cheek, and he didn’t step back. He just kept staring. Staring and staring at your face as if he hadn’t seen it a thousand and one times. Like he didn’t know the layout of it like he knew the layout of the track beside you. The streetlamps illuminated his eyes, the perfect shade of brown. God, you could’ve just gotten lost in that moment, staring at him, when saying nothing truly meant everything.

He leaned over and his lips met yours. Not like it was planned but, not like it wasn’t either. Just simple, passionate, soft, and delicate. His hand cupped your cheek like he’d bruise it if he touched you too roughly. You didn’t mind. You kissed him back, gently running your hands through his hair as you felt yourself back up against a barrier. He didn’t stop and neither did you. 

“I love you,” he breathed out against your lips, not thinking clearly. He was drunk off the taste of you, off the moment. “I’ve loved you for a long time.” 

You didn’t answer right away, slightly shocked at the confession. People had mentioned it, pointed it out, or blatantly told you that he was in love with you. You didn’t take it to heart. It was hard not to when his hands were on your face as he kissed you against a barrier in Monaco. Your hands fisted his t-shirt, pulling him closer. “I love you too,” your voice was barely above a whisper, but he heard it. He always did. 

He pulled back with that soft smile on his face, fixing your pyjamas slightly. He looked at you with all the care in the world, but then again, he always did. 

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redbull & vcarb masterlist

[heyimkana]

Pads & Conspiracies

AO3 Link

Set in the same AU as Pillow Talk and Come Home to Me, but can be read separately.

Pairing: Sung Jinwoo x Female Reader

Genre: Marriage AU, Domestic Fluff, Slice of Life, Comedy

Summary: Sung Jinwoo isn’t so much an S-Rank Hunter as he is an S-Rank Husband. Today, he’s dealing with his wife’s period cramps, pad sizes, Beru’s cravings and a tiny domestic conspiracy.

Content Warnings: None—unless you count teeth-rotting fluff, adorable husband-wife moments, and Beru’s constant Shakespearean monologues.

Word Count: 10K (I wrote too many fluffy/silly moments—sorry 😔)

This one's for @satoruandjinwoobrainrot I'm sorry for taking so long to answer your ask, babe 😭 I hope you enjoy it ❤️

Your sweet, loving husband is in the middle of another dungeon raid. A dangerous one, at that—its mana levels place it just below an S-Rank gate. But Jinwoo, as always, enjoys the challenge. High-level dungeons offer greater experience, and he’s always hungry for more, isn’t he?

He steps into the boss room with his chin held high, the sleeves of his fitted black shirt rolled up to his elbows, veins prominent against fair skin.

“I’ll take care of this one myself,” he tells Igris, craving a good fight to keep his skills sharp. He can’t afford to get rusty just standing on the sidelines.

Jinwoo’s thin lips curl into a smirk as the beast looms before him—a colossal snake, three times the size of Kasaka, its fangs longer than his own towering height. The Demon King’s daggers materialize in his hands, gripped tightly between lean fingers as he taunts, “Quite a remarkable aura you’ve got there. Keep me entertained for a bit, will ya?”

The snake hisses, and Jinwoo lunges, aiming for its vitals—but suddenly—

MY LIEGE! MY LIEGE!

Beru’s frantic voice cuts through his mind, breaking his focus. The distraction costs him; he misses the strike.

Jinwoo’s chest tightens with dread. Beru is the shadow soldier assigned to protect you. The former Ant King could take on an S-Rank Hunter without breaking a sweat.

So why is he panicking? What could possibly shake him?

More importantly—are you okay?

If he weren’t mid-fight, he’d swap places with him or share his senses to see for himself. But since Beru can still speak calmly—well, frantically but coherently—Jinwoo knows he’s not in combat.

Still, the distraction nearly proves fatal. The snake whips its tail, and Jinwoo only barely dodges, his reflexes saving him by milliseconds. A direct hit would've pulverized his bones.

“Beru, talk to me!” he shouts, panic bubbling in his throat. “What happened?!”

Mine liege, lo, it hath been naught but an hour since thy wedded dame did informeth me—

“Speak normally!”

A-apologies, my liege! It is… that time of the month again. She told me she is in great pain. There is significant bleeding.

His dagger clashes against the snake’s fang. “She’s having her period?”

Yes, my liege.

Oh, thank God, Jinwoo breathes in relief, dodging yet another attack. It’s not that he’s glad to hear you’re simply suffering from your regular period cramps—but it’s much, much better than the dreadful thought that had emerged in his head a second ago.

Tell her to hang on, he instructs through the link, driving a dagger through the snake’s scales. Blood stains his shirt, but he barely notices. I’ll be there as soon as possible.

I will inform her, my liege. But I must stress—she is in tremendous pain. What if something worse occurs?

Jinwoo clenches his teeth, frustration surging through him. He would've asked his sister Jinah if she was in town, but she'd left on vacation with Jinho two days ago.

I need to get this over with fast, he thinks. Do what you can to help her, Beru. I’ll finish this and return immediately. Tell her to wait for me.

Yes, my liege, I shall assist her in any way I can in your absence. But your presence is sorely needed. I cannot soothe her the way you do.

That, Jinwoo knows—and he’s proud of it. But he still can’t abandon the fight just yet.

The snake is tougher than expected. Jinwoo could end it quickly if he focused, but his mind is elsewhere. You’re all he can think about.

What does my wife need?

She requested medicine and sanitary pads, my liege. But… we appear to be out. Shall I dispatch a high orc to the store?

No. The last thing he needs is to terrify the entire neighborhood. Again.

His tempo falters. For the last two minutes, he’s done nothing but dodge and parry. His chest tightens at the image of you, curled up in bed, hurting and alone. He considers calling Jinho or his sister—but they’re on vacation at the moment.

And then—things get worse.

Dozens of slithering snakes suddenly come into view. Smaller in size, but lethal nonetheless. They bare their fangs at him, hissing—probably fucking pissed off because he hasn’t been taking them seriously.

Jinwoo curses under his breath. Clearing this dungeon just got more complicated. Can she wait twenty… maybe thirty more minutes?

My liege… she is crying.

“IGRIS!” Jinwoo calls out in haste. Debate’s over. “Take my place. I need to leave—now.”

The powerful knight does not hesitate. With a dozen lower-ranked soldiers at his back, Igris rushes into battle, the Demon Monarch’s longsword held tightly in his hands, casting lightning bolts with every swing.

Jinwoo’s eyes flash from icy blue to violet, gleaming in the darkness of the cave. His daggers vanish into thin air as misty black tendrils envelop his frame like smoke.

“Exchange.”

***

Having swapped places with a patrolling shadow soldier, Jinwoo emerges onto the peaceful streets of Seoul. The stark contrast to the dark, suffocating dungeon is jarring. The sun blazes overhead, hot and merciless, causing beads of sweat to form at his temple as he sprints toward the nearest pharmacy.

“H-Hunter Sung Jinwoo!”

A female cashier gasps as he storms through the automatic doors, his combat boots—still slick with monster blood—leaving grotesque red smears across the pristine white marble floor. Her eyes widen in horror. Has a dungeon break occurred nearby? It’s not every day that an S-Rank Hunter bursts into a store with his chest heaving, his shirt soaked in blood, and his dark hair clinging to his forehead.

“A-Are you all right, sir? Is there a problem—?”

“Yes.” His voice is firm. Grave. The kind of tone people expect right before an evacuation order is issued.

The intensity of his gaze wipes the color from her face. Time seems to freeze.

“I need you to get me some pads.”

“…Pardon?”

***

“S-So, um…” the cashier begins awkwardly, spreading an overwhelming selection of pads across the counter. “We have reusable pads, regular pads, ultra-thin pads, maxi pads, overnight pads… These ones are scented, these are not. Oh, these are exceptionally soft, but they’re a bit expensive. And these ones—”

Jinwoo stares blankly at the display, her words blurring together. He’s trying to listen, but nothing is sinking in. The explanation seems endless and he's losing it.

“Why… why are there so many different types?” he asks, genuinely bewildered. “Don’t they all serve the same purpose?”

“Well, yes, sir, but every woman has her own preferences. Some might like scented pads to mask the, um, odor, while others prefer—”

She keeps going. His brain starts turning to mush.

“All right. Which one’s the best?”

“Like I said, sir… it depends.”

“Which one do you use?”

“Eh?!” Her cheeks flush crimson. She wasn’t prepared for that level of personal, and Jinwoo is so out of it right now to notice it. “T-This one, sir.” She gingerly pushes a pack forward, unable to meet his eyes. When she woke up this morning, she hadn’t expected to be discussing her menstrual product choices with Sung Jinwoo, of all people. “They’re cotton-based. Um. More breathable.”

“Okay. I’ll take that one.”

“Right. What size do you—uh, I mean, does your wife usually use?”

He stops and stares. Of course they have sizes.

Seeing his soul leave his body, she gently suggests, “You might want to give her a call?”

“Give me a sec.” He closes his eyes. Beru.

Yes, my liege.

What pad size does my wife usually use?

She prefers the overnight kind. The ones labeled for ‘heavy flow,’ my liege.

Jinwoo opens his eyes. “Overnight pads. Heavy flow.”

“With or without wings?”

He stops and stares. Again. “O-one moment.”

Beru. With or without wings?

She favors the ones with wings, my liege.

“With wings, please.”

“Scented or unscented?”

His head drops back. God, why are there so many choices?

Beru.

The scented ones have caused her skin irritation before, my liege, so I suggest—

“Unscented, thanks.” God, please, no more questions.

“Y-yes, sir.” The cashier quickly bags the selected pack. “Is there anything else?”

Beru?

She has said that her abdominal pains are severe, my liege.

Right. “Yes, some painkillers too, please—for cramps.”

A beat.

A-also, my liege… may I be so bold as to request… candy mints? This humble servant has long been curious about their taste. I-if it’s not too much trouble, of course.

Jinwoo sighs. “And some candy mints. Thank you.”

***

Stepping out of the pharmacy with a plastic bag dangling from one hand, Jinwoo’s mind spins in a dozen directions, each one trying to figure out how he can make you feel even a little bit better. He knows this pain visits you monthly, yet it never sits right with him—just watching you suffer while he does nothing.

Maybe some comfort food will help…

He makes a quick detour into a nearby convenience store, heading straight for the snack aisle. These days, he’s memorized all your favorites—the specific brand, the exact flavor. Unlike the nightmare that was navigating menstrual pads, this is familiar territory.

As he strolls down an aisle, he spots a familiar brand of potato chips—the exact flavor you always reach for first. He smiles. Without hesitation, he grabs a few bags, tossing three in for you and one for himself.

But just as they land in the cart, Beru’s voice buzzes into his mind like a pesky conscience.

My liege, I do not suggest giving these food items to her. They are not suitable for women during menstrual cramps.

Jinwoo freezes mid-step. “What?” he mutters, glancing at the chips. There’s food you’re not supposed to eat during your period? He genuinely didn’t know. He makes a mental note to be better next time.

What should I get for her, then?

Foods that are high in fat and sodium should be avoided, Beru explains smoothly, as if he’s been rehearsing this in the mirror. They can increase bloating and water retention. She needs easily digestible meals—foods that reduce inflammation. Fruits like bananas and berries are good choices. A light vegetable soup, especially with ginger, will ease her cramps. And dark chocolate, my liege. It helps with mood regulation.

Jinwoo blinks, frowning. That’s… oddly specific. How do you even know all this? You’re an ant.

Beru puffs up with pride—even through telepathy, Jinwoo can feel it. I have studied human biology extensively through your interactions and dialogue, my liege. While I am not human, I have amassed considerable knowledge to ensure the safety and comfort of your lady wife. In fact, I have also learned about human sexual reproduction by studying anatomical references and behavioral data. If you wish, I can provide suggestions to improve fertility—

Nope. No need.

But, my liege, it has been several months since you began your attempts to produce an heir, and the results have been less than rewarding. May I suggest altering your coital positioning to improve pelvic angle and sperm—

I will strangle you.

M-m-my apologies, my liege. Please have mercy!

Jinwoo exhales sharply, pinching the bridge of his nose. He was just trying to buy soup ingredients—how did this escalate so quickly?

Right. Soup. He returns to the task. I’ll just get what I need and cook it for her later.

An excellent decision, my liege. She will surely be pleased.

Jinwoo’s hand reaches for the chip bags to return them—only for Beru’s voice to chime in one last time, soft and trembling.

M-my liege… may I also have the potato chi—

No.

He doesn’t need to see him to know—Beru is weeping somewhere in the shadows.

***

The player screen flickers before his eyes:

Cooldown Time Remaining: 2:32:36

Jinwoo swears under his breath. Shadow Exchange won’t work for another two and a half hours. He has no time to waste.

Without hesitation, he leaps into the air and calls, “Kaisel.” The sky darkens instantly as the massive wyvern materializes, letting out a ferocious roar that echoes across the city skyline.

“Take me to my wife,” Jinwoo commands, his voice low, sharp with urgency. “As fast as you can.”

The air whips around him as Kaisel surges upward, wings slicing the clouds like blades, the landscape a blur beneath. He plants his feet on the creature’s back, wind tugging at his shirt, but his eyes are fixed on the horizon, his mind drifting back to you.

How is she now? he asks Beru.

The ant’s voice answers quickly, full of subdued concern. She is still in bed, my liege. Unable to sleep. It has been a very taxing pain—on both her body and her spirit. She has been fighting it for hours.

For hours? Jinwoo's heart tightens, stabbed by guilt. Why didn’t you tell me sooner?

I wished to, my liege. But… she forbade me. Beru’s voice dips with guilt. She did not want to worry you, especially knowing you had a raid this morning.

Jinwoo exhales harshly, his eyes narrowing. Of course you did, he thinks of you—not in frustration, but in aching admiration. Always protecting me, even when you're the one in pain.

What about your healing magic?

I have tried it several times, my liege. It dulls the pain, but only slightly. I fear my abilities cannot counteract this form of suffering.

Keep at it, he orders. And heat a water bottle—press it against her lower stomach. It should ease the pain a little. He’s done it for you countless times. It always helps.

At once, my liege.

His heart aches at the thought of you lying curled up in bed, face pale, body trembling, fighting off the ache in silence. This isn’t like the others, he thinks. Isn’t this her sixth day? That’s past the worst of it, usually.

He presses two fingers to his chin, deep in thought. He’s memorized your cycle by now—he knows your usual pain, your patterns. Normally, your cramps hit hard on the first day, then fade within a couple more. Why is it still so bad? Did something change? Whatever the answer is, it doesn’t change the fact that you're still in pain.

And that he's not there to soothe you.

Damn it.

Had he known this would happen, he never would’ve left your side this morning. Just like earlier this week, when he spent the whole day holding you, warming you, stroking your back until sleep claimed you. No raid, no mission, no beast was worth more than your comfort.

Jinwoo clenches his jaw, wind howling around him as Kaisel surges faster. I’m sorry I couldn’t be there to comfort you sooner, he thinks, his heart heavy with regret.

The shadows tremble beneath his feet as Kaisel speeds forward, a black streak across the blue sky.

I promise I’ll be there soon.

***

Jumping off Kaisel's back even before the beast sinks its talons into the ground, Jinwoo dashes toward the house, barely registering the startled high orcs tending the garden as he passes. The second he reaches the door, he slows, catching his breath. Carefully, he turns the knob—gentle, quiet—so he doesn’t startle you.

As expected, he finds you lying on the bed, curled up on your side. His heart squeezes at the sight of you, and he feels a mix of sympathy and helplessness for not being able to take the pain away.

He places the plastic bag on the bedside table and eases down beside you. “Hey…” His voice is low, velvety-soft as his fingers comb through your hair. “I’m here.”

Your eyes flutter open at the sound. “Hey… You’re here? I thought you were still on the raid…”

“I was, but Beru told me you were hurting.” His brows pull together as he gazes at you. “I couldn’t stay after that.”

“You shouldn’t have left. I’m fine.” You shift, trying to sit up and brush it off, pretending to be strong as always.

“Don’t,” Jinwoo says quickly, gently guiding you back down. “Lie down, honey. It’s all right.”

“I’m fine, Jin. Honestly.”

He smiles—tender but a little sad. “You always do this, don’t you? Always trying to be strong so I won’t worry. It’s cute when you do, and I love that about you, but...” His hand brushes along your temple. “It’s okay not to be so tough all the time, you know that, right? When you come to me and ask for my help, that makes me happy too. Maybe even the happiest. I love it when you’re being needy—didn’t I tell you that?”

You give him a tired smile. “Still… you didn’t have to leave the raid. I feel bad.”

“Don’t be. I wanted to see you. As soon as Beru told me you were crying in pain, I had to get out of there. I just couldn't stand it.”

“Beru was being dramatic…”

“I wish you’d be a bit dramatic,” he smirks, roguish and seductive. “Crying, whimpering my name, begging me to come home and soothe you.” His voice falls into that low, teasing register. “I’d love that.”

You groan. “I’m too weak to punch you right now, but please try and visualize it for me.”

He laughs quietly, his eyes softening again. How do you still manage to be this adorable while in pain?

He brushes his fingers down your cheek, cupping it tenderly. “I’m here, okay? You don’t have to pretend. It’s just me.”

His heart melts at the sight of you nuzzling your face further into his palm, your contented sigh mollifying his worry. “Okay.”

“Is there anything you need? I brought you some painkillers,” he says, reaching for the bag. “Got new pads too—overnight, unscented, with wings. Also… dark chocolate to help your mood. I wanted to grab your favorite chips, but Be—” He coughs once. “I mean, I read somewhere they’re not great for cramps. Something about water retention.”

“Wow,” you giggle faintly, impressed. “Look at you, doing your homework.”

“Of course,” he says proudly, kissing your forehead. “I care about my wife.” Watching you curl further into yourself, he frowns. “How bad is it?”

You answer with a pained moan, rolling to your side with one hand clutching your stomach. “Bad enough that I want to punch someone in the face.”

“Ah. One of those days.” He tears open the painkiller packet, pours you a glass of water, and helps you sit up. Your hands tremble as you take the meds, and Jinwoo runs a hand up and down your arm to steady you, his touch gentle and reassuring. “I’ll run a warm bath for you, okay? I can give you a back massage too, if you want. It might help relieve the pain a bit—at least until the medicine kicks in.”

You lean forward, your forehead resting on his shoulder as you mumble, “You’re just looking for an excuse to touch me.”

“Is that what you think of me?” He sighs, despite being a little amused, because… well, yeah, he’s probably going to, just for a tiny bit. He puts a small distance between you, gesturing for you to lie down. “Wait here, honey. I’ll be back in a minute.”

He stands, preparing to head to the bathroom, but you catch him by the sleeve, holding onto him tightly. “Don’t go…” Your voice echoes through his ears in a fragile whisper. “I don’t need you to do anything. I just want you to stay here. Just for a bit.”

Watching you act like this, a part of him dies and goes to heaven. You’re more adorable than you’ve ever been.

“Hey…” Jinwoo kneels right beside the bed, bringing himself to your level. He takes your hand in his, giving it a soft squeeze, his sweet smile dripping with affection. “I’m not going anywhere. I’m just gonna run the bath, that’s all. Then I’ll come right back.”

He can tell you just want him to be there, to hold you and just breathe in the same air until the pain in your stomach recedes. But a warm bath would certainly help more than just lying around in bed. He decides that the cuddling can wait until you’re all warmed up and relaxed.

You hesitate, lips puckered in a soft pout. “Just five minutes. Please?”

“God, you’re so cute.” He physically has to fight the urge to wrap his arms around you, to hold you close, to kiss your lips and love you until you’re suffocated with it. “Can I be honest?” The sweetness in his smile morphs into something mischievous. “Is it bad that I want you to stay like this forever? So you’ll always be this clingy around me?”

The moment is shattered. “Never mind. Go.”

“No, wait, come on—” He laughs, dodging your half-hearted swat. “Beg me again, baby.”

You flick him on the nose. “Go.”

With a grin still perched on his lips, your husband heads to the bathroom and gets the water running, testing the warmth with his fingers until it’s perfect. When he returns, he doesn’t say a word—just slides his arms beneath you.

“I can walk,” you say, palm against his chest to stop him.

“I know,” he says, landing a small kiss on the tip of your nose. “But I want to. Let me spoil my wife a little. It’s not every day she clings to me like this. I wanna take the opportunity to be the husband she dreams of.”

“But you already are…”

He catches you murmuring under your breath. Your honesty brings a tinge of scarlet to his cheeks. He clears his throat, pretending not to hear.

“…All right,” Jinwoo says after a pause. “Bath first. Cuddles after. Deal?”

You nod, and he kisses your temple with a smile.

***

Hooking one hand beneath your knees and the other supporting your back, Jinwoo carries you to the bathroom, a quiet smile tugging at the corners of his lips. He takes pride in this—in taking care of you. Although he sympathizes with your pain, he can’t help but feel immense joy from being so needed, from being the person you lean on for support. It fills him with something warm and grounding. Purpose.

He sets you down gently, keeping an arm firm around your waist in case your legs give out. The warm scent of lavender bath salts fills the air.

“I’m going to undress you, okay?” he says, his voice soft, coaxing.

He waits until you give him a little nod before he proceeds.

He pulls your knitted sweater over your head with careful hands, leaning down to kiss the curve of your shoulder like it’s something sacred. “You’ll be all right, Sweetheart. I’ll take care of you.”

Seeing you turn sheepish under his ministrations causes joy to swell further in his chest. You’re adorable when you’re shy. He lowers himself to his knees, fingers brushing the waistband of your jeans—and that’s when you stop him.

“I—I can do this part myself.”

Jinwoo glances up, a curious smile forming. “Hey, it’s okay. I’m your husband, remember? There’s no need to be shy.”

“No, it’s not that,” you stammer, hands fluttering awkwardly. “I’m wearing a pad, and… I’m bleeding.”

He lets out a quiet laugh. “And? Honey, I’ve been waist-deep in dungeon filth and monster guts. A little period blood isn’t going to faze me.”

You shake your head stubbornly, cheeks burning. “No, it’s gross. I don’t want you to see it.”

“It’s not gross,” he insists gently, reaching for your hand. “It’s just you. There’s nothing about you that could ever be—”

“No. Go,” you say more firmly, cutting him off. “I’ll call you when I’m done.”

That stops him.

He studies you for a beat, his smile softening into something more thoughtful. There’s a flicker in your expression—too quick for most to catch, but not for him. Jinwoo has seen every version of you. This one is… off.

You’re flustered, yes, but beneath that, there’s something else.

Guilt?

His brows draw together slightly, a faint furrow forming between them. Why would she feel guilty?

“Jinwoo, go.”

He exhales through his nose, standing up slowly. “Always so stubborn,” he mutters, giving your head one last pat. “All right. If you insist. I’ll be right outside if you need me.”

As he turns to leave, he steals one last glance at you over his shoulder.

You’re biting your lip.

He closes the door behind him and leans his back against it, arms crossed. Something doesn’t add up.

He’s not mad—he never could be, not with you—but now his thoughts are running. You looked too tense. Too evasive. And he knows you. When the pain is real, you don’t hide it like that. You don’t push him away. Not like this.

So what are you hiding, Sweetheart?

***

Jinwoo returns to the bathroom a moment later, his head peeking inside. “Can I come in?”

“Yes.”

He slips past the door, tugging on his sleeves until they pool around his elbows. He’s pleased to see you sitting comfortably in the tub, back resting against the curved porcelain, your expression blissful as the steaming water cradles you up to the shoulders.

“Feels good?”

You hum in contentment, eyes closed, lips parting in a quiet sigh. The tension you held earlier seems to be melting away with the heat. Your shoulders have softened. Your breathing is even. It’s working.

“That’s good to know,” Jinwoo breathes in relief, setting a fresh towel on the bathroom counter. He closes more of the space between you, settling himself on the edge of the tub right next to you. “I’m glad you feel better,” he says, reaching forward to brush a damp strand of hair from your face. “The meds should kick in soon, too. You’ll feel even more comfortable then. Also, here.” He hands you a chocolate bar, your favorite brand plastered on the package. “For emotional support. And sugar. And serotonin. You know—the holy trinity.”

“Mm. The holy trinity to make me fat.”

He chuckles at your comment. “Just something to munch on as you drown in your own filth.”

“You should join me next time,” you titter, peeling the wrapper. “We can drown in our filth together.”

“Mm. Sexy,” he deadpans. “But I can’t say no to a pretty lady bathing in molten chocolate, so yeah—next time, when you’re not feeling like you’re being stabbed in the stomach.”

“That’s a pretty accurate depiction of period cramps, actually.” You bite into the chocolate, groaning in delight as it melts on your tongue. “God, I forgot how good this is. Want some?”

“Sure.”

Instead of taking a bite, Jinwoo cups your chin gently and leans in, his lips brushing yours in a soft, slow kiss that quickly deepens. His tongue sweeps into your mouth, savoring the blend of chocolate and you—and for a second, he forgets you’re supposed to be hurting. The taste alone threatens to undo him.

When he pulls away, he licks his lips, eyes still fixed on your mouth. “Mm. Not bad at all.”

You roll your eyes despite being flustered. “I knew you’d do something cheesy like that.”

“And yet, I can hear your heart racing.” He smirks, tapping his ear, referring to his acute hunter’s hearing. “Expecting more, Sweetheart?”

“No,” you scoff, though the heat rising in your face says otherwise. “That was so predictable. Step up your game, Husband. You’re at risk of becoming boring.”

He chuckles, low and dangerous. “Careful, love. I’m only behaving because you’re sick. Say that again when you’re better—I’ll prove you wrong.”

He gazes down at you, the curve of his mouth filthy with desire, making sure you understand he’ll keep his word—and all the dirty things he has in store for you. It delights him, seeing you turn so embarrassed, and he wishes you’d stay that way a little longer. But you quickly regain your composure.

“Thank you,” he hears you say. “For doing this for me. Seriously, Jin. You’re the best.”

Jinwoo blinks at the sincere gratitude shimmering in your eyes, not expecting to see it so soon—but it’s a pleasant surprise indeed.

“The best husband in the world?” he fishes, grinning boyishly.

“Oh, absolutely. No competition. Expect your World’s Number One Husband mug to arrive in three to five business days,” you jest, your tiny giggles pulling a laugh from him too—unguarded and warm.

“Just a mug?” He reaches for a nearby washcloth, soaking it in the water. “Surely I deserve something more than that, Angel.” Though his words are playful with a hint of impishness, his heart is filled with the desire to take care of you—to protect you—especially now, seeing how vulnerable you look, all naked and… wet.

