#water under the bridge series

[imaginedreamwrite]

Water Under The Bridge: Part 1

The news of your father’s death after a stint in the hospital wasn’t a surprise to you any more than the suspicion that someone had a hand in it. Your father’s affairs had made him a number of enemies and friends turned vile who could have ended him.

You had been across the country for school, tucked away in the back corner of a dive bar to focus on your schoolwork instead of in the library when you found out. You had received a call from your mother a week earlier informing you that your dad was sick, but it was Val finding you in that dive bar that confirmed it.

Val was a man who worked for your father, a longtime associate who had been around since you were born. He was tall and lithe but toned, with intense brown eyes that were infused with honey, drawing attention to his high cheekbones and firm jaw.

His thick silvering hair was always coiffed back out of his face and as far as you’d remembered he had a thick beard that was always well taken care of.

He was a man you’d known all your life and yet you had never heard him raise his voice in your presence, let alone inflict anger upon you. Val was meant to act as an uncle toward you, someone who’d kept you out of danger all your life.

Val was more of a father to you than your father was, he was highly dependable and trustworthy. He’d given you some of the best advice you’d ever needed, even if you hadn’t asked for it.

“You need to listen to me,” Val had warned you in that dive bar and again when you showed up to attend your father’s funeral, “there’s going to be a shift in power. Cade and your mother are in a place where they could inherit millions, but there are inhibitions in place.”

“Val,” you’d known what he was speaking about, you’d known that there was an inheritance set aside for you by your grandfather that your brother wanted, “my dad promised me I wouldn’t have to go back. He promised me that I could stay away-“

“He’s coming for you, Y/N.” Val had given you another warning, gripping your arm when you wanted to walk away. “The man whose name has to keep being removed from your arm, your father started this process because he didn’t want him to find you-“

“Lloyd Hansen.” You spoke his name, searching Val’s eyes for some glimmer of truth about the man who was meant to be your soulmate. “I’ve never even heard of him.”

“You wouldn’t have. He might as well have been a phantom to you. But he’s coming. He’s coming for you and he’s coming for the legacy your father left behind.” Val had given you a warning along with the obituary belonging to your father.

The card stock was a precursor to what would be handed out at the funeral. It contained a picture of your father, mother and brother on the front but not you. Your father was smiling while wearing a black and silk-lined suit with a blood-red tie that looked real enough to touch.

It had his name scrawled beneath the picture along with the date of his birth and death, the macabre fact was doctored. You didn’t need to open the obituary to know what was contained inside, the mantras printed on the thick card were as doctored as the man’s life. And your own.

“He promised me I didn’t have to come back, but would it be better to suffer my mother’s wrath for not coming back?” You spoke to the mirror, your eyes locking on Val’s eyes through the reflective surface.

“Even if you knew that he was trying to find you?” Val spoke of the phantom Lloyd Hansen in such a way that both elicited a shiver and made you more curious about the man who was a myth and legend.

“Was my father protecting me from him?” You lifted the sleeve of your black dress, the place where Lloyd Hansen’s name would have been and yet it was deridingly blank.

You had gone through painful treatment after treatment, over and over again to remove the man’s name. You had never even heard of him, just his name and his name alone.

“Or was he just trying to inflict more control?” Your father let you leave, he let you out of the legacy he had built.

You didn’t want any part of the world your father built, you didn’t care if you had to work two or three jobs to put yourself through university. You wanted no part in your father’s business and yet it had seemed as if you were going to be dragged back in again. Against your will and without merit, you were going to suffer, even momentarily, at the hands of your mother and brother.

You saw them standing near the front of the ballroom-turned-funeral parlour. Cade was standing next to your mother, her sleek black Dior dress was immaculate and not a single seam was out of place.

It was sleeveless and yet she wore gloves up to her elbows with a matching birdcage hat upon her head. Cade was dressed just as sharp in a black Tom Ford suit, neither one was shedding a tear for your father as his casket lay closed at the front of the room.

You stayed toward the back, your much simpler black dress wasn’t even a single percent of the cost of your mother’s and it wasn’t nearly as dramatic. Your dress was tea-length and only the bodice was fitted, it was an off-rack dress that you’d dug from the back of your closet and spruced up with a fresh wash.

You didn’t bother with anything extravagant, you were hoping to dash out before you had to see your mother.

And yet…

“Lloyd Hansen is here.” Val had stood between you and the man you had come to realize was your soulmate by name alone, and with the announcement had come to a steady hand on your upper back.

“I trust you, Val. You’re more of a father than my own.” You whispered to him quietly, slowly turning your head to get a look at the man who was here, apparently for you.

“He doesn’t look like much-“ you had admitted to yourself when you leaned toward and caught his gaze, your eyes narrowed and eyebrows furrowed.

He was tall, clearly even taller than Val, with the sides of his head shaved in a buzz cut and the only length coming from the top. His lips were plump and a thick moustache hung above his top lip.

“Lloyd Hansen is a sadistic and vengeful brute.” You wanted to laugh at the words Val used to describe the other man, but instead, a shiver run down your spine.

Val was one of the toughest men you’d ever known, he was a formidable figure in your life and if he was apprehensive of Lloyd Hansen then it had surely made you quake.

You took a second look at him, leaning forward to watch the man who was just as finely dressed as the rest. He wore no tux but a tight-fitting black shirt and a matching jacket that was snug around his broad shoulders. He wore well-fitting black slacks that accentuated his powerful and lengthy legs, that aesthetic continued to his Italian crafted shoes.

“He’s coming for you,” Val had warned again, speaking as you continued to look at Lloyd, “you can’t run.”

“Yes, I can.” You denied Val’s statement and as if Lloyd had heard you, he looked your way and cast his iridescent blue eyes upon you.

A smile that wasn’t at all friendly, or warm, had crossed his face and he raised his curled hand with only his index finger straightened, and pressed it against his lips. He was looking at you victoriously, almost as if he already owned your mind, body and soul.

“Not from Hansen,” Val spoke again, breaking the hold Lloyd had on you. “No one runs from Hansen.”

You noticed it then, the men that were stationed at the exits with their hands folded in front of them and their chins tipped. They were unrecognizable to you, and you had innately known that they worked for Lloyd. Val was truly giving you a warning, a heads up for the inevitable to pass.

Lloyd Hansen knew you would be here, he knew you would come back to spit on your father’s grave. But it had made you wonder…it made you question whether he was going to size you up or whether he was going to make a move?

Surely if he knew where you were and who you were, he would’ve waited until you were back on campus before he attempted to grab you.

“My father promised I didn’t have to come back here.” You repeated yourself as the crowd sat for the funeral, you taking your place next to Val.

You wiped your hands down the front of your dress and reminded yourself to breathe even and deeply. You reminded yourself to keep a cool head and not think about the man you had been cursed to, the man who you had been avoiding since your father made you start removing his name from your flesh.

“Your father made you get rid of Hansen’s name on your arm for selfish reasons. He made you rid yourself of it because your father was not only afraid of Lloyd but because he wanted to use you.” Val whispered, giving you as much of a rundown as he possibly could.

“Am I going to die?” You asked Val, casting your eyes upon him with wavering emotion and a real brush of fear. “Val, be honest-“

“If anyone were to kill you,” in a fatherly gesture he had brushed your hair behind your ear to calm you, “it would be your brother or your mother.”

“With my father gone, and granddaddy-“ you felt eyes on you, Lloyd’s penetrating gaze fixated on you and Val.

“Cade is set to inherit it all if he gets rid of you. Your grandfather stipulated that it goes to your father, as long as your father gives it to you.” Val shifted in his seat, rising to his full height and angling himself between you and Lloyd.

“Hansen is a sadistic fucker, but between him and Cade-“ Val was trying to protect you, he was attempting to shield you from the harshness of the world around you.

He knew you wanted to go to university, he knew you wanted to make a name for yourself away from the clutch of your family and he knew that to make sure you had a leg up on your future, you knew what to expect.

“Val tell me the truth.” You begged him, pleaded with him.

“Your mother is going to take you back to the house. She’s going to make you believe she wants to mend bridges and then she is going to give you up to Hansen.” Val had spoken under his breath, paying no mind to the empty words of your father’s funeral and rather taking the opportunity to prepare you.

“I can’t run, but he’ll let me go?” You hummed, curious about the path Lloyd Hansen was going to take.

“He is going to destroy everything your mother and brother have. He is going to make them pay for fucking with him and his soulmate. Your mother seems to think Lloyd will leave her alone if she gives you up. She seems to think you’re too stupid to suspect anything.”

“She’s selling me? She’s selling me to him?” You had always known your mother hated you, you’d always known that her relationship with you was nothing more than a ruse to make herself look better in others’ eyes, but to be so low?

“You are going to survive this. You are going to come out of this stronger and more capable of functioning in this world than your entire family ever could.”

“Will he kill me?”

“Hansen won’t kill you. He’ll kill for you.”

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[scottdixon]

scott dixon grand prix of alabama | 04/30/23

[prythianpages]

I've Been Waiting For You | Azriel

summary: Azriel finally meets the one he's been longing for. His mate.

warnings: mentions of death (since the suriel & reader are friends); some angst but also fluff because Az deserves to be happy ♡

a/n: This is part of my ABBA x ACOTAR series (masterlist) where I dedicate a song to a character (: The lyrics kind of reminded me of Alice & Jasper from twilight and how she had a vision of meeting him. This does go back and forth a lot in the beginning between past and present and came out longer than I thought it would. It's 9.6K words (which for me is long lol.) I apologize if there are any spelling errors. I've read this multiple times but somehow, always miss a couple.

As the moonlight dances upon the water's surface, the river transforms into a liquid ribbon of silver, weaving through the city of Starlight. Anticipation fills the air as Azriel walks across the bridge that spans the Sidra, his massive Illyrian wings glistening in midnight hues under the pale moonlight. 

Shadows play hide-and-seek as they travel through the night, drawn to the silhouette of a female figure. An intruder. Yet, Azriel's shadows dare to whisper something different into his ears.

“I’ve been waiting for you.”

Your voice, carried by the wind, reaches him like a sweet caress, daring to awaken something deep within him. Beautiful. His shadows respond with a frenzy, a whirl of darkness singing wild tales into his ears, urging him forward. Meanwhile, his brain screams at the potential threat.

More tendrils of darkness dart toward you, ignoring their master’s orders to return. You don’t seem bothered by them. In fact, you seem to welcome them as if they’re old friends of yours. 

Azriel swallows, uncertainty flickering in his eyes, unsure what to make of this. 

“Who are you?”

Finally, you turn around and Azriel feels like the wind has been knocked out of him when his gaze meets yours. In the midst of the surrounding darkness, your eyes gleam with an inexplicable brightness. Specs of silver glimmer in your eyes, mirroring the stars above, as they shine back at him.  

“That’s for you to decide,” you reply with a smile that carries both hope and a sense of knowing as you follow after him and take a step forward.

“But for now, I’d like to speak with your High Lady.”

Months before…

The brilliance of a thousand stars shine down on you and the night seems to hold its breath, as if it too, awaits the whispered prophecies from the celestial expanse above. Like always, you are itching to unveil them with your finely attuned senses. A gust of cool wind brushes through your hair, sending shivers down your exposed skin. Pulling your gaze away from the night sky, you turn in time to see a cloaked figure approaching like a shadow in the night.

Your lips curve into a smile. “Hello, friend.”

“y/n.” The Suriel greets you, hovering beside you. Then, not missing another beat, he says, “I told her Rhysand was her mate.”

Your eyes widen in surprise, a gasp escaping your lips. “You did not.”

“I did.” He grins back at you, flashing you his stained teeth.

You can’t help but laugh a little at your dear old friend. The Suriel lets out a rattled sound you discern as a laugh as he joins you. Always the one for dramatics. You still remember hearing about his first encounter with Feyre Archeron and how he told her to stay with the High Lord.

“I told her she must stay with the High Lord.”

“Did you specify which one?”

“Where’s the fun in that?”

“I’m sure she handled it well,” you respond but your smile fades, giving way to a wistful expression. “She’s lucky. Not only is she made but the Cauldron has blessed her with a mate. The High Lord of the Night Court at that.”

The weight of his gaze settles upon you. You’re aware that your words carry a tinge of envy, a sentiment that feels unjust when considering everything Feyre has endured. The Suriel, ever perceptive, acknowledges this as well. He chooses not to remind you and indulges you instead.

“The Cauldron has blessed you as well, my child.”

“Have you seen it?”

Hope sparks in your eyes as you turn to face him. His eyes, pools of ancient wisdom, seem to pierce through the veils of time and secrets. You sense one of them unfolding. But he only gives you a teasing glimpse.

“Perhaps.” 

With a furrow in your brows, you lift your head back up to glare at the night sky. The stars seem to blink at you in a teasing manner, as if finding amusement in keeping this secret from you. 

“How come I haven’t seen it?”

“You will soon.” He reassures, following your gaze upwards. A dance of amusement swirls within the depths of his eyes.  “He’s waited centuries for you. Count your stars lucky that your waiting won’t be as long.”

Back to the present…

Velaris lived up to its name. A dream compared to the horrors of the city you grew up in. But as the city sparkles and comes to life at the darkening hour, all your attention is drawn to the male before you. He’s even more breathtaking in person. Everything about him is classically beautiful and the moon seems to agree, shining down on him and casting an ethereal glow on the golden-brown of his skin.

As Azriel continues to approach you, his wings fold gracefully behind him. His gaze is locked onto yours and though his eyes are cautious and analytical, there’s a warm shiver running down your spine. The desire to lose yourself in the hazel depths of his eyes becomes an irresistible pull.

Before you know it, the shadows brushing against your arms rise and come to rest against your eyes in a blindfold. Darkness engulfs you, and the sensation of weightlessness takes hold as Azriel winnows both of you. You land on a soft cushion–a chair. The dark tendrils leave your eyes and wrap around your wrists and legs, binding them together.

“Stay here.” Azriel says, the shadows wrapped around your limbs tightening in a silent warning.

A chuckle escapes from you and when your eyes meet his again, you flash him a mischievous smile. It widens when he’s the first to fold, quickly averting his gaze. He has no clue. You’re exactly where you want to be.

He leaves the room and your eyes finally take in your surroundings. Veiled curtains made of midnight blue silk drape the expansive windows, pulled back to allow moonlight to filter through. Shelves line the walls, housing collections of ancient artifacts and magical trinkets. A large desk, crafted from dark, polished wood rests before you. Your gaze fixates on the wall behind it, where a captivating portrait of the female you seek rests.

The door behind you swings open, and you turn to witness the graceful entrance of the female from the portrait. Feyre, the Cursebreaker and High Lady of the Night Court. She's a vision of night and beauty, her golden-brown hair cascading down her exposed back, revealing glimpses of moon phases etched along her spine.

“High Lady,” you say in greeting, bowing your head in respect.

Surprisingly, the High Lord doesn't accompany her. Instead, it's Azriel who trails behind her. Her calm blue eyes assess you as she takes a seat across from you. Azriel stands guard behind her and you feel his shadows watching your every breath. 

"And who might you be?"

“I’m y/n,” you respond, choosing your next words carefully. “An old friend of the Suriel’s. I’ve come to pledge my allegiance to you and offer my help.”

Something flickers in her blue eyes at the mention of the Suriel and her stoic expression falters, if only for a moment. You send her a sympathetic smile, your own heart aching at the mention of the fearsome creature you both held dear.

“Your help?” She echoes.

"She’s a seer," Azriel interjects, his voice setting your heart alight as there's no hint of disgust or apprehension in his tone.

Your kind is often regarded with hostility. He might not know your connection...yet. But he’s paid you enough attention to recognize your abilities and appears to be indifferent about them. If the Suriel were still alive, you know he’d laugh at your slight delusion.

"I am," you confirm. "And I know your sister is one too." You don’t miss the tension in Azriel’s body at the mention of the cauldron-made fae, but you don't dwell on it as you can also sense Feyre's protectiveness. "She has great potential. I can help her hone her skills. Together, we can—"

"No," Azriel growls protectively. His sharp interruption has you startling in your seat and hope deflates as you feel the intensity of his glare.

Feyre raises a hand, signaling him to stand back. “Why should I trust you?”

“Let me show you.”

Months before…

“By the Cauldron, what did you get yourself into?”

The Suriel grins mischievously, his tattered cloak barely clinging to his bony form. He graciously accepts the cloak you offer, a luxurious piece made of the softest velvet in the darkest shade of black you could find. A purr escapes him as he revels in its warmth. "Nothing," he responds coyly, the satisfaction evident in the bounce of his form as he hovers in the air.

You shoot him a pointed look, yearning to know what he was up to. You’re certain it was no good. “Sure,” you retort and then gesture toward the crackling fire you started. “I also made dinner.”

“You spoil me.”

“It’s what friends do.”

"Friend," he muses, the white pools of his eyes burning into your soul, as he turns to you. "As a friend, I should tell you that your dress is absolutely atrocious on you. Cobalt blue is more your color."

With a glare, you playfully throw the roasted chicken over the fire at his face. He effortlessly catches it with his mouth, cackling as he chews on the tender piece of meat.

"What do you know about fashion? All you do is thirst for robes."

“You forget that I am older than the bones of this world. I know everything about everything. I also cannot lie.”

"Doesn't stop you from hiding the truth," you respond cheekily, and he hums in agreement,

Silence falls as he seats himself beside you on the ground. He breaks it a couple of moments later. “Remember what I told you last time?”

You release a deep sigh because you do remember. The mere thought haunts you nearly every night, and you’re often burdened by the heavy weight of it. Your shoulders slump in response. “Why can't you do it yourself?”

“It is your fate, not mine,” he states simply, a reminder of the immutable laws of destiny.

“I’m not ready.” 

You don’t think you ever will be and suddenly, you’re that fragile sixteen year old again, who had to run away from the only place you called home to escape a cruel fate. The one who was left to navigate through her new onset of divine abilities alone.