“Like what?” you ask, but he misses it—his gaze transfixed on a single bead of water that trails from your chin, sliding down your neck to rest in the hollow of your collarbone.

“Jinwoo?”

“Yeah?” He blinks, breaking free from his stupor. “Sorry. Got a little… distracted.” He clears his throat. “Let me help you.”

Your husband dips the washcloth in the water again before carefully washing your body—starting with your shoulders, then moving down to your arms. His touch is reverent, filled with quiet devotion, mindful of your soreness. He dabs the cloth over your face, softly rubbing it against your skin. As he reaches down to your neck, his gaze lingers a moment too long on the part he usually marks with lips and teeth. It’s been over a week since he last saw a bruise bloom over your veins. The urge to repaint it rises.

“You’re distracted again, honey.”

“Right, yeah.” He gets to work again, moving his hand lower to your chest with painstaking care. It’s even harder than before—but this time, he’s prepared. Trying his best to be respectful, he avoids looking at your intimate parts for too long, keeping his thoughts focused on the task at hand, not the way your body feels under his touch.

Then something flickers in his thoughts.

Wait.

You said you were on your period. That you were in pain. But…

You’re holding yourself differently now. No winces. No tension in your abdomen. You’re relaxed. Too relaxed.

His eyes narrow slightly. Strange. You don’t fake pain—not with him.

He swallows the suspicion for now, smoothing the washcloth across your side in silence. But somewhere in the back of his mind, a theory begins to form.

“So, what is it that you want?” you ask, your voice soft, breath stirring the steam as his fingers trail down your spine. “You never answered my question earlier.”

“Can I ask for something sexual?”

You snort. “Sometimes I’m impressed by how shameless you are. No, like a gift, Jin. An actual gift.”

“An actual gift, huh? Hmm…” He reaches for the bottle of soap, squeezing a dollop into his hands before lathering it between his palms. “How about… you give me some coupons?”

“Coupons?” Your brows knit in confusion. “What, like grocery coupons?”

“No,” he laughs, the sound low and fond. God, you’re cute. “Like special coupons, you know? A set of blank vouchers you give to your partner.” He starts rubbing your shoulders, hands moving in circles, massaging the tension from your muscles. “I’ll write something down on the card—whatever it is I want you to do for me—and when I give it to you, you’ll have to do it. I can use the coupon anytime I want. No exceptions. No complaints. No backsies.”

“You just want an excuse to boss me around,” you murmur, though you’re already melting under his touch.

“Maybe. But mostly”—he leans in closer, his warm breath fanning your shoulder as he reduces his voice to a low, seductive whisper—“I want to see you be a good girl for me.”

You stiffen slightly, goosebumps breaking on your skin. He doesn’t miss it—and neither does he miss the sound of your heartbeat escalating. He wonders if it’s because you’re too shy to uphold the idea… or if you just really, really like being called a good girl.

You gather yourself quickly. “A-and what if I don’t want to?”

His caress, like his voice, turns seductive and teasing, fingers trailing languidly just below your breast. “You don’t want to be a good girl for me?”

“No, I mean—” You hug your knees to your chest, burying your face in them. Oh yeah, it’s definitely the good girl part that flusters you, but more because of the way he said it, not the line itself. “I meant the coupons, you dummy. W-what if I don’t want to do the things you write down?”

He chuckles darkly, sliding his hand up to the nape of your neck, fingers twitching with the urge to grip. “Then that’s an even better gift for me.”

You shiver when he applies a little pressure there. Maybe, just like him, you recall the way he possessively holds you by the back of your neck when he kisses you—or when he takes you from behind. Jinwoo can’t help but succumb to his desire, just for a bit—lean fingers twisting around your damp strands, pulling your head back until you have no choice but to meet his gaze. He smiles down at you, eyes hooded, voice dropping an octave lower.

“Because then, I get to punish you.”

He kisses you—slow and indulgent—letting you feel the shape of his tantalizing smile. When he releases you, he’s greeted by another pout.

“I feel like you’re just going to use those coupons to exploit me sexually.”

“That’s harsh,” he replies, grinning. But is it a denial? Of course not.

“Look, honey, if you don’t trust me, you can write them yourself.” He kneels beside the tub, his hand traveling down to your thigh, rinsing the soap from your skin with careful sweeps of the cloth. “Write down the things you want to do with me. To me,” he corrects, shamelessly. “I’m down for whatever you want to do. Focus on what makes you happy.”

“But this is supposed to be my gift to you. I want to make you happy.”

“Sweetheart,” he lands a soft kiss on your knee. “If you’re happy, I’m happy.”

Jinwoo lifts your other leg, giving it the same amount of care and attention. Your skin is warm and soft, and it takes all his self-control not to touch you sensually. The warm water beads on your skin, and every soft gasp you let out as he works the sore muscles in your ankle tests his restraint. You’re completely naked. Vulnerable. Glowing.

And he’s trying very, very hard to be good.

“Just be creative with it,” he adds, trying to redirect his focus. “Write down something fun.”

“Like what?”

“Like…” His hand glides up your thigh, hovering dangerously close to the part he’s been dying to touch. He leans forward, bringing his lips close to your ear, his smirk grazing your shell. “Putting on a nurse costume and treating me like your patient—”

You splash water in his direction before the words even finish leaving his mouth, not caring if you’re drenching his hair and clothes. He flinches, laughing, water dripping down his face and hair.

“Hey!” Jinwoo grabs your wrist, his laughter bouncing off the bathroom walls. “It was just an example! Unless, y’know… you’re into it.”

You lift your hand again, ready for another splash. He raises both palms in surrender, grinning wide and cheeky.

“Yeah, I’m definitely not giving you blank coupons,” you mutter.

“Fair enough,” he simpers, rinsing off the last traces of soap. “All right, you’re all clean. Can you stand up for me, Angel?”

He snatches the towel from the rack, drying you off and wrapping it around your body as soon as you step down from the tub. The terrycloth doesn’t reveal much—but it doesn’t need to. It hugs your curves, clings to damp skin, and he looks away quickly, jaw tightening.

“So… do you need help with your clothes, or are you still shy?”

“I can do it myself. Thank you.”

He huffs in disappointment but tries not to argue. “All right. Well, I’m gonna go make you some soup, then. Just get back in bed when you’re done. I’ll bring it to you.”

“Can you stop being so perfect?” You sigh. “You’re gonna make me feel bad.”

Though he’s pleased with your praise, your last line leaves him confused. “Why would you feel bad?”

“N-nothing,” you promptly respond, which only tautens his brows even more. “I’m gonna… put on my clothes now, if you don’t mind.”

He narrows his eyes, unconvinced. “…Yeah. Okay.”

He lingers for a second longer than he should, then finally steps out, closing the door behind him and leaving you to your privacy as you requested.

***

You press your ear against the closed bathroom door, listening intently. His footsteps echo, then fade. He’s gone. 

Now that you’re alone, standing in silence, you summon the tiny conspirator lurking beneath your feet.

“Beru,” you whisper. “Come out. He’s gone.”

Your shadow trembles, twisting into a thick fog before forming the floating head of your overly dramatic general. Barely the size of your palm, Beru zips toward you, mirroring your agitation, his antennae twitching with anxiety.

“M-Mine queen…” he croaks, dread thick in his voice.

“Beru, I hate to say this, but…” You let out a breath. "We are so fucked.”

Beru nods gravely, wings vibrating with shared terror. “Hath mine liege discerned that we have been deceitful?”

“No, not yet.” You slump against the door. “But he’s definitely suspicious. I don't think I can lie to him anymore, Beru.” Your shoulder sag, the urge to just give up and come clean threatening to take over you. “I suck at lying.”

“Mine queen, thou hast performed most admirably! Pray, do not abandon the path now!”

“I don’t even know if I want to do this anymore,” you sound whiny, but you don’t care. “He’s been so sweet to me, Beru. So, so sweet. Ugh, I knew I shouldn’t have listened to you. This is all your fault!”

His panic spikes.  “M-mine lady, why dost thou cast this grievous blame upon mine head?”

“You were the one who came up with the plan! I just wanted to see how he’d react, Beru—not create a soap opera! You told him I was crying during a raid, didn't you?! You know he can’t stand it when I cry!”

“I—I but sought to evoke the fullest display of his affection!” Beru stammers, wringing his claws together. “It was all for thy benefit!”

“Yeah, and now he’s gone all out just to comfort me! He’s doting on me like some perfect husband in a drama! He bathed me, Beru. Washed my feet!”

“Aye,” Beru breathes reverently. “tis cometh as no surprise. He ne'er doth cease to leave me in wondrous awe.” He nods to himself, admiring his king still even as his own terror slowly consumes him. “S-shall we then speak unto him the truth, mine queen? Will he findeth it in his heart to pardon us for our grievous sins?”

You chew your nail, pacing, spiraling. “He’s in a good mood right now, so maybe? But he’s done so much for me. If I were him, I’d be pissed.”

“Aye,” Beru nods solemnly. “Thy temper is most volcanic—”

You grab his floating head in your hand and squeeze. “What was that?”

“F-Forgive me! A slip of the tongue!” 

You release him with a heavy sigh. “He’s going to be so angry with me, isn't he?”

“Fret thee not, mine lady. Mine liege shall ne'er possess the heart to chastise thee. He loveth thee, beyond all else.”

“You’re right. He does love me. But what about you? Won’t he punish you? You lied to him too, you know. We’re in this together.”

At that, he pales. “Then, I deem it wise that we continue this charade!”

You seize his face again, your voice low, filled with threats. “If you betray me, Beru, I swear—”

“Nay! I shall carry thy secret unto mine grave!”

“You can’t die, you idiot.”

“...Ah.”

You groan, tossing your head back. “Ugh, fine. I’ll keep pretending to be sick. But it’s so exhausting. I have to act all weak, and I keep forgetting.” You drop your voice in embarrassment. “When I pushed him away so he wouldn’t see I wasn’t wearing a pad anymore, I felt awful. He looked so hurt, Beru.”

“Yea, I comprehend, mine lady. Yet… I do fear he shall be wrathful if he discovers thy deceit.”

“I need to figure out how to keep him from getting too mad…”

Beru taps his chin with a tiny claw. “Thou mayest ever wield thy feminine grace to beguile him, mine lady. The king is powerless before thy charms. Thou knowest well he hath no defense against thy tender touch.”

“…Are you telling me to seduce my husband?”

Beru nods gravely, as if he’s proposing a military strategy.

You stare at him, utterly deadpan. “I can’t believe an ant is telling me to use sex as a distraction.”

“I am loyal to victory, mine queen.”

You roll your eyes, pointing a stern finger. “Fine. But you. You keep your mouth shut.”

Beru salutes, vanishing back into your shadow with the gravity of a warrior going into battle.

You turn to the mirror, steeling yourself.

Lady charm. Lady charm.

You slap your cheeks lightly.

You’ve got this.

***

You have not got this.

Why? Because you’re shit at lying.

You’ve known it from the start—you’ve never been good at it. But this? This is embarrassing. The harder you try to act like you’re suffering through one of the most torturous pains of your life, the more tense and awkward you become.

You sit restlessly on the bed, arms folded on the small, foldable table in front of you. Dinner’s just ended. Jinwoo stands beside you, balancing a tray as he collects the empty plates and bowls.

“Are you okay?” he asks, eyeing you closely, one brow raised. “You’ve been… fidgeting.”

“N-no, I’m fine,” you stammer. “Just a little uncomfortable.”

“Is the medicine working?”

“Yeah, perfectly.” Oh, a golden opportunity! An excuse to tone things down! “In fact, I don’t feel that much pain anymore. Got my spirits back, all thanks to you, lover.” You throw him a smile that’s far too wide to be natural.

“O... kay,” he says, still unconvinced but amused. “So—how was it?”

“How was what?”

“The food, my love.”

“Oh!” You perk up. “It's amazing!” You savor the last bite of the soup he made for you. The savory flavors of the broth, the warm, aromatic kick of the ginger he added—all mixed with the sweetness of the carrots and onions—made it a feast for both your eyes and tongue. “That was the most delicious thing I’ve ever had.” You polish off the last drop of watermelon juice he made for you and hand him the glass. “The juice too. Everything was perfection. My compliments to the handsome chef.”

“So dramatic,” he snorts, though the joy radiating from his face says the opposite.

“I thought you wanted me to be dramatic.”

“True,” he concedes. With a slight laugh, he stacks the chopsticks on the tray and sets everything aside on the nightstand. Your husband climbs into bed beside you and pulls out a pack of mints from his pocket.

“Care for one?”

You look at him, so utterly impressed that he’s prepared everything down to the last detail. You’d just thought how nice it would be to have a mint to freshen your breath, and here he is, offering you one like he read your mind.

You part your lips, letting him slip one past them. You roll it over your tongue, the cool, sweet burst of flavor coating your taste buds. ���Marry me.”

“We’re already married,” he chuckles, popping one into his own mouth.

“Marry me again. You’re perfect.”

“I'd marry you a thousand times, you know that.” He sits up, his back against the headboard. “Come here, jagiya.”

His arm slithers around your waist, gently drawing you toward him until your spine is glued to his torso. His body wraps around yours, fitting so naturally it’s like your backs were carved for each other. He adjusts his legs so you’re cradled between them, his arms settled around your waist.

“This feels nice, doesn’t it?” Jinwoo sighs, nuzzling his face against your neck, basking in your scent. “You know what I love about us being married?”

You breathe out in bliss, resting your full weight on him. “Mm, what?”

“We share the same shampoo. So now you smell like me, and I smell like you.”

“Mm. And so do thousands of other people who use that shampoo.”

“You little—” He pinches your side, making you squirm and giggle. “I’m trying to be romantic.”

“Honey, you’re the most romantic when you’re not trying,” you assure him with a kiss on the cheek, giggling. “So, my sweet King of Shadows. Tell me about your day.”

“You already know what I did today. I was taking care of my queen.” Jinwoo, out of habit, slides his hand under your shirt, gliding over your skin in lazy, teasing strokes as he casually speaks. “A princess, actually. A spoiled, demanding one. Just the way I love her.” He catches your heart pounding when his palm skims your stomach, misinterpreting it as pain rather than guilt over your stupid prank.

“Does it still hurt?” he asks softly, worry clouding his voice. He runs his palm gently over your belly, slow and soothing. “Is there anything else I can do to ease the pain?”

God, you want to tell him so badly. He’s too precious for this.

“No, I’m fine now. The medicine helps. And please, you’ve done so much more than I needed you to. Thank you.” You lift his hand and press a kiss to his knuckles, letting your gratitude—and your secret apology—sink into his skin. Another kiss lands on his jaw as you guide his hand back to your belly. “You’re so sweet to me, Jin. You didn’t have to do all that, you know. Just having you here already made me feel better.”

“I know, but I wanted to.” He presses his lips lovingly to the side of your neck, his mouth moving slowly, leaving one featherlight kiss after another. “Making you happy makes me happy.”

You smile softly, leaning your head back to rest against his shoulder. “You’ve said that before.”

“I mean it.”

The need to cover your entire body in kisses is almost unbearable, but he holds back, knowing it might be too much when you’ve only just recovered. He settles for embracing you tightly, arms encircling your waist, lips softly pressed just below your ear.

The pleasant warmth of his body, his intoxicating scent, the huskiness in his voice, and the tenderness of his tone—everything is enough to lull you to sleep. But your nerves keep you awake, buzzing. The guilt clings to you like an anchor, dragging you deeper with every second.

Maybe… maybe it’d be easier to just tell him now?

“You seem distracted,” Jinwoo murmurs against your nape, his breath hot against your sensitive skin. “Am I boring you, Angel?”

“N-no, I was just—” Your breath stutters, your body jerking in pleasure as he takes your earlobe between his lips, nibbling and sucking gently. His large palm slides upward, cupping your breast through your shirt, squeezing just enough to draw a moan from you. “Jin…”

“I won’t do anything,” he murmurs, promising innocence despite the desire dripping from every word. “I just want to feel you, baby. Just for a moment.”

Your eyes flutter shut, your head falling back against his shoulder again as his touch spreads warmth through your body. You catch your bottom lip between your teeth, drowning in the sweet sensation. Your hand reaches backward, sliding across his undercut before fisting his strands and guiding him closer to your neck.

His kisses grow deeper, wetter, his teeth teasing your tender skin.

“So…” he breathes, too casual, as his tongue traces the line of your vein. “I heard something new today.”

You sigh, surrendering completely, tipping your head to the side to give him better access. Your mind fogs with heat, guilt evaporating under the burn of his affection.

“Yeah…? What did you—ah—hear?”

“Something silly.” He sucks the skin just below your jaw, hard enough to leave a mark. Then he licks over it, soothing the sting before moving back to your ear, capturing the lobe again with a smirk in his voice. “Something naughty.”

A soft moan escapes you, your stomach tightening. “Something naughty…?”

“Mm.” You feel the curve of his grin against your skin. “Something that Beru just told me.”

You freeze, your heart rate skyrocketing. Warmth drains from your chest, replaced by cold panic.

Did that bitch just betray me? you wonder, heart thrashing.

“W-what?” you stammer, voice thin and high. “What do you mean? What did he tell you?”

He senses your shift immediately, pulling back just enough to see your face.

“Are you all right?”

“No. I mean, yes.” You force a shaky breath. Calm down. Just breathe. “I just… I want to know what Beru told you.”

Jinwoo’s eyes narrow slightly, reading between the lines. Still suspicious, but he lets it slide—for now.

“He said there are… certain positions that help conceive a baby faster.”

You choke, the words catching in your throat. “What?”

“Yeah,” he deadpans. “That was my exact reaction too.”

“Ah. And, umm—” You clear your throat, forcing a smile. “What advice did he give you?”

“I didn’t ask.” He shrugs with quiet confidence. “I don’t need advice from an ant to get my wife pregnant.”

“R-right…”

“But…” He leans in again, his lips grazing the shell of your ear, voice dark and smooth. His hand slips beneath your shirt, warm against your skin, hovering just over your bare breast. “I did some reading of my own today.”

He doesn’t knead or grope—just lets his thumb circle lazily over your peak, barely grazing, but it sets your nerves alight. It’s teasing. Intentional. Cruel in the best way.

“And while there’s no guaranteed method, apparently, positions that allow for deeper penetration might give better chances.”

You swallow hard. “A-and… what would that be?”

He reaches up, gently gathering your hair and draping it over one shoulder to bare the other. He tugs your collar down, just enough to reveal a stretch of skin—and then he’s there, kissing softly at first, then harder, until you feel the start of a bruise. His lips curve into a grin against your shoulder.

“You’d be on your hands and knees, Princess,” he murmurs, his breath sending shivers down your spine. “I’d be behind you. And you’d have your pretty little ass in the air…”

He takes your earlobe gently between his teeth, nipping, then whispering low.

“...and I’d be able to go really… really deep… until…”

His palm spreads over your stomach, warm and possessive.

“...you can feel me right…”

Two fingers press just below your navel.

“...here.”

A sharp jolt of heat courses through you as your imagination runs wild. The anticipation, the intimacy, the way his voice wraps around you like silk—it’s almost enough to smother your guilt.

Almost.

But no—Lady charm, you remind yourself. You’re supposed to distract him. Use what you’ve got. Own it.

You shift in his lap, turning just enough to catch his gaze. When you speak, your voice is honey-sweet, edged with daring, soaked in seduction.

“Why don’t we… try something right now?”

Jinwoo goes still, as if your words need time to sink in. Then you feel it—his breath stutters, his grip on your waist tightens, and his hand twitches against your skin like he's holding himself back by sheer force of will.

“…What?” he asks at last, his voice thick with caution and desire. “You mean—?”

“You know what I mean.”

“But… you said you were in pain earlier.”

You slide your legs around him, straddling him slowly, deliberately. Your hands trail up his chest, feeling the tension coiled just beneath his skin. “I told you, the medicine worked. I feel fine now.” You press your forehead to his, lips brushing his in a featherlight tease. “And you’ve been so good to me. Let me return the favor.”

His jaw tightens. You feel it beneath your fingertips—the restraint, the ache, the tenderness. “You don’t have to—”

“But I want to.”

You cut him off with a kiss—slow, deep, filled with longing. Not rushed. Not desperate. Just real.

You roll your hips in his lap, letting him feel your warmth, the shape of your desire, the silent promise wrapped in every movement.

“I need you, Jin.”

His breath escapes in a low groan, rough and needy. “You have no idea what you're doing to me.” Jinwoo buries his face in your neck, arms tightening around your waist like he’s afraid you’ll perish into thin air if he didn't hold you tightly enough. “You don’t even have to try, Sweetheart. You’re already driving me crazy.”

“Well…” you whisper, kissing along the line of his jaw, your breath hot against his skin, “What if I do try?”

You begin unbuttoning his shirt, slow and teasing. Each button undone reveals more of him—his sculpted chest, the heat of his skin, the steady thud of his heart under your palm. You push the fabric off his shoulders and trace your fingers down his body, memorizing the contours all over again.

“You’re so beautiful,” you breathe out.

His eyes soften at your words, but the tension in him doesn’t ease—it coils tighter. “And you’re fucking gorgeous,” he replies breathlessly, smashing your mouths together, his kisses ardent, full of hunger.

You reach behind you, tugging off your shirt. His hands rise to help—worshipful and gentle despite the fire inside. He cups your breasts with aching tenderness, his thumbs brushing across your nipples before his mouth follows—hot, slow, adoring.

“Jin,” you gasp, fingers tangling in his hair as his tongue plays with you, just enough pressure, just enough tease to send a shiver down your spine.

“You taste so good,” he murmurs, lips brushing your skin, gently suckling on your bud. “You always taste so good, Angel. So warm and sweet.”

You lean back slightly, guiding his hands down your sides, then rise off his lap. Slowly, deliberately, you turn and ease forward onto your hands and knees, sinking into the bed in front of him.

You glance over your shoulder, catching the stunned, ravenous look on his face. Desire burns in his eyes like an open flame—and you smirk, tipping your hips just enough to make him lose the last of his composure.

“Was this the position you were talking about?” you ask, your voice laced with honey and wickedness.

He’s behind you before the sentence ends. His hands find your hips, seizing them with veneration and need, like you're the only thing tethering him to this earth.

You push back, pressing yourself against him.

“God, baby…” His voice is hoarse, nearly a groan, breathless with restraint. He leans down, lips grazing along the line of your spine, his breath scalding as it fans over your skin. “You have no idea what you’ve just started.”

“Oh, I think I do,” you purr, rolling your hips back into him with intentional slowness. “Maybe Beru was right. Maybe we should try a few different positions. It’d be fun to get a little… experimental.”

That lights a fire in him. He smirks, lips grazing your shoulder. “Experimental, huh?” His hands travel up your sides, his voice dropping lower. “I’ve held back all this time, thinking my sweet girl liked things tender, gentle. I figured you preferred romance over ruin.”

He presses himself against your clothed core, his arousal throbbing beneath the thin fabric of his pants, grinding into you with intent. The pressure steals your breath, a moan escaping your lips before you can hold it back.

“Mmm,” you whimper, biting your lip to muffle the sound. Your hands fist into the sheets below as you push your hips back toward him again. “I wouldn’t mind something a little different. Something rougher. Maybe something that… hurts a bit.”

He stills behind you, his grip tightening, voice strained with control. “Don’t tempt me.”

“Maybe I should.”

The tension crackles between you like a live wire, aching to snap. You can feel his desire clawing just beneath the surface, threatening to break loose.

He wants to devour you, desperately. Wants to throw restraint to the wind and take you the way you’re begging to be taken.

But then—he stops. His hands fall still.

His voice, when it comes, is softer now, gentling like rain, hesitant. “We can’t. Not right now.” He brushes a thumb over your bare back, rediscovering control. “You’re still bleeding. What if the pain comes back? I don’t want to hurt you.”

You blink, stunned. A pang of guilt slices through you so suddenly it almost knocks the air out of your lungs.

Jinwoo is too sweet. Too good. And you’re just too damn evil if you keep this going.

Ah, screw it. I can’t take this anymore.

“Jinwoo.” You shift back around, pushing him down and straddling his lap. “I have... something to tell you.” There’s a different kind of vulnerability in your gaze now—not desire, but truth. The weight of it presses down on your chest.

He gazes at you with concern, gently tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “What is it?”

“I’m not in pain,” you whisper.

He blinks. “Honey?”

You take a shaky breath, heart hammering. “I haven’t been in pain. Not really. I’m not… I’m not even on my period right now.”

Jinwoo freezes. The change is immediate. His jaw tightens, his eyes narrowing with disbelief. “What?”

A guilty laugh escapes you—small, shame-tinged. “I’m sorry,” you murmur nervously. “It was stupid. I missed you. I wanted to be close to you. I didn’t mean for it to go this far. I just… I wanted to see your reactions—”

“You lied to me?” His tone darkens—not with fury, but with something heavier. Something primal. His presence becomes thunderous, the air thick with power. You flinch.

“I-I didn’t mean to manipulate you,” you rush to say, heart kicking into overdrive. “I just wanted to know how far you’d go for me. I was curious. Stupidly curious.”

“This was a test?”

“No! God, no.” Your hands shoot up defensively. “I would never test you like that. It was just a prank. A stupid, awful prank. I’m so sorry.”

He leans back, sighing through gritted teeth—the kind that makes your skin prickle. His expression is tight with exasperation, but there’s a glint in his eyes—amusement, maybe. Or something darker. Something deliciously vengeful.

“So,” he drawls, his tone deceptively casual, “I left the raid early. Nearly got swallowed by a giant snake because I was too distracted worrying about you crying.” He draws out that last word, twisting the knife. “Burned through half my mana because my shadows were getting overwhelmed without me there. And then I humiliated myself buying pads in a pharmacy stocked with more options than a potion shop. And that was all… for nothing?”

You nearly fold where you stand. “I didn’t mean to distract you during the raid! I would never want to put you in danger!”

“Then why did you tell Beru to say you were crying?”

“I didn’t! That was all his doing!”

Silence. Then—“What?”

“…Ah.” You wince. The irony hits hard. You thought Beru would be the one to betray you—yet here you are, throwing him under the bus.

“It was his idea?”

Well, it’s too late to retract your words now—not that you want to. “Y-yes, it was his idea. All of it. I—I didn’t even want to do it.”

His expression darkens, like storm clouds gathering over still water. “Put your shirt back on.”

Shit. Now he’s mad.

You scramble to dress yourself, hands shaking, heart pounding. As soon as you finish—hair tousled and skin flushed—Jinwoo’s eyes flash, his usual cobalt hue bleeding into a deep, dangerous violet.

“Beru,” he summons.

The shadow beneath your feet quivers violently. You feel it—a frantic fluttering within the dark. Beru is stalling, clearly panicking in the depths of the shadow realm, desperately finding ways to escape.

But an order is an order, and he knows better than to anger his Monarch further.

The shadow materializes midair, a floating head that trembles like a leaf. “M-mine liege, how art thou this day?” Beru greets with a forced, trembling grin. “Thou doth appear most divine—”

“Was it your plan?”

Beru quivers, flicks his gaze to you in betrayal, pleading for help—but you avert your eyes, lips sealed.

“Yes, it was all his plan,” you say flatly, sealing his fate.

“Mine queen!” Beru gasps in horror. “How couldst thou betrayeth me so—”

Jinwoo grabs his shadowy face with one hand, his fingers engulfing the ant’s skull entirely. His smile is sharp. Unforgiving.

“You lied to your king,” he says lowly through gritted teeth. “And had the audacity to ask me for mints and chips while doing it?”

Beru whimpers. “M-my liege, I doth beg thy forgiveness! Mine heart is heavy with remorse. But the queen is most persuasive! I was beguiled by her honeyed words! Who am I to deny her whims, when even thou—the King—yield to her will?!”

You gasp, jaw dropping. “Beru!”

“A-also… I doth yearn for ye crisps of potato.”

Jinwoo squeezes his hand around him, nearly bursting him into pulp.

“ACK—M-my liege!” Beru chokes. “Mercy! Mercy!”

“Outside. Head on the ground. Now.”

“Y-yes, my liege!” The shadow scrambles, zipping out like a bat fleeing hell. Fleeing death. Literally.

Jinwoo turns to you. “You.”

Your throat goes dry. “Y-yes?”

He unfastens his belt in one smooth, practiced motion. The leather hisses through the loops, loud in the silence. His smirk is ice and fire all at once. “Come here.”

You step toward him, heart hammering.

“Arms out.”

You obey, raising your trembling hands in the air. He seizes your wrists, binding them tight with the belt. The leather bites into your skin, and you flinch.

“Too tight, Sweetheart?”

“A-a little…”

He tightens it.

You hiss softly, and his smirk deepens—cruel and thrilled. He knows your limits. And he knows just how much pain you can take… and crave. You asked for this, didn't you?

“Eyes on me,” he commands.

You meet his gaze.

“What do you say?”

“I’m sorry.”

“Keep going.”

“I am… sorry for lying to you. I’m sorry for pulling a childish prank on you.”

“And?”

You swallow thickly. “I promise I won’t ever make you worry like that again. I swear I won’t ever do something so stupid again.”

His voice rumbles deep and low. “And if you break your promise?”

“I’ll…” Your face twists in a grimace. “…accept whatever punishment you see fit?”

He smiles, slow and wicked. Jinwoo leans in, kissing you softly—tender, gentle, almost jarringly sweet. “Good girl.”

You shiver, your voice crumbling to a whisper. “A-are you going to punish me now?”

“Oh, no. Not tonight,” he purrs, dark and smooth. “Tonight… I’m going to play with you.”

He cups your chin, tilting your face up, his gaze molten. His lips press to yours—deeper this time, more demanding, his hand gripping your chin like you’re something precious and breakable… or something to be devoured. He leaves you breathless. Dazed.

“You said you wanted to be experimental, didn’t you?” he whispers against your lips, voice a silken threat.

Your lips part to answer—but before you can speak, he spins you around, one hand grabbing a fistful of your hair, dragging your head back.

His breath is fire in your ear.

“Then bend over.”

***

[lemonlover1110]

𝐏𝐚𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫

Zayne

Pairing: Zayne x f!Reader

Summary: Date nights are hard to come by lately, which is why you try to make the moment last a little longer.

Warnings: MINORS DO NOT INTERACT! Smut, Vaginal Sex, Car Sex, Creampie

Discord +18 - Twitter - Ko-Fi - Bluesky

You blast some of your favorite songs, loudly singing along as Zayne drives back home. His hand rests on your thigh, smiling as he hears your voice. You’re tone deaf, but it’s the sweetest melody he’s ever heard. His ears do need a break after a couple of minutes, he won’t lie, that’s why he sneakily turns the radio up. It’s a good thing you don’t notice.

Zayne chuckles, stealing a couple of glances at you whenever he gets the chance. It’s fair to say that date night was successful. After months of not getting time alone with you, he finally got a couple of hours with you. Complete peace and quiet. No kids.

“You surely love this song, huh?” Zayne comments as you sing your heart out. There’s no answer, but he doesn’t need one. You replay the song, singing even louder than before and Zayne laughs yet again. No matter how many years pass by, things still feel the same. The spark is still there, and it always will be.

“Thank you for tonight.” You end up turning down the radio, planning to enjoy the last few moments with your husband before getting home. Once you enter the door to your house, you’re mom and dad again. 

“I should say that to you.” He responds, squeezing your thigh. “Did you enjoy your meal?”

“It was so good, we should go there again!” You answer with the brightest smile on your face. He cherishes it, never getting tired of the sight. There’s many days that only the thought of your smile is what keeps him going.

“We’ll go back soon, we’ll just have to convince my parents to babysit again.” Zayne replies, and you hum in response. It’s such a shame that your date is over so soon because he had so much more in mind. Sadly, if he wants his parents to babysit again, it’s in his best interest to get home now. 

“Hopefully the damage tonight wasn’t too bad.” You comment before following up with, “I don’t know where they get their behavior from. You’ve always been so calm and–”

“And I didn’t procreate alone.” He cuts you off, earning a glare from you.

“Are you saying they get their hectic behavior from me?” You dramatically gasp, and while it’s the perfect time to pull on his ear and playfully scold him, you don’t want to distract him while he drives.

“I’m just pointing out they don’t get it from me.” He says, and you click your tongue. 

“I was a very calm child, for your information.” You argue, though it isn’t easy for him to buy. They had to get it from someone. “Maybe genetics skipped a generation.”

“Perhaps.” He answers, deciding not to play it cold. Yes, it’s best to be safe right now. “No point in finding the source. They’re still lovely.”

“Lovely is one way to put it. But you’re right, no point in finding the source because it’s not like we can send them back.” You joke, earning a laugh from the man. Zayne wouldn’t trade them for anything in the world, even if the hospital seems like a place of rest nowadays.

“Next date we should go to a movie. I know there’s one in theaters you’d love!” You change the topic as you near home. He asks a couple more questions about it, before you finally get home.

You sit in silence for a minute, not ready for the date to be over just yet. It’s late, the kids are surely sleeping, but the ambiance changes the moment you step inside. The date will be over, and while you had fun, it was too quick. You wish you had the chance to do something more… Something else.

You exchange a look, smiling to comfort each other. You don’t have to say anything else.

“Gimme a kiss.” You tell him, leaning in. Zayne meets you halfway, pecking your lips. You cup his face, kissing him with the passion you expected. Zayne kisses you back with the same passion. 

This is why Zayne’s kiss was quick– He knew that you’d quickly lose control if he had given you more. What happens if a neighbor walks by and sees as you get on top of Zayne? Or as you recline Zayne’s seat to make this more comfortable? 

“We have a bed inside.” He reminds you as you kiss his neck, fingers hurriedly unbuttoning his shirt. His fingers trail up your thighs, going under your dress, contradicting his own words. 

“Just five minutes.” You mutter as you unbuckle his belt.

“Five minutes?” He almost sounds offended, but the hurt quickly fades when you begin to grind on him. Yeah, five minutes is more than enough. Zayne pulls your dress up, hands caressing your upper thigh. 

“I should leave you high and dry for telling me we have a bed.” You chuckle before your lips land on his again. Zayne’s hand pushes your panties to the side, fingers running through your folds.

“You wouldn’t stand it.” He tells you when you pull away, noting just how wet you are. So wet from nothing… Or maybe you’ve been thinking about him for a while.

“Yeah, just put it in.” You cover his mouth, hiding the smile that’s surely on his face at this point. He runs the tip through your folds, slowly pushing himself inside you. A breathy moan leaves your lips, feeling as Zayne’s cock fills you up. 

“Zayne–” You moan, slowly moving on his cock. You’re doing all the work, a task that’ll tire you out quickly. You take your hand off his mouth, holding onto his shoulders as you move back and forth.

“Don’t be too loud. Don’t draw attention to yourself.” He instructs you, hand going down to play with your clit. Eyes watch your every move. Watching as your face contorts with pleasure with every movement, your mouth agape as you moan.

Zayne bites down his lip, knowing that your moans are more than enough to draw attention to yourself. He likes to take precaution, even if it’s too late for anyone to walk by. Zayne takes control, setting a pace much faster than the one you had. 

“It’s too much, Zayne.” You breathlessly say, feeling as your orgasm slowly builds up and consumes you. He just knows you’re making a mess all over him– He’ll have to go upstairs quickly and ashamed, but right now he’s too lost in the moment to care.

“You’re doing a good job, baby. You can take it.” He assures you, thrusts slowly picking up more speed. “Nice job, love.”

He kisses you again, drowning out the loud moans that are followed by your orgasm. You bite down his lip, overwhelmed by the feeling. 

Zayne slowly loses that control he overtook. His thrusts slowly get sloppy while his breath gets caught up in his chest. It slowly becomes too much for him to handle. You feel so perfect around  him, it’s hard for him to keep his composure.

You swear you hear a curse underneath his breath as he empties himself inside of you. You’re both panting, looking into each other's eyes. You’re still for minutes on end, unwilling to go back inside just yet.

When Zayne finally pulls out, he quickly fixes your panties, not wanting the mess to drip down all over him. You help him fix himself, slowly buttoning his shirt, stealing a couple of kisses with every other button.

“You’ve been taking your birth control, right?” He asks, and you hum in response. He kisses your forehead before opening the door. “Time to face my parents.”

“You got that covered, right?” You smile, kissing the tip of his nose before getting out of the car. Before he can answer, you’re walking away. Zayne clicks his tongue before chuckling. At least date night was successful.

[darkbluekies]

Character facts (2025 version)

A/N: last facts were in the beginning of 2023 and a few things have happened since then, so here's a new and improved character facts, with more thorough information. If you feel like I've missed anything, please let me know.

I will update this every now and then, to add more relevant information.

Silas Achilleos:

Simple facts:

35

Greek, but lives in the US

Looks: black hair, black eyes, broad, muscular, olive skintype, around 185 cm, tattoos over his arms, back and one on his chest

Fashion style: button shirts, black pants, coats, hoodies, sweatpants

Assigned color: red. Represents his love for darling, his blood thirst, passion and danger.

Behaviour:

Dark: Jealous, posessive, territorial, often described as "predatory/animalistic", taunting, a bit infantilizing, condescending, overprotective, violent, clingy

Soft: childish/immature, doesn't like to involve innocent in his business, never judges

Silas is emotional and often acts upon his feelings before thinking.

He is a sexual person, but not to that extent one can imagine him to be.

Likes:

Steak. A lot.

Guns

Dogs

Whiskey, Brandy

Hugs

Being the one darling find protection in

Dislikes:

People testing him, interrupting him, underestimating him

Ares (his little brother)

People that use violence for fun/people that hurt people for no other reason than that they can

Sexual nicknames

His background:

He got disowned by his parents after being involved in some crimes in his hometown, Athens, and then moved alone to the US, where he met SIC (his to-be Second In Command) and they stole the impire from another mob boss, making Silas the leader.

Dr Karl Kry

Simple facts

33

Swedish, lives in Sweden

Looks: blonde hair, blue eyes, fair skin, around 187cm, big hands, lean muscles

Fashion style: doctor's uniform, polo shirts, button shirts, light pants, everything in muted and light colors. Ironed, no wrinkles, neat.

Assigned color: blue. Represents cold, loneliness, nature.

Behaviour:

Dark: Dr Kry has no issue taking lives of people and is skillfull at doing it so that he can't be traced, cold, never lets anyone know what he's thinking, infantilizing

Soft: Takes darlings weakness seriously, sweet, thoughtful, remembers small details

Dr Kry is a man balancing between caring and emotionally distant, making his actions seem hypocritical.

Likes:

Cleanliness, neatness

Silence

Nature, flowers, garden

Jazz

Coffee (too much) and chicken

Taking care of darling

Writing scifi

Running, swimming

Dislikes:

Loud noises, too much going on

His parents

Messiness, dirt, "germs"

Unecessary physcial contact

People getting in his business

His background:

Dr Kry was raised by parents who wanted him to become a doctor and that never gave him what he needed. He has never learned how to express himself, or gotten physical love. Or encouragement or anything soft.

King Edmund of Vesanus

Simple facts:

19-20

Has his imaginary kingdom/country

Looks: black hair a bit on the longer side (covers his eyes), ice blue eyes, fair skin tone, around 178cm, muscular

Fashion style: button shirts, suits, pullovers, dark pants

A playboy who, before he met darling, slept with a handful of women at the court + he is experimental.

Assigned color: green. It represents madness, toxicity, nature, jealousy, wealth.

Behaviour:

Dark: Edmund is violent and likes to get hands on, can be described as "insane", selfish, self centered, spoiled, thinks highly of himself and low of others, very jealous

Soft: childish, immature, playful, doesn't know or understands much outside of himself but is willing to learn for darling,

Edmund is a boy who's never had any friends or been taught on how to socialize with others on a casual level. He is selfish and thinks the universe centers around him, because that's what he's been taught. So he acts like it.

Likes:

Horses

Working out, sports

Music

Red wine

Dislikes:

People thinking they're better than him

People disagreeing with him / people talking back

Dirt, germs

People

His background:

When he was sixteen, the palace he lived in got stormed and everyone but him was killed. He is now living in a castle on the countryside by a smaller village where no one can touch him again. He's afraid of people, scared that the ones that killed his parents will come back to finish the job, but he masks it with hatred towards everyone.

Jerry Kim / Kim Yubin

Simple facts:

24

South Korean but has moved to the US

Yubin is her real name, but she changed it to Jerry

Looks: black hair in a wolfcut manner, black eyes, a slightly warmer /tanner skin tone, around 165cm, muscular, tattoos over her arms, back

Fashion style: dark streetwear

Assigned color: purple. It represents mystery, independance, is a mixture of pink (sterotypically female) with blue (stereotypically male) which fits her perfectly.

The most sexual in the group. She is experimental, cheeky and always up for a challenge.

Behaviour:

Dark: Jerry is harsh in her words, rough/almost mean humour, sarcastic, never lets anyone too close. She's sadistic, unforgiving and enjoys watching people in pain

Soft: Jerry, despite everything, likes domisticy. She's protective of darling, never judges for anything, is the yandere who gives most trust to their darling. Her love language is everything but telling "I love you" because she physically can't do it.

Likes:

Cooking

Give gifts (but pretends she doesn't)

Cuddle (but pretends she doesn't)

Spend time with darling

Motorcycles

Weapons

Work out

Tattoos

Drawing

Dislikes:

People who judges others/aren't inclusive to people

People picking on weaker people

Injustice

Her backstory:

She and her little sister Yuna grew up normally, but Jerry started intresting herself in petty crimes that eventually led to darker stuff, with people who killed her family. Knowing that she wasn't safe alone, she joined an organisation and fled the country. The girl she was before her parents and little sister got killed is gone. Yubin died that night and Jerry took her place.

Hedwig Carter

Simple facts:

18-19

English aristocracy, lives in England (descendant of Edmund)

Looks: Dark blonde with highlights, hazel eyes, fair skin tone, around 170cm

Fashion style: typically "old money"

Assigned color: pink. It represents her femininity, her softness, but also her lovesick behaviour, a "washed out red"

Behaviour:

Dark: Hedwig is unstable, and doesn't trust herself when her yandere side comes out. She is unpredictable and manipulative to the point that if you never dig to deep, you'd never realize she was a yandere, jealous and territorial

Soft: Hedwig is devoted, loyal, clingy, protective, supportive and extremely sweet and gentle, never judges,

Hedwig doesn't like her yandere side. It is inherited from Edmund's blood line. It feels like an itch she needs to scratch.

Likes:

Strawberry and strawberry flavoured/scented things

Horses

Golf, pilates, yoga

Animals

Children

Nature

People

Luxury goods

Traveling

Modeling

Baking, cooking

Dislikes:

Violence (most of the time)

Horror

People interacting with her for money's sake

Her yandere side

Her backstory:

Hedwig is a descendants from Edmund's blood line and has grown up with her father (who's also a yandere for her mother) and has always been encouraged by her father, always gotten what she wanted. Her mother is an old film star who's carrier was destroyed by her father and who's now depandant on wine. The only one Hedwig really has, who she knows love her for her, is darling.

[hoonieyun]

the tree of life ₊ ⊹

pairing: sim jaeyun x reader genre: angst, romance, sorrow, soulmates in every lifetime, slowburn asf warnings: religious themes, kissing, profanity, skin ship, death, mentions of terminal illness, yn doesn't have a good relationship with her father, overbearing parent, abusive father, mentions of mental health issues, 18+, not proofread lol and pls lmk if i need to add smth

synopsis: everything happens for a reason and certain things will fall into place no matter what. that's how you found yourself laying next to your lover who stood on the fine line of life and death.

wc: 10094 (this series is long asf omg i need to shut up)

Genesis 2:9  God created all kinds of trees that were pleasing to the sight and good for food, including the Tree of Life.

whenever it was the first day of school, whether it be kindergarten, the first day of primary school, or even highschool; you had an immense amount of anxiety. you thought that as you got older the anxiety would eventually leave you. like it was just something that went away as you got older but as the years went by, your anxiety only festered. 

you became more and more aware of all of the things in this world and instead of your anxiety eventually leaving, it only got worse. it also didn’t help that you had a parasite of a father who was always breathing down your neck and trying to control every single thing in your life. 

you thought that college would be your way out of being locked up at home most of the time but after getting denied financial aid for university housing, you found yourself still at home when you weren’t at university. 

today would mark the first day of your 3rd year of university and just like any other first day of school, you were filled with an overwhelming amount of anxiety that bubbled inside of you. typically, as you got older you were a lot better at keeping it in comparison to when you were a kid. 

when you were in the 3rd grade, you had to take the school bus for the first time because your dad was working more and more due to your mother passing the year prior. she usually drove you to school but since she was no longer with you anymore, your dad had to figure out how to get you to school while also figuring out how to keep a roof over your heads as a now single father. 

the school bus was so scary to you, it was filled with older and rowdy kids and you were afraid they’d pick on you. you spent the whole morning wailing with tears running down your face, begging your father to drive you to school but his short patience with you only made him more furious. he had yelled at you so loudly that your tears instantly dried up. 

you had to muster up the courage to take the school bus and in the end, it wasn’t that bad– the only thing you got from all of that was trauma from your father that would follow you for years on end. 

the same way death and grief has. 

the first day of your 3rd year of university wasn’t any different than usual. you had anxiety bubbling inside of you and for once in a long time; it boiled over. there were too many people at the university, it was hard to walk anywhere without bumping into others, people were talking too loud, the sun was high in the sky and making you sweat, and your breathing was starting to get heavy. 

you needed to get out of there quickly but because you didn’t really know where to go, you pushed through the crowds and finally found yourself a small shaded corner somewhere in the back of the courtyard, away from all of the people. you did your best to calm your breathing, counting from one to ten and back down, shutting your eyes and focusing on inhaling and exhaling, but nothing was working. 

so much so, that you began to feel tears run down your face. your anxiety hadn’t been this bad in a while where you ended up crying and it reminded you of that first day of 3rd grade when your father shouted at you so angrily that you swore you could feel the vibrations of his voice shake your tiny body. 

the memory replaying in your mind doesn’t help, it only makes things worse– you weren’t sure what to do and you couldn’t just leave because it was the first day of university and you wouldn’t dare miss out on anything from your classes. 

“you alright? hey.. are you crying?” a gentle and warm voice pulls you out of your darkness and you open your eyes. the sun slightly blinding you but with the help of your hand to block out the sun’s rays, the image of a boy becomes clear in front of you. 

“what?” you stuttered. 

“are you ok? i saw you crying over here, do you need help?” he asks, but all you could focus on was him. the way his soft eyes were filled with worry and care, the way his bottom lip naturally jutted forward, and how his fingers fiddled with the hem of the sleeve of his shirt. 

you didn’t know who this boy was but you wanted to know everything about him, unbeknownst to you that he’d become a very important person in your life. 

he offers you a small napkin and you slowly take it, muttering a thank you as you use it to wipe your tears. you didn’t think he’d stay but he takes it upon himself to sit beside you– not too close though, he was a stranger after all and he didn’t want you to feel uncomfortable. 

he sits just a few feet away from you, occasionally glancing over to make sure you’re no longer crying, and to his enlightenment– you were. something about his presence made you feel better. maybe it was because you were secretly attracted to the cute stranger. 

or maybe it was because you hadn’t received any type of kindness from someone in so long. 

“i should go.. um– thank you, by the way..” you mumbled, standing up and dusting off your clothes. 

“wa- wait! what’s your name? i’m jake.” he says, voice like silk and a smile so bright that it rivaled the sun that was shining above the two of you. 

you blinked at him a few times before responding and telling him your name, jake’s smile only getting bigger after hearing your name fall from your lips. 

it was after that day that jake would become a constant in your life. 

and you weren’t opposed to that. 

after that day when you first met jake, it seemed like he just popped up everywhere. you found out he was in several of your classes that semester and even studying the same program as you, he would appear in the cafeteria and ask to sit with you, showed up at the library and asked if he could study with you– it was like anywhere you were, jake was there too. 

“god! this midterm for professor jung’s class is driving me insane, i don’t get any of this!” jake says with an aggravated huff. jake drops his head but all you could do was giggle at him– to which he raises his head and sends you a playful glare. 

“what are you laughing at– no way you’re on the last question of the study guide!” jake says, mouth wide open and a little too loud for the library, earning the two of you a threatening hush from other library goers and the librarian herself. 

jake sends them a pout and an apologetic glare before returning his attention back to you. 

“it’s not that hard jake.. also all you need to do is go over the lecture videos– he literally gives all of the answers..” 

“wait… there are lecture videos?” 

you scoff at jake and shake your head at him– continuing your studies and encouraging jake to work on his. his pout only gets poutier but nonetheless, jake picks up his black ball point pen and continues working on the study guide, although he didn’t want to. 

every now and then you’d notice jake glancing up at you instead of doing his work. 

“jake..” you said when you noticed him staring at you, gesturing with your eyes towards his paper, telling him to keep working. jake pouts again, like it’s his resting face at this point, and eventually goes back to studying but not before he sends you one last glance, biting his lip as he looks over at you. 

the two of you spent the next hour helping one another to complete your study guides but it was mostly you trying your best to keep jake focused. he was smart enough to get the work done on his own, smarter than you even. 

his only issue was that he got distracted so easily– mostly by you. 

it’s gotten quite late when you and jake finish studying, packing your bags but not without the several glances that jake sends over to you. “can i take you home?” jake says, stuttering a bit as he musters up the courage to ask you. sweat coating his palms as he wipes them off on his jeans. 

you weren’t completely sure that it was a good idea but because it was dark out and you were nervous to take the public transit this late, you accepted his offer. jake was elated that you accepted, he really enjoyed spending time with you and was a bit bummed out that your time together today would be coming to an end, but at least he’d prolong it just a bit longer by driving you home. 

the car ride to your home was somewhat long but it was filled with laughter. jake always knew how to make you laugh, he was naturally funny and his little quips always earned him a giggle from you. jake on the other hand, always laughed at what you said, even when you didn’t mean to make him laugh. 

just as jake was naturally funny to you, you were naturally funny to him; the only difference was that jake was actually funny whereas he laughed at everything you said and did because he truly enjoyed anything you did. 

“okay– what about this. buldak or shin ramyeon..?” jake asks and your mouth falls open with a gasp. that question was pretty hard for you as you grew up on both, almost impossible– like asking you if you’d rather never breathe air or drink water. 

“i told you i’d stump you with this one– shin!!” you randomly blurted out during jake’s sentence, causing the two of you to break out in laughter. jake wasn’t expecting you to throw out an answer because, truthfully, it was a hard question to answer as both types of noodles had their charm. 

“okay. fair, fair.��� he responds, nodding his head in agreement; biting his lip after as he tries to hide a smile. your eyes linger on his face a little bit longer than usual and you take in jake’s features. it was so weird because you found him attractive but the longer you knew jake and spent time with him; he only get more and more handsome. 

he was the perfect blend of cute, handsome, charming, and goofy. you didn’t know a lot of boys in your life, quite frankly the only man you really knew was your dad and god, but jake set the standard for the men that would ever follow in your life. 

but you were fine with just having him. 

eventually the ride home came to an end as jake pulled up to your home, parking his car and stepping out to walk you to your door. in all honesty, jake’s heart was beating so intensely in his chest that it could cause his ribcage to rattle. ever since the first day that jake had met you, he knew you were the one for him. 

call it love at first sight or whatever you want, but it felt like he was right where he needed to be that first day of classes. it played out in such a way that all seemed like a coincidence but to jake it was more like fate. 

jake was trying to find a quiet place to sit and wait for the class prior to his to be over. he had just transferred to that university and didn’t really know the layout of the school nor did he really know anyone there. 

he momentarily stopped by the cafeteria to get water from a machine because he had to pack his water bottle, accidentally spilling the water on himself as he pushed out of the building into a crowd of people that filled the courtyard, so he walked back inside and quickly grabbed some from one of the tables. 

and as if it was like moses parting the sea, when he walked back outside; a path had cleared and he saw you sitting in the far corner of the courtyard. you were alone and just sitting by yourself and there seemed to be something that pulled him towards you. 

but the closer he got– he realized that you were crying as the small glimmers of light that slipped through the leaves and branches that shaded over you shined on your tears. he didn’t want to come off as weird but he just stared at you for a moment, it was like he knew you and felt your emotions heavily. jake wouldn’t really describe himself as altruistic, if he saw a random stranger crying he’d probably just keep pushing and mind his own business, but when it came to you; it was like he had this obligation to look after you. 

like there was a sense of familiarity with you that he felt comfortable with even though you two hadn’t met prior to that specific moment. jake pulled himself out of the trance of your beauty and spoke up, asking if you were okay and eventually offering you the napkin in his hands. he was now grateful that he grabbed those tissues– he had even completely forgot of the water stain on his shirt but it didn’t matter, it would dry out anyways. 