That is, until, the fateful night you had thrown your cloak over a tree branch to dry. It had been stained by blood after a rough and almost deadly encounter with a stray naga so you had spent all morning cleaning it in the river nearby. Completely unaware of the Suriel you were summoning.

“You do not fear me?”

“That is mine,” you had said through clenched teeth with a deep rooted glare.

In the midst of your tug of war with the Suriel, your cloak tore in half. In that moment, you braced yourself for the dark creature's wrath. However, something in you captured his attention that day, and he chose not to unleash his fury upon you. He decided to take you under his wing instead.

He recognized your lineage without a single word spoken about it. He could sense your power coursing through your veins, waiting to be unraveled. After decades of patience and practicing, he was there to witness the formation of stars weaving themselves into the depths of your eyes. The mark of your seer abilities.

As always, the Suriel reads you like an open book. He can sense your insecurity, your hesitancy. But, in equal measure, he can sense your power, your potential.

“You will be,” he insists, his words carrying the unwavering certainty of the all-knowing creature he is. “You must guide and open the eyes of Elain Archeron the same way I did for you.”

Your throat tightens. “When?”

“Soon.”

And when you look up to gaze at the night sky, the stars align for you. A cascade of visions unfurls, pouring over you like a celestial waterfall. Your eyes become a myriad of galaxies and ears are teased with glimpses of conversations and whispers from the stars above. One moment, you’re in a forest, standing before a female figure crouched over a cloaked one. 

“The tracking…I knew of it.” 

Then, a rattling breath. “Leave this world a better place than how you found it.”

Abruptly, the scene shifts, and you stand in an enchanting city of starlight, gazing at the expansive river before you as anticipation fills the air. He comes for you. Azriel, the shadowsinger. The name resonates in the echoes of your mind.

Then, the final vision envelopes you, drawing you into the depths of mesmerizing hazel eyes. The voice that accompanies it is carried by the enchantment of night, gently caressing against your ears. 

“I’ve been waiting for you.”

Mate. That is your mate. Azriel, the–

“Do you see it now?”

With a sharp intake of breath, you’re pulled from the downpour of your visions, only to find your senses clouded with tears that pool at the corners of your eyes. How cruel, you think, your heart twisting in agony. And though meeting your mate–your fated companion–was among your greatest dreams, you no longer want it. Not if it means you’ll lose your greatest companion.

You can live without knowing your mate. After all, you’re doing so at this very moment. The Suriel has been your friend for decades. Two souls brought together by their mutual loneliness. An all knowing creature and a seer. Together, you’re a powerful duo, navigating through the fated intricacies of Prythian. You’d be lost without him.

“Please don’t go,” you’re begging.

The Suriel smiles but it’s not his usual mischievous grin. This time, a tinge of sorrow lingers in the curve of his lips, casting his expression in a veil of sadness.

“I have to. It’s my time to go,” he says. “Just promise me one thing?”

“Anything.”

“That when it’s your time to shine, you’ll find Feyre. Help her make this world a better place.”

Back to Present

Feyre blinks back tears as she withdraws from your mind. She turns her head toward the Shadowsinger behind her, and for a moment, fear grips you. You allowed her to see the revelation of Azriel being your mate but only because it was deeply entwined with the other pertinent visions.

“Release her.”

The shadows release their grip on you and you let out a deep exhale in relief. But the inky tendrils don’t leave your side. They linger and hover over you and at this, Azriel’s eyebrows furrow.

Feyre extends her hand out toward you. Her blue eyes are warm, a gentle reassurance that she’d harbor your secret for you. A smile graces her lips, one that you're happy to reciprocate.

“I’ll gladly accept your help but let me speak with Elain first. You may stay here. There’s a spare room upstairs. Azriel will show you around.”

Following his High Lady’s orders, Azriel shows you around the grand estate. He’s a bit reserved around you and you don’t blame him. Both a blessing and a curse, your visions offer insight into his world, yet you're a mere stranger imposing on the family he protects fiercely.

And as he finally shows you to your room, the one right next to his, you can only hope that someday, he’ll welcome you too. After all, he is your mate.

Elain Archeron is infinitely beautiful. Inside and out. She is gentle and sweet and you see why some mistake her kindness for weakness. But it took only days for you to become well aware of the strength and power she harbors deep within.

While your abilities were limited to what the stars wanted to show you, you sensed that hers were limitless. With the right training, she could summon visions at her call, anticipate anyone's move. You wanted to help her achieve that and prove those people that saw her as something fragile wrong. Though reluctant toward your help at first, Elain was kind enough to listen to you and consider the advice you gave. It took some further convincing but you knew she was itching to unravel the depths of her powers too.

But it's proving to be a challenge. A hard and exhausting one. You're not surprised. It took you many years to become attuned to your powers. What is surprising, however, are Azriel's feelings for her. They're obvious and plain to see and could you blame him? Elain is wonderful...and you can't help but compare yourself to her. She's everything you're not.

Upon your arrival, you had been set on making Azriel fall for you. That was, until, you realized he was already entangled in the threads of another's heart. Could it be that the Suriel, in his all knowing wisdom, purposefully shielded you from such revelations about your mate? To delay the shattering of your dreams?

Now, you were just content to focus on your task at hand. To help Elain the way the Suriel did with you, even if Azriel was there as a safety net for her every session. Even if the way he was well attuned to every shift of her expression sent a sharp pain stabbing through your heart. He was blissfully unaware of your connection, clouded by his affection for Elain.

And you were tired of chasing after males. It's why you shot down Feyre's suggestion of confessing to Azriel. You dreamed of having a mate, pleaded to the Cauldron even. Now, you realize, that you want Azriel to like you for you. To chose you too the way Feyre did with Rhysand. If Elain was the person he chose at the moment, then so be it.

"I don't chase. I attract," you told Feyre. The same words you had uttered to the Suriel years ago after he poked fun at you over a failed romance. One of many, unfortunately.

"The only thing you'll attract with that attitude of of yours is a dark cloud of shadows," The Suriel had laughed at you, earning an icy glare from you.

But Feyre is much nicer about it than your dear old friend. She gives you an encouraging smile instead and wishes you luck on your upcoming session with Elain.

Your session with Elain ends terribly–with her screaming in pain and Azriel glaring at you and telling you to go, despite your attempts at apologizing. You spend the following days, weeks even, trying to make up for it. You slowed down in pace in your exercises with Elain, despite her protests. She held no animosity toward you at the dark turn that session had made.

You also buried yourself into any book you could find about seers in the magnificent Night Court library, grieving and longing for the Suriel. He would know what to do, and know exactly how to help. It’s the mere thought of him that fuels your determination to keep trying, despite how much you want to leave. It’s laughable almost, how in the midst of so many people, the sense of loneliness weighs heavier on you than it ever did in the solitude of Prythian's forests.

But perhaps, a break wouldn't be such a bad idea? You think as your gaze lands on an intriguing cover. It's a work of pure fiction. The ideal escape from reality. Retrieving it from its shelf, you settle into one of the plush chairs and immerse yourself into the words etched onto the pages.

“Wake up, sleeping beauty.”

A nudge against your leg startles you awake, and as you blink away the remnants of sleep, your eyes widen at the sight of Azriel standing before you. Sleeping beauty, the words sink in, painting a soft blush over your cheeks.

“You missed dinner.”

“Oh.”

You turn your head, wincing at the dull ache in your neck from sleeping in an awkward position. The soft glow of the moon greets you through one of the library's windows. You don’t know when you had fallen asleep but you must’ve been out for hours. When you face Azriel again, your gaze drops to his hands, where he holds a carefully arranged plate of food. Your stomach growls as the scent hits you and your eyes linger on the generous serving of potatoes–your favorite–in comparison to the other vegetables and meat.

“Is that for me?” you ask, and immediately curse yourself for the seemingly silly question. You blame it on the lingering grasp of sleep, still reluctant to release its full grip on you.

"No, it's for the rats that come out at night," he replies, lips twitching upwards at the reaction it stirs from you. How the Suriel never scared you but a couple of hairy, smaller creatures do is beyond you. He places the plate on the small table beside you.

 "Yes, it's for you. A peace offering. For snapping at you."

"That was two weeks ago.”

"Bet you didn't see it coming," he teases, and you find yourself blinking in surprise. The Shadowsinger cracking a joke? It's a sight to behold. At least for you. 

Your eyes narrow. "Did Feyre send you?"

"No," Azriel replies simply, his tone carrying a sincerity that sets a flicker of hope alight in you. He then sighs. "I just realized I haven't been the most welcoming, that's all."

You smile in response and shift in your seat as you turn your body towards the food. The movement has the book in your lap falling. His hand reaches the book before yours could and the brush of your skin against his sends a delightful shudder through your body.

His eyes curiously look over the title and when he hands it back to you, you take note of the way he avoids looking at his scarred fingers. So you reach forward and brush your fingers against his again, letting them linger for a beat longer than before. Surprise flickers in his hazel eyes as he meets your gaze, but it vanishes as quickly as it appears.

“That book is one of my favorites," he says, his shadows dancing across his shoulders and peeking curiously at you. "I'm surprised you're into the mystery genre."

"Why?"

“Well, you’re hard to read sometimes. Like a mystery that refuses to be solved.”

An arched brow is your response, but the gleam in your eyes gives away more than you'd like. “Maybe I don’t want to be unraveled.”

Azriel's lips twitch upwards once more. “Maybe it just takes the right person.”

Bathed in the glow of sunlight, you and Elain sit across from one another on the soft bed of green grass. Meanwhile, Azriel leans against a tree, a couple of feet away. His gaze is intense as he watches you two. Too focused on not letting it faze you, you fail to catch the way it softens when he turns to you.

Azriel can’t help but frown when he catches you avoiding his gaze. He wonders if you still harbor some resentment toward the way he had snapped at you awhile back, even though he already apologized for it.

"Close your eyes and focus on your breath," he hears you instruct softly. "Feel the rhythm of the earth beneath you. Attune yourself to the heartbeat of the world around you. What do you hear?”

Elain closes her eyes in deep concentration. “I can hear the wind and the tremble of the grass beneath it. I can hear the wind carry all the way to the sea.”

“Good,” you say and though her eyes remain closed, you smile gently at her. A gesture that sends a rush of warmth through him.

“Now feel the whispers of the unseen.”

“I can’t.” Elain’s eyebrows furrow.

“Here, take my hands,” you say as you reach for hers. “Imagine a pool of water within you, calm and reflective. Use me as a vessel to carry you through it. I’ll guide you to where your visions will manifest.”

Elain does as told. The world stills around you two. You close your eyes. As Elain’s eyebrows relax, your own face contorts in concentration. Azriel feels himself tense when he realizes it’s not concentration etching onto your face–it’s pain. In a heartbeat, he’s kneeling before you and prying your hands apart.

“Stop!”

Your eyes snap open at the sudden disconnection, and Azriel is unsettled by the way you shrink back from him, panic widening your eyes.

“I’m not hurting her!”

But it’s not Elain he’s worried about. He hasn’t even spared her a glance. It’s you–you’re the one that’s hurt. Blood trickles down your nose and he’s urging you to lean forward, gently guiding you with his hands as Elain rushes for a towel.

“Are you okay?”

There’s a dull ache in your head but also one in your heart and you’re too disoriented to stop yourself from saying, “If you stop staring at me like that, I will be.”

Azriel releases a soft chuckle, his muscles relaxing in relief at the playful edge in your tone. Yet, his shadows, wanting to confirm you're okay themselves, flutter toward you in a delicate cloud of darkness.

"Like what?”

“Don’t make me answer that.”

And you’ve never felt more relief at the sight of Elain coming in between you with a towel in hand.

A sudden sound has you stirring from your sleep. Your hand instinctively slides under your pillow, fingers grasping for the dagger you always keep with you when sleeping. The sound comes again and your initially alarmed body relaxes as you recognize it as the sound of someone knocking. Wrapping a robe around your night shift, you head toward the door, expecting Elain on the other side. 

Upon opening your door, you’re surprised to find Azriel standing on the other side.

“You’re not going to Starfall?”

“Good morning to you too.”

Azriel’s eyes rake over your form, taking in your disheveled state. His lips curl into a faint smile. "It's noon," he observes in an amused manner.

Your eyes widen in disbelief, and you pivot your head toward the clock that hangs on the wall of your room. There, confirming his statement, the hands point a half hour past twelve. You overslept. You didn’t have any plans today and it seems your exhausted body took advantage of it.

“Is everything okay?”

His voice, laced with genuine concern, draws your attention back to him. The soft furrow of his brow and the warmth in his eyes catch you off guard. You hesitate. You don’t want to lie but you also don’t want to burden him with the truth.

So you settle for a, “Why?”

"I've noticed you haven't been sleeping much," he remarks, and before you can interrupt, he gestures toward his room, the one adjacent to yours. A silent acknowledgment that he's been more attentive than you realized. It pulls at the strings of your heart. "Or attending family dinners, and now Feyre tells me you're not going to Starfall?"

The weight of his observations presses on you. You didn’t think anyone had noticed.  "Why do you care?" you retort, your words sharper than intended, and a wince follows.

"Isolation is not a good coping method," he responds, his tone steady and unfazed by your sharpness. "Trust me, I know."

"I don't have a dress."  The words escape your lips, but even as you say them, you recognize the feebleness of the excuse.

“I’ll buy you one.”

Heat rises to your cheeks, and you feel a telltale blush spreading as the thought of Azriel buying you a dress takes root. He’s just being nice, you tell yourself. His gaze remains fixed on you, hazel eyes bright and gleaming with curiosity, as if daring you to come up with another excuse.

“Starfall is tomorrow.”

Azriel grins at you. It sends a flutter through your heart and you wonder if he can hear the erratic beat of it. 

“Better make haste and get dressed then. We’ve got a couple of hours before the shops close.”

You deliberately take extra time getting ready, a mix of anticipation and apprehension swirling within you as you prepare to spend time with Azriel. Half-expecting a hint of annoyance, you finally open the door to your room, only to find Azriel with a welcoming smile that has the bond in your chest humming. Still, you're met with silence at the other side.

You take a deep breath as he gestures for you to follow him. As you step outside, he offers his arm and winnows you, not wanting to waste anymore time. You both find yourselves in the bustling shopping plaza of Velaris, where the fragrance of blooming flowers and the animated chatter of people embrace you.

Elaborate Starfall-themed displays adorn the shops, enticing you inside. Suddenly, the sheer array overwhelms you, and an urge to step back washes over you. Azriel place a hand on your back, stopping you and guiding you towards one of the shops.

“Welcome!” A voice happily chirps. “How can I help you?”

A stunning female enters your line of sight, her gaze immediately fixating on the male standing behind you. Her lips curve into a captivating smile, causing a twinge of jealousy to flicker within you. It’s short lived as Azriel clears his throat, gently nudging you forward.

“We’re looking for a dress for her.” Azriel speaks for you.

“Splendid! What’s the special occasion?”

“Starfall.” Azriel answers.

The female’s eyes widen, her smile morphing into a strained one. “I’m afraid I’ve sold all my best work already.”

“Oh, that’s alright. Sorry for the trouble,” you quickly reply, attempting to conceal the relief in your voice. Turning to leave, Azriel's hands land on your shoulders, directing you back to face the female.

“I’m sure we can find something in here,” Azriel reassures with a polite smile, scanning the aisles of dresses. “Y/n isn't picky. Right?”

“I can be,” you mumble under your breath.

Azriel lets out a sound, what you discern as a muffled chuckle. He gives your shoulder a squeeze and then leans down toward your ear. “If I were you, I’d take advantage of the situation.”

You turn your head slightly and regret it immediately. It takes all your strength to hold back the shudder your body wants to give at his proximity. He’s so close you can feel his breath fanning against your neck and you wonder what it would feel like to have his lips pressed against that sensitive skin.

It surprises you how quickly you find your voice.

“I’m going to pick the most expensive one.”

“Go ahead,” Azriel says and you can hear the smirk in his voice without having to look at him. He doesn’t allow you to get another word in, urging you forward again to where the female patiently awaits for you.

She lightly grasps your arm, leading you toward a rack of dresses in various styles and colors while Azriel makes himself comfortable on the couch by the fitting room. “You are a lucky lady,” she muses, her hands gracefully exploring the textures of her creations. “I’ve had this shop for centuries and you’re the first lady the Shadowsinger has brought to me.”

A blush warms your cheeks as you divert your attention to the array of beautiful dresses. Each one is a work of art, making you question her earlier claim about not having her best work available. If these weren't her finest creations, the thought of what her best work looked like leaves you intrigued.

The female, who’s name you learn is Willow, has you try on a couple of dresses that differ in styles. You’re reluctant to show Azriel each one but given he’s paying for it and the only other one in this shop, you feel like he should have some say.

“Do you like it?” Willow beams at you, admiring her work.

On the fifth dress, your hands run over the tulle of the vibrant yellow skirt. The fabric feels itchy against your skin, and the color is too bold for your taste. You swear you are not trying to be picky, despite what you told Azriel earlier. 

“I li–”

“Let’s try another?” Azriel cuts in as if sensing the lie that was about to unfold. He rises from his seat toward one of the racks and pulls out a dress that caught his eye earlier. “How about this one?”

He holds the dress out to you, smiling softly when you take it from him. It’s much simpler compared to the other dress you’ve tried on but still just as elegant. It’s also soft against your skin. Willow guides you back into the fitting room, deftly assisting you out of the vivid yellow dress and into the cobalt blue silk one.

“I don’t know how I didn’t see it before. Cobalt blue is more your color!" Willow says as she gushes over you.

Her choice of words leaves you momentarily stunned. Cobalt blue is more your color. The exact words the Suriel had spoken to you. Also, the exact same shade as Azriel's siphons. The Suriel must’ve enjoyed himself a lot when he said those words to you. That sneaky little creature... You can hear his laugh echoing through your mind.