“thanks for driving me home, jake. that was really sweet of you.” 

jake shyly smiles, covering a part of his face with his hands in slight embarrassment after you had called him sweet. you had just complimented him but you could feel the heat rising to your cheeks as you blushed at his reaction. 

just as jake was about to speak, the sound of your front door flying open caught both of your attention– the sight of your father alone was enough to let the anxiety creep back inside but his angry expression added fear into the mixture of emotions stirring inside of you. 

“yn?! what are you doing out so late? huh!?” he said, grabbing your wrist and pulling you inside the house before jake could even respond to your previous statement. 

“what did i tell you about boys? go! go to your room and get ready for bed, you already missed dinner.

– and you! stay away from my daughter. i don’t know who you are but if i see you around her again, it won’t end well, pretty boy.” your dad threatened and jake was completely thrown off. you didn’t really talk about your personal life with him, but he just assumed everything was normal– but this had come as a complete shock to him. he looked over to you before your dad slammed the door shut in his face and the look of fear that spread across your face sent chills down his spine. 

it made jake’s heart ache knowing that he caused this problem for you all because he wanted to drive you home and spend more time with you– but it hurt even more not knowing what would happen behind closed doors. he sent you several texts that night, even going as far as calling you to make sure you were okay, but you didn’t answer any of his attempts. 

jake barely slept that night and it didn’t help that it was a friday, meaning that he wouldn’t see you all weekend and had to wait until the following monday to see you. 

thankfully, you had sent him a text at 2am the following saturday. jake usually slept pretty early because he loved to sleep but he just couldn’t go to bed at a reasonable hour because all he could think about was you. your text rang like church bells in his head and he instantly responded to you. 

you told him that you’re fine but jake didn’t fully believe it until you sent him a photo of you half-smiling with a thumbs up while you did your homework. it made jake laugh at how cute you looked– he loved the picture so much he mindlessly saved the photo onto his phone. 

the two of you would spend the rest of the night quietly talking on facetime as you tried your best to stay quiet while jake did his best to make you laugh. it was so easy for you to forget about your worries when you’re with jake. as for jake, it was easy to be happy when you’re there.

eventually falling asleep on the phone with one another– jake’s snores lulling you to sleep as you listened to him through your earphones. you had to get up early for church the next day and all though you had barely slept, you woke up with a smile on your face as jake’s sleeping figure was still on your phone. you took a screenshot before ending the call, sending him a good morning text after to tell him you had to go but that you’re excited to see him the next day at uni.

when monday rolled around, jake fought the urge to talk about what happened with your dad– he wanted to ask you about it because he genuinely cared about you and was worried about your safety, but because you seemed like you were fine and didn’t bring it up; he respected you enough to pry into your private life. jake just did his best to be there for you regardless. 

it was like nothing had even happened because when the two of you met up before class you were fine; you were smiling and laughing at his jokes just like before and he’d be lying if he said he didn’t miss hearing it. you two spent the weekend talking on the phone but hearing your laugh in person was his favorite sound in the world. 

“god– i can’t wait to go home. i’m exhausted.” jake huffed as he stuffed his computer into his backpack. you agreed and told him about how you’re probably going to spend the rest of the day at the library if he wanted to join you– it made him freeze up a bit because it instantly reminded him of what happened the last time the two of you were in the library together and how that night ended. 

“don’t worry, jake. my dad is out of town..” you said, rolling your eyes at him and giving him a playful shove. jake smiles almost instantly at your playfulness and he tells you that he’ll join you, cracking a joke himself and telling you that he’ll take you home again since he won’t get any threats from your dad. 

“i’d take you home and get yelled at by your dad any day if it meant that you aren’t going home alone late at night.” he mumbled but it went unheard by you. 

you were only in the library for an hour before jake started complaining about studying again and this time, you were in the same boat as him. neither of you could focus and would do anything but focus on the papers and textbooks in front of you. 

“can we go now.. let’s go get dinner.” jake said, raising his eyebrows tauntingly to entice you but you weren’t completely sold on the idea of food. you pucker your lips as you thought about it but a different idea pops into your head. 

“wait– i have an idea! come on!” you say, quickly packing your things and jake follows your actions, a bit frantic as you’re quickly moving and jogging out of the library, giggling as jake stumbles behind you, his backpack barely zipped up as he threw in crumpled worksheets inside of it, almost tripping in the process. 

“hey! wait for me!” he shouts, gaining an annoyed glare from the librarian as he passes by her desk at the front of. 

jake loses you for a second as he exits the library but you’re quick to shout for him, peeking from behind a door down the hall, “jake! over here, come on; hurry up slowpoke!” you said, smiling at him. jake’s eyes go wide when he hears your voice, his smile even wider when he sees you waiting for him as you hold the door open, waving your hand to urge him to hustle. 

“where are we going?” he asks when he finally catches up to you. 

you drag him up the stairs, grabbing him by the wrist as the two of you ascend up the several stairwells. “where are you taking me? are you going to kill me or something?” he teases and you just turn around and narrow your eyes at him but jake is all smiles as he looks at you with adoration. 

in some time, you push open the final door at the top of the stairwell and the two of you are emerging from inside of the building to the very top of the library. jake smiles at the sight, there were rows of trees that surrounded the campus and on the other side was a far scene of the ocean. you had taken jake to the library’s rooftop to clear your heads a bit before dinner. 

it was your own personal spot that you had discovered during your first year of university. you weren’t necessarily sure if this area was prohibited but it never stopped you. it became somewhat of a safespace for you when school was getting a bit too overwhelming and you thought who better than to share that safespace with other than jake, who in a lot of ways, was also a safespace for you. 

“you can see the whole fucking city here! how have you been hiding this from me?”

you shrug before answering, “had to make sure i trusted you enough.” you say, playfully shoving him but all jake could hear was that you trusted him enough to show him this place. you didn’t personally say it but he could tell this place meant a lot to you. sure, it was just the rooftop of the library at your university but jake took in how peaceful you seemed when you got up there. 

it was like all of the worries, whether it was from school or your personal life, had disappeared. 

the two of you laid down on the roof, using your bags as pillows as you looked up at the sky. “woah, look that one is like a dog.” you say, pointing out a cloud that resembled a puppy. jake giggled at your observation and tried to find a cloud that resembled something else. 

“that one looks like a frog riding on the back of a bird.” he says. 

you turn your head towards him with a doubtful look but as you turn your head back to where he’s pointing you begin to see what he’s talking about. “you know what, i kinda see it.” you say, nodding your head. 

the tender moment you share with jake on the roof gives you a sense of deja vu, like it was something you had done with jake before– looking up at the sky and pointing out clouds that looked like something, even though it probably didn’t. it was like a memory in the back of your head and although you couldn’t quite figure out why it felt so familiar, it made you happy regardless because jake was able to provide solace for you. 

there’s silence as the two of you look up at the sky. at first you think that jake is just taking in the moment but when he doesn’t respond to your question, you decide to look over at him and jake’s got a dazed look on his face. 

“jake?” you ask, poking his shoulder and he dramatically shakes his body. “sorry– i was zoned out a bit.” he says with a chuckle, then asking you what you were saying. 

“it’s okay– i was just saying, um.. thank you for taking me home last friday. i know that whole thing with my dad was a bit crazy and i really appreciated that you checked up on me afterwards.” 

jake wanted to tell you that you didn’t need to thank him and that he’d do that for you any day because he cared about you so much but he let you keep talking because it felt like you needed to get something off of your chest. 

“in all honesty– i was planning to cut you off. not because i was mad at you or anything, the furthest from it actually– but because i was scared that my dad would actually do something insane he if ever saw us together again. 

but when i went to open my phone and block your number, i saw all of your missed calls and text messages and i just couldn’t do that to you. 

you’re kind of like… the first person to ever care about me. 

so… thank you jake. really, i mean it from the bottom of my heart.” 

you hadn’t even noticed but there were tears in your eyes and jake’s hand gently reaches over and wipes them away with his thumb. he smiles at you for a moment as his hand cups your cheek, you melt into his touch and the two of you let out a heavy sigh that you both seem to have been holding in. 

jake smiles at you and you giggle, shyly pulling away from his hand and covering your face with your own hands– sitting up in a bit of embarrassment. “don’t look at me like that.” you mumble into your hand. 

“like what? i’m just appreciating your beauty.” jake says as he sits up, reaching over and pushing some of your hair behind your ear so he could get a better look at you. gently grabbing your wrist so he could see your face. “you think i’m pretty?” you whisper. 

jake shakes his head and your smile falls, “i think you’re breathtaking..” he says and your lips break out into a smile at his compliment. he pulls you in a hug, one that you don’t resist as you fall into his arms. the hug is warm and comforting and you wish that you’d never have to leave jake’s arms. it was so strange because whenever you did something with jake it felt like deja vu but maybe it was just because he made you feel so comfortable and you were just happy to be with him. 

the two of you stay like that for just a moment, you’re huddled in between jake’s arms as your head is laying on his chest while he lays his head on top of yours. you could hear his heartbeat in your ears, steady as ever but to jake it was beating thousands of times faster because you were currently in his arms. 

“what’s your biggest fear?” he randomly asks and you hum as you think about the question. 

“honestly– no idea. maybe like driving? i don’t know, i’m scared of getting into a car accident i guess.” 

“pfft– that’s dumb.” jake teases and you look up at him with a glare but he just sends you a little wink in return. “okay, then what’s yours?” 

jake doesn’t respond right away as he thinks about the question, but the silence happens for so long that when you look up at him again, you find that he’s got that dazed look in his eyes again. “jake?” you say, poking his arm slightly. 

“sorry–” he says with a chuckle. 

“you do that a lot, it’s cute.” you say, complimenting his little habit of spacing out. 

“i think my fear would be that i never get to experience love.” he says outright and it causes you frown. you hadn’t expected that answer from jake but it doesn’t surprise you, in the short amount of time that you’ve known jake, you could tell that he was romantic and loved every aspect of life. 

it only made sense that he valued love so highly.

what you didn’t know was that as he talked about love and finding love, his eyes were glued onto your figure as you laid in his arms.

the semester goes on as normal, you and jake would spend time together– mostly in the library because it was the one place you knew your dad wouldn’t ever show up. however, at some point you began to pull away from him, asking him to study with you less and less, and when jake had even asked if you wanted to go to your spot together, you had to decline– not even giving him an explanation. 

he didn’t want to pry but it did bum him out that you’ve been so distant. 

when jake was unpacking his things to set up his laptop and papers during class, he noticed that you hadn’t shown up yet, which was strange because you were usually early or arrived at the same time as him. jake stared at the door to the lecture hall, waiting for you to walk through but you don’t. 

jake packs his things back up and completely ignores the professor as he begins to start his lecture, he slips out through the back entrance of the room and pulls his phone out of his pocket. he knew you were on campus today because he saw you during the morning class you had together but you hadn’t shown up for your other class that you had with him.

he was going to text you when a thought crossed his mind. before he can even think, he’s already running towards the library– hoping that his hunch of finding you at your spot was correct. 

jake runs up the stairs, ignoring the burning in his lungs with each step and as he bursts through the door, he sees you– just like the day you first met. you’ve got your eyes closed and are sitting in a corner, tears running down your face, but this time there’s no hesitation within jake. 

he’s instantly by your side, rubbing your back and asking if you’re okay. you don’t even need to look up to know that it’s jake and when you feel his presence, you wrap your arms around his neck in embrace, crying into his shoulder as he hugs you back– rubbing your back to help soothe your emotions. 

“shh, it’s okay. just breathe for me, ok?” he whispers into your ear. you sniffle and release a shaky breath as you try to follow his instructions. you weren’t lying when you said that jake just knows how to calm you down as was like a beacon of solace for you because you’re able to stop your crying and steady your breathing in just a few moments. 

you pull away with a sniffle, apologizing for soaking his sweater in your tears, but jake doesn’t mind. he never does because it’s you. 

“do you wanna tell me what happened?” 

you look up at him with glassy eyes before you speak. you explain to him that your father had passed the week prior and although you were trying your best to hold it altogether, it was starting to get surreal that he was no longer with you. 

he wasn’t the most empathetic or kind father, but he did everything in his power to keep you safe and have a roof over your head. there were a lot of times that you wished you had a different father or that your father would just stop being the way he was, but now that he is gone– all you could think about was the fact that you wished you could’ve told him more often how much you loved and appreciated him. 

you grew up sheltered, riddled with anxiety, and quite honestly– a bit afraid of him, but he was your father nonetheless. oftentimes he was more terrible to you than he was loving, but you can’t help but mourn your father. 

he was half of you in the first place. 

jake didn’t say much, he just held you in his arms as you explained everything, once again crying into his sweater. it explains a lot why you had become so distant randomly and jake wishes that he could’ve been there for you as it was happening but he was glad you came to him eventually. he was always so patient and understanding and you were so grateful to have him. 

and right now, he was all that you had. 

the next month goes by very slowly, jake is by your side throughout all of it from the funeral to the last day of the semester; jake doesn’t leave your side and you’ve run out of ways to thank him. 

you’re driving home from the funeral with jake when suddenly the car swerves a bit off the right side of the road, jake squeezing his eyes shut with a groan– one that warrants a worried look from you as you brace yourself in the car, but jake is quick to react and return back to driving safely. 

“jake, are you ok?” you ask worriedly and he looks pale all of a sudden. 

“yeah– don’t worry. sorry, i was just a bit dizzy; i’m okay i promise.” he responds with a smile but you weren’t entirely convinced, choosing not to push it. 

one year later 

jake had asked you to be his girlfriend a few months after your dad’s funeral and it was one of the happiest days of your life. jake planned out the whole day and it was perfect from beginning to end as he asked you to be his girlfriend just as the sun set on the horizon. 

you relationship moved rather fast after that and two months after being his girlfriend; the two of you were moving in together. in some ways, you were moving a bit fast but because you and jake had known each other for over a year now and have had this budding romance with each other; it was inevitable. you were also living alone in your childhood home and it was hard to be alone all the time so when jake had asked if you wanted to move in with him, you were so happy. 

it was taking your relationship to another level and ever since living with him, every day was easier and you woke up and went to sleep happier than before. 

on your first night, jake had surprised you with dinner. he ordered take out and went to pick it up while you were unpacking some of your things into your now, shared, bedroom. he called for you when he walked into the apartment and the smell of grilled meat and various other dishes wafted through your home. 

“babe! i thought we were having ramyeon for dinner.” you said as you met him at the dining table, but jake explained that it’s a special night since you’re moving in with him so he had to get a special dinner. you smiled at him warmly as you unpacked the food while jake grabbed some utensils and drinks from the kitchen. 

“god, this smells delicious.” you comment and jake hums. 

it was small moments like this that you shared with jake that you thought about how lucky you were to have him. “here, open, aaah.” he says, picking up the last piece of grilled meat and feeding it to you and much like before, it gives you a sense of deja vu as you smile at him and accept the food. 

it reminded you of something that you two did before but when you tried to recall when, the memory was hazy and you couldn’t quite picture it clearly. 

jake suddenly starts coughing intensely so you urge him to take a sip of water, worried that he was choking on something. “baby, are you ok?” you ask and he takes some time to clear his throat before answering. 

he tells you that he’s fine but the way his face reddened while simultaneously becoming pale worried you. ever since you started dating you spent more and more time together and you began to learn of jakes’ habits. 

he often zoned out, blankly stared into nothingness, he got dizzy often which he just brushed off and would say it’s because he needs to drink more water, and lastly; he has random bouts of coughing fits which he never seemed to have an explanation for aside from saying that he was momentarily choking on his own saliva. 

it didn’t worry you at first but as these habits became more and more prevalent, it became something you watched out for. 

the next day, when jake is in the shower getting ready for the first day of your last semester of college, he suddenly gets a phone call from an unknown number– because the two of you had no distrust within each other, you answered the call for him just in case it was something important. 

“hi, this is doctor song from eden hospital call in regards to your test results, may i speak with sim jaeyun?” 

your eyebrows furrowed at the woman on the phone, you didn’t know that jake had gone to the hospital recently and once again, the familiar feeling of anxiety was pooling at your feet; waiting for the opportunity to make it’s way higher and higher to settle inside your head. 

“hello?”

“um– sorry. he’s in the shower right now, this is his girlfriend; can i take a message?” she explains that she isn’t able to relay confidential patient information but just leaves you with that he should call them back as soon as possible. 

the anxiety was now at your knees. 

just as the call is ending, jake is walking out of the bathroom; hair still wet as he dries it with a towel that’s loosely wrapped around his shoulders. “hey, baby. everything ok?” he asks and you swallow the lump in your throat as you look at him. 

“i just got off the phone, um– the hospital called you so i answered, they said you should call them back as soon as possible.” you explained and jake looks like he’s seen a ghost the way he’s frozen in place. 

“jake… why’d you go to the hospital?” as those words leave your lips, the anxiety has wrapped itself around your hips, like it was weighing you down. 

“nothing– uh, just a regular check up, you know?” he says but you can tell he was hiding something. the two of you rarely hid anything from each other– hell it was hard to even lie to jake when it came to something as much as a birthday surprise so it makes you feel weird that you could tell he was hiding something from you. 

and jake? he could tell you were onto him. 

“jake you know you can tell me anything righ– just drop it, ok?” he cuts you off, an aggravated tone that you hadn’t ever heard from him coats his words and you’re taken aback. you and jake have never spoken to each other that way and by now, the anxiety had found it’s way up your torso and was spread across your chest. 

“jake..” you say in disbelief. 

“yn– please.. just– everything is fine, ok?” but you don’t believe him and your own worry and care for jake doesn’t stop you from wanting to know more. you weren’t the pushy type and neither was jake but as you’ve grown to love each other more and more each and everyday, it was hard to not want to know every single thing about the person that you love. 

“if it’s fine, then why can’t you tell me?” 

this question alone sets off your very first argument and quite frankly, your last. 

“because i said so! okay! if i wanted to tell you i would!” 

“jake.. what is going on with you? i’m just worried, ok? if the hospital is calling you about your test results with some urgency to hear back from you, i think i have every right to worry.” you try to remain levelheaded but as the anxiety floats from your chest and to your neck, it was starting to feel like you were being suffocated. 

jake sighs in frustration and pain. there was a ringing in his ears and a slight aching in his chest and he couldn’t tell if it was from the fact that he was lying about something or from what he was actually lying about. 

he took a seat at the dining table and looked up at you, you were standing just a few feet away, arms loose by your side, hands fiddling with the loose hem of your pants. he didn’t want to tell you because he knows it’s going to devastate you but seeing you like this was already painful. 

“can you come sit with me?” he says and you nod– pulling out the seat right next to him as he takes your hands in his. 

“i’m not entirely sure how to say this but i’ve been keeping it from you because i’m afraid that it’s going to hurt you… but i can see how hiding it is already hurting you and it only hurts me to do that– so i’m sorry.. 

i don’t know how to say this but the year we met, during our 3rd year, it was the happiest moment of my life to meet you. i had told you i transferred to that university for no specific reason but it was actually because this university is closer to eden hospital. 

and that matters because i had been diagnosed with a terminal illness the summer before our 3rd year and needed to be closer to the hospital just in case something happened. 

that phone call from the hospital was probably to tell me about my most recent test results because the last time i visited the hospital– they told me i only had one month left to live and they were probably calling to confirm that.

i’m so sorry that i hid this from you but i just couldn’t bear the thought of you carrying this burden of being with me knowing that i was so sick.” jake was now bawling his eyes out, trembling and sniffling between words as he tried to explain what he had been hiding. 

you instantly pull jake into your arms and for the next few minutes, the two of you cry in each other’s arms. the anxiety has now made camp in your mind and it was running wild– polluting every single thought you had inside of your head. jake has been going through this terminal illness all by himself, bearing the pain alone. 

what broke you more was the fact that jake spent so much of his life since meeting you focused on showing you love and happiness. he dedicated so much of himself to your happiness and bettering your life while behind closed doors; he was suffering alone. 

“i’m sorry i didn’t tell you sooner, i just didn’t want to ruin what we had– we were so happy.” he cried further into your arms and hearing his sobs only made your heart ache even more. 

“how could i ever be happy knowing you practically sacrificed your own life for mine?” you breathed out, a quiver in your lips as those words left your mouth. it was a huge reality check for the both of you and it was like your worlds were crumbling down on top of the two of you. 

jake was facing the fact that he didn’t have to go through any of this alone while you had to face the fact that as your life was getting better and better because of jake, his was only getting worse. it wasn’t a reality that you had ever expected but it’s starting to feel like happiness was only temporary for you and that anxiety and death has followed you since you were young. 

the night ends with a longer talk between the two of you, choosing to skip the first day of class, which neither of you have ever done– but it was justified. you and jake moved to the bedroom and laid with each other, talking about everything that revolved around jake’s health. you had even called the hospital back together and they confirmed what jake had said. 

dr. song explains that the illness inside of jake has progressed a lot faster than where it was just a few months before and gave them the time, one month. 

you spent the night crying and sharing stories, doing and talking about anything and although it was filled with sadness, there was a sense of acceptance that jake found. he didn’t want to say it outloud because he knew it would only make you even more sad, but he’s come to accept it long before that his time on earth was limited. 

the only difference now was that he’s able to live the last few moments of his life with you by his side, and to him? 

that’s all that mattered. 

as you fell asleep that night, a sequence of dreams that felt like memories played in your mind. 

the first dream reminded you of the first time you brought jake to your spot on the library’s roof which eventually turned into your spot together. you and jake were laying on a plush field of grass, the green vibrant and bright as it slightly swayed with the wind. you were both pointing up at the clouds and laughing. neither of you were saying anything but the dream played in your head like you were a bystander watching it happen from a distance. 

it was like you were watching a memory from another lifetime where you and jake shared a similar moment in the current lifetime you were in right now. 

suddenly the dreamscape changes and the bright sunny sky is replaced with a dark and gloomy grey. jake stands in another field of grass but this time there are several patches in the ground with stone erect from the dirt. as you walked closer and closer, you could see that jake was standing over a tombstone, yours. 

the tombstone reads: yn ln, beloved wife and everlasting in our hearts.

yours eyes travel from the tombstone and over to jake, who was silently crying as he stared at your resting place. the dream had changed so quickly and the longer you stood by jake, unnoticed by him, the more it felt like a memory than a dream. 

when you try to reach out to jake and comfort him, tell him that you’re right next to him and that you’re alive and well– the dream changes once again. 

you’re suddenly sitting in a small house, having dinner with jake. the two of you are wearing traditional garments from the joseon dynasty and you’re looking around as if it would explain anything to you. you realize that you’re still dreaming but this time you aren't watching from the side when jake approaches you, setting a pot down on the table in front of you, urging you to eat the soup. 

you smile at him and are relieved that you were no longer witnessing jake cry about your passing like from the previous dream. it was such a surreal moment that you almost believed, maybe you still kind of do. the two of you share the meal together, grabbing the last piece of meat in the soup and offering it to jake; and once it’s finished– you’ve decided to put away your dishes while jake washed up for bed. 

but there’s a sudden shift in the air and you soon realize that the dream has changed once again, but you aren’t sure where or how because everything still feels the same. you set the bowl down in the sink and leave the kitchen to find jake but you don’t find him. just as you’re about to call out for him, a knock at the front of your home gathers your attention.

a man holds a scroll and hands it to you when you open it, not saying a word but just bowing before he exits. you unravel the scroll and a gasp leaves your mouth as you drop the scroll, a soft thud as it reaches the ground. 

the scroll reads that your husband, sim jaeyhun, has been killed in the war. you couldn’t believe it at first because you and jake were just sharing a dinner together and suddenly you’re being notified that he’s gone. tears stream down your face as you read the letter over and over, droplets soaking the paper on the ground as you crouched over the scroll. 

you’re jolted awake when tears continue to fall from your eyes, sitting up in bed as you chest rises and falls. you look over to jake who is sleeping soundly, grateful that you didn’t accidentally wake him up. you sigh a breath of relief and lay back down, turning your body so you’re facing jake. 

he looked so peaceful, his lips slightly parted as he softly snored; dried tears staining his face. you smiled as you watched him sleep as you tried to recall your dreams. although they were constantly doing a 180 from sadness and joy, it made you realize something. what you witnessed in your head were dreams, yes, but more specifically they were dreams of your past lives. 

in each lifetime, you and jake spent it with each other; and then it clicked. every single deja vu moment you had with jake where you tried to think about why it felt so familiar and comfortable to be with jake was all because it all happened before. you had lived so many lives together and in each one, you found each other and fell in love. 

jake is your soulmate and you are his. 

3 weeks

jake has always loved fishing as a child and because you’d do anything to make jake happy, you planned a whole fishing trip with jake. you booked a cabin somewhere near a river and spent the weekend in the comfort of each other’s company while fishing together. 

it even brought another deja vu moment, one where you felt like in another lifetime; you and jake lived in the countryside and he’d often go fishing and bring home a bountiful amount of fish for dinner. you smiled at the memory and although you don’t fully remember experiencing it, you believed that it was something that tied the two of you as soulmates. 

2 weeks 

as jake’s illness progressed and the timer ran, it became harder and harder for him to do things he normally could. you took it upon yourself to do everything you could to alleveate jake of having to exert too much energy, encouraging him to conserve his energy and that you’d be there to take care of him. 

university was hard enough but with jake’s illness it became even harder. you’d atten his classes for him even though he told you that you didn’t have to but you chose to do it anyways. you’d show up in his classes, take notes and do his homework for him. a small gesture of kindness in return for all of the ways he’s taken care of you in the past. 

it illicits another moment of deja vu for you and this time it’s of you and jake as children. you’re both spending time together at a playground during preschool; playing around and acting as if there was nothing in the world besides the two of you and the playground at school. 

1 week

jake was soon admitted into the hospital as the illness left him bedridden. it was hard to see him glued to a hospital bed but it was even harder if you chose to not see him at all. when you came to visit him one day, there was an unsual smile on jake’s face. 

he was strong and brave and throughout all of this; he kept a smile. 

but the smile on his face when you walked into his hospital room was different. 

“what’s got you all smiley?” 

jake shrugs and teases you a bit before he speaks up. “come here..” he says, gesturing his head for you to come sit with him. the hospital bed dips a little as you sit beside him, a puzzled look on your face as you join him. 

“i know this is a bit last minute– but i’ve thought about this every day for so long.” jake begins, coughing momentarily before he continues. “you’re the best thing to ever happen to me and you make me the happiest man in the world– and i’d be an idiot not to do this. 

will you marry me?” 

jake says, pulling out a ring from underneath the blanket and a gasp leaves your lips. the ring sparkled under the stark white lights of the hospital and you weren’t quite sure what to say, but there was only one thing that left your mouth. 

“yes.” and suddenly a surge of energy waves through jake as he places the ring on your left hand and pulls you into a hug. a hug that felt like he’s been waiting for it for the last thousand years, a hug that carried the weight of your lives in the past and in the future. 

“when did you even have the time to do this?” you ask, the two of you laughing through all of it.

you spend the night in the hospital with him as usual but have a small makeshift wedding in the room, using a medical bib as your veil while jake tucks a pillowcase into his hospital gown and slightly pulls it out like a tie. 

another memory plays in your head that night when you two fall asleep and it’s similar to one you’ve seen before. you’re back during the joseon dynasty and it’s right before the war– you and jake had made an agreement that he may not return from the war so in a last minute decision, you have a wedding with just you and him. a last moment to share with each other and dedicate your love to the other even though you both knew that your love would be endless and would always follow. 

on jake’s last day, all he had was a wish, and that was to spend his last day with you on the rooftop of your library– but due to his situation and status, the hospital declined. but you were able to pull some strings and after some convincing you had a surprise of your own for jake. the day was solemn and gray due to the circumstance that the two of you were in but you refused to show any signs of sadness on jake’s last day. 

at least not one that he could see. 

your surprise for him was the fact that the hospital had approved your idea of bringing jake to the rooftop of the hospital, where the two of you would spend your last moments together. you carefully pushed jake’s wheelchair as you made your way to the top floor and helped him to the roof. 

he gathered what strength he had left and pulled himself out of the chair so he could stand next to you on the roof, the sun shining on your skin as the cool air wrapped itself around the two of you. it was peaceful and for the first time in a long time, it seemed like there was nothing wrong with the world. 

jake had grown tired quick so you helped him back to his wheelchair but he refused, telling you that he wanted to just lay with you on the roof, his voice was a bit strained but he still had the same joy in his eyes when he looked at you. the cold surface of the roof welcomed your backs as you laid down, his hand in yours as the bright blue sky filled your visions. 

“i’m so happy to have met you but you know what’s made me happier?” he asked and you turn to him, shaking your head in repsonse. he looks over at you with a smile before responding, “you made sure that my biggest fear didn’t come true by letting me experience love.” his words made you smile because it made you happy but deep down you knew he was telling you this because he could feel himself slipping away. 

you just smiled at him and jake smiled at you, pulling you closer to him in one last embrace as he took his last breath. you could feel his heartbeat begin to get slower and slower and before you knew it, his chest was no longer rising or falling. you tried to fight the tears but eventually lost as you took a look at him, eyes shut peacefully but his face was directed towards you; like he wanted the very last thing he saw to be you. 

“i love you, jaeyun..” you whispered. 

three years later

it’s been several years since jake had passed and during that time you had graduated university, moved into a home of your own in the countryside near a peaceful river, and adopted a dog by the name of layla. she often reminded you of jake because they shared some mannerisms and had similar cuteness that kept you company. 

you had taken up gardening and it occupied your daily life. it was a peaceful hobby that you enjoyed and your dog would run around your backyard as you tended to your garden. 

right now, you were doing some garden maintence, trimming some weeds, watering plants, but more specifically looking after the tree sapling that you planted that was now just about your height. the tree held a special place in your heart because when you had first moved to this home, you planted the tree with jake’s ashes. 

you purchased a tombstone in his honor that you’d plant next to the tree one day once it’s grown larger. it was still in the early stages of it’s growth but you believed in your abilities and the life your poured into the tree that it would grow healthily and bountiful. being without jake was harder than being alone but you knew that he’d be waiting for you again and that kept you going. 

he’d encourage you to live a happy and fulfilling life and you wanted to do that in his honor. you smile at the ring on your finger as you think back to the memory of when you and jake got “married”. you laugh briefly at the memory and think back to some words that have been shared countless of times. 

your love with jake would be through sickness and in health; and even through death– you wouldn’t part because you knew you’d find each other again. 

”we’ll meet again one day jake, as our love is rooted in this earth and will flourish towards the sky” you say, gently patting the soil where the tree grows from; a sense of healing and prosperity fills your soul as you think back to something you learned at church as a young child. 

the tree of life and it’s connection to eternal life but not in the way you had originally thought. instead of living a life forever, through immortality, it brought an epiphany that the life would be eternal through the bond you have with someone, your soulmate, that makes it feel like life goes on and continues because you’re able to spend it with your soulmate in each life. 

Revelation 22:2 –down the middle of the great street of the city. On each side of the river stood the tree of life, bearing twelve crops of fruit, yielding its fruit every month. And the leaves of the tree are for the healing of the nations.

the garden of eden

ᡣ•.•𐭩♡ @pagemiah @jiiyen @jnysaln @xh01bri @rairaiblog @laurradoesloveu @manaah02 @zorange13 @firstclassjaylee @kristynaaah @17ericas @heeseung64 @leipforggy @enhastolemyheart @starcandybby @bussolares @lovelymelon

copyright 2025 - present © hoonieyun all rights reserved all writing here is fiction & not in any association with characters mentioned. if you enjoyed reading this please consider reblogging and following <3

[mysoulbelongstobuckybarnes]

hi hiiii, i want to req a fic for tfatws bucky plsss! r and buck are close friends/partners, r is injured then passed out after a mission and bucky worries so much he actually cried 😞 bucky loves her but haven't told her so after she woke up he tries to tell her

thank you for the request! this is such a cute request and i hope i gave justice to it <3

your blood and his name | bucky barnes

summary: after a brutal bloodshed and the fear of losing you, bucky has to tell you and he can't keep his feelings hidden for longer.

warnings: extreme hurt/comfort, angst, blood, gore, use of Y/n, crying bucky barnes (it's a legit warning okay?)

pairing: you and bucky barnes (best friends)

author's note: i haven't written in a really long time, so this is my first step to get back on track. i'm really sorry if there are any writing errors.

words: 3k (oof)

divider by @toastray

Usually, it was the white lights that caused the prominent and incessant burn behind Bucky’s eyes. However, right now the thought of you, consumed his mind; flashbacks and rewinds of how the blood massacre went down, ways he could have stopped it, prevented, saved you somehow. It was a simple mission, if not something they hadn’t already faced together previously. 

The warehouse was cliched; Out of grid, middle of nowhere, blended amongst the darkness of the woods as it adorned a rusted red. Illegal activities, extract data, stolen SHIELD tech—everything they had dealt with before. Both of them had to sneak in, take down guards, only 17 workers detected—all taken down with simple tactics, all of them practiced relentlessly through yours and his sparring sessions. He winced at the casual nature, remembering you laughing and betting with him on how you would take more agents than he could. 

“Barnes, you will owe me a sushi dinner at the new restaurant down the block.”

“Of course, Doll. But not before you owe me your beautiful homemade cheesecake.”

You had smirked, a mischievous glint in your eyes. “You know, you should’ve asked for something else. Something I wouldn’t have already loved making for you over lunch.” 

“ True, true. But Doll, you can’t find something I wouldn’t already give you.”  

He had winked at you before breaking in. Before everything; Before, you got shot right over the liver; Before you had loudly groaned and called out his name; Before he could even reach you. It was fast. He had a breath caught in his throat as an extraction team came in, ready to take over while all he could do was try to keep you awake as blood oozed greedily all over his hands. Your gasping breaths, cruel squeaks erupting from your throat, weak whispers as you only called out his name. His name. 

“Sweetheart, I need you to keep your eyes open for me, okay?”

“It hurts, Bucky” You squeaked, tears gushing in your pained eyes. “I know, baby. I know, but we’re reaching there, okay? I promise you it will be over.”

Your skin was discoloring, turning paler by the second. You looked at him, a melancholic feeling setting in your eyes. “You know, I really looked forward to that sushi dinner.” You jokingly smiled, but it hit him like a train. His ears were ringing, everything around him was spinning, as if he was being engulfed into a whirlpool in the middle of the Pacific. But all he could do was focus on you. Your pulse. Your heartbeat. The one and only anchor. “How’s Friday, Doll? Will you wear that pretty red dress for me, hmm?” He asked you, but his body was repulsed. The overwhelming metallic of your running blood had reached his lungs and he could almost taste it on his tongue. “You’re always so sweet to me, Bucky.” You hummed weakly. Your calloused hand brushed against his stubble, your cold thumb resting on his cheekbone. 

Bucky couldn’t breathe. He took your hand in his and kissed it, tucking it at his chest, right above his afraid heart. “Always, sweetheart.” Your smile was starting to weaken, your hold on Bucky–loosening. Water stained his cheeks, “No, Doll. I need you to stay awake, okay? We’re almost there. Eyes open for me, okay sweetheart…Y/n, Y/n!”

Sam had rushed to the hospital almost a second later, having to hold Bucky back from entering the OR. He didn’t say anything nor did he offer. He just held him as he cried into his arms. He sobbed, his body wracking, thrashing, losing control. He trembled like a little boy left in the wind; He took deep breaths—inhale through your nose, exhale through your mouth—just like you had softly told him to when you came to his apartment in the middle of the night because he was having a panic attack. He tried to think about happy thoughts—coney island, late night dinners with Sam and you, impromptu movie nights cuddled with you—but how could he? When the only person who consumed his thoughts was you. You with your beautiful laugh, ungraceful snorts and insane cravings that he would help you satisfy at 3 in the night. Your unruly hair, soulful eyes and those messy and un-ironed clothes when he would come in the middle of the night to your place with ice cream. Your uncalled-for inappropriate remarks, your soft reassurance and your warm hugs. 

Just you. 

Consumed. Addicted. Constant. 

How was he supposed to remain when all of that was tainted. Your blood on his hands, staining his gear and suits, the touch of your cold skin against his as you could only look at him, call for him, talk to him. He wanted to peel it off, his skin that your blood had seeped through. But all he could do was sit there because right now he inevitably, brutally and suffocatingly smelled like you. 

He did not imagine it like this. 

He tried to not imagine it at all.

Because if he did want to smell like you, then he wanted it because of how your scent had taken over his body after sleeping and cuddling with him. He wanted to be engulfed in your smell after wearing the hoodie that you had stolen from him. He wanted to be drunk on your laugh as you danced with him in the kitchen. After you clung onto him like vice, giggling into his ears as the wind sliced around you during a late night bike ride.

It wasn’t like a freight train–fast and unstoppable. 

No. It was rather like a beautiful and unrushed unfolding of feelings, crumbling of walls, the inevitable habituation. The slow intimacy of being truly known, of being taken care of, of being seen as not what he was, but instead who he is. Defying the constant insecurities, hitching of breaths as you told him that he deserved peace. He was not a murderer; He was a victim. Understanding that while he may never ever be normal again, understanding that the Winter Soldier will be an inescapable part of him, Bucky Barnes was human. 

It scared him to death, really. He tried to not fall, he really did. But you were so powerful, so constant, so loving. Made him believe that he was capable; Capable of peace, love, care, friendship, being a human—not the killing machine HYDRA made of him. You put him back piece by piece, step by step, one act of love, acceptance and friendship to another. 

He was yours.

He belonged to you. 

He loved you.

And now, he may never get to tell you that he did. 

“Mr. Barnes?”

Bucky looked up, his cheeks profusely stained, nose most evidently red–a much lighter shade than that which had stained his clothes—his body completely rigid, yet somehow, absolutely overwhelmed. He cleared his throat and got up weakly. “Yes, uhm,” He cleared his throat, voice still croaking, “Doc, is she–is everything okay?”

“It’s critical.”

Bucky didn’t know his heart could shatter more. 

“She took a heavy shot near the liver. It’s a miracle that it didn't penetrate the liver. There is heavy damage; we have stopped the internal bleeding, there are no signs of infection but there is some damage to other organs. She might need more surgery if the damage proves to be heavy. Otherwise, she will be fine.”

Bucky was just about to exhale until—

“That is, if her vitals remain stable through the night. We have done all we can, Mr. Barnes, but now it’s up to her—whether she can brave the storm. We won’t know until she wakes up.” The doctor patted Bucky on the back and was about to leave. Bucky almost let him go. “Doc! Can I, uhm, stay with her?” Bucky asked, his heart aching for you. 

“Of course, Mr. Barnes.”

_______________________________________________

Everything hurts. 

Pain surged through your body, as if the recognition of it, the realization of it was more damaging than the events that led up to it. Body was somehow numbed, but it still felt like a thousand needles were being pricked into your body. Also, why did your ears feel heavy, as if all the air in the world had taken their throne in them? You struggled to move, as if caged in one place, but really you knew you were not, which made it worse, considering that you were on your own—helpless. Were you alone? Your vision was blurred, still getting familiar to the harshness of the hospital’s white lights, right above your body. Hospital? Oh god. A nightmare of a memory penetrated your mind; An unwelcome, piercing and agonizing one at that. 

You relived it. The hot, burning shot in your stomach; the blurring of voices—loud, chaotic, alarmed. Blood starting to gush out of your body as the unforgiving bullet made space for itself, invading your flesh, as it selfishly and obnoxiously radiated pain throughout your body. A bitter and metallic taste had taken over your mouth and your body trembled heavily. You were about to collapse when only one name slipped through your tongue; it seemed almost rehearsed, your mouth had been accustomed to calling out this name, like a habit—constant and always there for you. The name brought a warm feeling which crept its way under your ribs, through your throat, settling itself in your stomach. Even with everything going on, this name was the only one that brought a sense of comfort. 

“Bucky,” You croaked. Your throat had gone absolutely dry, the drought draining your ability to speak. Your vision became clearer, the white walls around you visible with the blue blankets that coddled you. You were at the hospital. The pain had mostly vanished, but your head was still screaming—screaming for some kind of solace. 

“Bucky,” You called out again, as if his name was ingrained into your brain. The bluest eyes, as if the ocean itself rested in them. The sweetest smile in the whole world. The scent of gasoline, sandalwood and that musky perfume you had picked out just for him. God, he smelled good. “Sweetheart, I need you to keep your eyes open for me, okay?” 

Oh, his voice. It consumed your brain—not like a parasite, no. But like a sweet scent—like being in an enormous field of flowers. But the voice came in flashes, like a memory tormenting you. 

You sat up. Your senses were coming back, like a wash after a long day. 

You looked around the hospital room, taking in the scent of the floor detergent, the nauseating and pompous germ free atmosphere, bustling of patients and doctors and then your eyes finally landed on the buff presence right next to you. Your tactile sense overwhelmed you, but Bucky’s hand encompassing yours made everything better. The warmth spread through your body, red tinting your cheeks. He had lulled away, his eyes closed, but not completely—as if he was hesitating to let himself completely fall into the arms of slumber. His body rested uncomfortably on the wooden chair which stood stoically—doing absolutely nothing to accommodate his body. 

Bucky mumbled incoherently and squeezed your hands. You winced shortly and then giggled at his form. 

His eyebrows were scrunched up, forehead adorned with lines of worry that you wished to run your fingers over so he can relax. You started to rub soothing circles on his hand with your thumb. “Bucky, honey?” You softly called out his name, your voice still raspy. You gave him a small smile when he started to stir up. “Hey,” You said. 

His eyes went wide at your consciousness and he jumped up, almost frantic. “Are you okay? Do you need something? I should call the doc—”

“Bucky! Calm down, will you? I am okay—as if a bullet can take me down. Really thought you got rid of me?” You teased him, his demeanor intriguing you. But Bucky’s face softened at your comments and he came back to you. “I would never want to get rid of you, Doll, you know that.” He said as he tucked some of your strands behind your ears. You breathed in his expression, the unbearable softness behind his eyes, the genuinity laced with concern in his voice and something that completely took over his face—something that had you utterly dumbfounded. Because this was Bucky; Yes, he was the White Wolf and one of the most notorious ex-assassins ever, so you can understand if you can’t decipher his emotions. But no, this was your Bucky. Bucky Barnes was never just your colleague. He was never the 110 year old man with a vibranium arm with a traumatising past. No, Bucky was so much more than that; So much more than just a partner, or a colleague. He was the man that came to your aid in an instant when there was a slight quiver in your voice. He was the man that still loved ferris wheel rides and eating cotton candy. He was the man that you had held in your arms time and time again when his ghosts haunted him. 

You knew him.

So, when you felt dumbfounded by his expressions, it was…safe to say, disturbing. All you wanted to do was run your hands through his hair and understand why he looked at you like that. Why he looked at you in a way that had your whole face crimsoned and completely hot, in a way that made your stomach do somersaults. Both of you realized you had been gazing at each other for way too long and cleared your throat. However, you winced, your throat still completely parched and Bucky’s concern for you rose again. “You okay? Do you need me to call the Doctor?”

“Can you get me water please?” You asked him and he immediately nodded. Water splashed down your throat, blessing your throat and you smiled at him weakly. “How long have I been out?”

There was a short pause. “15 hours.”

“Oh.”

Another pause. A moment of excruciating silence. “You scared me to death, Y/n.”

Your heart skipped a beat. His voice came out cracked, full of fear and misery. “God, I don’t know what I would’ve done if you didn’t wake up.” You gasped, the vulnerability in his voice hitting your core. “Bucky, it wasn’t something all of us hadn’t dealt with already.” You whispered, hoping to calm him down. But, it frustrated him even more. “That doesn’t matter, Y/n! You–” His breath hitched. He looked like he was having one of his nightmares again.

“You bled out on me, Y/n. It was everywhere; God, it wouldn’t stop. You just kept on saying my name and I couldn’t do anything! I couldn’t do anything—You almost gave up on me, Y/n…Your skin, your eyes, everything had turned pale.” Bucky cried, a sudden desperation in his voice. 

“I am right here, Bucky. I am still here breathing, see,” You took his hand and placed it on your heart. “Still alive, honey.” Bucky breathed, unshed tears in his blue eyes. “I can’t live without you, Doll.” He confessed and you gasped. A breath caught in your throat. 

“I can’t live without you. And I can’t let you go, ever. Not without telling you—”

“Tell me what, Bucky?” You whispered, your whole heart stopped just for his next words. He panted, looking at you with the same expression that you couldn’t decipher. 

“I love you.”

Tears gushed in your eyes—you couldn’t believe the words that just came out of his mouth. It seemed as if he had just placed his whole body, heart and soul in those three words. “Doll, you need to say something—”

Your lips crashed over his, the longing, yearning and pining taking control of your actions. It wasn’t sweet, no. It was desperate, an urgency to it that knocked the air out of both your lungs. You grabbed at his clothes, tugging him closer, needing to touch him, as if his kisses were the oxygen that you were cruelly deprived of. A low groan erupted from Bucky’s throat, his mind hazy—he was only focused on the movement of your lips against his. Bucky devoured your lips; addicted to the taste—like powdered sugar on blueberries. 

Both of you were running out of breath, panting as you sought more of each other, wanting to dive deeper into each other. 

Bucky slowed his kisses; he pecked them incessantly, not wanting to let go of you. He slowly took your bottom lip between his teeth while gazing in your eyes, holding breathtaking eye contact, tormenting you with the slide of his tongue across it. You gasped again and voiced a low moan between your pants. 

“Bucky…”

He could drown in the pretty sounds you made for him. 

Just him.

“God, Doll, been waiting so long to do that.”

You took his face in your hands and giggled against his lips. “Me too.” You said, bashfully. You and Bucky just stayed there, foreheads against each other, reeling in the kiss, the moment, the confession. It was a comfortable silence albeit a heavy one. Where you both tried to catch your breaths while gaping at each other. Bucky’s eyes scanned your face, indulging himself in every little detail, as if he was an artist, getting ready to paint a picture perfect portrait of you. He memorised your small breaths and their patterns; your eyes, which admired him so lovingly, as if he was carved out by God—just for you; the red of your cheeks and your pretty swollen lips. 

You cleared your throat. “You know, you still owe me that sushi dinner on Friday?” You teased him shyly. He chortled, rolling his eyes in elation. He shook his head and then kissed your nose. 

“It’s a date, doll.” 

You grinned as he brought his lips back to yours, blending and molding perfectly against each other. 

He could finally breathe again.

thank you anon for my first Bucky Barnes request! This will be added to my masterlist after I make it. thank you and love to all <3

[jennxxe]

Turtle dad, pillow prince.

pairing — bobby campbell x fem! reader

summary — your boyfriend’s house is finally empty. well, besides for a certain lil friend.

warnings — 18+, sex, p in v, no protection, blow job, multiple orgasms, submissive bobby, blow job, hand job, cursing, sexual themes, he is whiny as hell

a/n — i mf love this dude (and paco). thought he’d be a stereotypical frat boy but boy, was i wrong.

His room smells like fresh linen and cedarwood. But not cologne—him. It's in the sheets, in the hoodie crumpled on the chair, in the air itself. It's that clean, sun-warmed scent you could lose yourself in. The blinds are tilted just enough to let the late afternoon light slant in, gold and heavy, catching the floating dust like it’s caught in a slow-motion fall. The air is quiet, and hot. Not from the weather, not really. From him. From the way he’s looking at you like he’s never going to forgive himself if he fucks this up.

The bed dips with a creak as his knees sink in on either side of your hips. His fingers ghost over your stomach like the idea of you naked is something he’s still getting used to. Like he’s scared this is one of those dreams he’s going to wake up from, hard and aching and alone in the dark. And god, it’s quiet in the house for once. No siblings yelling, no mom calling for help with the groceries. Just you, spread beneath him. He can't believe he got this lucky.

You feel his breath before you feel his lips—hot and trembling against your collarbone, your throat, the curve of your shoulder. His mouth moves in reverence, slow and searching, like he’s trying to kiss away the space between wanting and having.

“Are you sure?” he asks for the third time. And it’s not about hesitance, it’s awe… and shyness. His voice is low, a little hoarse, as if he’s trying to speak around the knot in his throat. His eyes are wide, open, searching. Like he's already ruined by the way you're looking at him and needs to know it’s real before he lets himself fall. Like he’s scared he’ll blink and you’ll be gone.

“I’ve been sure since before you locked the door,” you murmur, and your voice is lower now too, pulled down by the weight of what you’re about to do. Your fingers slip past the waistband of his sweatpants, slow and deliberate, until you feel him twitch under your touch. He's so hard already, so warm against your palm, like his body’s been waiting for this longer than his brain has. He gasps, hips jerking forward just a little—uncontrolled, instinctive. You look up, and his mouth is parted, breath shaky, eyes almost pleading.

He blushes visibly. His breath catches in his throat, and he nods like he’s been given a sacred mission. When you giggle, soft and breathless, it jolts him like a live wire. Bobby’s never had anyone like this. No experience to fall back on. No muscle memory. Just raw, open want. You’re his first girlfriend, his first everything.

His hand slides under your shirt, slow and tentative, fingers spreading out like he wants to cover as much of you as possible. Not grabbing. Just feeling. The curve of your waist. The warm stretch of your skin over ribs. A shudder runs through you as his palm skims over the soft plane of your belly.

With slightly shaky hands, he grips the hem of your shirt and slowly peels it up and over your head, revealing inch after tantalizing inch of skin. His breath hitches as he takes in the sight of you, bare and wanting. A barely perceptible nod from you is all the encouragement he needs. His lips crash against yours in a clumsy but hungry kiss, desperate and deep. Your legs wrap around his hips, drawing him closer, and a low groan rumbles from his chest.

His hand grazes under your bra and you whimper into his mouth, and his whole body shudders. Warm hands map the contours of your body, learning every dip and swell by heart. He traces the sensitive skin beneath your breasts, earning a breathy whimper that vibrates against his lips. His hips press urgently against yours, the evidence of his arousal hot and hard through the thin fabric of his sweatpants.

Kisses trail down the column of your throat, along your collarbone, lower still to the valley between your breasts. The anticipation builds between you, a coil of tension winding tighter with each passing second. His hands skim down your sides, graze the outsides of your thighs, pushing your pants down to pool at your ankles. He settles between your parted legs, the fabric of his sweatpants an amazing friction against your most sensitive flesh.

Slowly, deliberately, he rocks his hips against yours, the delicious pressure building to a fever pitch. The charged silence broken only by your ragged breaths and the distant thrum of your hearts beating as one. His scent envelops you, musk and male, with an undertone of something uniquely him. Intoxicating. Addictive.

"A-aah," he breathes out, his nervous chuckle came out a little too whiny, "you're driving me crazy, baby—“ There’s that usual whimper in his voice now. One thing was very certain, he was not used to being the dominant one. At all. But he wanted to try it, that is why you’re doing it this way this time.

A smile plays on your lips as the heat between your bodies is palpable, an electric current that sets every nerve alight. His boxers and your lace panties lay forgotten on the floor, discarded in haste as your naked flesh melds together. You roll your hips against his in a slow, sensual grind, the friction delicious and maddening all at once.

His hands grip your thighs again, kneading the soft flesh as he meets your movements grind for grind. The air around you grows heavy with desire, thick with the sounds of your mingled moans and the slick slide of skin on skin.

"You feel so good," he whimpers against your mouth, breaking away to trail open-mouthed kisses along your jaw, down the column of your throat. "S-so perfect—“ Your fingers thread through his blonde hair, tugging lightly as you arch into him, craving more of his touch. It’s sweet and messy and just starting to get lost in heat when—

“Oh nouuu.”

He freezes.

You blink.

Disoriented by the sudden shift in atmosphere. His voice isn’t lustful, it’s horrified. He sits up, chest rising and falling fast, eyes darting around the room. “Paco,” he breathes like he just remembered he left the stove on.

You’re still halfway to breathless, hair stuck to your neck, thighs parted beneath him. “Paco?” you echo, barely comprehending.

“My turtle!” he says, gesturing wildly toward the terrarium in the corner of the room. It’s lit by a little UV lamp and nestled with rocks and fake plants. Inside, the little green thing is motionless, watching. Always watching.

“Bobby,” you say, trying not to laugh, “is your turtle watching us right now?”

He looks mortified. His hands fly to his hair. “I—I forgot he was in here! He’s just a little guy! He shouldn’t be witnessing this! His tiny turtle brain can’t handle it!”

Bobby basically flies off the bed and crouches in front of the terrarium like he’s addressing a tiny god. “Oh, buddy. I didn’t mean for you to see that.”

You cover your mouth, trying not to burst into laughter, but your shoulders shake. You curl sideways into the sheets, helpless.

Bobby turns, holding up a sock like it’s a magical veil. He tosses it gently—very gently—toward the top of the tank. It lands, slides off, flops onto the floor. Paco doesn’t flinch.

“I can’t do this,” Bobby mutters, half to himself. “He’s just watching. Judging. Probably emotionally scarred now.”