As you finally emerge from the dressing room, Azriel can’t help but stare. The fabric drapes gracefully around you, accentuating curves he hadn't noticed before. Sensing his prolonged gaze, your eyes meet his. It was him quickly averting his gaze, a subtle flush coloring his cheeks. He clears his throat, attempting to regain his composure.

"This is the one. It looks…good on you," he manages to say, his voice slightly strained.

“It’s 500 gold marks.”

He picks up on the teasing in your tone and the way Willow shakes her head in reassurance at him. Still, he humors you and says, “I don’t care.”

He’d pay more than 500 gold marks just to make you happy.

Azriel battled with restless thoughts that night, unable to find solace in sleep. Each time he closed his eyes, the vivid image of you in that dress invaded his mind. He couldn’t wait to see you in that dress again. Maybe then, he’d have the courage to compliment you better.

As the sun dipped below the horizon and the first guests arrived for the Starfall celebration, Azriel's eyes eagerly scanned the gathering crowd, seeking a glimpse of you. Just as a twinge of disappointment crept in, his shadows stirred, signaling your proximity. His wings twitched with anticipation, and his breath caught in his throat at the sight of you. You are absolutely stunning. Breathtaking. 

In an instant heartbeat, he’s pushing Cassian, who was ready to fly you up to the House of Wind, aside. With a warning look, Cassian steps away with a chuckle.

"You're here," he whispers, a blend of disbelief and relief saturating his breath.

“Well a very nice male spent a lot of money for me to be here.”

“Well I’m glad.” Azriel chuckles, eyes drinking you in again. Savoring you. “You’re beautiful.”

“So are you.”

Azriel flushes at the unexpected compliment and his shadows to come to life around him. He smiles at you. “Shall we?”

He waits for your nod before carefully hooking an arm beneath your knees, eyes never leaving yours. A thrill courses through him as he revels in the sensation of your arms around his neck, taking delight in the way you feel in his arms. His wings unfurl behind him, preparing for the short flight up. The sound has your eyes fluttering shut, arms tightening around him and face burying into his neck. He finds it absolutely endearing. He never wants to let you go.

Against his wishes, the flight up to the balcony was short. He sets you down, helping you regain your footing, a lingering touch before reluctantly releasing you. There’s still more guests he, unfortunately, has to fly up. It’s as if you sense his internal conflict because you’re turning around to face him, eyes bright and alight.

“Yes, Azriel. I’ll save you a dance.”

The way his name rolls off your tongue sends a thrill up his spine. He opens his mouth to say something but once again, you beat him to it.

"Thought I'd save you the question," you stated, an all-knowing grin gracing your features as you tapped the corner of one of your eyes. Ah, so you had a vision of him. He wonders about the other glimpses you might have seen.

He doesn’t have too much time to dwell on it as Elain is rushing toward you, showering you with compliments. He takes that as his cue to depart. He is determined to finish his tasks in bringing the remaining guests up as fast as he can so that he can return to you and that dance you promised.

Azriel finds himself stealing glances whenever he thinks you won’t notice. The sparkle in your eyes, the way the dress accentuates your features–he can't look away. Caught up in the melody of your laughter, provoked by something Elain said, Azriel and his shadows are too mesmerized in the beauty of you to notice Feyre approaching until she speaks.

"She’s beautiful," Feyre remarks, her eyes following the same path as Azriel's gaze.

A soft affirmation escapes Azriel's lips. "Yes."

Feyre, well aware of the answer, delves further. "You bought her that dress?"

“Yes.”

A mischievous gleam flickers in Feyre's eyes as she delivers her next statement. "You like her." 

Azriel's response slips out before he can even grasp the depth of his own admission. "Yes."

He turns to Feyre, his wide eyes betraying the shock of his own revelation. A slight pallor washes over his skin, and Feyre chuckles at his reaction. Sensing the tension in the air, she rests a reassuring arm on his shoulder. “I like her too,” she confesses.

Though, both of them recognize that Azriel's feelings for you run deeper and in more intricate ways than Feyre's own fondness.

“I offered her a place in this court. She said she’d think about it. Maybe you can convince her? The same way you convinced her to come to Starfall,” Feyre says and then with one last pat on his shoulder, she makes her way back toward Rhysand.

Still recovering from the revelation of his own feelings, it takes a while longer for the weight of Feyre’s words to sink in. A mixture of surprise, uncertainty, and a flicker of hope plays out across his features. You weren’t planning on staying? The thought of you leaving–leaving him stirs a feeling in his chest. His eyes seek you out again but you’re no longer standing beside Elain.  

In your place, stands Lucien and normally the sight would trigger dark emotions from him. But now? He feels nothing. There’s no sense of envy. His affections have shifted elsewhere.

Azriel’s shadows fall to the floor, slithering against the cool tile like serpents of the night. They lead the way directly to where you stand, by the champagne table. He makes his way toward you and you're downing the rest of the liquid in your glass.

“Azriel.” You smile at him.

“It’s time for you to fulfill the promise you made me.”

“Of course,” you reply, offering him your hand.

Azriel gracefully pulls you into his embrace. One hand wraps around yours while the other rests on your waist. The enchanting melody guides your movements as the two of you glide across the floor.

“Feyre told me she offered you a role in this court.”

Your eyes, wise and mysterious, meet his, and he feels your body tense under his hold. “What else did she tell you?”

“That you’d think about it,” he says, the rhythm of the dance allowing for a moment of ease to settle between you. “You should stay.”

“Why?”

A wistful expression colors your features and the soft glow of stars are reflected in your eyes. The music comes to a gradual end and you free yourself of his hold before the next song begins.

“There’s no one here for me.” You admit and then give a small laugh as you look down. There's a deep, haunting sadness to your laughter, striking a chord within him.

“I’m right here.” 

Lifting your head back up, your eyes search his for something with a glimmer of hope. An eternity seems to pass in your gaze. A frown settles over your lips and he feels a tinge of sadness. Whatever you sought, it seems you did not find it.

Suppressing the surge of emotions within him, his hand reaches for yours again. He guides you to somewhere more private, toward one of the balconies that is off limits to the guests. “Talk to me,” he says, his words carrying an invitation for you to unburden your heart.

Your hands grip onto the railing before you and attention is directed up towards the night sky. He mirrors your actions, resting his hands close to yours. So close he can feel your warmth but not close enough to touch.

"It feels weird being here," you sigh deeply. "My mother and I used to sneak out of Hewn City on Starfall just to catch a glimpse of these migrating spirits every year...until she realized what I was. She said I was a curse, said she would turn me into Keir and let him have his way with me if I didn't leave."

Azriel's fingers clench into a white knuckled grip at your words.

"Not that leaving a horrible city such as Hewn was exactly a punishment. It was probably for the best. Still didn't stop me from being scared. It was the first time in my life that I was actually alone. I learned how to survive."

"I met the Suriel a year later. He must've taken pity on me and would visit me without being summoned. Sometimes, it'd be to tease me with some gossip. Other times, to annoy and chide me for my mistakes. Most importantly, he taught me how to not only survive on my own but live alone. I don't know, it's probably silly but I just felt a lot less lonely when I was actually alone than I do here."

“It’s not silly. I used to feel that way too.” Azriel admits and after a moment of silence, he’s turning toward you.  “Am I not your friend?”

“I don’t know,” you find yourself saying again, uncertainty clouding your expression. Pausing, you tear your gaze from the night sky to look at him. “Do you want to be?”

“Yes,” Azriel smiles at you. And so much more. 

You smile back at him but it doesn’t last long. Turning your head to face directly ahead, you bite the inside of your cheek in hesitation, revealing to Azriel that there’s more troubling you than your sense of loneliness.

“What else?” 

“There’s nothing else.”

“y/n.”

“I feel like a failure.”

Azriel's eyes widen, his heart sinking to his stomach. “You’re not,” he reassures quickly.

“I–I just,” you stammer, the weight of self-doubt evident in your voice. “It’s nearing four months since I’ve arrived, and I feel like I’ve barely scratched the surface with Elain.”

“How long did it take you to harness your abilities?”

“Decades,” you respond, the admission carrying a hint of sheepishness. “But Elain is different. This is different. I don’t want to disappoint her. Disappoint Feyre. The world we know is crumbling apart, and we don’t have time. If–if we cannot fix it before it’s too late, I will have failed him.”

“Hey, look at me.”

When you don’t, Azriel lightly grips your chin, coaxing your gaze to him. “You’re here, aren’t you? You’re honoring his wish by just being here. Keep trying,” he encourages, wiping away your tears. “I’ll be here with you every step of the way. You’re not alone. We’ll face this together.”

“Together?”

He releases his hold on you, resting his hand once more on the rail. This time, it’s even closer to yours.

“Together,” he confirms, heart swarming with warmth when your hand bridges the gap between you and brushes against his. 

And finally, it seems your lonely days are through.

Azriel’s been in love before. Twice. Or at least, he thought it was love. One was unrequited, a silent ache he carried within. The other was forbidden, a love he had clung to with misguided hope. He was beginning to come to the begrudging conclusion that love was simply not meant for him.

Then, you came along. Strange as it seems, you've seemed to have brought back that old feeling to him, awakening something deep inside of him. And though he doesn't know what you did, he thinks--he hopes that you could be the one. The one to possibly release him from the chains of solitude and longing.

You've rarely left his mind since the night he met you. The echoes of your first words to him lingered in his mind long after your encounter, “I’ve been waiting for you.”

Your voice was cloaked in both mystery and certainty, as though you held the threads of destiny within your grasp. It prompted him to ask who you were but your answer, “that’s for you to decide” only gave rise to more questions. 

Then, there was that smile. So beautiful, so hopeful. It etched itself into the recesses of his memory. It was a smile no one had ever bestowed upon him before and one he longed to see it again.

And he almost ruined it all–that day he snapped at you after a session gone wrong with Elain. Your intentions were always pure. He knew this. No one was at fault as everything that transpired between you and Elain was completely consensual. But the scream that tore through Elain sent him in a heightened frenzy. He had sworn to Rhysand and Feyre, his High Lord and High Lady, that he would protect Elain. Before he could properly assess the situation, he had roughly pushed you aside with a growl. The hurt that flashed in your eyes in response haunted him nearly every night.

You began to actively avoid his gaze and presence whenever possible, and guilt gnawed at him relentlessly. Even his shadows, missing your attention, seemed angry with him. Truth be told, he was angry with himself too. You had made friends with everyone. Everyone but him.

The following two weeks became a series of futile attempts at groveling, your obliviousness to it all cutting deeper than he cared to admit. The breaking point came when you missed dinner, and he knew it was time to set things right then. So he sent his shadows to look for you and when they reported back to him that you were sleeping in the library, he brought your dinner to you.

After that moment, the atmosphere between you two shifted. He became the chaser, gradually closing the distance between you.

You looked his way more, approached him with a newfound openness, and your conversations became more frequent. You teased him at times, even, with your cryptic words. But rather than frustrating him, it only made him seek you out more. He wanted to be the one to unravel the mystery that was you.

Somewhere down the line, his eyes stopped searching for Elain's. The private moments he sought with her became mere echoes of the past—no more lingering touches, exchanged glances, or pointless conversations. Instead, it was you who occupied the center of his attention, infiltrating his dreams and igniting desires he never knew he harbored.

You eased him like no other, effortlessly coaxing smiles and laughter from him. It was in these moments that the realization struck him like a bolt of lightning—he had never truly been in love during the first two instances. What he felt for you was different. He was unwilling to let his feelings linger in the shadows, as they had done before. He yearned for them to step into the light. To be acknowledged and acted upon openly.

He decided to wait until after Solstice to confess to you and hoped that your visions wouldn't give him away.

Laughter and clinks of wine glasses ring through the air. Azriel knows it’s time to open presents, his shadows singing loudly and overwhelming him with information. Cassian is sneaking a peak. Rhysand is rolling his eyes. Elain got Lucien a present. y/n is holding back tears.

Azriel tenses at the last bit of information, eyes immediately finding you. You’re seated beside Feyre–the two of you exchanging smiles. There’s an unwrapped present on your lap and his shadows dart toward it. It’s a small portrait of the Suriel. He hears you thank Feyre and he swears he can feel your ache of grief. He moves to stand from his seat but Elain stops him.

“Happy Solstice,” she says, holding out a small present. He takes the box albeit reluctantly but politely and opens it to find two tickets to an upcoming play. 

Elain smiles at the frown he’s trying to hide.

"Elain, I can't--"

“Y/n mentioned always wanting to go see a play. I thought maybe you could be the one to take her. After you confess."

His eyes search hers for any traces of hurt. He’s relieved when he finds none but the frown in his brow remains. “How–”

“She trained me well," Elain replies, eyes shining with an all knowing gleam he's seen in yours. "She deserves to be happy. You both do and something tells me that she’s the one you’ve been waiting for.”

Gods, you and Elain have been hanging out so much with one another that now she’s beginning to talk like you. There's a tightening in his chest, like a band about to snap at her words.

Azriel looks back at Elain in question but she only smiles at him once more before retreating back to where she was sitting previously. Next to Lucien, who also sends a smile his way.

Looking down at the tickets, he thinks of you again. His shadows stir, mirroring the strange sensation in his chest. It’s almost like a pull and his shadows guide him toward it, turning his head for him. Just in time to catch a glimpse of you quietly slipping away from the festivities. His steps quicken as he follows you, pulling his coat along with him.

The soft flakes of snow flutter down, a delicate dance in the winter night. Despite weeks of continuous snowfall, the enchanting beauty of it never fails to captivate you. It differs markedly from the unforgiving snowstorms you endured while wandering the Night Court's forests. Though just as cold, it prompts an involuntary shiver, a reaction to the biting chill in the air.

As the door behind you creaks open, a rush of warmth accompanies its movement. The scent of cedar invades your senses, growing more intense as you feel a fabric drape over your shoulders, bringing forth an intimate warmth.

"Hey," Azriel breathes, a visible puff of white escaping his lips.

"Hi," you smile back at him, your fingers instinctively reaching for the coat that draped over your shoulders. You can't help but notice the thin sweater he wears. "Won't you be cold, though?"

Azriel stops you, securing his coat back onto your smaller frame with a reassuring smile. “I grew up in a camp where it snowed a lot more than this. I’ll be fine.”

You look back up at the night sky. The stars are shining so bright. It makes you wonder if they ever tire. They seem to answer you as their radiant beams cast a celestial glow upon you. Your vision blurs in surrender.

“What are you seeing?” Azriel inquires, curious. He hopes it's not the confession he's aching to spill.

Your eyebrows knit together, and you close your eyes, immersing yourself in deciphering the messages woven between the stars. Upon opening your eyes, you turn to Azriel, a teasing smirk playing on your lips.

“You're going to get frostbite."

Azriel lets out an amused huff. "I don't care. As long as you're warm."

"We should head back inside," you suggest.

"No," Azriel insists, enfolding a wing around your form, anchoring you in place. His shadows can sense you don't want to go back inside yet. "I like being alone with you."

The wind nips at your cheeks, a sensation you welcome as it gives the perfect excuse for the blush creeping across your face. Tearing your gaze away from Azriel before he can discern his effect on you, you quietly share, "Nyx is going to say his first word in three days."

Azriel leans forward and you can feel his anticipation. A familial bet circulates among his uncles and aunts (save for Elain) regarding what the young heir’s first word will be. “What is it?”

“Cas.”

Azriel can't resist glancing back toward the house, his eyes narrowing with a mix of suspicion and curiosity. There, he catches a fleeting glimpse of Cassian playfully hoisting Nyx in the air, the two engaged in a lively game of chase around the living room. When he turns his attention back to you, mischief twinkles in your eyes.

“You’re lying.”

“You fell for it."

And that smile he’s been longing for since he met you graces your lips as you laugh. A sweet and beautiful sound that warms the winter air. Azriel's gaze dips toward your lips, captivated by the sound, before lifting back to meet your eyes. He leans in even closer.

“I fell for you.”

You also lean in, eyes never leaving his. "The answer is yes."

"What?"

Azriel nearly stumbles back, caught off guard, but you remain close, lifting a hand and cradling his cheek. It's surprisingly warm and he instinctively leans into your touch. His eyes widen. Did you—

“To you taking me on a date,” you reveal, your smile deepening, and he swears his shadows snicker in response. “The vision I just saw. It was of me and you at a theater. Next Friday at seven.”

“Next Friday at seven,” Azriel confirms, a tender affection lighting up his expression.

The air seems to shimmer with the promise of an enchanting future. You reach out, tugging at the bond in your chest. Once again, there is only silence. Yet, you can’t bring yourself to care anymore. Not when Azriel is gazing at you as though you are the very stars illuminating the night sky.

And then you're kissing him.

The snow crunches underfoot as Azriel moves, his usually keen senses dulled. His mind is elsewhere, consumed by thoughts of you. Even as the icy missiles fly past him, Azriel remains lost in the memories of shared glances and smiles and the way your lips felt so perfect against his last night.

For the first time in years, Azriel finds himself on the losing side of the annual snowball fight. Oddly, no disappointment lingers, even after meticulous planning for this anticipated victory. All he wants is to return home—to you.

Amidst the snowy chaos, revelation strikes him simultaneously with a snowball from Rhysand. The snap, the bond—everything falls into place. It all makes sense now. Your words when you first met. Elain’s words last night at Solstice. Why your presence thrilled and delighted him. Why he couldn't shake the feeling of love and adoration for you.

You are his mate. 

The one he had been longing and pleading for, and the realization left him breathless. He shakes the snow from his face and Rhysand blinks back at him in surprise. The High Lord had been expecting a glare but he only finds pure shock on Azriel’s face.

“Oh come on, I didn’t hit you that hard,” he teases.

“I have to go.”

“If you leave, you’re forfeiting,” warns Cassian, but the glint in his eye betrays a desire for Azriel to leave, eager for a victory.

“I yield,” Azriel says mindlessly, surprising even Rhysand. Feeling his friend's talons probing his mind, Azriel throws up his shields and disappears into his shadows, abandoning the snow-covered battlefield. He'll explain later.

For now, he has to find you.

His shadows winnow him back to the River house and he doesn’t have to look for long because there you are, making your way down the last step and standing in his path. There’s not much that surprises you but that has changed since meeting Azriel and this moment is no different. Your eyes are widening, mouth parting.

“Azriel," you say. "What are you doing here? I thought you were–”

“It’s you,” Azriel interrupts breathlessly as if he was running, chest rising and falling quickly in step with the erratic beating of his heart. He’s bridging the distance between you. “All this time. It’s been you.”

You swallow thickly. “You know?”

The glimmer of hope that had ignited during Starfall returns to your eyes, revealing a world he hadn’t realized existed. How could he have been so blind?

Azriel smiles at you and it’s as if that’s the last piece to the puzzle as the bond between you both comes to life, singing loudly against your chests. He pulls you flush against him and spins you around, eliciting a delightful squeal from you. Cradling your face in his hands, he kisses your forehead, then the corners of your eyes. He saves your lips for last, lingering in the sweet taste of them for a moment longer.

“You’re my mate,” he says quietly, leaning his forehead against yours.

“Yes,” you manage to whisper back, surrendering yourself to the depths of his mesmerizing hazel eyes, just like in the vision from months ago. And it’s not you who speaks again but Azriel.

“I’ve been waiting for you.”

a/n: hope you all enjoyed this (: It took me longer to write than I thought because i'm used to writing more angst for Az than fluff but I wanted this to be different. It's canon that Elain found out that reader and Az were mates through a vision around the same time she decided to give Lucien a chance. I just want them all to be happy ♡ in terms of my ABBA x ACOTAR series, I think I'll work on another one for Cas next inspired by Honey, Honey. If you'd like to be tagged, just let me know!

tagging: @hellodarling1357

if you want to read more about Az x Seer reader, I wrote a couple of bonus scenes that didn't quite make the final cut. You can read them here.

[cevansbrat0007]

Sugar Fix

Summary: Your poor attempt at a joke lands you in hot water with your man. Takes place directly after the events in Sweet Tooth and Sweet Tooth Deluxe.

Warnings: Mature Themes, Smut, Ari Being A Menace, Brat!Reader, Discussions of Poor Body Image, Arguing, Manhandling, Mentions of Punishment, Spanking, Pussy Spanking, Spanking, Oral Sex (fem rec), Cursing, Minors DNI

A/N: Written for @writer84. Part of my Sweet Renegades Series. Semi-proofread, not beta'd. All mistakes are my own. Likes, comments, and reblogs are always appreciated. Thanks for reading!

“God, that was good.” You lean back in your seat, lazily stretching your arms over your head. Your man smiles as he dutifully picks up your plate before briefly giving into temptation long enough to press a tender kiss against your lips. 

“Mm.” Ari hums low in his throat as he repeats the action once more. “Glad you enjoyed it, baby. Still find it hard to believe that you’d never had chocolate chip pancakes before today.”

“Hey! You promised you wouldn’t make fun of me.” You pout, reaching out to swat his perfectly sculpted ass, which was now unfortunately hiding beneath a pair of black sweatpants. At least he’d forgotten to put on a shirt.

Mostly because you were wearing it. 

“And I’m not.” Your man chuckles while adding your dishes to the growing pile in your sink. “I’d never do something so foolish. Especially since we only just made up.” He tosses a wink at you over his shoulder. 

Yeah, and that was mostly your fault.

“I am really sorry about that.” You murmur, feeling a twinge of regret over having subjected your man to several days of the silent treatment. “I should’ve talked to you about that whole business with Charline.” 

“Water under the bridge, baby.” 

Resting your chin on your hand, you watch as your bounty hunter busies himself with filling the sink with hot water and dish soap. Some days it still floored you that you were seeing a man who didn’t put up a fuss about cooking. Or cleaning for that matter.  

“I just meant that I’m in no hurry to have you toss me out on my ass again just yet.” He continues while sudsing up one of the new sponges you’d left laying on the counter. “That’s all I was saying, little Bird.”

“Well that wouldn’t be very hospitable of me, now would it?” You’re quick to counter, allowing your gaze to drop to your bare knees. “Seeing as you were kind enough to break into my home and cook me breakfast.”

“I had a key.” He snorts dismissively. 

“Yeah, one that you stole!” You fire back, doing your best to hide your grin. “From me!”

“What the hell does any of that matter if you were already gonna–” He cuts himself off with a shake of his head before deciding to change tactics. “Look sweetheart, if you wanna argue about semantics can you at least wait until we’re both naked?” 

“I guess so.” Comes your breezy reply as you fiddle with the hem of Ari’s t-shirt. Granted the fit was much too big for you, but it didn’t change the fact that you loved how wearing it made you feel. There really was something to be said for being surrounded by the heady scent of your man. 

“Thank you.” Ari grunts before returning his attention to the stack of dishes in need of a good scrub. “Did you have enough to eat? Can’t have you wastin’ away on me.”

“Sure did.” You beam at him, content to sit back and enjoy the view. No man should be allowed to look that flippin’ sexy while doing simple household chores.

“Good.”

“To be honest, I didn’t even realize I was that hungry until I took that first bite. I suppose that’s what I get for not really eating…” You trail off when Ari turns toward you, his piercing blue eyes locking with yours. “...much over the last couple days.” 

Your pulse speeds up as you watch your Bounty Hunter brace his still-wet hands on the edge of the counter. Which is when you belatedly realize that you probably should’ve kept that tidbit of information to yourself. 

“Little Bird?” 

“Yes, sugar?” You can’t help but wince at the way he says your name. Even still, you decide to stand up, hoping to distract him from the direction his thoughts were taking. “Want some help drying those plates? Because I don’t mind–”

“When was the last time you ate something?” He cocks his head to the side, almost like he’s studying you while he waits for your answer. “And before you get cute on me, baby, I’m talkin’ about before today.”

You can feel yourself physically wilt as you weigh your options. While you tended to believe that honesty was the best policy, sometimes being too honest had the tendency to get you in trouble with your man. 

“I had some toast the other–”

“A full meal.” Ari swiftly interrupts, clearly not in the mood to mince words.

“Well, if you really must know…” Crossing your arms over your chest, you prepare to stand your ground. “I haven’t found myself with much of an appetite lately.” You sniff, ignoring the way his nostrils flare. “Probably on account of our tiff.”

Okay, now that was absolutely true. Because whether this man realized it or not, he had a knack for always making sure you ate at least one proper meal before the day’s end. With him out of the picture, you hadn’t really had any desire to eat. 

Instead of responding, Ari turns to stare out the window, quietly sucking on his teeth as he does. You knew without asking that he was working to rein in his temper before he spoke again, lest he say the wrong thing and start another fight.  

“C’mon Beast, it’s really not a big deal.” You shrug, biting your thumb as will him to cast a glance your way. “Besides, I’m pretty sure these hips could stand to miss a meal or two.” 

While it was certainly a poor attempt at levity, you felt that one of you had to do something to lighten the mood. You startle when Ari suddenly throws down the sponge into the sink, sending water splashing everywhere. 

You watch him slowly dry his hands with a nearby towel before tossing it aside in favor of bridging the distance between you. Good sense and the need for self-preservation has you backing up; however, you scarcely make it two steps before you feel your butt collide with your kitchen table. But your bounty hunter doesn’t stop moving until he’s standing directly in front of you.

“What was that?” He asks without an ounce of friendliness in his tone. In fact, his question comes out sounding more like a dare than anything else. “I reckon I’m a little hard of hearing these days.”

Later, you would kick yourself for taking the bait. 

“Ahem.” Clearing your throat, you can’t help but notice the clench of his jaw. “I said that these hips – my hips – could probably stand to miss a meal.” You repeat, giving him your best prim and proper tone. 

Sometimes the facts weren’t up for discussion. 

Moving with a speed that belies his size, Ari manages to wrap one brawny arm around your waist before using his considerable strength to pin you face down against the kitchen table. Shocked by this sudden mistreatment, you open your mouth fully prepared to protest, only to snap it shut the moment you feel a cool breeze ghost across your bare backside. 

“Try again, sweetheart.” The lawman grunts before delivering a hearty smack to your ass, eliciting a rather undignified screech from you. “Oh? I’m afraid I still didn’t quite catch that.” 

“There’s no need to act like a brute!” You cry as you struggle against his impossible hold. “It’s not right for you to–ahh fuck!” You damn near lose it when his heavy palm connects with your traitorous cunt, the sound of the wet slap echoing throughout the room. 

In that very moment, that sweet bite of pain had never felt so good.   

“Ah, sweetness.” Ari coos, a hint of mocking laughter curling around his tone. “Could’ve sworn I’d fucked some sense into you earlier this morning. Are you tellin’ me my work still isn’t done?” 

You think back to something he’d said when he was busy fucking you senseless. He’d said, or snarled as it were, that you needed a Sir or a Daddy to help keep you in line. At the time you’d assumed that he’d simply got caught up in the heat of the moment. But now… 

Apparently it takes you too long to answer because his next smack has you rising on your toes.  You clench your thighs together, desperate to ignore your body’s response. Although it does little to stop your man from wedging a proprietary hand between them anyway.

“Now is not the time to go quiet on me, little Bird.”

He gently cups your most intimate flesh before expertly parting your messy folds with his thick fingers. A soft cry escapes when he lightly pinches your swollen clit, making your hips buck. 

Sweet Christ! You honestly had no idea just how much you actually enjoyed being manhandled until you crossed paths with this guy. 

“All I was trying to do was answer your question!” You grit out, doing your best to ignore the filthy wet squelch of his palm colliding against your core once more, causing a fresh wave of arousal to dampen your thighs.  

“And I didn’t much care for your answer.” Ari hums, taking a moment to lazily pet your now glistening cunt. 

And who’s fault was that? Just because the man thought he owned the rights to your body didn’t give him the authority to…to…punish you like this. But when you inform him of that, the only response you get comes in the form of an annoying chuckle. 

“I was joking, damn you – ooh!” You whine, stomping your foot for good measure – both of which manages to earn you another spank. 

“But that’s just it, baby.” He rumbles, taking a break from further abusing your poor, overworked flesh. “Last I checked, jokes were supposed to be funny.” You press your face against the cool surface of the table as two sinful fingers playfully tease your entrance. “And talking shit about these curves ain’t funny, right?”

“Y-yes! I mean right.” In need of a little relief, you attempt to entice your man by wiggling your ass. But instead of doing as you bid, those same fingers soon find their way back to your swollen bundle of nerves, pinching just hard enough to get and hold your attention.

“Glad you think so.” He murmurs, leaning down to brush his lips along the sensitive shell of your ear as his free hand moves to rub soothing circles along your lower back. “And since I’ve finally got you in the mood to listen, how about we talk about something else?” 

Instead of responding, you merely nod – giving him leave to get whatever the hell he wanted off of his perfectly sculpted chest.  

“The next time you get the bright idea to shut me out without givin’ me a chance to plead my case, you had better do a damned good job respecting this gorgeous body while I’m on ice.” The air of danger in Ari’s husky purr has goosebumps rippling along your heated flesh. “Because if you don’t, I swear to God the moment you let me back in, I’m gonna do a lot more than spank this pretty pussy. You get me?”

Still unable to form words, you decide to let your body do the talking. Groaning low in your throat, you arch your hips and wiggle your ass, purposely grinding your cunt against his now drenched palm. 

“Ah, sweetheart.” He rasps in approval, gently nipping your earlobe with his sharp teeth. “You get me. Yeah, you do.” 

As a reward for your submission, Ari takes pity on you by slowly spearing his fingers inside your sopping wet core. Now it’s his turn to groan when he feels your velvety walls flutter around him, eagerly sucking him back in when he tries to pull out. 

“Fuck if my girl ain’t got a greedy fucking pussy.” Your bounty hunter muses, more to himself than to you. “Are you sore? Need me to let you rest some more?” 

In all reality, what he really wanted to do was splay you out on the table and kiss your puffy pussy lips until you were a sobbing, trembling mess. But he’d also settle for burying himself balls deep inside of you too.

Regardless of which one he chose, they both all but guaranteed that you’d remember this particular lesson for days to come. Because no one was allowed to talk shit about his beautiful Bird – not even you.  

“Want you to fill me up again.” You tell him, meaning every word even as his expert touch threatens to rob you of breath. “Help me work up an appetite. Please, Sir.” You tack on the last bit, hoping that might be enough to tip your man over the edge. 

Your now frantic pulse sings to new heights when you’re treated to the sound of Ari’s sweatpants hitting the floor behind you. Apparently he felt that you’d been punished long enough – something for which you were grateful. 

You can’t help but whine when he finally removes his fingers, leaving your empty walls clenching around nothing but air. Anticipation fills you while you wait, expecting to feel the bulbous head of his cock glide its way through your slippery folds. 

However, you’re surprised when he drops to his knees instead. His large, slightly calloused hands grip the backs of your thighs, forcing your legs apart just enough to make his intentions clear. 

“How ‘bout you feed me first, greedy girl?” He growls, possessively nuzzling his nose along the soft skin of your inner thigh. “I have a feeling I’m gonna need all my strength to help your stubborn ass work up a proper appetite.”

“Oo-okaay!” Your legs threaten to give out when Ari’s wide, flat tongue begins lapping at your damp flesh, making a show of savoring your sweet honey. He holds you in place while he feasts, his subtle use of strength letting you know that your only job was to keep still and submit to his sensual assault. 

“Mm...” Ari rumbles, enjoying every desperate little whine and whimper that makes its way past your lips. "Best meal I've had in days." Forgoing his need to breathe, he fully buries his head between your thighs, content to eat you from the back as if he had all the time in the world.

Which he did, especially now that make-up sex was once again back on the menu. 

END

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[dduane]

The Young Wizards series turns 40!

...And yes, we're having a sale to celebrate. But that can wait. :)

I'm sitting here looking at the date and considering how amazing it is that, despite the changes in the publishing world, anything can stay in print nonstop for forty years.

But this book has. Here's how it started:

...Well, not how it started. It started with three things:

A newbie YA writer being deeply annoyed with a non-newbie one for (as she thought) stripping their teenage characters of their agency without good reason.

A suddenly-appearing joke involving two terms or concepts that wouldn't normally appear together: the 1950s young-readers' series of careers books with titles that always began So You Want To Be A..., and the word "wizard."

And the idea immediately springing from that juxtaposition. What if there was such a book? Not a careers book, but a book that told you how to be a wizard—maybe some kind of manual? One that would tell you the truth about the magic underlying the universe, and how to get your hands on it... assuming you felt you could promise the things that power would demand of you, and survive the Ordeal that would follow?

Six or seven months after that confluence of events, there was a novel with that joke-line as its title. A month or so after that, the novel was bought. So You Want To Be A Wizard came out as a Fall 1983 book, as you can see from the Locus Magazine ad above (from back when Locus was only a paper zine). The first reviews were encouraging.

And by the middle of 1984, the publishers were asking, "So, what's next?" A question I'm still busy answering.

There's been a lot of water under the wizardly bridge since. In SYWTBAW's case, this involved a couple/few publishers, a surprising number of covers, a fair number of awards here and there; and lots more books. (I always knew there'd be more, but how many more continues to surprise me. Which is a bit funny, considering how much stuff that universe has going on in it.)

So here we are at forty, and looking ahead to The Big Five-Oh with some interest. More books? Absolutely. Young Wizards #11 is in progress at the moment, and YW #12 is in the late concept stages. More covers for So You Want To Be A Wizard? Seems inevitable. A TV series, perhaps? (shrug) Stranger things have happened: we'll keep our fingers (or other manipulatory instrumentalities) crossed. The New Millennium Editions in translation? and in international paperback? Working on that right now. The sky's the limit.*

And meanwhile, to celebrate, just for today we'll have a sale. (Except in the UK. To our British friends, the usual sad apology: the expensive bureaucracy of Brexit has made it impossible for us to sell directly to you any more. Details here, with our apologies.)

As has been mentioned before, changes are afoot at Ebooks Direct, so this kind of sale won't be happening again for the foreseeable future. (In fact I thought we were all done with them already. But the number 40 suggested one last opportunity that wouldn't be recurring, so I thought, "Aah, what the heck? Let's.")

New things first! Today, to mark this occasion, we're introducing the "All The Wizardry" Bundle. This is Ebook Direct's entire inventory of Young Wizards works; the contents of the bundle are listed on its product page. The $29.99 price listed there is for today only, to celebrate SYWTBAW's birthday, and will go up as of 23:59 Hawai'ian time tonight. As always, should you ever lose your ebooks or need to change reading platforms, we'll change your formats as necessary, or replace the books, for free.

Just click here, or on the image below, for the "All The Wizardry" Bundle. (Please ignore the category listings under the "Pay Using..." icons on the product page: they plainly think they're in a different universe. Kind of an occupational hazard around here...)

The other, older kind of sale folks will have seen here is on the "I Want Everything You've Got" Bundle, which is the whole Ebooks Direct store—obviously including all the Young Wizards books as well: more than 2.5 million words in 36 DRM-free ebooks. Just for today, in honor of the birthday book, we're dropping the whole-store price to USD $40.00. This, too, will go away just before midnight Hawai'ian time tonight... and it will never be lower. So if you want everything we've got at that price, don't wait around.

Make sure you use this link or the one associated with the image to get the baked-in discount at checkout. (If it fails to display correctly, use the discount code "40FOR40" in the checkout's "discount code or gift code" field.)

Meanwhile? Onward into the next decade. The new A Day at the Crossings novel unfortunately won't make it out before the end of 2023; other work in-house currently has taken priority. But as for early 2024... stay tuned.

And for those of you who're Young Wizards readers, and have kept this book, and its sequels, alive for pushing half a century?

Thank you, again and always!