You crawl behind him, pressing your bare chest to his back, wrapping your arms around his warm torso. “He’s probably proud of you.”

He chokes out a laugh and looks over his shoulder, blushing furiously. “Don’t say that. That’s so wrong.”

You’re wheezing by now, face pressed to the pillow. “Bobby. He’s a turtle. He has no concept of sin.”

He groans, tipping his head back against you. “Nooo, but now I feel weird! Like… like I brought my kid to a makeout session. It’s wrong. I should at least put him in the bathroom or something.”

“Oh my god, Bobby.”

He stands, still very much naked, and grabs the terrarium with both arms like it’s a sacred relic. You cover your mouth, wheezing.

“Babe, don’t laugh,” he says as he gently carries Poco into the bathroom. “He’s family.”

“I know,” you manage between giggles, “but you’re literally cockblocking yourself with your own turtle.”

The bathroom door opens. The light clicks on. A moment later, it closes with the softest click. Silence returns.

He appears again in the doorway, sheepish and flushed, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Okay,” he says, like he just saved the world. “He’s safe. He’s distracted. I gave him lettuce.”

You open your arms to him. “You done being a turtle dad?”

You stretch out across the bed, still giggling softly, watching him return like a knight after an absurd battle. His face still bears that half-serious, half-goofy earnestness, like he’s not quite sure whether to feel proud or ridiculous.

He crawls back into bed, face still red, grinning. “Yeah. But I swear to God if Paco starts scratching the door mid-thrust, I’m throwing myself out the window.”

“Now,” you whisper against his lips, “where were we before your son interrupted?”

He climbs back over you, slow now, dragging the sheets with him. His weight returns like gravity. Your hands find his shoulders, his neck, his jaw.

This time, when his mouth finds yours again, it’s hungrier. He kisses you harder this time, still sweet, still reverent, but something in him’s loosened. The moment is less clumsy now, less boyish in its hesitation. Like putting Paco in the bathroom gave him permission to let go. Despite him letting go and trying to be a tough guy, you see it anyway, that tension still folded into his body, hiding beneath the muscles and soft moans. He wants this so bad he’s shaking with it. But he doesn’t know where to put his hands. He doesn’t know what to ask for.

That’s fine. You’ll teach him.

You drag your fingers down his chest, nails grazing over taut muscle, and he gasps like it’s too much and not enough all at once. His hips twitch forward against your thigh, and that’s when you realize how badly he’s aching. Rock-hard and pulsing against nothing.

So you take him by the jaw.

Gently. Like holding something fragile. But firm enough that his blue eyes snap to yours wide, wet. So fucking desperate. He looks like a puppy begging silently for a treat.

“Lie back,” you whisper.

And he does. Immediate. No questions. Flat on his back, legs spread just enough, his abs tensing as you straddle him, dragging your bare heat along the line of his cock. His mouth falls open. His hands hover, unsure where to go.

“Touch me?” he asks, like it’s holy.

You take his wrists and place them above his head, pressing them into the sheets. “You don’t move unless I say.”

He nods. Fast. “Okay. Yeah. Whatever you want.”

You lean down to his ear, voice a low whisper: “I own you right now, Bobby.”

And the sound he makes—half-whimper, half-prayer—is filthy enough to echo. His head tips back. His neck’s flushed. You can feel him trembling under you. You grind down, slow and purposeful, letting him feel the heat of you through the tiniest drag of friction, and he sobs out your name.

“I’m gonna come if you keep doing that,” he gasps. “I—baby, I’ll fucking blow already, don’t—”

You still your hips. Lean down again.

“You’re not coming until I say.”

“Yes ma’am,” he breathes, dazed.

The nickname slips out of him without thought. Like instinct. His brain’s not driving anymore, just the need to please you. To earn you.

You kiss your way down his chest. He whines every time your lips leave his skin. His thighs twitch when you breathe against the head of his cock. He’s leaking so much already it’s a mess and you love that. You love how desperate he is for your mouth, how he’s holding onto the sheets like they’re the only thing anchoring him to this plane of reality.

And when you finally take him, slow, inch by inch, watching his head press back into the pillow, his back arching like he’s being lifted out of his body, he cries. Not loudly. But you feel the sound at the back of his throat.

He's so sensitive. All that size and muscle and strength, and yet here he is—reduced to a trembling, wrecked thing under you, whispering how good you feel, how perfect you are, how he never wants anyone else to touch him ever again.

“Gonna be so good for you,” he pants, eyes fluttering shut. “Promise. I’ll do anything—just don’t stop. Please don’t stop.”

His head falls back with a shuddering groan as your soft lips wrap around his throbbing shaft. You take him deep, inch by inch, until he's hitting the back of your throat. The sensation is overwhelming, sending jolts of pleasure straight to his core.

"Fuck, please-" he whimpers, hips twitching involuntarily as you begin to bob your head, taking him even deeper with each pass. Your tongue swirls around the sensitive head, lapping up the salty bead of pre-cum that leaks from the tip.

You hollow your cheeks, sucking hard as you slide your lips up and down his length. The obscene sounds of your slurping fill the room, mixing with his desperate moans and the occasional gasp as you deep throat him.

His hands fist in the sheets, knuckles white with the effort of holding back, not wanting to rush this moment. You can feel him throbbing against your tongue, his climax building rapidly as you work him over.

"Oh god, I'm gonna...I'm gonna cum," he chokes out, voice ragged with need. But you don't let up, doubling your efforts as you take him all the way down your throat, nose pressed against his pelvis as you swallow around his pulsing length.

By the time you let him come, he doesn’t even get a warning out.

With a hoarse cry, he finally lets go, spurting hot and thick down your eager throat. You swallow it down, milking him for every last drop as he shakes and shudders beneath you, completely undone by the intensity of his release. His whole body locks and shudders—long, shaking sobs wracking through him as he borders on overstimulation on your tongue, moaning so sweetly it’s almost pitiful.

When you finally pull off, his softening cock slips from your lips with a wet pop. He's left boneless and panting, chest heaving as he struggles to catch his breath. A look of pure adoration lights up his face as he gazes down at you, eyes glazed and unfocused.

You kiss your way back up his body and he clings to you like you’re all that’s keeping him together.

“Did I do good?” he whispers.

You smile against his jaw. “You were perfect.”

And he just nods, nuzzling against your neck, mumbling: “I’d let you do anything to me.”

You snuggle close to him, your body molding perfectly against his as you trace lazy patterns on his chest. His breath hitches slightly at your touch, and you feel his heartbeat pick up pace once more beneath your palm.

He looks at you with those big, innocent eyes, pupils blown wide with desire and longing.

You feel him hardening again against your hip, his length growing and twitching with each passing second. Leaning down, you press a feather-light kiss to his forehead, his cheek, the corner of his mouth.

"I love making you feel good," you whisper against his lips. "You're so perfect, so responsive. I could do this forever."

Slowly, tenderly, you wrap your hand around his shaft, giving it a gentle squeeze. He gasps, hips jerking up into your touch as a full-body shudder wracks his frame. “O-oh—“

After bringing him to the brink and back down again, you position yourself above him, hovering with your knees on either side of his hips. He looks up at you with pure, unadulterated worship in his eyes, hands coming to rest tentatively on your thighs.

"Please," he whispers, voice raw with need. "I want to feel you. Want to be inside you."

Smiling down at him, you reach between your bodies and grasp his throbbing length, stroking it a few times before notching the head at your entrance. Slowly, inch by inch, you sink down onto him, inner walls stretching deliciously around his girth.

“A-aah-“ he moans, head tipping back as he tries to hold still and let you set the pace. You start to move then, lifting your hips until just the tip remains sheathed before sliding back down, taking him to the root. You find a steady rhythm, rolling your hips in sinuous figure eights as you ride him deep and hard.

"Oh fuck," you moan, tossing your head back in ecstasy. "You fill me up so good, baby. Stretching me in all the right ways."

You guide his hands to your hips, urging him to take control. He looks up at you with those big, pleading eyes, silently begging for permission. You give him a small nod, and he grips you tightly, fingers digging into your soft flesh as he starts to move you up and down his length.

"Pl— ngggh— please," he whimpers, voice breaking on a moan as you engulf him completely. “You feel so g-good—“

You brace your hands on his chest, using the leverage to bounce on his cock with increasing fervor. Each downward thrust sends shockwaves of pleasure rippling through your body, making your toes curl and your breath come in short, sharp gasps.

“That's it, baby,” you encourage, rolling your hips. “Take what you need. Use me to feel good.”

"Yes, yes!" he cries out, hips snapping up to meet your downward movements. His face is flushed, lips parted as he pants and moans, utterly consumed by the intense sensations coursing through him.

You can feel him throbbing inside you, his cock pulsing with each beat of his racing heart. He's so close, teetering on the edge of blissful oblivion. You want to push him over, to make him shatter in your arms.

Leaning down, you capture his lips in a searing kiss, swallowing his desperate whimpers as you ride him harder, faster, chasing your own release. His hands roam your body frantically, caressing every inch of bare skin he can reach.

"Please," he begs against your mouth, voice whiny with need. "I'm so close. Don't stop, I'm gonna...I'm gonna cum!"

You feel your own climax building, the tension coiling tighter and tighter in your core. A few more deep, powerful thrusts and you're flying apart, inner muscles squeezing him rhythmically as waves of ecstasy crash over you.

"Oh fuck, oh god!" he sobs, hips jerking erratically as his orgasm slams into him. "Yesss!"

You ride out the aftershocks together, bodies locked in a passionate embrace, until the last tremors fade away. You collapse against his chest, both of you sweaty and breathless, basking in the glow of your shared pleasure.

You’re still tangled up in him, limbs heavy, hearts pounding in sync. The room’s gone quiet again, except for your shared breathing, shallow and stunned. Your skin sticks where it touches his, but neither of you makes a move to untangle. Not yet.

"That was..." he tries again, but the words fail him. His voice is wrecked, hoarse with awe and something a little dazed. “Incredible. You’re... you’re amazing.”

You smile, press a kiss to his forehead, just above the little curl damp with sweat. “You’re pretty amazing yourself, stud. I could definitely get used to this.”

That makes him whimper.

Literally whimper.

His arms wrap tighter around your waist, pulling you into his chest like he’s afraid you’ll slip through his fingers. “Don’t say stuff like that,” he mumbles into your shoulder. “You’ll kill me. I’ll combust.”

“You already did,” you tease gently, fingers tracing the line of his spine. “And you did so good.”

He hides his face against your neck and groans. “Stop. You’re gonna short-circuit me. My heart’s doing weird things.”

You giggle, shifting just enough to grab the nearest blanket and pull it over both of you. His skin is still buzzing, twitching under your fingertips as you pet his back. He melts like warm wax, going soft, pliant. His breath slows into something calm and sweet and sleepy.

“You okay?” you ask, voice quiet now, lips brushing the shell of his ear.

“Yeah,” he breathes. “Better than okay. I just... I feel like I floated away for a sec. You completely wrecked me. My brain’s not working.”

“I like you like this,” you murmur. “All soft and sweet.”

He whines again, trying to bury himself even deeper into you. “You always do this. You get me all.. ruined! and then you get all smug about it.”

“And yet,” you grin, “you keep coming back.”

“Cause I’m obsessed with you,” he blurts, and then immediately stiffens like he didn’t mean to say it out loud.

There’s a silence.

Then you kiss the corner of his mouth, soft and deliberate. “Good. I’m obsessed with you too.”

He exhales in a shaky laugh, squeezing you. “I’m never letting you go. You know that, right?”

You nod into his chest. “That’s the plan.”

And he just lies there for a while, holding you like you’re the only thing tethering him to earth. His thumb strokes your side in lazy circles.

Occasionally, you feel him shiver a little, not from cold, but from leftover adrenaline, from the rush of it all, from the softness that always hits hardest after.

At one point he mumbles something half-asleep like, “Next time I wanna bring snacks and water to bed. Like a little aftercare picnic.”

You snort. “You trying to survive round two or something?”

And Bobby, flushed and drowsy and curled around you like a vine, answers without hesitation.

“I’m trying to survive long enough to worship you properly.”

A soft scratch-scratch echoes faintly from the bathroom door. You blink. Bobby stiffens.

“Paco,” he whispers, voice full of guilt and paternal panic. “Oh my god. I forgot he was in there.”

You stifle a laugh as he starts to sit up, tangled in the blanket, hair wild, looking like he just woke from a fever dream. “I gave him lettuce,” he says, like that makes up for emotional abandonment.

“You gave him lettuce and then had mind-melting sex in the next room,” you remind him, amused.

He throws on his boxers with exaggerated speed, pads over to the bathroom and opens the door slowly, like he’s afraid Paco’s been plotting revenge the whole time. The turtle is just sitting there. Staring. Unmoving. Eternal.

“I’m so sorry, little dude,” Bobby says softly, scooping the terrarium up with reverence. “You deserved better.”

You’re giggling into the pillow again as he sets Paco gently back in his corner, brushing nonexistent dust off the tank like a guilty dad. “He’s gonna need therapy,” Bobby mutters.

“He’s a turtle,” you remind him.

He climbs back into bed with a sigh. “Yeah. But he’s my turtle.”

[random-cockroach]

(Had Valzer d'Inverno - Andrea Vanzo playing while reading and oh gods if it is not what is connected to this chapter for me now I don't know what else)

#Moved in here from tags because I doubt I have little to say #HE IS SO PROUD TO GIVE HIM HIS WON TROPHY #BIG PROUD SILLY STUBBORN OPEN TO LIFE WARRIOR -> this... I want it printed... I don't know why it just gives happiness it's silly. Rung's silly pose and even sillier face. Kef you are making my brain such a good massage, I honeslty felt so bad for him through the whole read of mtmte and ll because beside all the jokes it actually was unbearable for most people, while Rung was carrying on with it and kept so much more inside him than most can manage (actually I want it as banner now...) while forgiving for everything. And messing up as little as his name. And here? There is only two mechs. And they didn't even know each other's names at first. Did Prima have name?

Rung didn't have name. Did he name himself like this? Did Prima name him like this? He is a little ladder that the world was slipping through but holding on him still. While Prima one day just came and held this ladder from shattering. Imagine best times of your life being in the presence of someone, he understood how it is to be around someone, how it is to be noticed by someone who could understand him. To be carried about, noticed, to invent language to communicate. I think I never could properly ship Rung with anyone because these bots are not who truly could notice him the way I would have loved deep inside soul. I always thought for him a concept of life and death since it is the only things that could be around him like, most of the time? How absurd it will be if I say that even matrix itself, inanimate object, was the closest one for Rung for me? XDD I didn't look at other gods after ll they are pretty trash around him pfffht. I liked Nightbeat for the possibility of him actually trying to see and not getting attention ou enough to see deeper than others. Even if there is not so much to see deep inside, Rung is a simple spark, but he needs to be seem and maybe it is the only thing he ever needs... And here? The very first bot? The only two bots? I don't need to say anything this right here goes straight in my little separate closet from where I will never take it out... Before he became the God of Cybertronians he was just his... Prima's... And Prima was here for him, bright spark following him, sharing the warmth his own spark couldn't share before. I am not bright and educated on tf topics enough so can juggle only from what now or think bear with me ahaha Rung's spark as I always thought is a kind of matrix itself, in canon he could make matrix out of himself, these little crystals are this kind of. Rung wanted to be seen, understood, not to lose this feeling, afraid of losing it. Is it because he knows he lives longer? Or it is because he wants Prima to always understand him, see him. and matrix allows to do it by connecting every spark? I remember when Optimus bluetoothed to matrix pffht and saw all the sparks in one place, sensed them, could feel them, if I am not wrong could even differentiate them all.

"Powerful. Eternal. All seeing and all knowing." I like to think this is what stories share about Prima, first transformers, who got most powers from Primus to lead the planet. "Equal." is what no one heard before. Primus shared his life to not let go, but to never let go. Divine powers connects every living creature, (oh my god I am still not okay, imagining Rung at the birth of world wandering around and noticing that things around him have their own prints... and they are gorgeous...) every spark, and every spark has it's code. And the matrix is basically sharing it ability, Prima could do it (WHAT HAPPENED TO PRIMA), but Prima... passed (WHY I HAD HIM ONLY FOR 5 PAGES). What happened to matrix? In whos hands it is? It can't be given to anyone without the Rung's covenant? I think it can't be, I think he could give it only to Prima... Could Prima give it to someone next? What for?.. But the matrix itself can't be used other way? Can it read the spark code without the bearer? (Prowl I am NOT as smart as you you make me feel dumb with your EVERYTHING) I actually even lost a track of what exactly they searched for beside sewing god ahaha, they were tracking sparks that were turned into demons and what was happening to them exactly, could something be done from distance? Or for example something was done to Shockwave... Also all the sparks being kept in one place from extraction... this is still very cruel... I still think that it is the made of the council since all events and turns were happening in their trials, if the matrix is in their possession, it wasn't destroyed and they found a way to use it to change infrastructure of the crystals (sparks) to their advantage... One last thing... you couldn't get me... ATTACHED right away at this dynamic and kill Prima please say no....

Lemme introduce you to my super niche dynamic. Primus x The first Prime.

I am mixing continuities again and using Prima’s characterisation and origin from Aligned universe and the design from Tf1. Because the tf1 design is incredibly pretty~

ALSO the “every spark is connected to the Matrix” is based on the mtmte#21 where it reveals that Matrix has sparkcodes in it and you can basically use it to reassign a new spark code to other mech as if Matrix is just a freaking exel document that can be edited haha

<- Previous

[shesgaymichaelscott]

Hello, here is a Melissa x reader prompt: The reader breaks Mel’s heart saying it was just one night but in the reality she was just protecting her own heart

This is my first time writing from a request ahhhhhh this is so scary but i love it sm i hope you enjoy 🥹

Word Count: 6.6k <3 (obviously i suck at writing shorter-form content lol)

Melissa Schemmenti x you (reader)

One-Night Thing

You weren’t supposed to be thinking about Melissa Schemmenti in the middle of a faculty meeting.

But there she was—sitting two chairs down from you in the library, a pen tucked behind her ear, that signature smirk playing at her lips like she knew exactly how much she was distracting you. She probably did.

Jacob nudged you under the table with his foot, whispering, “You’re staring again.”

“I am not,” you whispered back through gritted teeth.

“You are,” he replied with a grin, then added smugly, “And she’s smirking.”

Of course she was. Melissa had been doing that more lately—lingering a little longer when she passed your classroom, brushing your hand when she handed you copies, calling you “sweetheart” with a wink that made your brain short-circuit. You told yourself she was just being friendly. She called everyone sweetheart.

But she didn’t look at everyone like that.

“Hey, sweetheart,” Melissa said suddenly, turning toward you with that mischievous lilt in her voice. “You got any red pens? I keep lending mine to my kids like a sucker.”

You nearly knocked over your coffee standing up too fast.

“Uh—yeah. Yeah, I’ll grab you one from my classroom. Right now. Be right back. Pens.”

Jacob muffled a laugh behind his notebook.

You returned with not one but three red pens. Because you were nothing if not over-prepared and slightly desperate to impress a woman with an extensive knife collection.

“Look at that,” Melissa said as you handed them over, eyes sparkling with something dangerous. “One for now, one for later, and one just in case I lose the first two? You always this thoughtful?”

“Only for people I like,” you shot back before your brain could stop your mouth.

Melissa quirked an eyebrow and held your gaze a beat longer than necessary. “Good.”

Jacob let out an exaggerated cough. “Anyway—guess what! Dinner at home tonight. You’re coming.”

“I am?” you said, tearing your eyes from Melissa and blinking at him.

“You are,” he insisted, brightly. “Melissa’s cooking, supplying the wine, and we’re watching bad reality TV or that weird documentary about haunted aquariums. Your choice.”

Melissa shrugged. “I make a killer chicken parmesan. And I got a new bottle of Pinot that I’ve been savin.” She gave you a sly once-over. “Be a shame to drink it alone.”

You were about to ask if you should bring anything when Jacob flashed you a knowing smile, which suddenly felt more like a setup than an invite.

—

You showed up at their place at 6:15 sharp, wine in hand, palms already slightly sweaty. Jacob greeted you at the door in a “casual” button-down that was suspiciously close to date-night wear.

“Heyyy,” he said, stepping aside to let you in. “Melissa’s in the kitchen. I told her to keep it PG till I finished grading, but she doesn’t listen to me.”

From the kitchen, Melissa called out, “Because I don’t take orders from children!”

You walked in to find her barefoot, apron on, hair swept up in a loose knot. The scent of garlic and tomatoes hit you like a freight train of comfort and desire.

“You made it,” she said with a grin that could melt steel.

“Told Jacob I wouldn’t miss your cooking,” you replied, then paused. “Or, uh, either of you. Obviously.”

Melissa leaned one elbow on the counter, wine glass in hand, eyes lazily scanning over you. “Mhm. You always this nervous, or is it just me?”

“Just you,” you said, and then immediately regretted it.

Her smile widened. “Good to know.”

Jacob, bless him, popped his head in just long enough to grab a La Croix and whisper, “You’re welcome,” before retreating to his bedroom, loudly claiming he had “a mountain of rubrics and a date with his mattress.”

You and Melissa ended up at the kitchen island, elbows brushing as you helped her plate the food. She poured you both a generous glass of wine, then sat so close your knees knocked under the table.

“To surviving another week at Abbott,” she said, raising her glass.

“To you not stabbing a student with a red pen,” you teased.

Melissa laughed, the sound low and warm. “Only takes one more ‘my dog ate my homework’ for me to snap.”

As the night stretched on, the conversation grew looser, wine easier to sip. Melissa leaned in when she talked to you, eyes lingering on your mouth. She touched your wrist lightly when she laughed, once resting her hand on your shoulder for a heartbeat too long while reaching for the salt.

At one point, after her third glass, she let her fingers trail slowly along the inside of your forearm.

“You ever think about what would happen if you stopped pretending not to want me?” she asked, voice low, teasing but heavy with promise.

Your breath hitched. “All the time.”

Your heart pounded. Every rational part of your brain screamed at you to slow down, think it through. This was Melissa. She was your coworker. Your friend. Your best friend’s housemate. A walking power surge with incredible arms and a tongue sharp enough to skin you alive if you got this wrong.

But then she smiled—slow, confident, wicked.

And you were gone.

You moved before you could stop yourself, closing the distance between you in one sharp breath and catching her mouth with yours.

Melissa responded instantly, grabbing you by the waist and pulling you into her lap like she’d been waiting for this just as long. Her lips were warm and commanding, tasting like wine and something darker. She kissed like she talked: with complete certainty and no room for hesitation.

Your hands fumbled for her shoulders, her hair, anywhere you could hold on as she tilted her head and deepened the kiss. She made a sound low in her throat that vibrated straight through your spine, and you whimpered before you could help it.

Her hands slid under the hem of your shirt, palms rough from years of teaching, grading, gardening—real hands, grounded hands, holding you like a secret and a promise all at once.

You pulled back just enough to breathe, your forehead resting against hers.

“I don’t know if this is a mistake,” you said, voice raw.

“You wanna stop?” Melissa asked, lips brushing yours as she spoke.

You searched her eyes—steady, open, sure.

You shook your head.

“Didn’t think so,” she murmured, before pulling you back in.

She kissed you like she wanted to memorize you. Like she was trying to burn your hesitation away. Each touch was patient but hungry, coaxing you into surrender.

By the time she stood, leading you by the hand toward her bedroom, your fear was still there—but now it was tangled up in something else. Something wilder. Something finally unleashed.

And God, it felt good to stop pretending.

Melissa’s grip on your hand was firm, fingers laced with yours like she wasn’t giving you a chance to back out—not that you wanted to. She led you up the stairs slowly, deliberately, glancing over her shoulder with a wicked little smirk that made your knees weak.

Her bedroom door closed behind you with a soft click, and you were on her before she could speak, lips crashing into hers with months—years, maybe—of pent-up want. She pressed you against the door, her hands on either side of your head, trapping you in, her body flush against yours.

You could feel her smile against your mouth.

“You always kiss like you’re starving?” she murmured.

“Only when I’ve been starving for something this long,” you whispered back.

Melissa groaned low in her throat and kissed you again, deeper this time, her hand sliding down your back to the curve of your waist, then lower. Your fingers scrambled at the hem of her shirt, tugging it upward, and she broke the kiss just long enough to pull it over her head and toss it somewhere into the shadows of the room.

You stilled for a second, heart pounding at the sight of her—freckled skin glowing warm in the dim light, eyes daring you to keep going. She reached for your shirt next, slow and teasing, fingertips grazing your skin as she peeled it off you.

“You’re shaking,” she said softly, brushing your cheek with the back of her hand.

You nodded. “I’ve wanted this for so long I don’t know what to do with it.”

Melissa’s voice dropped, thick with feeling. “Then let me show you.”

She kissed you again—this time slower, gentler, but no less intense. Her hands explored like she was mapping new territory: the line of your ribs, the curve of your spine, the hollow just beneath your collarbone that made you gasp when she grazed it with her lips.

Clothes fell away in pieces—buttons unfastened, zippers undone, fabric tugged and dropped without a second thought. Every layer gone felt like a layer of fear peeled off too. You weren’t just bare—you were seen. And Melissa didn’t look away. She drank you in like you were her favorite secret.

Melissa’s lips trailed down your neck, warm and teasing, her breath feather-light against your skin. You shivered beneath her touch, every kiss sending sparks that rippled through your chest. Her hands held you steady, fingers splayed over your ribs as she kissed slower, deeper, mapping your body like she was learning a beloved song.

She paused at your collarbone, then moved lower, her mouth tracing soft, deliberate patterns across your chest. You closed your eyes, surrendering to the wave of sensation as she pressed gentle, open-mouthed kisses over your skin. Each touch felt like a promise, slow and steady, pulling you further from the world outside that door.

Her hands slid lower, and with a knowing smile, Melissa parted your legs carefully, settling between them. The heat from her body was a contrast to the coolness of the sheets, and you felt your breath catch again.

She looked up at you, eyes dark and steady. “Tell me if anything feels too fast,” she said softly.

You shook your head, voice caught in your throat. “I trust you.”

Her tongue flicked out, light and teasing, as she began to explore, her touch both gentle and hungry. Every movement was a conversation—soft sighs, whispered names, the shared rhythm of two people discovering each other in a new way.

You tangled your fingers in her hair, pulling her closer as waves of warmth rolled through you. Melissa’s kisses deepened, her hands roaming to cradle you like you were precious and wild all at once. Her warm tongue ran teasing circles over your clit, making your back arch from her bed.

“Mel, oh fuck—” you moaned, breath hitching.