*Though actually, it's not, is it? As the proverb has it, "Wizardry doesn't stop at atmosphere's edge..."

[vampzity]

𝘼 𝘽𝙧𝙤𝙠𝙚𝙣 𝙍𝙤𝙪𝙩𝙞𝙣𝙚

Pairing: husband! San x f! reader

Genre: fluff, nudity w/o smut, husband au, valentine’s day series, mini idol au, one shot, pet names (angel, princess, baby girl), LOTS of flirting

Synopsis: It’s Valentine’s Day, but not just any Valentine’s Day.. it’s your first as a married couple with your beloved husband, San. You had the entire day planned out and what you wanted to in celebration of this special day, or so you thought. San was not just one but two steps ahead of you and your game plan. He knew exactly of your plans for him, and decided to turn it around on you.

Now Playing: POV - Ariana Grande

Word Count: 2.7k

A/N: Sorry this took so long! There’s a lot going on in my personal life- I couldn’t tell you guys how excited I’ve been to write this one shot… it was literally haunting me!

Yeosang’s Pt. Masterlist Mingi’s Pt.

You lay on your bed, practically suffocated by the covers that wrapped around your body. You felt a pair of soft paws pass through your legs, soon pushing at your head to wake you. You yawned widely, eyes closed as you lifted the covers to let the furry animal under them with you. You heard a small purr as the animal nuzzled against your chest, resting its head under your chin.

“Good morning, my sweet Byeol.”

You pet her softly, eyes still closed as you didn’t want to accept the fate of it being morning so soon. Your eyes fluttered a bit as you continued to yawn a bit more, poking your head out from above the covers. To your surprise, your dearly beloved wasn’t there.

You poked your head out a little more, looking around the room. Nowhere to be found. Glancing over to the nightstand, you realize his glasses are gone as well. You raised an eyebrow suspiciously, shrugging slowly as you sat up in bed to stretch your limbs. Byeol tip-toed from under the covers and sat on your husband’s side of the bed. You stretched your arms and back, rubbing your eyes to adjust to the morning sunlight shining in the room.

“Happy Valentine’s Day, Princess.”

Your heart skipped a beat as you froze. You looked over to the door, seeing your husband standing there with a towel, a basket of miscellaneous items, and roses. He beamed a soft smile at you, his glasses sitting perfectly on the bridge of his nose.

He walked over to you, placing the items on the edge of the bed. He brushed your hair out of your face, leaning in to plant a soft but warm kiss on your forehead. Your face flushed a light red, ears turning hot with it. San hovered over you, pulling your chin up to meet his eyes as you sat in bed below him.

“Good morning sleepy head. Ready for your princess treatment today?”

You stood there, completely at a loss for words as your face now turned a dark red. Normally, you’d wake up early every morning to feed Byeol and make San breakfast for the day. Not because you had to, but because you wanted to. Acts of service were simply how you showed your affection to him, and that’s exactly what you wanted to do today but heightened. Unfortunately for you, San beat you to it.

He walked away from you, grabbing the box of miscellaneous items to hand over to you. In the box were different kinds of soaps you adored, bath bombs, and scrubs that made your skin glow. An entire bag of Epsom salt sat in the corner of the box and made you grin slightly, as San knew how much it helped your feet when they were sore.

You smiled at the box, feeling love fill your heart with joy as you accepted the gift. Looking back up at San, he smiled at you holding his hand out for you.

“Well, c’mon. I already have a bath ready for you with warm water. Today, I spoil you and you cannot interfere. Understood?”

You looked at him, completely speechless at his words. An entire bath was ready for you? Whatever happened to your plans for him today? It was such a sudden change of events for you, that you weren’t sure of how to respond to his offering.

“But, San. You ca- Shhh.”

He placed his finger against your lips, cutting you off to shush you. He smirked, leaning in to bring his face only a few inches away from yours.

“What did I say, princess? I’m spoiling you today.” He backed away from you, grabbing your hand to pull you out of bed. “I’ll do whatever you want today, as long as it doesn’t interfere with your special treatment.”

He walked you towards the bathroom, closing the door behind you two. The tub was covered in rose petals along with other flowers. Different honeycomb scrubs rested afloat as a soothing aroma of vanilla and lavender filled your nose. Curtains rested on the windows, allowing for a darker room only lit by small candles laid about.

He let go of your hand and stuck it into the bath water to make sure its temperature was still warm for you. Humming pleasantly, he turned back to you.

“Still nice and warm for you.”

Your cheeks flushed red as he once again, moved hair out of your face to admire you. He moved out of your way and walked towards the door, allowing you the privacy to relax and rewind without him there. However, a quick thought hit your mind. A devilish one at that, and it was indeed something that he wouldn’t expect from you.

“Sannie?” He turned his head to you, raising an eyebrow as it was rare that you ever used his nickname with him.

“You said you’d do anything I want right?” His head nodded softly, turning his entire back to face you as he began to cock his face to the side. He meant what he said, but he wasn’t as positive about you taking such a vague request seriously. You looked down at your nightgown, smirking slightly as you met eyes with San once again.

“Undress me.”

San’s eyes widened as you gave him a smug look. His face immediately shot red with nervousness, feeling the room turn hot. A few seconds passed by until you grew impatient, so you grabbed San by the arm and pulled him to you, placing his hand on the strap of your gown.

“Do it,” you mumbled, feeling your heart beat out of your chest.

San gave you a soft glare, kissing your shoulder softly. He pulled your straps off your shoulder, as your arms slipped out of them. The nightgown fell to your ankles, revealing you only in red underwear. San’s eyes widened at the sight of you. Sure, he has seen your body plenty of times, but it still shocked him at how bold you were compared to your normal shy self. He continued to give you small pecks along your neck and shoulders, soon planting a kiss against your hand.

He pulled your body to him, his hand resting underneath your chin as a soft kiss was shared between you two.

"Is there.. anything else that you want me for, princess?"

You blushed hesitantly, shaking your head no to the young man. He smiled, letting go of you and making his way back towards the door. He picked up Byeol, who stood at the door frame and turned to face you once again.

"Take your time. I'll be making breakfast for you."`

San closed the door, allowing you to be alone for some time to gather yourself. You sighed happily and removed your underwear, stepping into the warm bath water. You allowed the water to engulf you as you soaked. It was relaxing, soothing even. You felt refreshed and felt like yourself again, especially after the week you’ve had.

What seemed like a few minutes soon turned into 30 as you heard a few knocks on the door. You perked up, seeing Byeol make her way through the door only to be followed by San’s head.

“How’s my baby girl doing? Feeling relaxed enough?”

He walked over to the counter, placing a warm towel and fuzzy robe down. You tilted your head at him like a dog, confused as to what his mind was thinking. He came and kneeled by the tub, petting your head softly as he kissed your forehead. You smiled, your eyes meeting. You nodded to his question.

“I am, Sannie. Thank you.”

He stood up, walked back to the door, and opened it. As he did so, the fresh smell of breakfast hit your nostrils. Bacon, pancakes, eggs. Smells that made your stomach growl with hunger and tastebuds eager.

“I left some clothes for you on the bed. Try them on for me, will you? Then come eat breakfast with me.”

His eyes beamed through the lens in his glasses as you nodded once again, permitting him to leave the bathroom. You looked at Byeol, who snuggled herself on the mat. She was always so precious to San, but it gave you warmth in your heart to know that you were just as precious to him.

Getting out of the tub, you dried off with the warm towel San had brought for you and wrapped the fluffy robe around you as your feet dipped into your slippers. Opening the door, Byeol made her way out with you following behind. As San said, there were a pair of clothes laid out for you on the bed, nicely placed so they wouldn’t wrinkle. It was a pink turtle neck paired with a pleated denim skirt. You smiled at his choice of fashion, as San always went out of his way to buy you the cutest clothes.

You removed your robe, grabbing some undergarments to wear before putting the outfit on. Without looking in the mirror yet, you slipped on knitted white socks to match and smiled, pleased with the outfit. Before you could get up to admire it, a small knock interrupted you.

San cracked open the door, peeking his head through to see what you were up to. Upon seeing you, he paused, feeling his heart skip a beat. He invited himself into the room, his eyes refusing to turn away from you as your face turned red.

“You look beautiful, baby girl.”

Turning your head away from his gaze, San made his way torward you. As you sat on the bed, his arm reached out to the side of you as he hovered over your figure. He stood above you as he leaned in closer to kiss the side of your neck fondly. You felt butterflies in your stomach as he placed his other hand on your upper thigh, slowly bringing it up. He continued to peck at your neck softly.

“San—”

He pulled away, his eyes meeting your flushed face. He wasn't sure what had gotten into him this morning, as he knew you weren’t always one for displays of affection. However, today he just felt so much love towards you. He wanted to kiss you, hold you, love you, touch you. There was no end to the overflowing amount of adore he felt towards you today that he could not resist.

He pulled you over to the mirror to see the outfit on you as you stood in complete awe. You smiled, hitting a small pose as San stood behind you. He wrapped an arm around your waist and kissed your temple softly.

“I told you. An absolute angel.”

He pulled your hand, allowing you to follow him into the dining room. Different plates of food were placed on the table, from bacon to assorted fruit, to fluffy pancakes, and even some white toast. Your eyes widened in awe seeing the glorious amount of food in front of you. He pulled out a seat for you, gesturing for you to sit down. You took a seat and San pushed the seat in, placing all your favorite foods in front of you so that you could indulge yourself. Smiling, you grabbed a piece of bacon, biting into it happily.

“Mmm, so good.”

You sat at the kitchen table, curious as to why San had left you alone for a moment. You were full from all the breakfast he had made and yet somehow, he managed to eat your leftovers with his food. It was only 11 am and San had already spoiled you so much on this special day.

You heard footsteps approach you as San appeared in your sight of vision again. He was holding a blindfold in his hand, giving you a slight nervous feeling in your stomach. He smirked softly, coming behind you and leaning next to your ear.

“I have a surprise for you, princess.”

Your face turned red as you felt his warm breath hit your neck. He kissed the top of your ear, placing the blindfold around your eyes and tying it lightly. He grabbed your hand and pulled you up from your seat, guiding your walking with his own. You held out your other hand for balance, curious as to what surprise was awaiting you.

You both came to a stop. San let go of your hand and came behind you, allowing you to feel his presence brush by you so you weren’t startled. He untied the blindfold, letting it fall on its own into his hands.

Before you, were dozens of rose petals laid against the ground. Heart-shaped balloons covered the ceiling in various areas from red to pink. Candles lit the room up, as San put up darker curtains to set the mood. As you began to walk into the room, you realized more rose petals covering the bed and a small lingerie set sitting nicely on it. You blushed as your breath hitched, San coming up next to you.

“I know you don’t like to reveal yourself, and that’s okay. So, don’t feel pressured to try it on, k?” He squeezed your hand reassuringly.

You eyed the sight, nodding quickly. It was a light pink baby doll set. The spaghetti straps had small butterflies sewn to them. The sides of the lingerie were a sheer pink, and the body’s middle was simply laced with butterflies and flower patterns. A baby pink hem wrapped around the middle of the gown, small ruffles hanging off the cups of it.

You walked over to it, picking it up. You looked up at San as he gestured to the bathroom for you. He gave you a warm smile and you blushed once again, feeling the heat inside of you.

You walked over to the bathroom with the set, closing the door behind you as you went to change your clothes. San waited for you patiently by the window, petting Byeol as he gazed out into the streets. He felt his heart thump louder and louder as he waited for you to come out. He has never felt this nervous for you before, it was a new feeling. Even though he’s seen you in all your beauty thousands of times before, this time was different for him. It was the first Valentine’s as a wedded couple and he wanted to make sure everything went in your favor.

“Well, how does it look..?”

San turned his head to see you standing by the bed shyly. Your hands clasped together as you looked down at your feet, feeling slightly insecure. He admired how nicely the lingerie hugged your figure, how perfectly it enhanced his favorite features about you.

San walked over to you until you caught his feet meeting your own. His hand slowly made its way under your chin. He lifted your head to meet his eyes and smiled at you subtly. You felt your cheeks warm up at his actions, not sure of what to do. He took off his glasses and placed them on the nightstand.

“You look stunning, princess. Exactly what I envisioned.”

He kissed your forehead softly, picked you up bridally style, and placed you on the bed. You sat there confused, following his body as he walked across the room to take off his hoodie. He had a simple white tank top under, giving you a full show of his broad muscles and shoulders.

You felt butterflies in your stomach as he made his way towards you, smirking with every step he took. He hovered over your body on the bed as he stood and his hand came up to caress your cheek.

“Remember what I said earlier?”

Your breath hitched as he spoke, feeling caught off guard by his sudden question. You stood silent, feeling your body continue to melt under his control.

“I’ll do anything you want today.”

He pulled his hand away from you and climbed onto the bed, his body now hovering over you. Your knee brushed against his member, making you close your eyes in embarrassment.

“Tell me, princess,” he laid a soft kiss against your neck, soon making his way down to what was exposed of your chest.

“What do you want from me?”

divider creds: @cafekitsune

A/N: I hope you guys enjoyed this as much as I did hehe🤭 Was literally giggling and kicking my feet writing this. Again, sorry for such the long wait!

Taglist: @skzline @evidive @kittykat-25 @amuromio @xoxkii @losrpark @classyrbf @sundaybossanova @owmoiralover @vrtualsins @sanslovesblog @honeyhwaaa @mingisbbokari @scarfac3

*comment to be apart of future taglists!*

[ki-yomii]

hit it/forget it | part 01 | jjk

➥ pairing | jeon jungkook x f!reader ➥ word count | 6.7k ➥ warning(s) | 🔞 smut; rough, dom!jk, dirty talk, squirting, creampie, fingering, oral (f receiving), enemies to lovers, orgasm control/denial, drinking, slight college au ig??➥ summary | finally able to unwind for the first time in forever, you go to a friend’s party. only somewhere along the way you find yourself in bed with someone you swore you’d never sleep with. it’s too bad he’s not in any hurry to let you hit it, and forget it. ➥ notes | i’m v new to this fandom, and it has started to consume me lol ✌️🥲 ❤️ series masterlist | masterlist | inbox | AO3 ❤️

... Shit, what time is it?

Beams of sunlight pour in through the crooked blinds, stretching across the cluttered floor to flood the rumpled bed with golden light.

It’s so bright it hurts, your eyes watering with the effort it takes to open them as you roll onto your back with a quiet hiss.

Sore and still buzzed, it takes you several minutes to process your unfamiliar surroundings. Your mouth is stale and arid, the unpleasant taste of dehydration heavy on your tongue.

Needle sharp pain lances through your skull, and it’s hard to think let alone focus when it feels like someone’s shoving an icepick through your brain every time you so much as breathe wrong.

So much for a relaxing night hanging out with the guys, you think bitterly, pinching the bridge of your nose. There goes my last day off.

Spent curled up in bed fighting back nausea instead of out enjoying the last little bit of freedom your PTO offered.

If only the rest of the night had gone as well as the beginning...

Most of the group were camped around a game of beer pong when you arrived, already blitzed off their faces from pre-gaming while a few randos loitered around.

You didn’t pay them too much mind, more focused on catching up with your boys. It had been forever and a day since you’d talked to them, let alone seen them in person.

For a blissful moment it was just like old times; the floor sticky with spilled beer, wrestling matches followed by good-natured ribbing, and rowdy trash talk.

It reminded you so much of the shitty college parties they’d throw, you almost cried from the nostalgia alone.

The happiest you’d been in weeks.

Now you had adult bills and an adult life. Your schedules didn’t align like this very often. Getting to catch up and hang out with everyone again was a precious gift, one you didn’t realize how much you needed until you sunk back into the oversized couch, and took what felt like your first breath in months.

Your head was swimming, your heart bursting for fondness - only to choke on your tongue not even five minutes later when the front door slammed open to a round of hyped up chants, “JK, JK, JK!”

All the tranquility evaporated as Jeon Jungkook - the bane of your existence - waltzed over the threshold without a care in the world.

Meanwhile your heart was in your throat as he stood there in all his stupidly attractive glory while the rest of the gang surged forth. They swarmed him with friendly slaps on the back, a 12 pack of beer in one hand, and a bottle of tequila in the other.

He wasn’t supposed to be here - they said... He was supposed to be out of town for the weekend. If you’d have known -- fuck.

You wouldn’t have come. Shouldn’t have come. And now you were stuck with him for however long it took you to sober up.

God, you hated him.

Not that you knew why, really.

There was just something about him that got under your skin. Maybe it was the cocky way he held himself, his confidence sometimes bordering on arrogance.

Or maybe it was the constant teasing. (You refused to admit it might be because of how attractive you found him, and how angry that made you.)

Whatever the case, ever since he met you all those years ago, Jungkook’s made it his life’s mission to be as insufferable as possible. Always waiting in the wings with a flirty comment and that self-satisfied smirk of his.

Dealing with him was like dealing with an overgrown - competitive - toddler. It got exhausting after a while.

Far easier to avoid him altogether, even though that mentality came at the expense of your friendships.

You stopped going to events if you knew he’d be there, ducking out of get togethers last minute if you so much as caught a glimpse of his car. Eventually, your absence became accepted - expected even - which further fueled your inherent dislike of him.

As if all the reasons you don’t like him weren’t enough, you were tipsy, and that was always a recipe for disaster. Without your inhibitions halting your tongue, you had no qualms about calling him out on all his petty bullshit.

The particulars are too fuzzy to remember, but you’d been avoiding him by hiding out in the kitchen when he decided to come bother you.

One thing led to another, and he must have said something insulting enough because the next thing you knew, you’d crowded him against the counter.

He smirked while you snarled with distaste, a shot in one hand with the other balled in the open collar of his fancy button up. You thought about how nice it would be to smack that look off his face, and thoughtlessly agreed to a one v one drink off - winner takes all - just to one up him.

Damnit.

You should have left as soon as his ass showed up. And you should never have agreed to his stupid little competition in the first place. You know better than to fall prey to his schemes... yet here you are, so joke’s on you.

This has to be some kind of divine punishment.

All you wanted was to knock him down a peg (or ten). Then his stupidly handsome face, and low, mocking voice egged you on past your limits. Now, you’re in someone else’s bed, naked and sticky, nursing a hangover from hell.

Stupid, stupid, stupid.

God, you hope it’s not Jin.

Any of the others aren’t much better, but he’s your bro at heart, and there are some things you can’t ever come back from. If only last night wasn’t a hazy, distant fever dream pockmarked with fitful moments of clarity...

Memories curl through your mind like tendrils of smoke, opaque and sinister. The harder you grasp at them, the more confusing they become; coalescing into a tangled blur of swollen lips, and naked, sweat-slick skin.

Salty-sweet bursting across your tongue as the burning stretch of a fat cock sinks deep, a whiskey rough voice groaning low and heavy in your ear, “Fuck, you’ve always been such a little cock tease, haven’t you, baby? Mm, yeah, just like that. Knew you always wanted me, wanted this. Hhng, shit, I’ve wanted to do this for-fuckin-ever, princess…”

Goddamn Jeon Jungkook, and whatever horse he rode in on.

Of course, you’d get laid after a dry spell, and the only thing you have to show for it is the tender ache of your thighs, the tacky sensation of dried cum clinging to the swollen lips of your pussy, and the vaguest daydream of toe-curling pleasure.

At least the sheets are soft, the mattress plush, the bedspread muted, dark colours; altogether masculine but chic.

The fluffy pillows are to die for, something like expensive cologne threaded through the fabric; citrusy and bright with notes of mellow sweetness that fill your lungs, and cloud your senses with every deep inhale.

A familiar thread in an otherwise unfamiliar bed.

Whoever it is certainly has impeccable taste... which doesn’t help narrow down your list of suspects, at all. They’re all stupidly fashionable in everything they do, meanwhile you feel like a half-decent hobgoblin half the time.

You can’t decide what’s worse: the fact you slept with someone who’s a friend of yours - not many people outside of the core group came last night - or that you can’t remember who it is.

No lie, the temptation to slip out before they wake is hard to resist. But it’ll only delay the inevitable, and you honestly don’t want to do that to someone you care about.

It’s better to face the situation head-on, no matter how much you’re dreading it.

Over and done, quick and easy like a Band-Aid.

The conversation’s going to be awkward as hell but it was a drunken mistake. You’re adults and in a few years’ time, who knows, maybe you’ll be able to look back and laugh. No reason to let it ruin years of hard-earned friendship.

“Aah,” you groan mid-stretch, “...what a fucking mess.”

“Look who’s finally awake.”

You’ve gotta be kidding me.

The world screeches to an almighty halt, crashing and burning as all the breath in your lungs catches in your chest. Your heavy eyes pop open so fast you see stars, a field of grey sheets filling your line of sight.

A wave of disbelief threatens to drown you, hysteria following in the aftermath as your mind stutters to a stop.

Stomach turning, your heart slams into your ribs so hard you’re convinced you’ll break a bone. The thought of sleeping with a friend is bad enough, but the truth? So much worse. You wish the bed would swallow you whole. 

Why, you lament, why him?

That low, sleep rough tone dripping with arrogance.

It raises your hackles, sets your teeth on edge until you shake with the urge to punt his ass across the room. Never in a million years would you expect to hear that voice beside you in bed.

You wish with everything there is that it’s just a hallucination - but there’s no mistaking who that voice belongs to.

The knowledge sits bitterly in the back of your throat.

“This is a nightmare.”

No fucking way you’re turning around.

You inch to the edge of the mattress, grateful for the distance. The very idea of touching him repulses, repels.

You’re already too aware of how the bed dips beneath his weight, the shared space warmed by the sleep soft heat radiating from his skin.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Jungkook scoffs. “Keep telling yourself that, baby.”

A hot palm, rough with callouses, grabs your shoulder. The steel grip tugs you close, unyielding as it guides you onto your back.

As soon as you glimpse the sunlight caught in the tangled briar of his hair, your eyes slam shut.

If you can’t see him, you can pretend he’s not there and if he’s not there, well then you won’t have to face your colossal mistake.

It might be petty and childish but all things considered, you think you’re allowed to be. Waking up next to Jeon Jungkook is earth-shattering. And altogether mortifying when you consider all the thoughts you had before you knew you fucked him.

Of all the people…

He’s made passes for years, and you always blew them off. Now? You groan. They’re never going to let you live this down. You take back every kind thought. This asshole doesn’t deserve your praise.

Before you tell him where to shove it, fingertips skim the jut of your cheekbone. The action effectively shuts you up, your brain stuttering to a resounding halt. Soft and light like butterfly kisses, they trace over the sweep of your flickering eyelashes.

It’s a ticklish reminder that you’re not alone.

You jerk away.

The click he makes with his teeth does N-O-T make you throb. Neither does his persistence, the effort to force you into acknowledging his presence redoubled. He’s stubborn, and altogether not unlike a boy pulling pigtails.

The comparison unbidden and unwelcome, you bat him away with a sharp, “Quit it.”

His voice is far too smug for your liking when he says, “Why don’t you try to make me.”

“Oh, my god.”

This asshole…

Your fingers claw into the sheets instead of his chest, nails cutting into your palms as rage lurks just beneath the surface of your skin. Your breath shoves from your lungs fast and hard. It’s a struggle to reign in the urge to pummel him bloody.

Meanwhile, Jungkook redirects his attention, his hand dipping down to dance over the front of your throat. A rough thumb maps the curve of your jaw, a shiver rolling through your body at the touch.

His low chuckle is the only warning you get before he’s leaning over, the shift in position causing the hard, compact muscles of his torso to brush your side. The fission of awareness that follows in its wake crackles down your spine, steals your breath.

Senses fixated on the sensual glide of skin on skin while pulses of arousal kindle to life behind your navel. Slick gushes from between your folds, wetting the insides of your thighs. Heart in your throat, you steady your voice long enough to say, “Seriously, just leave me alone so I can wallow in peace.”

Warm breath tickles the side of your face, the cool metal of Jungkook’s lip piercing brushing the shell of your ear as he murmurs the syllables of your name. “Come on,” he says, “I dare you.”

The hell, is he being serious right now? What does he think this is?

“What are you,” you ask. “Five?”

“Would you stop being so dramatic?”

The first hint of genuine annoyance threads through the words growled against your cheek. His tone low, a warning buried in its depths. Fire and smoke, grit and gravel. You hate how you clench at the sound. Hate how confused he’s making you.

Why is he acting like this is a normal occurrence? You expect him to lord it over you, not act so...playful?

The uncertainty rankles, and your shoulders hike up around your ears. If he thinks he can jerk you around like this, he better step up and out because you’re out of fucks to give.

This is humiliating enough, and you’re not about to relinquish what’s left of your pride. 

“Do you ever stop talking,” you continue, ignoring the pulse between your thighs, the crack in your voice, “Or do you like the sound of your own voice that much?”

Your heart pounds in the ensuing silence, Jungkook all but ignoring you as he sinks his nose into your hair. The pleased rumble that vibrates from his chest into yours follows a deep inhale.

“Mm, you smell,” his lips tickle the side of your neck, “really good.”

A whimper works its way up your throat, your teeth barely catching it in time. Fissions of sensation shoot down to your stomach, hot and shivery.

“Shut up. Just stop - stop talking.”

It’s not what you mean to say - you have full intentions of cussing him out, reaching out to touch smack him - but by then, it’s too late. He’s already on the move, a mocking chuckle falling from his lips.

The sound shoots through you, stokes your rage and desire in equal measure until you’re shaking.

He tugs at the plush, tender flesh of your bottom lip caught between your teeth. “Y’know,” he muses, “I wouldn’t keep doing that if I were you. You might not like what happens.”

Surrounded as you are, it’s getting harder to think.

To breathe.

To be.

Sweat and sex cling to Jungkook, the scent filling your lungs with ash and burning through your bloodstream until he’s all that remains. Surrounding, smothering, swallowing you whole. “Look at me.”

Shit, he’s close - too close.

There’s a scant amount of space between your bodies, pressed stem to stern. Your tits crush against the hard plane of his chest, nipples stiffening with every drag of his skin, every shift of his body against yours.

His half-hard cock digs into the softness of your abdomen, wet and sticky as it drools into the dip of your belly button which shouldn’t get you as hot as it does. This is so not good.

“No,” you say, shaking your head. “No, I won’t.”

I can’t.

This is unacceptable. 

Fucking him once is bad enough, the only saving grace is that you barely remember the taste of his lips, the weight of his body pressing into yours, the stretch of him filling you to the brim.

If you give in now, even if it’s only an inch…

Well, he’ll take a mile and you don’t have an excuse for why you’ll let him. You’re already struggling with the urge to succumb, to inch closer. There’s no telling what’ll happen if you actually look into those burning eyes of his.

Of course, he doesn’t accept your refusal.

You never expected him to.

“I said look at me.” The thumb that was gently stroking along your face hooks around your jaw, digging into the soft spot on the underside. “Don’t make me say it again.”

You grit your teeth, channel the rising lust into rage. Anything to put some much-needed distance between you before you do something you’ll regret. Like, sleep with him a second time while stone-cold sober.

“Just fuck off, Jeon. This is embarrassing enough, you don’t need to rub it in. You won, okay? Congratulations.”

You refuse to let him have his cake and eat it too. Damned if he gets to hold this over your head. That drinking competition was all his idea, anyway. The victory blooming in your chest is short-lived, thoroughly blown to pieces.

He doesn’t respond verbally.

Fast as lightning, the hand on your jaw disappears only to reappear between your thighs to shove your legs open. He doesn’t waste time, runs his knuckles along the length of your slit without hesitation.

Teasing, testing, humming in approval at what he finds.

The sudden rough touch has you jumping, gasping, eyes snapping open, fixating on his blown pupils. The grin tugging at the corners of his mouth is more a snarl, downright predatory. The metal of his lip ring glints in the light, his teeth bared while he spears you with a hooded, hungry stare.

“That’s it, show me those pretty eyes of yours.” 

Breathless, your hips twitch and you clench at the praise, liquid fire pooling low in your belly.

Traitor.

“Jeon - Jungkook, knock it off.”

But you know he’s not going to stop. The ravenous look in his eyes says everything his mouth doesn’t.

“See,” he says conversationally, pausing long enough to thrust two fingers deep into you without warning. Pain sparks, flickers down your spine only to melt into a warm flush of pleasure as he twists his wrist. “That mouth of yours says one thing, but this pussy’s soaked. What am I supposed to think about that, huh?”

“I-”

Any response you have breaks off into a wounded moan, your brows furrowing as he flicks the tip of his finger against your g-spot.

“S-Shit!”

“Hm, what was that?”

A sharp smack stings across your wrist when you reach down to pull his hand away.

“Jeon - I - please…”

“Come on, use your words like a good little slut.”

“I - I can’t - shit!”

It’s impossible to think, let alone form sentences when the heel of his palm grinds against your swollen clit like that. Thick fingers curl deep, stroke, stretch until you mewl.

Every skilled thrust drives you higher, wrings pleasure from you so expertly you’ve half a mind to be pissed. Now you can see why all those girls were tripping over themselves to get with him back in college. As much as it pains you to admit it, he’s got game.

But even then, it shouldn’t be this easy to get you going.

To get your thighs clamping around his flexing forearm while uncontrollable shudders wrack your frame, finger fucked stupid by the sworn enemy.

“Hah.”

If you weren’t half out of your mind, you’d be more offended by the condescending smirk. All you do is half-heartedly smack his side, his free hand darting up to cover yours and keep it pressed against his skin.

You clench down with a whine at the feel of rippling muscle, the sight of his tatted fingers resting over your hand so delicately.

“Looks like I’m doing something right. Fuck, can you hear that, baby?” His movements slow to a crawl, the thrust of his fingers languid and deep. “Listen to how wet your tight little pussy is for me.”

Warmth creeps up your neck and sinks into the apples of your cheeks. It’s as mortifying as it is a turn on, the sloppy sounds of your needy cunt echoing back at you. Sticky arousal coats your puffy folds, every slick, squelching slide heard over stilted moans.

Without a doubt, you’re making a mess of his sheets. Judging by the husky growl of his voice, anything less wouldn’t satisfy him. “Gotta make up your mind, baby.”

He couldn’t sound any more indifferent, but the rough thrust of his fingers, the burning heat smouldering in the depths of his eyes says he’s anything but unaffected.

You whine, writhe, arch your hips to grind down on the hand working between your thighs.

It’s no use.

You get him right where you want him, only for him to flash a devilish grin and pull away. The desperation to get off builds and builds and builds until you’re half mad with it.

This asshole’s gotten you to the edge of cumming several times, only to watch with sick delight as he yanks you back, dangling you over the edge without letting you fall. You don’t even want to think about what this is doing for his already over-inflated sense of ego.

“You’ve been sending me all kinds of mixed signals for years.” He nips the tip of your nose, spreading his fingers wide open where they’re buried inside of you just to hear you squeal. “So what’s it gonna be?”

He’s playing dirty, and he knows it. It’s infuriating that smug looks so good on him. Are you really going to do this?

Ghosting his lips over yours in the barest of kisses, he whispers, slow and purposeful, “All you gotta do is say it. Be a good girl for me, and say: ‘Jungkook, please fuck me.’”

... Yes, yes, you are. But you’re never, ever going to admit that you want him.

Not when there’s nothing you can blame the impatient rise of your hips on, the grind against his palm, the unwavering eye contact that pins you in place. As unbelievable as this is, it all comes down to how horny you are and how good he looks above you.

You admit that he’s an asshole, but jesus, he’s attractive.

Jungkook chuckles, rolls his eyes. “So you’re gonna keep being a brat.”

He doesn’t look put out in the least. In fact, he’s downright feral with the anticipation of breaking you down and fucking you back together.

“Don’t worry, I’ll get you begging for my cock one way or another.”

The you wish dissolves into thin air, all your focus narrowing on the flex and shift of muscle as he crawls down the length of your body. Shouldering his way between your thighs, he settles on his belly and rubs his hands along your hips. 

Flinching at the first touch of his broad palms, you watch with rapt attention as his strong fingers inch closer and closer to your heat.

Every touch, every slide of skin calculated. Precise. Intent on getting your blood pumping and your pussy throbbing until you’re squirming against the sheets.

That ferocious stare, glittering like onyx in the light, tracks every movement, every twitch; catalogues what strokes get you mewling, what drag of fingers has you shuddering, shivering until you’re a downright mess.

Longtime lovers never paid half as much attention to what got you going, and a one-off mistake is doing a better job than all of them combined. Shit, he hasn’t even really done anything yet.

Jungkook’s as focused between your thighs as he is during training, a singular intent that’s intense and overwhelming. Frankly, it’s unnerving being so seen by someone you’ve considered an enemy for the longest time.

When did he start paying so much attention to you - and how did you miss it?

“Just…” you say, voice a quiet thing that sits in the space between your bodies, “Just get on with it already.”

He doesn’t need any more prompting. Jungkook uses his fingers to spread open your sticky folds. Cool air dances across your core, teasing at your swollen clit as every bit of your pussy is exposed to him.

There’s no hiding the embarrassing amount of slick wetting your thighs or how you pulse and twitch in desire.

He hums in approval at what he sees, your thighs trembling around his shoulders. “Thanks for the meal,” he says, brushing his thumb across the hood of your clit before he ducks down with his tongue out.

The firm, full contact lick has supernovas bursting behind your eyelids. He groans at the taste of you, grinds his face deeper into the apex of your thighs. The sound rumbles through your sensitive flesh, your thighs clenching around his ears.

A sigh escapes your throat, and you rest a hand on the top of his head.

Oh yes, a much better use for that mouth of his.

Your fingers delve into the thickness of his hair, inky black wrapped around your knuckles. For a moment you lose yourself in the sensation, senses so high. Every swipe of his tongue, every roll of cool metal along your heated slit as his lips pull at your folds sets you aflame.

The peace doesn’t last, overtaken by the smouldering antagonism that simmers beneath every one of your interactions. A ticking time bomb set to go off at the slightest provocation.

His face between your thighs inspires a dizzying mix of disgust and desire, that he’s even in this position pisses you off beyond belief.

In retaliation for every wrong he’s ever done (the specifics hazy when he sucks on your clit hard enough to curl your toes, the barest hint of teeth), you yank on his hair with as much strength as you’re able to muster.

His neck wrenches back, and he winces. You luxuriate in the petty revenge of it all as spite blooms warm in your chest. Serves him right. Though you gotta hand it to him, he sure knows how to use his tongue.

“You bitch,” Jungkook groans, smothering the vibrations in your slick folds. You keen, bow your back so far you’re afraid you’ll slip a disc. “That hurt.”

For all his complaining, he doesn’t stop.

Quite the opposite.

He dips his head, so you tug at the roots harder while his hands wrap around your thighs, pinning your hips to the bed while his tongue flicks and teases, licks and fucks you open slowly.

The messy sounds of your cunt as Jungkook eats you out to within an inch of your life broken by soft sighs, moans of pleasure, and the occasional masculine grunt. Previous partners have gone down on you before but never seemed to care for it.

Jungkook on the other hand? He’s loving it, eating you out with single-minded ferocity, seeking his own relief by rutting against the bed.

It’s one of the hottest things you’ve ever seen; the wild briar of his hair in utter disarray, sweat slick strands falling over his forehead while he buries his face in you, the muscles of his back bunching and releasing with every slow rock of his hips, his quiet, muffled moans of satisfaction, the ripple of tattoos as he pets at your flank.

He’s not shy - not that you expected him to be in this regard. You’ve heard all the stories about his prowess in bed from classmates and strangers alike.