She smiled against you, a sound both tender and thrilling. “You like that?” she whispered, eyes locked on yours, full of desire and something softer—care, maybe, or reverence.

You nodded, words failing you as she moved with practiced ease, every touch and flick of her tongue sending shivers through your core. Your hands clutched her hair, your body responding in ways you hadn’t dared hope for, every nerve alight.

Melissa’s lips traced a slow path upward, peppering soft kisses along your thighs, your hips, until she met your gaze again.

“Tell me what you want,” she murmured, voice low and coaxing.

Your voice barely a whisper, you said, “More. Please. Don’t stop.”

Her smile deepened, and you felt her hands gently trailed between your legs, her touch electrifying.

"You have no idea how long I've wanted this," Melissa whispered against your skin, her breath warm and heavy. “How many times I’ve pictured you under me.”

Your eyes fluttered shut as her fingers slid into you—slow, careful, confident. The sensation made you gasp, your hips lifting instinctively to meet her. She groaned softly at the way your body responded.

“You feel incredible,” she murmured, lips brushing your ear. “So warm. So perfect. Like you were made for me.”

Your fingers gripped the sheets as she moved inside you with a rhythm that was both patient and devastating, reading your body like she’d been waiting her whole life to learn its language. She kissed the corner of your mouth, your jaw, your neck—her free hand splayed across your hip to steady you as you trembled beneath her.

“You’re so damn beautiful,” she whispered, her words melting into the skin just above your collarbone. “Every sound you make, every look you give me—Christ, sweetheart, you’re driving me crazy.”

You moaned her name, raw and open, as pleasure built like a tide—inescapable, overwhelming. She curled her fingers just right, and your whole body arched into her.

“Good,” she breathed. “That’s it. Let go for me.”

And with that, you did—coming undone beneath her in a shuddering wave, her name a broken prayer on your lips, your heart thundering against hers.

She held you through it, never once looking away.

"Oh my god," you breathed as you came down, her lips trailing kisses back up to your lips.

You kissed her slow, lazy, full of gratitude and something like awe. And then you smiled against her.

“Law down,” you whispered.

Before she could protest—or make some cocky remark, which you knew was coming—you rolled her over gently, your body settling over hers. Melissa looked up at you with a surprised little grin, flushed and disarmed.

“Well, look who’s taking control,” she teased, breathless.

You dipped your head, kissing along the sharp angle of her jaw. “Thought I’d return the favor.”

You took your time. She’d set the pace earlier—confident, commanding—but now, you were the one tracing a path down her body like it was something sacred. Your hands skimmed the strong lines of her waist, the curve of her hips, the places that made her sigh and shift beneath you.

When your lips closed around one of her nipples, her breath caught in a sharp, delicious gasp. Her fingers threaded through your hair, pulling just enough to make you smile against her skin.

“Fuck,” she murmured, voice cracking, “you feel so good…”

You let your teeth graze gently, and she swore again, hips arching up into you. You worked your way lower, kissing her stomach, the stretch marks and freckles and softness you wanted to worship. You loved how strong she was, how grounded, but here—beneath you, breathless, letting you touch her—she was soft in a way few ever got to see.

When your mouth finally found her center, she moaned, head falling back against the pillows.

“Jesus—” she breathed. “Baby…”

You smiled against her. “That’s right. Let me take care of you.”

And you did—slow and steady, savoring every reaction. Her thighs trembled against your shoulders, and her praise poured down like honey.

“You’re so good to me,” she gasped. “God, just like that… yes—yes—”

You held her through it the same way she held you, anchoring her to the sheets as she came apart beneath your mouth, every part of her unraveling into your hands.

Melissa was still catching her breath, chest heaving, her hair wild around her flushed face as she looked at you with something bordering on reverent disbelief.

“That mouth of yours should be illegal,” she murmured, her voice hoarse and thick with satisfaction.

You grinned as you moved back up her body, kissing the corner of her mouth, her jaw, the pulse fluttering at her neck. “You think I’m done with you?”

She let out a low, amused hum and rolled you gently onto your back, her leg slipping between yours, her hand trailing down your side with a practiced, hungry touch. “Oh, I was hoping you weren’t.”

Then her lips brushed against your ear, her voice dropping into something dark and teasing. “I have something I want to try. If you’re up for it.”

Your pulse kicked. “Yeah?”

She leaned over to her nightstand and pulled open the drawer. Your eyes widened slightly when she retrieved the harness—sleek, black, clearly well-loved. But what made your breath catch was the glint of the double-ended toy she attached to it with steady hands and a crooked grin.

You blinked at her. “That’s… ambitious.”

Melissa smirked, tossing her hair over her shoulder as she adjusted the straps on her hips. “You’re the one who wanted to keep going. Don’t look at me like you’re not curious.”

You bit your lip, heart pounding and a low thrum of excitement building in your gut. “I’m more than curious.”

She climbed back onto the bed, the weight of her over you, the look in her eyes—hungry and tender and full of wicked promise. She kissed you slowly as she guided you closer, the anticipation making your breath stutter.

“I want you to feel me,” she whispered against your mouth. “All of me.”

And when she finally eased herself forward, the connection was overwhelming—so much sensation, so much want, the toy pressing between you both in a perfect, intimate rhythm that left you both gasping.

“Look at me,” she murmured, brushing your hair from your face as your hips moved together. “I want to watch you fall apart.”

You moved in rhythm with her, every slow, deliberate thrust drawing a breathless gasp from the both of you. The weight of her body over yours, the warm slide of skin against skin, the way her eyes never left your face—it was almost too much.

You clung to her, fingers digging into her back, legs wrapped tightly around her hips. “God, Melissa—” you choked out.

“I’ve got you,” she murmured, voice low and hoarse, her forehead pressed to yours. “I’ve got you.”

Every movement pushed you closer to the edge. It wasn’t just the physical—though that was breathtaking—it was her. Her presence, her gaze, the way she kissed you like you were the only thing in the world that mattered. You felt raw, open, completely undone.

And when it happened, when the wave crested, it wasn’t quiet—it pulled a cry from deep in your chest, and Melissa held you through it, whispering your name like a promise.

She wasn’t far behind, her body trembling with you, her own release hitting just as hard as yours. You felt her bury her face in your neck, shuddering, hands gripping your hips like she needed you to stay real.

Afterward, the room was filled only with the sound of panting breath and the soft rustle of sheets as you collapsed into each other—tangled, boneless, your skin slick and your hearts still racing.

You buried your face in her shoulder, barely able to breathe. “That was…”

“Yeah,” she whispered, holding you tighter. “It was.”

Neither of you moved for a long time. Just skin to skin, heart to heart, letting silence speak.

Finally, Melissa turned her head just enough to kiss your temple, her voice thick with something more than lust now—something deeper. “You good, baby?”

You nodded, too full to speak, and let yourself drift there, wrapped in the safety of her arms.

Eventually, the heat faded into something softer. Melissa shifted just enough to pull the comforter over the two of you, her arm still wrapped snugly around your waist. You let her hold you—just for a moment longer—your head tucked under her chin, your heart still racing, but not from the sex. From the terrifying reality of what you’d just done.

You’d slept with her. Melissa Schemmenti. The woman you’d been hopelessly crushing on for longer than you dared admit. The one who’d flirted, teased, whispered your name like it meant something. And now?

Now she was breathing slow and even beside you, already asleep, her leg still tangled with yours like she couldn’t bear to let you go even unconsciously.

But your mind spun.

What if it didn’t mean anything to her?

What if it was just a release? A moment. A mistake.

You stared at the ceiling in the dark, your chest tightening with every thought. She was confident. Self-assured. You were… you. What if this was all she wanted from you? What if you’d already had your chance at something more, and now it was gone? You eventually drifted asleep, eyes heavy with worry that this was the first and last time you would be in Melissa's bed.

You slipped out of bed just after sunrise, trying not to wake her. You dressed quickly and quietly—clothes from the night before rumpled and smelling like wine and sex and regret—and crept downstairs like a thief.

You weren’t expecting Jacob to be in the kitchen.

He stood at the counter in pajama pants and a “Science is Real” t-shirt, pouring coffee into a mug, eyes half-lidded with sleep. He blinked at you once. Then twice. Then his eyebrows raised slowly.

“Oh,” he said, setting the mug down. “Oh my God. You—did you…?”

You didn’t look at him as you pulled your coat on, your heart pounding against your ribs.

“Don’t,” you muttered.

Jacob, of course, did not listen. “You slept with her! You and Melissa—finally! I knew it. Was it—wait, was it good? It was good, right?”

You turned to him sharply, guilt slashing across your face. “Jacob, it wasn’t like that. It was just… a one-night thing.”

His smile faltered. “Wait, what?”

“It didn’t mean anything,” you said quickly, eyes darting toward the door. “She probably just—needed a warm body for the night. She was drinking, we were talking, and I was stupid enough to think…”

You trailed off, the words catching in your throat. Jacob watched you, the teasing replaced with something gentler now.

“Hey,” he said quietly, stepping toward you. “You really think that’s all it was?”

You nodded, forcing a tight smile. “It’s fine. I’m fine. I just need to get out of here before she wakes up and makes it awkward.”

Jacob hesitated, clearly wanting to say more—but you were already pulling the door open.

And then you were gone.

Out into the cool morning air, heart aching, wondering if you’d just ruined everything with the one person you couldn’t stop falling for.

—

Melissa woke slowly, sunlight already creeping across her sheets, warm against bare skin. Her hand reached out instinctively—searching for you.

But the other side of the bed was cold.

She sat up, blinking away sleep, heart stuttering when she realized the room was empty. The clothes you’d worn were gone. Her shirt was still on the floor. The drawer to her nightstand was still slightly open. It wasn’t a dream.

But you were gone.

A tight knot pulled in her chest. She swung her legs over the side of the bed, muttering a curse under her breath as she raked a hand through her hair. It wasn’t like she expected… roses and love songs, but she thought—hoped—it had meant something. That the way you clung to her, gasped her name, kissed her like she was more than just a fling—that it was real.

It had felt real.

She pulled on a hoodie and padded barefoot down the stairs, still trying to find a rational explanation. Maybe you had a morning meeting. Maybe you left a note. Maybe you’d come back.

She was halfway to the kitchen when she spotted Jacob sitting at the table, eating dry cereal from the box and scrolling on his phone.

He looked up. Blinked.

“Oh. Morning. Uh… just a heads up, she left.”

Melissa froze. “What?”

“She was heading out when I got up. Kinda panicked, actually.” He paused, face twisting slightly. “Said it was just a one-night thing...”

Melissa’s world tilted.

“What?” Her voice cracked in disbelief. “She said that?”

Jacob winced. “Yeah. I didn’t believe her either. I mean, she was clearly spiraling. She looked wrecked. But yeah. That’s what she said.”

Melissa swallowed, jaw tight. Her chest burned—not with anger, but something heavier. Something bitter. She felt stupid. Stupid for letting herself believe that someone like you could really want her. Not just physically. Really want her.

She turned abruptly and stormed back upstairs.

“Wait—where are you going?” Jacob called after her.

“To get dressed,” she snapped. “Some of us still have a job to do.”

By the time she arrived at Abbott, Melissa was a storm barely held together. Her usual swagger was missing. Her steps were too fast, her eyes too sharp. She avoided the teacher’s lounge, avoided Barbara’s kind gaze, even ignored Ava’s loud, half-baked theory that Melissa looked like she’d just walked off the set of a spicy mob romance novel.

She didn’t stop until she reached your classroom.

You were inside, pretending to organize your desk, eyes focused anywhere but the door. But when you looked up and saw her—Melissa standing there in your doorway, arms crossed, fire and hurt carved into every inch of her face—you froze.

“Hey,” she said, voice deceptively calm. “Can we talk?”

The classroom felt too small suddenly, too quiet. You nodded slowly, afraid of what was coming.

Melissa stepped inside, closing the door gently behind her. Then she turned to you, eyes shining—not with anger, but with disbelief.

“I just need to know,” she said, her voice quieter now, edged with a tremble she couldn’t quite hide. “Was it nothing to you?"

You swallowed, throat burning. “No. It wasn’t nothing. But it can’t be something either.”

Melissa blinked, like she hadn’t heard you right. “Why not?”

You looked away, unable to face her. “Because you’ll realize you don’t really want me. Or you’ll get tired of me. Or I’ll mess it up. I can’t—” Your voice cracked. “I can’t let myself believe you mean it and then have you walk away.”

Her breath hitched. “So you decided to beat me to it.”

“I’m sorry,” you whispered. “I just… I got scared.”

She stepped back like the words physically stung. For a second, you thought she might yell—Melissa had fire in her bones, always had—but instead, she nodded slowly, backing toward the door.

“Right,” she said, hoarse. “Well… thanks for clearing that up.”

And then she was gone.

—

The rest of the day passed like a fog. You tried to teach. You tried to pretend. But nothing stuck. The kids noticed. Janine looked at you with quiet concern. Even Ava didn’t throw her usual quips your way.

Everywhere you turned, it felt like you could still smell her—coffee and jasmine and a hint of whatever conditioner she used that left your mind feeling like a trap.

By lunch, you were hiding in your classroom. By the end of the day, you hadn’t moved from your desk in almost an hour, just sitting with your head in your hands, letting tears come freely in the privacy of your classroom. You didn’t care anymore who saw. You were unraveling.

That’s how Jacob found you—quietly slipping inside and closing the door behind him.

“Hey,” he said gently, crouching beside you. “You okay?”

You laughed bitterly through your tears. “Do I look okay?”

He didn’t answer. Just waited.

You stared at your hands, trembling in your lap. “I screwed it up, Jacob. So bad.”

“She’s hurting,” he said. “You know that, right?”

“I know. God, I know. But I didn’t mean to hurt her. I was scared. I’ve never felt this way before. Not about anyone.”

Jacob’s brow softened. “What way?”

You sniffed, wiping your sleeve across your face. “I love her.”

He blinked.

“I’m in love with her, Jacob. And I think—I think I have been for a long time. She’s… everything. And last night didn’t make it worse, it just made it clearer. But I panicked and said it was just sex because I thought if I said anything else, I’d scare her away.”

He let that settle in the silence, then gave a soft sigh. “Well. You sure as hell scared her away doing it that way.”

You nodded, tears falling again. “I know.”

He rubbed your shoulder gently. “So what are you gonna do?”

You looked at him, broken open and raw. “I can’t lose her. But I don’t think she wants to hear from me right now.”

Jacob gave you a look. “You’re in love with Melissa Schemmenti. I think we both know she doesn’t scare off that easy.”

You almost smiled. Almost.

You couldn’t let it end this way. Not with silence. Not with the memory of her walking out of your classroom like you’d broken her.

So you gathered what was left of your courage, dried your cheeks, and headed for her room.

Your heart thudded louder with every step down the hall. You passed students still lingering at their lockers, a few teachers chatting in corners, Ava loudly accusing a printer of being “jealous of her literary genius.” Normal chaos.

But everything in you felt like a storm.

When you finally reached Melissa’s classroom, you hesitated at the door before knocking softly and easing it open.

Empty.

The desks were pushed neatly in rows, her jacket was gone, and the chair behind her desk sat tucked in perfectly. It felt abandoned in a way that made your stomach drop.

Then, behind you, came a warm, knowing voice.

“She left early.”

You turned to find Barbara standing just outside the door, holding a folder in one arm, the other hand gently resting over it. Her expression was calm, but her eyes… her eyes knew more than they let on.

“Oh,” you breathed, deflating. “Did she say anything?”

Barbara studied you for a moment—long enough that you nearly shrank under the weight of it.

“She said she wasn’t feeling like herself,” Barbara finally said. “Didn’t have the energy to pretend today.”

That hit harder than it should have. Your throat tightened. “Right.”

Barbara stepped a little closer, lowering her voice. “She didn’t say it, but I think she was hoping someone might chase after her.”

You blinked back tears. “I hurt her, Barbara.”

She nodded gently. “Yes. But you also love her, don’t you?”

The words stuck on your tongue—but you couldn’t lie to her. Not to Barbara Howard.

“I do.”

She softened, reached out and rested a kind hand on your arm. “Then I suggest you stop standing in empty classrooms and go tell her.”

You stared at her for a second, then nodded—grateful and shaky and scared.

And then you ran.

You barely remembered the drive to her house. The streets blurred past your windows, your hands white-knuckling the steering wheel the entire way. You rehearsed a thousand things to say, none of them sounding right. None of them good enough.

Her porch light was already on when you pulled up, casting a soft glow against the dusky evening. You sat there in your car for a moment, heart hammering, palms sweating. Then you got out—legs unsteady beneath you—and walked to her front door.

You didn’t knock at first.

You just stood there, breathing shallow, the weight of everything you’d done pressing down on your chest like a stone. And then, finally, you raised your hand and tapped once—twice.

Nothing.

You tried again, a little harder this time. And then the door opened.

Melissa stood there in sweatpants and an old Eagles t-shirt, her red hair pulled up messily, face bare of makeup. And even like this—especially like this—she was the most beautiful thing you’d ever seen.

She blinked when she saw you.

“Hi,” you breathed, voice cracking. “I—I didn’t think you’d answer.”

“I almost didn’t,” she admitted, arms crossing over her chest.

You winced. “I deserve that.”

There was a long silence. She didn’t let you in. But she didn’t shut the door either.

“I shouldn’t have said what I said to Jacob,” you started. “About it being just one night. I was scared, and I panicked and—God, that’s not an excuse. I just…”

You took a breath, your eyes burning again.

“I woke up next to you, and it felt like everything I’ve ever wanted. And that terrified me.”

Melissa’s jaw clenched. “So you decided to run.”

“I thought if I stayed, I’d ruin it,” you whispered. “I thought you’d wake up and regret me.”

Her expression flickered—hurt, guarded, something raw moving behind her eyes.

“And what made you think I’d regret you?”

“Because I’ve never had something real before. Not like that. And when you looked at me like I mattered, it felt like… like maybe I didn’t deserve it.”

You were crying now. She stepped onto the porch instinctively, eyes softening despite everything.

“I never meant to hurt you,” you whispered. “I woke up this morning and I wanted to crawl inside myself,” you continued, words tumbling out. “Because last night was the best thing that’s ever happened to me. And I convinced myself it only happened because you wanted someone to warm your bed, not—God, I was so stupid.”

She sniffed. “You think I sleep with people I don’t care about?”

“I don’t know,” you whispered. “But I do know that I’ve been falling in love with you since the day I started at Abbott. And I ruined it because I’m scared.”

Melissa blinked. “Say that again.”

You stepped closer, voice breaking. “I’m in love with you.”

She stared at you for a long, awful second.

Then she swung the door wide and pulled you inside by the collar of your coat. You stumbled into her, hands clutching hers like lifelines.

“You don’t get to tell me you love me,” she said thickly, “and then walk out the next morning like I’m some mistake.”

“I know,” you gasped. “I know, and I’m sorry—I just—I thought it’d be easier to break my own heart than give you the chance to.”

Melissa’s forehead pressed to yours. “That’s the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard.”

You laughed—wet and broken.

Her voice dropped to a whisper. “You really love me?”

You nodded helplessly.

“Even when I’m loud and stubborn and bossy as hell?”

“Especially then.”

She let out a shaky breath, then cupped your face like she needed to feel you real in her hands. “You’re mine now, you get that?”

“I want to be.”

Melissa kissed you then—desperate and tender, full of everything you both were too afraid to say. Her arms wrapped around you like she didn’t plan to let go again.

You didn’t know how long you stood there, wrapped in her arms, hearts pounding in shaky sync. Long enough for the air between you to shift from tension to reverence. Long enough for the silence to swell with everything you were finally brave enough to feel.

“I love you,” you whispered, your voice breaking into the space between her shoulder and your lips. “I think I’ve loved you since the first time you called me a smartass in the breakroom.”

Melissa huffed a teary laugh, pulling back just enough to look at you. Her thumb brushed your cheekbone. “You know how long I’ve waited to hear you say that?”

“Say it back,” you murmured, even though you could already see it written in every line of her face.

“I love you,” she said without hesitation. “So much it makes me insane. You scared the hell outta me today.”

You kissed her again, slower this time. A promise.

“Let me show you,” you breathed, the words trembling between you. “Please… let me show you how much I love you.”

Melissa didn’t answer with words—just slid her hand into yours and led you quietly up the stairs.

The bedroom door closed behind you like a chapter ending.

But this wasn’t an ending. It was a beginning—messy, tender, real.

You stood at the edge of her bed, breath shallow, and placed your palms on either side of her face.

“No more running?” you asked softly.

She shook her head. “No more running.”

Your mouths met again, and this time there was no desperation, no need to prove anything—just slow, aching reverence. You undressed her with your hands and your eyes, like unwrapping something sacred. She did the same, her touch soft and sure, like she already knew you belonged to her.

You guided her back onto the bed, kissing your way down her body with trembling devotion.

“You’re so beautiful,” you whispered, voice hoarse. “Do you even know what you do to me?”

Her hand threaded into your hair, not to guide you but to feel you—her thumb brushing softly at your temple.

“I’ve never wanted anyone like this,” you said, letting your lips linger just above her mound, voice barely more than breath. “I’ve never loved like this.”

Your mouth found her clit slowly, reverently, like you were remembering something holy. Every kiss was a confession. Every moan you drew from her, a prayer.

Melissa gasped your name, hips lifting to meet you, her fingers tightening in your hair. “God—baby—please…”

You didn’t rush. You wanted her to feel loved. Known. Cherished.

“You’re everything to me,” you murmured against her, letting your tongue and lips speak the rest.

You traced gentle circles with your tongue, savoring every shiver that ran through her body, every breath that hitched as you worshiped her with reverence. Your hands roamed slowly, memorizing the curves and planes of her skin, committing her to memory with every tender touch.

Her hips moved with a slow, desperate rhythm, searching for more, needing more. You met her completely, your heart pounding in sync with hers.

“I love you,” you breathed, the words trembling from your lips.

Her body shuddered, hands clutching at you, breath breaking in ragged gasps. “I love you too,” she moaned, voice raw and aching. “So much.”

And as she came apart beneath you, falling into you like the safest place on earth, you knew that this was more than desire. It was belonging. It was love.

You stayed with her, lips pressed to her skin, whispering promises only she would hear, as her body slowly stilled and peace settled between you.

You curled up beside her, the soft weight of her body against yours like the only thing that made sense in the world. Her fingers traced gentle patterns along your arm, and you traced back, memorizing the feel of her skin, the steady beat of her heart beneath your palm.

“I promise,” you whispered into the quiet space between you, “I’m not going anywhere. Not now, not ever. I’ve been waiting… months, maybe years—for this. For you. To love you like this.”

She smiled against your chest, a soft, sleepy smile that made your heart catch. “You’re ridiculous,” she teased, voice thick with warmth.

“Yeah, well,” you replied with a grin, “that’s what you get for teasing me for so long.”

She laughed—a quiet, happy sound that wrapped around you like a blanket. “Good. Because I’m kind of stuck with you now.”

You pressed a kiss to her hair, feeling like you’d finally come home. “There's nowhere I'd rather be.”

And as the evening light filtered through the curtains, warm and golden, you both just held each other, the world outside fading away. Because right here, right now, you had everything you ever wanted.

And you were never letting go.

[mysticalcrowntyrant]

I just had this thought of cult run away MC trying to find their new normal life but the cult leader somehow keeps appearing in the towns they move to. Every time the cult leader catches their eye, MC feels like it’s a constant reminder that despite the fact they aren’t with them, they aren’t actually free.

Yandere Cult Leader x Reader

You used to think freedom was a place.

It seemed so simple in your head—leave the compound, cross the border, find a town where the buildings didn’t whisper, where the woods didn’t close in like hungry teeth, where the sky looked like sky and not the ceiling of a painted cage. In your dreams, it was always a small town with a corner store and a warm sun. A place where nobody knew your name, where no one sang hymns in the dark or drank strange things from gold-rimmed goblets or called a man Divine.

But you’ve been running for two years, and you’re starting to learn that freedom doesn’t always follow the road.

Your first town was Willowrun, population 2,038. You got a job at a diner and wore a name tag that said Reese, even though that’s not your real name. You cut your hair in the gas station bathroom and learned to eat eggs again without thinking of the sacrament. You didn’t even look over your shoulder the first month. You’d thought—no, hoped—he wouldn’t care enough to follow.

But one rainy Tuesday, he walked into the diner and ordered coffee.

You were behind the counter, pretending you hadn’t seen him. But you had. You felt it before your eyes confirmed it—like a string pulled taut in your chest, like your heart remembered his voice even before he spoke.

He didn’t say your name. He didn’t try to touch you.

He just looked at you, smiled in that slow way that used to make the others weep with joy, and said, “It’s nice here, isn’t it?”

You left that night with everything you owned stuffed in a backpack, never mind that you hadn’t been paid yet. Never mind that it was raining so hard you couldn’t see the road.

Because it wasn’t about staying dry.

It was about breathing.

The next town was further west. Bigger. No one asked questions at the retail store where you stocked shelves. You lived in a tiny room above a pawn shop. Your landlord smoked so much you could smell it through the vents, but you told yourself that was okay. It was real. It was normal.

Then, three weeks in, you saw him across the street. Standing outside a church.

He wore a plain coat. No robes. No beads. But you knew it was him. You knew by the tilt of his head, the soft smile, the way his eyes followed you through the glass.

You didn’t run that night. You should have. But you told yourself you imagined it. You told yourself: He can’t be here. He couldn’t have found me again.

But two days later, a customer left a flyer in your break room locker. Black paper. Gold lettering.

“The Divine Calls You Home.”

You ripped it into pieces and flushed it down the toilet.

You moved again.

Now you live in a desert town with more sand than people. You keep your windows locked, even though it’s hot as hell. Your new name is Jamie, and your coworkers think you’re from Michigan. You haven’t told them much else. You’re good at not being noticed. You keep your head down. You don’t wear the color blue anymore—he always liked blue. Said it was the color of purity.

Sometimes you still wake up in the middle of the night, heart thudding, certain someone’s outside your window. But when you check, there’s never anything there. Just the wind. Just the hush of nothingness. That’s supposed to be comforting. It isn’t.

You haven’t seen him in months.

You should be relieved.

But instead, it’s worse.

Because the longer it goes, the more you think: maybe he’s already here and you just haven’t seen him yet. Maybe he’s the man who walks his dog past your house every night. Maybe he’s the customer who bought rope and candles last week and smiled too long. Maybe he’s the one who leaves the same white flower in front of your door every Wednesday.