All his movements are rough and desperate, wet and messy. The careful, slow teasing from before disappearing within the blink of an eye as he becomes consumed with a frantic desire to feel you cum on his face.

It’s not surprising that you don’t last long, orgasming embarrassingly fast, stuffed full of his tongue and fingers.

“Jungkook,” you choke out his name, a broken sound that fades into open-mouthed silence.

The ball of heat in your belly bursts, rushes over you like a tidal wave. You shake apart, pussy clenching so hard your womb aches as a gush of fluid dribbles out of you, soaking the lower half of your body and the bed.

Stars dance in the darkness behind your lids. You’re strung out and weak, incapable of movement, of thought, of anything besides the actual possibility that your bones dissolved when you came.

“Shit, that’s hot.”

Jungkook shifts.

Your lashes flutter. Breathing is difficult. You can’t feel your hands, the tips of your fingers tingling.

He kneels at the foot of the bed, cum soaking the lower half of his face. His lips red and swollen, his eyes hooded, dark and lusting. Pupils blown so wide the iris is nothing more than a thin ring of brown.

His cock juts from his body in a proud line, curved towards his belly. Smears of pre-cum glitter along the valley of his abs, and you have the strangest urge to lick him clean.

Seeing him look so debauched shouldn’t be as hot as it is, and you want to kick your own ass for thinking about Jungkook like this.

Fucking him is one thing, actively appreciating him something else.

But no matter how hard you try to ignore it, the sight of him kneeling and lusting is a sucker punch to the gut. Breathless and yearning, you’re at war with yourself, contemplating round three when he opens mouth.

Again.

“Not so high and mighty now, are you?”

The jut of his chest, the arrogance in his gaze ruins everything. Anyone halfway decent with their tongue who knows what a clit is can get a woman off. Jungkook’s nothing special - contrary to all those co-ed’s.

Just another run-of-the-mill asshole who thinks he’s a god. You’re reminded of this now that you’re not cum-dumb, brain dribbling out your ears. And just when you forgot why you dislike him.

“You know what, Jeon?”

If you could move, you’d shove him off the bed and get out of dodge. As it is, you’re in no such position; knees weak, thighs shaky as phantom waves of pleasure shoot from the crown of your head down to the tips of your toes.

You settle for a nasty scowl. Half as satisfying, but getting your point across all the same. “I’m still not fucking impressed.”

His expression drops into a bitchy sneer.

You want to smack him, wipe that look off his face with your palm. It would be like all your birthdays rolled into one.

“The fuck you mean?” Jungkook asks, brimming with gruff impatience. Good. Arrogant prick. “I made you squirt.”

Ignoring the pounding of your heart, you scoff and dismiss his words, no matter how true they ring. He doesn’t need to know you’ve NEVER done that before. “So? Even I can do that, you’re no better than my vibrator.”

The muscles in his jaw clench, bunching and releasing as his stormy gaze sears you to the bone. For the first time since he started this little - whatever it is - he seems genuinely pissed, shoulders tense and mouth a thin line.

You swoon, the empty ache inside of you pulsing in time with your heartbeat.

“I’ll fucking show you who’s better.”

“Sure you will,” you simper with a nasty grin, tone dripping with sarcasm.

As soon as you prop yourself up on an elbow with full intentions of hopping out of bed, a set of large hands stops you in your tracks. Panic shoots through you, and any residual anger you harbored fizzles away.

He can’t expect you to — oh, but of course, he does.

“No, not like this,” you say while you squirm, attempting to roll onto your belly. “I can’t.”

Fucking face to face is too intimate.

“Mm, no, I don’t think so, baby,” he croons, tone a mocking lilt as he cages you beneath him. “I wanna see your pretty little face when you cream all over my cock.”

Any response gets lost in a weak moan when he rubs himself against your slick folds, the fat head catching on the hood of your abused clit. You whimper, a sharp spike of arousal slicing through you, almost painful when it follows so swiftly on the tail end of your last orgasm.

You try one last time, voice reedy and thin when you say, “Jeon, please, I can’t - fuck.”

The tip slides into you without preamble, just far enough to feel it but not deep enough to get you off. The smug bastard thrusts gently, your tender, swollen walls suckling his cockhead, trying to pull him deeper.

Pure torture.

Mind wiped clean, embarrassment and protests all but forgotten, all your focus narrows down on how to get him inside you as soon as possible.

“Something wrong, baby?” he asks. “Got something to say? You’re squeezing down so hard. Want me deeper, don’t you? What a needy little slut you are for me.”

“Shit, Jeon, come on.” You pant, biting down on a whine. “Just put it in already.”

“Whatever you say.”

He keeps it slow, languidly works his cock deeper into you, inch by agonizing inch. Your muscles flutter, milk his thick shaft. It takes forever and a day before he bottoms out.

And then your eyes roll into the back of your head, hands flying up to anchor your nails into the meat of his shoulders.

He’s right there, cockhead snug against your crevice. Every ridge, every throb; it stokes the embers of your desire higher and higher, stretched so wide around him you ache; he’s the biggest you’ve had. You’ve never felt so stuffed full of cock before, it’s almost scary how good it is.

The taut skin of his belly grinds against your clit when he gets as deep as possible, pelvis flush with yours. “F-Fuck, Jeon.”

Above you, he shoots a cocky albeit weak grin.

You can’t decide if you want to slap him or have him fuck you into the mattress. Probably a bit of both. He boils your blood, but you’ve never been more aroused in your life.

Fucking hell.

“See, what’d I say? I’ll have you screaming my name in no time.”

You groan, breathing deep and slow. “Are you always such a prick?”

He hasn’t moved, but you’re on the edge, and far from ready for this to be over. The asshole hasn’t delivered. You haven’t been fucked raw, and you’re not leaving this bed until he gives it up. Now if only he could shut his mouth long enough to get the show on the road.

“Bitch.” He rolls his eyes, his broad palms firm on your hips while he shifts until your thighs rest over his. “Ready?”

You snort, shoot a comment about his dick not being that special and more than ready to tack on another scathing retort when he decides he’s had enough of your lip, pulling back and snapping his hips forward in one smooth movement.

It punches the air from your lungs.

Your mouth drops open in a near-silent gasp when the head nudges the spongy tissue of your g-spot. The sudden flood of warmth spreads out to all your limbs, pussy throbbing around him.

Your voice is shaky, spread thin, “A-Ah!”

Jungkook isn’t faring any better.

Hot palms tremble against your skin, the furrow to his brow pulling at his piercing, his mouth slack and glossy. His abdominal muscles tense with every stutter of his hips, flexing and resisting the urge to plow into you at max speed.

“Shit, baby, I forgot how tight and soft you are.”

Incapable of speech, reduced to mindless rutting. His broken moan shatters something between the two of you, and then it’s nothing but bruising kisses, sharp keens, rough hands, and frantic fucking.

He slams into you so hard the bed rattles against the wall, punctuating his filthy murmur of, “Perfect fucking fit, just like I knew you’d be.”

You appreciate his rippling muscles with your hands, caressing the firm lines of his body as you do your best to keep pace. Every other thrust has his cock slamming into your g-spot, your toes curling in the sheets.

It’s too much and not enough.

“Jungkook, I’m - I’m,” you sound wrecked, unable to even finish your sentence. “Please.”

“Yeah, that’s it, baby,” he growls, voice full of gravel and hips never missing a beat, “I got you. Now do it, cum, wanna feel you squirt on my cock.”

A fingertip finds your clit.

Rubs once, twice, three times, and then you see galaxies.

Crying out, you clutch him close as the bubbling pool of heat overflows, crashes into you like a tsunami. Helpless against the rushing tide. Your body spasms, your cunt gushing around Jungkook’s pistoning cock.

The slick slap of your skin almost as obscene as his groan, low and lewd, when you clench and clamp down on his shaft. “That’s it, that’s my good girl.”

Boneless and panting, you sink back into the pillows and stare up at Jungkook with glassy eyes. The early afternoon light highlights the lines of his body, the curves of his muscles, the splashes of color etched into his skin. Tremors wrack your body as you lay there while he chases after his own pleasure.

“Shit, I’m gonna — fffu-ck!”

One last thrust buries him to the hilt, his cum flooding, filling you to the brim. Face slack with pleasure, his head drops into the cradle of your shoulder. He pets your sides with gentle hands, his breath puffing across the sensitive skin of your neck while his body twitches with aftershocks.

The both of you are weak, fucked out.

You lay under him for a long time, silent except for your shuddering breaths. Your bodies coming down from unimaginable heights. When your arms aren’t so useless anymore, you push at his chest and grunt.

“Get off.”

A flood of cum follows his swift exit, thick seed dribbling down your folds and pooling on the sheets beneath your ass. Your eyes flutter at the sensation, a primal sort of appreciation curling through your belly.

Well, that’s new. And something you refuse to unpack now.

Flopping down beside you, Jungkook stretches, his expression far too self-satisfied for your liking. “For being such a bitch, you’re a good lay.”

Leave it to him and his goddamn mouth to ruin the afterglow.

You shoot him a sour look, dragging yourself to your feet.

There’s a moment where you almost fall, wobbly and off-kilter, before you regain your balance. You clean yourself gingerly with a towel hanging half out of the hamper.

Sore, tender, and vindictively pleased to see the white streak of his cum stain the dark terrycloth.

The asshole laughs at your disgruntled look, lounging on the bed like a lazy jungle cat. His thick arms cross behind his head and he watches you with dark eyes as you bend to get your panties.

Try as you might, you can’t help sneaking peeks at his barred chest. The smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth tells you he’s noticed the covert looks. You scowl. The smug bastard.

“Don’t be like that, baby. We had a great time.”

Scoffing, you refuse to dignify that with a response, and tug your shirt over your head.

“Wanna know what I think?”

“Not really, but I’m sure that won’t stop you.”

He ignores your sarcasm and continues, nonplussed, “I think you’ve never cum so hard in your life. I think you’re gagging for another ride.”

You pick something up off the floor, chuck it at his head and pivot on your heel. Anger pulses, white-hot and only partially satisfied by the pained groan from behind you as the object makes contact.

“What the hell was that for?”

“You know what that was for. God, are you always such a fucking dickhead?”

“I think you like it,” he says. “I think you like me - I think you’ve always liked me.”

You ignore the burn of your cheeks, and scoff.

The man’s ego is big enough without you adding fuel to the fire. He doesn’t need to know that was the best sex you’ve ever had. That you came so hard your toes curled, and your hands went numb.

“In your dreams, Jeon.”

Keeping your back to him, you’re about to put on your pants when an iron grip shackles itself around your wrist. You tug, testing the hold. He’s unyielding, spearing you with an intense, depthless look.

“...Jeon?”

“Where do you think you’re going?”

You blink, swallow and flounder for a response. “Um, I - home?”

He frowns, and tugs you back towards the bed with a huffy sneer, “Get back in bed.”

Wait, what.

You blink, and blink again at the blush stealing its way across his face, the tips of his ears and the apples of his cheeks a soft pink, his eyes resolutely avoiding yours. Can’t help asking, “...What?”

“S-Shut up!”

“I didn’t even-”

“Just come back to bed.”

Still in disbelief of what’s happening, you let Jungkook rearrange you to his liking. You find yourself tucked into the curve of his chest, your nose pressed against his collarbone with his buried in your hair. His lips rest against your forehead, dropping the faintest of kisses to your brow.

“...We’ll talk when you wake up.”

You can’t tell if you’re curious or horrified, but for now, getting a few more hours of sleep sounds like an excellent idea. And, you suppose, it could be worse.

Shacking up with Jungkook isn’t all that bad, so long as he keeps his mouth shut. 

[golden-cherry]

deal - cl16 (1/?)

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x Reader

Series Summary: Your whole life has gone to shit. Your boyfriend broke up with you, you just lost your job and the Monegasque, who suddenly stands in your doorway, claims that it's his apartment.

Chapter Summary: The best tactic to defend yourself from a stranger? Being dressed only in a towel and having a newspaper in hand, of course.

Warnings: google translated French (I didn't put the translations in the story, but there's a reason to it! maybe you'll figure it out through the series!)

Word Count: 3.1k

series masterlist

A/N: here it is my friends! the first chapter! I'm not sure about tagging people. bad experience and stuff. I still hope you like it! feedback is appreciated! love ya.

The apartment is dead quiet when you get home. Tired, you flick on the kitchen light and toss your gym bag into your small bedroom before grabbing a wine glass from the shelf. You twist the cap off the cheap white wine sitting on the bottom shelf of the small fridge with your teeth, and spit it away. You wouldn't need the cap anymore. You would drink the bottle empty today. 

The whole last week had been unbelievably lousy. Your boss had fired you for a mistake you weren't responsible for, and even though you didn't like working there, you were on the money. 

A few months ago, you had moved to Monaco for that very job. You left your family behind. Built a new life here. Only to find yourself without a job, without opportunities, without prospects. 

You sit down on one of the two chairs at the dining table and open your laptop. Since you were kicked out, the home page of your Internet browser has been searching for suitable job offers, but you haven't found anything yet. You're glad that you've put aside enough money every month to be able to keep this apartment for a few more weeks. And after that, it's either take the next best job, no matter how underpaid it is and no matter how unhappy it would make you, or move back in with your parents.

You'd rather live under a bridge than back with your parents.

Frustrated, you close the laptop. It's hard to find a job in Monaco unless you're already a big shot or born into a good family. And as a former, small-time magazine photographer, you're neither. 

You leave the laptop and your sweaty gym clothes in the bedroom as you head to the bathroom for a shower. The warm water feels good on your skin and tense muscles. The lavender shampoo calms your senses and nerves a bit, but you can't flush that nagging lingering thought - what happens if you don't find a new job? - down the drain, unfortunately.

Ideally, you'd like to stay here, in Monaco. Why not? Life here is great and the people are so friendly that you don't even want to think about leaving it all behind. But the possibilities are limited. And time is running against you. 

You step out of the shower, wrap your hair and body in soft towels, and walk out of the bathroom. 

And just at that moment, the apartment door opens. 

"What the hell?"

The young man suddenly standing in the hallway wrenches his eyes open at your words and winces. Apparently, he wasn't expecting anyone either.

"What the heck are you doing in my apartment?" you yell at him, grabbing the nearest object you could use to defend yourself from the intruder. Unfortunately, it's just a magazine from your old job. You roll it up and point it at him.

"In your apartment?" he asks, confused, dropping the large bag hanging around his shoulder to the floor. He doesn't take his eyes off you. It's like you're the crazy one standing in his apartment all of a sudden. "What do you mean?" He raises his hands placatingly as you take a small step toward him on bare feet with the newspaper.

"Are you stupid? What don't you understand about 'my apartment'?" Your voice sounds a little shrill. You roll the newspaper up tighter in your hands. Not that you can particularly do anything about the man. Just wrapped in a towel and with that little bit of paper. Besides, he's at least a whole head taller. And definitely stronger, judging by his stature. 

The young man lowers his hand to let it disappear into his left pants pocket. You wave your arms behind your head - like Rapunzel with her frying pan. If he tried anything, you'd have enough momentum to maybe hurt him.

"Calm down. I'm not going to hurt you." He fishes something out of his back pocket and holds it up. Dangling from his finger is a jingling silver key. "This is my key. For my apartment. The one I bought." He enunciates each word one at a time, as if you're a child who must somehow be made to understand why two plus two does not equal five. Step by step.

You narrow your eyes. The newspaper stays in place behind your head. "I rented the apartment. A few months ago." You shift your feet apart a little to get a firmer footing. "If it really is your apartment, where have you been for the last few months?"

Confused, he looks at you as if you must know where he'd been. Then he rubs his forehead with his free hand. "Can I sit down? My day has been incredibly tiring and I'm exhausted." He takes a step toward the dining room table, where your wine glass still sits.

"If you take one more step, I'm going to scream."

He rolls his eyes, but stops anyway. "I'm too tired for this shit," he retorts, annoyed, running a hand through his brown hair. "This is my place. I don't know how you got in here or who's supposed to have rented it to you, but you pack your shit now and get out. Before I call the police."

"Why do you want to call the police? You're standing in my apartment!"

"This is not your apartment!"

Like two lions about to go for each other's throats, you stare at each other.

"You leave my apartment now before I call Joris and he throws you out," you threaten him. When he starts in with the cops, you continue with your landlord. If suddenly the cops are in your apartment, he would be informed either way. At least then you could give him a heads up if he really did call the cops. 

Apparently your words triggered something in him, because he lowers his arms and his shoulders relax a little. "Joris? Joris Trouche?"

The fact that he knows your landlord's last name unnerves you enough that you lower your arms as well. The newspaper, however, you still hold in one hand. "How do you know Joris?"

The man no longer looks annoyed, but seriously confused. "Joris is one of my closest friends," he explains. "I bought the apartment in his name. Did he rent it to you?"

Friends? Bought it in his name?

"He did. A few months ago," you answer him. You're not facing each other like lions now, but rather like two deer who don't know exactly how to act. You chew on your lower lip, undecided about what to do.

"I'll call him." As the man pulls his cell phone from his back pants pocket, you can only stare at him in disbelief. If his Joris is really your Joris - what happens next? If he bought the apartment, will you have to move out? You have a valid rental contract. Will it be terminated then? Will you have to move under the next best bridge sooner than expected? Does Monte Carlo have any bridges?

"Good evening, Joris." You didn't even notice that he had already dialed the number. He's not holding the phone to his ear, but in front of his mouth, and you can see he's activated the speaker.

"Hi, buddy. Did you have a good flight?", Joris voice actually rings out.

Your heart stops for a moment and the newspaper falls out of your hand. The man takes one look at the paper and then at your face. "I did, thanks." He licks his lower lip once with his tongue. "I just arrived at my apartment. You know, my second apartment. The one that's in your name."

On the other side of the phone, it's suspiciously quiet. As if transfixed, you stare at the cell phone in his hand, hoping it's all a big mistake. That this already shitty week isn't about to get even shittier. 