You told yourself it was a coincidence the first time.

You told yourself it was probably a neighbor. Friendly gesture. Nothing more.

But deep down, you know. It's a reminder. A warning.

He’s always known how to find you.

Once, years ago, you sat across from him in the chapel and asked him what he believed freedom meant.

He smiled.

“Freedom,” he said, “is knowing where you belong. Who you belong to.”

You were young then. Devoted. You thought it was beautiful.

Now, those words feel like a noose.

You want to stop running. You want to plant roots. Laugh without fear. Wake up without wondering if today is the day he comes back and says your real name in that voice that made people weep and kneel.

But he’s always just behind the next sunrise.

He doesn't chase you like a predator. He appears like a shadow, like a memory you can’t outrun. You never see him arrive. You never see him leave. But he’s always there, just long enough for your hands to tremble, for the food to go tasteless in your mouth.

He never touches you.

He never has to.

Because when your eyes catch his across a busy street or in the corner of a gas station, it’s enough to make you feel small again. To remember the chants. The candlelight. The way he said you were chosen. The way you believed him.

You’re not with them anymore.

But you’re not free.

Not really.

Because wherever you go, his gaze follows. Quiet. Patient.

And the worst part is, somewhere in the back of your mind—in the part he conditioned, the part that still hears the hymns in your sleep—you wonder.

What if he’s right?

What if you’ll never belong anywhere else?

Masterlist

[genericpuff]

in light of what i reblogged earlier re: expecting people to engage with the actual source material of fandoms before trying to participate - while Rekindled is on hiatus, y'know what you should do?

Go read Lore Olympus.

The Originals series, the pilot episodes, all of it - or, at least as much of it as you can.

Not because I think you should force yourself to read something that you don't like.

Not because I think it deserves all the accolades it still gets to this day.

But because that thing you don't like might have had some great ideas and concepts and it was with those ideas and concepts that I was able to create Rekindled.

Because that thing you don't like might actually have stuff you like in it but you never found out because you never engaged with it past the antiLO/ULO communities.

Because that thing you don't like is something I used to like so much that I was willing to spend the last 2+ years of my life creating something new out of it, and will probably spend 2+ more years continuing to do so.

I know that's a HOT TAKE coming from me of all people, but there's so much stuff that I see people commenting about Rekindled that deadass would not exist if it weren't for LO, and Rekindled itself has grown to a point that we've now taken on readers who've never even touched LO. Wilder still that I'm fairly certain we have a few readers who didn't even know LO existed. The longer Rekindled goes on, the more it deviates from the original work as the plot changes and moves away from what LO tried to do, subsequently the more disconnect will grow between those who understand its context and those who don't.

And I'm talking beyond the obvious stuff like the S1 plot tweaks and trying to mimic Rachel's older art style, I mean the real nitty gritty stuff that's meant for the fans and haters alike, the references, easter eggs, panel redraws, borrowed designs, and inside jokes that go as far back as the pilot episodes that you wouldn't be able to fully understand or appreciate without having read the source material-

(there are sooo much more than this but I'd hit the image limit before I even got through half of them LMAO and there's one in particular that hasn't happened yet but I'm really hoping people pick up on when it does because it's probably my favorite out of all the parallels I have planned ;0 and if you're someone who HAS read the original comic all the way through and knows all the references and detailse, I hope it's at least making for some fun easter egg hunting LOL)

None of this is to diminish our own efforts to create something unique out of Rekindled, both through its art and writing - there are a lot of original ideas and concepts that we've made for it that we're really proud of and frankly really grateful that we came up with before Rachel LOL (Gorgon Ramses is ours! Big boy Dionysus is ours because we beat Rachel to the punch in his debut! Charon is ours! Muahahahaha-) but some of you compliment things with Rekindled that I'm concerned you don't realize aren't original ideas on our part-💀

I'm all for dunking on LO, but I'm also all for free thinking and my free thought is that you should absolutely read LO so you can form your own opinion of it separate from that of my own. You don't have to pay for it, you don't have to give Rachel and Webtoons your hard-earned money, the DailyPass system might be annoying but it does let you read 2 free episodes a day, all the way up until the finale which some webtoons don't even let you do (some of them force you to pay for the final episodes). With AdPass you can read even more. Shit, if you really can't access it but you're tech savvy enough to understand how magnets work (cough cough), I'll help you out.

Get through as much of it as you can, at the very least the first season and the pilot episodes. If you really can't stomach much more of it beyond that, then obviously don't force yourself to, but at least then you'll be able to form a more concrete opinion based on what you've actually read.

Lore Olympus absolutely sucks ass in more ways than I can count, none of what I'm saying here is a glowing recommendation of it as a piece of media. But Rekindled wouldn't be what it is - it wouldn't even be - without it. And that alone should make engaging with the source material worth something to anyone who enjoys Rekindled for what it is, and what it isn't. I hate what LO became - and what it ultimately always was as soon as the rose-colored glasses fell off - but I love what it used to mean to me still to this day and I love what it still provides for me through Rekindled.

There is, after all, a reason why it is called Lore Rekindled ♡( ◡‿◡ )

[ilguna]

☼ deflection (Finnick Odair) ☼

summary; ever since you were young, you dreamed of the day you would meet your soulmate. you always pictured him as a knight in shining armor. never in your wildest dreams would you have thought they would be your mortal enemy.

warnings; swearing, alcohol and vomit mention, use of weapons, physical violence.

wc; 3.6k

notes; soulmate au!!

--

Every time you step into the Betting Room, it feels like you’re stepping into an active warzone from how disgusting it usually is. For an elite group that lives their life in luxury, they sure know how to destroy a beautiful sunroom. When it opens early in the morning, it smells fine and it’s in pristine condition. By the time the afternoon comes around, the entire place is reeking of body odor and vomit. 

It’s your least favorite place to be in the Tribute Center, which is why you avoid it as much as you possibly can. It’s taken you a couple of years, but you’ve got your timing down to the minute on when you should be here. You always stick around for the first couple of days in the arena, since that’s when tensions are at its highest.

As soon as you’re in the clear, you won’t be caught dead in the Betting Room unless there’s an emergency with your tributes. There’s absolutely no reason for you to spend two weeks surrounded by people you don’t like. You’re helpless when it comes to your tributes most of the time, anyway.

They’re not dumb enough to get themselves in a situation where they’re hurt, hungry or dehydrated. Which means the time you spend here is wasted. You could be making connections elsewhere, but instead you’re required to be here for at least ten hours throughout the week.

And if you’re being honest, which you usually are, you wouldn’t mind being here if it weren’t so awful. The issue you have lies beyond the smell and the way the room looks, though. It has something to do with the fact that you’re not able to be down there and be left alone. 

If you were to try to have a relaxing afternoon, you’d likely be interrupted about a dozen times in just an hour. It doesn’t matter who it is, it could be by potential sponsors of fellow mentors. Either way, they’re trying to cut a deal or pry any secrets they can out of you about your private life.

It’s extremely irritating, even on a good day.

If you want to make a deal for the sake of your tributes, then you’ll get up and get the work done yourself. Otherwise, you let the Games play out how the tributes want them to. It’s not your fault if tributes from other districts get themselves in a sticky alliance with yours.

Beyond that, people can be so nosy nowadays, and they’ll sell out to the Capitol if it means they’ll get a boost while they’re mentoring. Which is why you keep a strict lockdown on what people know about you. They already got more than enough insight on your life during your Victory Tour.

All in all, the Betting Room is a miserable experience, no matter what way you try to take it.

You sit back in your chair, arms crossed over your chest as you observe the Career pack. So far, the Seventy-First Hunger Games has gotten off to a slow start, there weren’t a lot of deaths during the bloodbath, which means it’ll be a matter of time before the Gamemakers intervene. 

This year, the arena’s a forest. The Cornucopia was placed in the middle of one of the many fields they have throughout the woods. From what you can tell so far, it’ll be a good environment to survive in if there’s plenty of water sources and a reasonable amount of animals.

Your tributes will have it easy this year, which makes you incredibly jealous. When you won five years ago, the Gamemakers were just starting to go through a phase of throwing tributes in weird arenas. A couple of trees is nothing compared to an abandoned city.

“Have you reached your quota yet?” A voice asks.

You tilt your head back, finding your mentoring partner, Thorne. “I have for today, but I was going to sit here for a little while longer so I don’t have to tomorrow.”

He lets out a laugh through his teeth, shaking his head. “I thought Lyme was kidding when she said you hated this place.”

“You like it?” You ask him, raising your eyebrows.

“No, but I don’t despise it nearly as much as you do, apparently.” He leans on the table, tilting his head to read the journal you have open.

You turn it so he can read it better. “Did Lyme catch you up on the note-taking?”

“Is this high school?”

You roll your eyes a bit. “Trust me, I don’t like doing it, but we’ll get our heads bitten off by the Academy when we get back if we don’t have something to give them.”

Thorne reads over what you have written down so far, face twisting. He pushes the book back toward you, “Can’t the leaders just write this stuff down?”

“We get more insight.” You tell him, resting your chin on your hand. “We have upfront access to the betting odds and whatever.”

He squints at you. “But how are you supposed to keep an eye on that if you don’t spend a lot of time here?”

You shrug, “I’ve gotten good at it. I come in the morning to see where they’re at, and then I come right before closing to make sure odds haven’t changed. If anything big happens throughout the day and I’m not here, then I’ll stop in for a moment. It’s really, really easy to do.”

“Do they know you do this?”

You smile, “They do, actually. And I told them that if they have a problem with the way I mentor, then maybe they should be here instead.”

Thorne makes a face, “You know they’ll never do it.”

“Which is why I get away with it.” You place your pen in your journal, folding it shut. “I think I’ll talk to some of our sponsors before I go. That way if anything happens while I’m gone, you’ll be set up.”

“Meeka and Amias will be fine. We’ve just barely started.” Thorne says.

“It doesn’t hurt to be prepared.” You tell him, getting to your feet. You nudge the journal in his direction. “I’m leaving this with you, I’ve got a meeting with our escort to talk about our tributes and sponsors.”

“Do you want me to write in it?” He asks.

“Only if it’s something significant. You can read through it if you’d like to get a better idea of what you’re looking for.” You pat him on the shoulder. “I’ll see you later.”

You wander away from Thorne, looking around the room, trying to spot a group you’d appeal to. You’re sure you could approach anyone and end up with a few extra dollars in your pocket, but that’s not exactly what you need. You need someone that can stick around through a few sponsorships.

You find a group in the corner, dressed in the latest trend, expensive bags hanging off their elbows, skin shaded unnatural colors. As soon as they notice you’re interested in them, they wave you over. This is where you spend the next hour and a half of your life.

It wasn’t your intention to stand here this long, you thought you’d be here for maybe another thirty minutes, but you got carried away. They were really interested in what your tributes are like and how they spend their freetime. Once you started talking about their home life, it was all over from there.

You don’t regret a single minute, though, because it got them to commit to being sponsors. 

You start toward the exit of the Betting Room, since you really need to get moving now. Earlier, you’d saved yourself enough time to have lunch before the meeting, but you’ve got less than fifteen minutes to get yourself across the building. It won’t be the end of the world if you’re a few minutes late, you just know the escort will never let you hear the end of it. 

“I always knew you were full of yourself.” An irritating voice says, you stop where you stand, turning to look over your shoulder. “But I didn’t think you’d stoop low enough to steal sponsors.”

Finnick Odair. 

“I wasn’t stealing your sponsors.” You tell him, crossing your arms over your chest.

Finnick motions behind him to where Thorne is, surrounded by the group you’d been talking to. It seems like they’ve migrated to him on their own, which you’re sure he’s thrilled about. Being stuck in a conversation with them for longer than a couple minutes is his version of hell.

“They went over there on their own.” You shrug.

“Right after you spent the last hour talking to them.” He raises his eyebrows.

You stare at him, not entirely sure what he wants out of this conversation. If he wanted to continue to have them as his sponsors, then maybe he should’ve gone over there to say so. Why would he wait until you were leaving to tell you they belonged to him?

“Well, you weren’t over there.” Your arms drop back to your sides. “You’re a pretty lousy mentor if you’re letting things go like that.”

Finnick scoffs, “After what happened last year, you shouldn’t be calling anyone lousy.”

“I was at a disadvantage.” You tell him, eyes narrowing.

It’s true, even the Capitol officials were saying they’d never seen a sickness go through a district that fast. By the time the reaping came around, most of District Two was sick, including the victors. The tributes who were chosen were beginning to show signs they’d caught it, too. The only reason why they didn’t fully come down with it is because the Capitol administered medicine as soon as you stepped foot on the train.

You were given quite a dose, yourself. 

You were the only victor well enough to be sent to the Capitol to mentor, everyone else was just starting to recover. They couldn’t afford for you to be coming down with some illness you could easily pass on. Which meant you were forced to mentor by yourself for the very first time.

On top of that, the pair of tributes that had been reaped did not want to listen to the advice you had to give. They wanted to make the decisions for themselves, they didn’t really care about what you had to say about the Games. A part of you wanted to give up on them because you were exhausted, but you knew it would make you look bad.

You fought tooth and nail for them to look decent during the tribute parade. You kept telling them to score high during training, otherwise sponsors were going to suck. And it honestly felt like a miracle had taken place when they got through the interview without accidentally insulting the Capitol in some way.

He makes a face, “And that’s an excuse? The rest of us run around here with one mentor all the time. You, my friend, saw what it was like to lose your privilege.”

You glare at him, “It’s not a privilege to have two mentors. It’s not my fault everyone else’s tributes can’t tell the difference between their ass and a hole in the ground.”

“Just like yours?” Finnick asks back. “I’m sure it eats you up inside that a girl who lost her mind won the Games and not your stupid pedigree pets.”

You point a finger at him. “You forget my tributes are the reason why she couldn’t think straight at the end.”

“She was still able to swim herself to victory, wasn’t she?” Finnick is smug. 

You grit your teeth. You don’t like Finnick, not even under different circumstances. Ever since you met him, he’s been nothing but rude. You’re not sure what happened in order for him to treat you this way, but you’re fucking sick of it.

There’s only about a years difference between you two. You won the year right after he did, you were sixteen, which made him fifteen at the time. And the following year, you were able to talk to him as a mentor. Or rather, you didn’t, because he came up to you, talking about some nonsense while you were in the middle of an important conversation with the escort.

You looked at him, confused and disgusted. He stunk like fish and saltwater, and looked like he’d barely dragged himself out of bed. His hair was a mess, his clothes weren’t matching, and if you didn’t know any better, you would’ve thought he was another lowlife trash from your district.

But he couldn’t have been, because you two were in the Capitol, where luxury is a first and everything else falls into a neat line behind it. So, you weren’t entirely sure why a boy like him was approaching you, who looked the exact opposite. You looked like your life was put together, while he was just starting to get a hang of it.

You didn’t like the situation, so you ignored it. You went back to the conversation you were having before he came around, pretending as if it never happened. He left, you got what you wanted, and you never spoke about it. In fact, you don’t speak to each other at all unless it’s mandatory. Even then, you make your mentoring partner do it for you.

“That’s the only thing she could do, since she’s so braindead.” You tell Finnick.

“You know, maybe if you hadn’t been so caught up in what you looked like last year, your tributes would’ve been more inclined to listen to you.”

Your hands ball into fists, anger dripping inside you. Before you can put a thought behind your actions, your knuckles are already aimed for his nose, fully intending to break it to teach him a fucking lesson about appearances. 

Finnick doesn’t realize what’s happening before it’s too late. Your fist makes his head whip to the side from the amount of strength put behind the move, but nothing else happens. There should be pain throughout your hand, you know what it’s like to punch someone—something—because you train at home with a bag. There’s no ache when you flex your hand.

You watch as Finnick reaches up to touch his nose out of habit, which hasn’t moved in the slightest. You should’ve broken his nose from the force alone, and there’s not even blood to back you up. With the way he’s prodding his skin, the area isn’t even tender, it didn’t even hurt.

Your lips part, staring at him in shock. The entire room has gone still, as if they’re afraid any noise will trigger another attack. Finnick stares right back at you, hand slowly lowering, the gears turning in his head. 

This piece of District Four trash cannot be your soulmate. The thought of spending the rest of your life around this asshole makes your blood boil. You waited twenty-one years to meet the love of your life, and it’s him? And the only reason why you found this out was because you punched him and it didn’t do any damage?

“This is bullshit.” You tell Finnick.

He looks down at your hands, eyes widening when he realizes they've formed fists again. He takes a step back, shaking his head, mouth opening to speak, but you won’t hear it. You don’t want to hear anything he has to say.

You back toward the doors that will lead you out of the Betting Room, only a few more steps away. Right as you slam through the door, you can hear your name being called behind you.

—

Well, it seems like your sudden violence yesterday afternoon was enough to get everyone off of your back. You haven’t been approached once after what happened, and it feels like it’ll stay that way until the trip is over. 

For now, Thorne has agreed to keeping your sponsors straight as long as you keep track of the tributes. All you have to do is tell Thorne what you need and he’ll take care of it, not that you think you’ll have to.

Since you’ve been effectively banned from the Betting Room, and sitting in the Two apartment is less than ideal, you decided it would be best if you picked a nice spot to have lunch and watch the Games. 

It’s been pretty mundane so far, you doodle in the journal, you sip your drink. You’ve been picking at the food on your plate for the last thirty minutes because you’re hungry but not enough to actually eat. The avox came around a little while ago to see why you weren’t eating and you had to tell him you were going to be here for a while and he didn’t have to worry about you.

You draw circles on one of the napkins you can spare, watching as your tributes travel from one side of the arena to the other. They’re hunting, as they always do. It’s typical for the Career pack to look for other tributes the first couple of days of the Games, they do it while they have the energy to. 

Although, they’d be able to do it for longer if they got a re-up on supplies every couple of days. If they’re well-fed and rested, then that makes it easier for them to keep going, but they usually get a second chance at supplies during the second bloodbath, anyway. By then, there’s not many tributes left. The ones who are still alive are either on the brink of death or they’re ready for the long haul.

You reach for your journal, flipping it open to the page you were writing on earlier today. If you were able to give the Career tributes an extra backpack of supplies at the end, then they’d be able to hunt one more time and end the Games without risking an event from the Gamemakers. 

You stop writing mid-sentence, eyes flickering up to see why someone is standing over your table. At the sight of Finnick, your face contorts. He’s got his hands on the back of the chair across from you. “That seat is taken.”

“Really?” He asks, turning to the table closest to you. He grabs the chair, placing it next to you. “I’m sure this one isn’t.”

“Get away from me.” You sigh, going back to writing in the journal.

Finnick sits in the chair he’s stolen. “We should probably talk about what happened yesterday.”

“I don’t think so. I’m fine pretending as if it never happened.”

He laughs, “I had a feeling you’d say that.”

You put the pen down, flipping the journal shut to give him your full attention. “Don’t you have somewhere else to be? Maybe kissing one of the many hundreds of girlfriends you have?”

“Nope.” He smiles. “No one to be kissing. Maybe soon, though?”

You squint your eyes at him. “And you say that I’m full of myself.”

“You are.”

You make a face at him. “I am not.”

“You don’t remember how we met?” Finnick asks, shaking his head.

“Yes, I do. You came up behind me, interrupted my conversation, only to ask me where I got all this honey.” You motion to your body.

“You were wearing a gold colored dress.” Finnick says with a smile. “I was trying to flirt.”

“Well, you’re a fucking idiot for thinking that would work.”

“I was sixteen.” He says back. “Of course I was. I’m sorry, I didn’t realize this was what put you off.”

Your eyes narrow, looking him over, trying to decide if he’s being genuine or not. He might be trying to get information out of you to use as leverage. If you agree to forgiving him, then he can claim you had a change of heart because you realized your true feelings about him or whatever. 

“Really, (Y/n), I’m sorry.” He says.

You relax a little, “I suppose I can forgive you.”

Finnick raises his eyebrows. “That’s it? It was that easy?”

You press your lips together, shaking your head.

“I’m kidding.” Finnick says. “I would like to start over, if you think it’s possible. We don’t have to agree to anything in the future, we can just let fate take it as it goes.”

You bite your cheek. “We live in two different districts.”

“That hasn’t stopped soulmates in the past.” He says.

He’s right, there were a pair of victors who realized they were soulmates a couple years back. The boy was from Six and the girl was from Three, they were friends working on a project for the Capitol. He’d accidentally swiped at her with a knife when he was trying to hand it over, it glided right over her skin, not a scratch on her. 

The Capitol recognized they were soulmates, and since the boy didn’t have any living family, they allowed him to move to District Three under the condition he continued to work for them. They’re both still alive, neither of them mentor anymore. 

“It wouldn’t be that simple for us.” You tell him. “I have family, and you’re the Capitol Darling. We’ll be lucky if Snow doesn’t kill me just so he can keep you for a little while longer.”

“He won’t kill you, but he’ll definitely have a talk with you.” Finnick says. “Are you willing to try, then?”

You sigh, “I am.”

[last-words-ofashootingstar]

i’m a fairly new reader but i love your works sm! if you’re still taking prompt requests can i ask for 101 + 110 & 204 + 212 with hongjoong pls? i feel like he’d be suuuuch a tease 🤤 and you capture him so well for me <3

➯a/n: aww thank you and HOLY CRAP YES YOU MOST CERTAINLY CAAAN ASK FOR THAT 😫 hongjoong is my bias and i've been avoiding writing for him because i already have soooo much for him but i can no longer hold myself back kkkkk maybe a bit softer than expected but i always have room to make moreee

Inspiration

❥Kim Hongjoong x fem reader

101 + 110: "i can feel you begging — let me hear it, too" + "i want everyone to hear what i do to you"

✈︎queued for: fri 23rd

(>ᴗ•)genre: smut

ಠ_ಠwarning/content: not proof read, 204 oral sex, teasing soft dom joong, studio sex ( how have i never done this before ?! ), 212 edging/orgasm denial, protected penetration ( we cheered !!), cockwarming, neck kisses, pet names (pretty + baby), hj being a little perv and putting moans in a track (i- i can't explain myself...)

♡masterlist !♡

18+. MINORS, BEAT IT.

౨ৎ

'I need some inspiration' was all Hongjoong had texted you, and you knew what he meant — so why were you still stunned when he immediately locked the door behind you and pulled at your pants?

He gets frustrated, sometimes too easily, and he needs a way to calm his frantic brain. That way is you. Sometimes it's in soft ways like holding you in his lap while he works or asking you to play with his hair so he can finally sleep.

Times like now, though, you can feel his frustration in the way he acts. He gave you a greeting kiss while undoing your pants, and then he was searching for inspiration in you.

"Joong," you pant while fidgeting on the couch, "please, I want to cum already!"

"Just a little longer, baby," he says while wrapping his arms around your thighs, licking his slick lips as he looks up at you. "You can do that for me, right? Just a liiiittle longer? Just until it hits me."

The noises you make while he eats you out often make visions for songs strike. It's a little bit strange, but it's flattering when he plays a finished song and says something along the lines of, I thought of this one that time I ate you out in the car.

"I can't take it much longer," you pout down at him, brushing back his hair with your fingers, "just a few more minutes- oh~"

You fall back flat against the couch, moaning quietly as he sucks at your clit; making you throb.

"Let me hear you," he says as he lets go of your overworked bundle of nerves, "I know you want to cum, pretty. I can feel you begging." He gives a slow lick up your slit, moaning as he feels you twitch. "Let me hear it, too."

"J-ah!" You yelp as he slides his tongue inside of you, his nose grazing your clit. "Joong! Please! Oh, fuck, please!" Your hands wrap up in his hair in a desperate attempt to make sure he doesn't pull away, your hips bucking instinctually. "Please, don't st-"

"I got it!"

"Son of a bitch!" You whine as you fall back to the couch in a hot and bothered mess.

"Thank you, pretty baby," he smirks mischievously as he kisses your clit one more time.

౨ৎ

"How much longer?" You ask for the fifth time in thirty minutes.

It's the mystery of the century how this is the way he gets his best work done.

His gorgeous girlfriend settled in his lap, enchanting cunt hugging his cock and making him feel every twitch even through the condom. Asking every chance — how much longer until you fuck me?

Even as he works, he traces little patterns on your back; squeezing your ass when he needs a small boost in moral. He gives you a small glare when you rock your hips, and satiates you by playing with your clit for a few minutes.

One would think it would be the most distracting situation on the planet, but for Hongjoong; all of the sensations you give him only feed into his creativity.

"Two more minutes," he smiles, eyes flicking across the monitors quickly.

You pout somewhat dramatically as you lean forward to press your chest to his again. You start kissing every inch of his neck you have access to, grinning as you feel him twitch inside of you. Even if his brain is currently focused on the track, his body is betraying him.

You pass the time by licking at the freckle on his neck, sucking just softly enough that you don't leave any marks.

"Done."

His voice makes you perk up immediately, hands finding purchase on his shoulders as you rock your hips. He giggles a bit, but it quickly turns into soft moans as you start riding him. "Eager, baby~?"

"Oh, screw you," you laugh breathlessly, elated in the fact that now he'll give you your 'reward' for being such good inspiration.

He takes his headphones off quickly and places them over your ears, "have a listen." His signature grin isn't suspicious, but maybe it should be.

You slow your hips back to a grind, giving your attention to his music. You want to keep going, but you know how important it is to him; so you force yourself to ignore your pleading heat as he starts the track.

Immediately, your eyes are widening.

Mixed in with the background is what sounds like your moans... because they are. It would be impossible to pick up on unless you knew what you were looking for — but that doesn't stop the rush it gives you.

You yelp in surprise as he starts thrusting up into you, yanking the headphones away. "You like it, pretty?"

"When- ah~ When the hell did you record that?"

"Today, on accident," he admits as he wraps his arms around you, slowly rutting into your g-spot. "I won't publish it if you say no, but-" He bites his lip, squeezing you closer and looking up at you lustfully.

"But?" You manage to keep your voice semi-even, when all you want to do is beg him to go harder. It feels like kind of an honor that he used your voice to make something so amazing. It has you way more turned on than you think you should be.

It turns out, you don't have to beg; you don't even have to ask.

He starts thrusting up into you rougher as the words form on his tongue, the idea stuck in his head ever since he saw that he accidentally recorded you.

"But I want everyone to hear what I do to you."

Oh, you're ruined. Absolutely and completely because the moment he says that — you're creaming on his member and bouncing to meet his thrusts like a mad-woman.

He throws his head back, moaning just as loudly as you at the way you're clenching down on him. "Fucking hell- is tha-that a yes, baby~?"

"Yes!"

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