"I can explain." Fuck.

While Joris explains to his "buddy" what's going on - "I had rented out the apartment so that it wouldn't get miserably dusty. Besides, it would be completely stupid not to rent out a great apartment and let the money slip through your fingers. I couldn't have known you'd go there. I thought the apartment was only for emergencies." - you sit down at the dining table, still wrapped in your towel, and drink the rest of your wine in one go.

"C'est une urgence!" The man turns off the speaker and holds the phone to his ear. "Je ne peux pas et ne veux pas aller dans l'autre appartement! Tu sais pourquoi! Et maintenant, tu loues ma retraite sans m'en parler? Qu'est-ce que je vais faire maintenant, Joris?" His French is too fast for you to understand in the least. Judging by the wild flailing of his hand, he can't be saying anything good. He raises his hand, touches his thumb to his other fingertips, then holds it to his forehead. His face is flushed as he nags stressedly into the receiver, and you can even see the vein on his neck. "Je ne vais certainement pas à l'hôtel! Comme "pourquoi pas"? Parce que j'ai une résidence secondaire, espèce de crétin! Je peux difficilement l'expulser maintenant de l'appartment que tu lui as loué! Alors je suis le connard qui a jeté une jeune femme à la rue! Comment crois-tu que le gros titres vont suivre?"

While you understand a few words like hotel, idiot, woman - almost certainly meaning you - and headlines, your French is not so good, even after months in Monaco, that you could easily understand him.

"Je me fiche qu'elle soit sexy. Tu ne peux quand même pas laisser quelqu'un vivre dans mon appartement!" He puts his thumb and forefinger to his nose bone. "I'm really too tired for this, Joris. We'll talk tomorrow," he ends the conversation back in English and sits down in the chair across from you. He places the cell phone on the table before drumming his fingertips on the tabletop. "We'll summarize. You have a valid lease on my apartment. I have nowhere else to go. So I have to stay here. What's the plan?" He leans back in his chair and crosses his arms in front of his chest. 

You stare at him. "I should put some clothes on first." Wordlessly, you get up and disappear into the bedroom before he can say anything back. You quickly change, slipping into a dark green Adidas sweater and comfortable yoga pants, and quickly comb your hair. When you leave the room, the man is no longer sitting at the table, but stands in the small kitchen and - cooks?

"I haven't eaten anything today," the man says without glancing in your direction. "And you still had some stuff in the fridge."

You reach for the wine bottle and pour some more into the glass before taking a big gulp. "And you think you could just grab my groceries and cook yourself something?" you ask snarkily. He acts like he's at home. Like this is his apartment.

Well, it is, in theory. 

"I'm making two servings. For you and for me. I'm not a monster." He glances at you out of the corner of his eye as you lean against the fridge to watch him. "Maybe we should start over. Completely new." He turns the piece of chicken in the pan. "What's your name?"

"Y/N" You tilt your head. "And you?"

He furrows his eyebrows in confusion before giving the noodles in the pot a single stir. But as suddenly as the confusion was on his face, it's gone just as quickly. "Charles."

Sharl. The French pronunciation of Charles. And you have to admit, it suits him. As he cooks, you watch him, racking your brains on how to proceed now.

The apartment is small, but living with two people in it could work. One would sleep in the bed, the other on the couch. There would have to be a bathroom plan. And a cleaning schedule. And-

"Can you pour me a drink, too, please?" asks Charles, spreading the food on two plates. He sets them on the table and pulls two forks out of a drawer. 

"What would you like? Wine?" When he nods, you take a second wine glass and pour him the last of your wine. As he sits down, you look at him skeptically. 

Charles raises his eyebrows. "What is it?"

You tighten your mouth into a thin line. "That's my seat."

"Well, there's another chair. Why don't you take that one?"

Uncertainly, you teeter from one foot to the other. You don't want to seem like a crazy person, but in the few months you've lived here, you've always sat in the same chair. You want to keep it that way.

When you don't move, he rolls his eyes, but then sits down in the chair across from you. "Better?"

His food tastes better than expected. To be honest, it tastes better than anything you've ever cooked. But you don't tell him that, of course.

"I don't know how much you overheard of my conversation with Joris" - you overheard everything, you just didn't understand anything - "but I'm afraid I have nowhere else to go. Personal reasons." He pokes at his chicken for a moment. "And I don't want to put you out on the street, either, of course. I can't at all. After all, you have a valid lease and I can't just kick you out, even if it is my apartment." He looks up from his food and looks at you. His eyes are an impossibly beautiful green.

"What do you say we live here together? Just until my situation eases up," he suggests. Before you can say anything, he continues speaking. "I know the apartment is small and there's only one bed, but if we agree on cleaning and shopping and everything, I'm sure we can work it out."

There's a sparkle in his eye. You'd like to know why he can't go to his other apartment. Why he can't go to a hotel. Why he absolutely has to go to his second apartment. But he said himself it was an emergency. And you've known each other for what? An hour? Even if you asked, he certainly wouldn't tell you. 

Private is private.

And maybe it's not permanent. True, you could say on your own that you could go to a hotel, but on what money? For sure you could negotiate with Joris. You move out and stop paying rent. But what if you happen to find a job after all? Then you'd have to look for a new apartment again, because hotels in Monaco aren't exactly cheap. And you certainly won't get a cheaper apartment than this one.

"All right."

Charles doesn't seem particularly surprised, but relieved nonetheless. More like his suggestion wasn't a suggestion, but a fact you'd have to agree to. Which makes you very uneasy.

Maybe he's the kind of guy who takes advantage of his looks to trick young women like you and then murder them in their sleep. Or maybe he'll drug you and sell you to the nearest human trafficker. Or-

"Then maybe we should talk about the sleeping arrangement." He takes a sip of wine and screws up his face. "I thought this was dry wine."

"Dry wine is gross."

Charles exhales audibly. "That's debatable. Whatever." He puts the glass back, but a little farther away than you had put it earlier. "You can sleep in the bed for all I care. I'll sleep on the couch. It shouldn't be that uncomfortable. Except - if it's okay with you - sometimes I'd like to sleep in the bedroom to save my back." His offer sounds reasonable. Once you fell asleep on the couch from fatigue. You could have saved yourself the backache the next day.

"No problem." You smile kindly at him. "Thanks. For letting me have the bed, I mean." And for not kicking me out.

He nods before standing up, taking the two empty plates and placing them in the sink. Charles turns around, hands braced on the ledge behind him. "We can wash this tomorrow, if you like. I'm too tired for that now. And you don't seem like you're particularly up for it right now, either."

He's right. Although your fingers are itching to wash the dishes and put everything in its place, you're so exhausted from the day and the terror of suddenly having a stranger in your apartment that you could fall asleep standing up. So you just nod. 

"I'll just go brush my teeth. Then you can go to the bathroom."

Charles sticks his thumb up before you disappear into the bathroom and quickly get ready for bed. Thank goodness you cleaned the whole apartment yesterday, so you don't have to worry about things lying around or dirt. 

As you exit the bathroom, Charles is settling into the couch. "I grabbed the second set of bedding from the closet in the hallway. You certainly don't need that, do you?" he asks. You shake your head. "Great. I sleep without an alarm clock until 9 most nights. So would be great if you could keep it down until then. The walls aren't very thick, I'm afraid." He spreads out the comforter while you stand in the room, still unsure, watching him. "Do you have to go to work tomorrow? No? Great. Then we can talk about the rest tomorrow. About cleaning and stuff. We'll figure it out." His smile is almost infectious as he pushes past you to go to the bathroom. "Good night, Y/N."

Just before he closes the bathroom door behind him, you see him pull his shirt over his head and his back muscles move under his tanned skin. 

Just at that moment, your cell phone rings. Without looking to see who's calling, you push the caller away. There is only one person who could be calling at such a late hour. And you definitely don't want to talk to that person. 

A few minutes later, you're lying in bed with the covers pulled up to your chin and the door locked for safety - you never know - and you're racking your brains about what needs to be sorted out tomorrow. And whether the whole thing might not have been a stupid idea after all. 

Living with a complete stranger? Who could possibly kill you in the night? Or worse - could put you out on the street from one moment to the next?

You turn on your side, one hand tucked under your cheek, the other between your knees.

Maybe Charles is nice enough and living together works out great. Maybe you'll even become friends. Anything is possible. 

And apart from that - you don't have any other choice. 

Neither of you can go anywhere else. You both need this apartment.

That you both also need each other, you don't know at this point.

next part

[emeraldborealis]

Over And Over Again

Pairing: Ex-husband John Price x GN!reader

TW//CW: Angst, flashbacks, yelling, fighting, brief mention of suicidal ideation, manipulation, gaslighting, blood, parental trauma, coerced drinking.

A/N: Hopefully this part will explain some questions about their past relationship.

Words: 5,147

You are currently reading Chapter 4

The Do-Over Series Masterlist - Chapter One - Chapter Two - Chapter Three - Chapter Five

Shutting the door behind John didn't feel real. Hearing his car pull out of the driveway again didn't feel real. 

Walking into your bedroom and into your bathroom to shower didn't feel real. The water didn't feel real.

Everything felt so distant. Like it wasn't really happening. There was a numbness that had washed over you, making nothing feel like anything. 

Sitting on your floor, still naked and wrapped in your towel you pulled out a box from under your bed, opening it you sifted through its contents, past letters and notes from friends and family, your birth certificate, social security card. All of it was here, but you were looking for something in particular. 

Pulling out your wedding ring you held it in your hand, feeling the cool metal against the palm of your hand. It was so cold it felt foreign to hold. It was once always warm, always against your skin. A feeling you knew better than almost any other. One you were once proud to have. 

All at once the memories came flooding back in. All at once something felt too real.

"Can you do more? Try harder? We all have to help around the house. You're an adult now. I need you to do more. And you need to go to work more, you have rent you need to pay, and insurance." Your mother's lecturing voice clawed into your eardrums. 

"I'm trying my best, I do help. I do more than you think I do. I'm working as much as I can." You felt like it was killing you, working so hard and receiving so little. It had always been this way. You were seen as nothing but lazy.

"I never see you do anything. And you could be going into work more, you should be getting forty hours. You're an adult." Your mother continued, shooting down your efforts.

"You don't see everything. I'm doing all the work they have for me. Why does it matter? I pay you, I put money away in savings. I'm doing alright. I've been working since I was fifteen." No matter how often you tried to explain that you were making it, she wouldn't listen.

"Well, you've needed to pay me since you were fifteen. So you needed a job. You want to be someone someday don't you? This is life, this is what we do. We work. This is how you become someone. So unless you marry someone, this is your life, living here until you can move out." You didn't have the energy to argue, she was right. She always was.

Turning the ring over in your hand you felt tears welling back into your eyes as another memory came to mind. You'd cried a lot tonight. Apparently you weren't done yet. 

Sitting utterly alone in your bedroom, you were about to be plagued by a parade of memories, forced to watch each one pass you one by one like fancily decorated floats. You did this too often, let your past walk all over you, throw things at you until you had too much to hold.

"I'm going for a walk." You informed your parents, stepping out the front door without protest.

Your feet took you to a familiar path, one you walked often. One you probably shouldn't walk on, you knew it was stupid and dangerous, especially the bridge. 

But the walk made you feel better. Especially when you'd walk with music blasting in your ears. Leaving the possibilities of something bad happening open. You knew that thought process was wrong. Which is why you didn't have your music today.

"You shouldn't walk on the tracks, you know. It's dangerous." A voice behind you startled you, making you trip and stumble on the railroad ties, you were able to recover without falling thankfully. You hadn't heard anyone around you. You needed to be better about zoning out.

"Yeah? I had no idea." Sarcasm dripped from your voice, turning around to face whoever it was that was talking to you. It was a man, a few years older than you. A smooth babyface, soft eyes, he was built an abnormal amount for a typical person his age. "Who are you anyways? Why do you care?"

"My name's John. I care because there's so few people in the world who look as nice as you, so it'd be a shame for you to be hit by a train."  His response made you roll your eyes.

"Oh, I get it. You're a creepy bum. Stop following me." You turned to keep walking, trying to leave him behind, but he followed you, jogging to catch up and walk beside you.

"You're delightful aren't you? And I'm not a bum."  He defended himself, not letting you continue alone. Maybe he could tell you were upset. Maybe he understood.

"Then what are you, John?" You asked a bit accusatorially, stopping to face him. 

"I'm in the S.A.S." Suddenly you heard a door opening, a way out. They moved around a lot, didn't they? Looking down you inspected his left hand, no ring.

"You seem a little young for being in the S.A.S." You were skeptical, untrusting. You needed to know he wasn't lying to you. He was no use to you if he really was just a weirdly strong creep.

"I joined the infantry at sixteen." He explained, a small smile coming to his face as he watched you take him in.

"I don't know what that means, but I'm assuming it's an explanation." John was going to become someone, John was going places. You wanted to catch a ride, you wanted out. 

Your struggles were a completely different battle when you were young, time doesn't heal everything. But it can take you away from those things, make them hurt less. John made them hurt less.

For a time.

"Who's this? This your boyfriend? He's so sweet looking." Your mother smiled, moving in to hug John, embracing him like she knew him, despite this being the first time she met him. "I'm a hugger." 

John seemed a bit awkward and unsure of your mother, he'd heard you rant about her a few times, just small things. But from his own experience he knew what she was probably like. "You have a good kid, good head on their shoulders." 

"Don't I? I raised them well." You could feel a bubble of anger rise in you, she didn't raise you. You raised yourself.  

You'd carried so much anger and resentment for your mother when you were younger. A lot of it was well earned. But the ways you'd sometimes treat her in return still ate at you. She was trying to overcome how she was raised. Just as you were now.

It just wasn't fair that you had to become a stepping stool for her to find peace for herself. It wasn't fair that she got to believe she was the reason you turned out okay when she was one of the biggest things you had to overcome.

"So, do you like John?" Your mother asked you curiously, sitting on the end of your bed, interrupting you from reading your book.

"I don't know yet. I think I do." You shrugged, putting your book down. Talking about this stuff with your mother made you feel sick.

"You like him, I can tell. You know you could have told me you were dating someone." She nudged your leg, trying to play with you, but you could hear a hint of her lecturing tone slipping through.

"It slipped my mind I guess. Sorry." You apologized. You found it easier to apologize immediately rather than let things keep going, keep escalating. Even when you apologized sometimes she still preferred to keep digging in deeper.

"You know you can talk to me about anything. Anytime." She was trying to be sincere, she really was. It just felt wrong to you. It felt wrong to talk to your mom. It always ended in a lecture of some kind.

"Yeah, mom. I know."  You reassured her, really just wanting to get back to reading your book.

Looking up to your ceiling you tried to stop your tears, wiping at them furiously. You were shaking again, but that may have been because you were still just in a towel. You couldn't stop yourself from crying, your bottom lip sticking out in a pout as you ugly cried.

"So, when are you and John going to get married?" Your mother questioned as you walked through the front door after work.

"Mom, it's been six months. Two of which he was gone." You took a deep breath, putting your bag down and taking off your work shoes. "Why are you so concerned about me getting hitched?"

"I was married at nineteen. You could be too. Especially since John is a good man. I think you should marry him." Your mom smiled at you, explaining her reasoning. She wanted you to sit down and talk to her about it. But you brushed her off. 

"I don't know yet." You grabbed your bag and started walking off.

"I was talking to you!" Your mom called after you.

Why did you ever let your family get the idea of marriage in your head? Why was that the thing that was supposed to fix you? Maybe if you had decided for yourself that you wanted to be married you could have gotten to that point with John on your own.

You could have actually been ready to get married. You could have learned how the world was supposed to work. How relationships were supposed to work.

"John, I want out of this stupid town. I want out of my parents house." You sat in a tree with him, watching the sunset, there were stars coming out now. Things felt right in these moments with John.

"We could get married, we could move somewhere. I've been thinking I want to be closer to base. We could get married and go together. There's a lot of pros to marrying me." John suggested the idea to you, taking your left hand in his, playing with your ring finger.

"There are..." You held his hand tighter. "You're the first person I've felt this way towards. Maybe that's a sign."

You wailed, curling up on your cold hard floor. You felt pathetic, but you knew you needed to let yourself feel all of this.

To finally fully process and let go of everything that brought you and John together in the first place. Everything he was to you. Everything he did for you. The good, the bad, and the ugly.

"Welcome home, sweetheart." John opened the door to your new apartment for you, holding your hand softly, your wedding band rubbing against his rough skin. "Look around, I'll get our bags from the car." 

You walked around your new home, both your families had moved your stuff in while you were on your honeymoon. This was your first time seeing the place, it was nice. It was far away from your family. It was perfect.

"I know it's not much. One day I'll get us an actual house, I promise." John came inside, setting your bags down. You smiled at him, jumping on him in a bear hug.

"No, it's perfect." You reassured him, kissing his face repeatedly. You were the happiest you'd been in a long time. You were happy to be married to John. To be able to call him your husband. To be out of your old home. Things were looking up.

Remembering the good years tore you apart. The few good years when you were just happy to be with John. When things were working out, when the compromise was listening to him and you were happy to do so.

They were all supposed to be good years. It was all supposed to be good. You were supposed to live out the rest of your life happily with John. But all good seasons have to come to an end.

The memory of the first time you broke down and called your mom still stung. When you had a moment of weakness and just needed your mom. You needed your mom like how you saw others need your mom all of growing up. How could she turn you away when she didn't turn them away?

"Mom, I'm not really happy. We fight a lot." You spoke into the landline, wiping at your tears. Feeling guilty for needing to talk to her. Feeling guilty you needed to talk to someone about your marriage.

"You love him don't you?" Your mom asked curiously, sounding mildly concerned. 

"Yes." Your voice trembled as you spoke. You just needed your mom. You needed to talk to your mom. 

"Then there you go, all marriages have troubles. But since you love him I'm sure you can work it out. Me and your dad fight but we love each other so we make it work. Anyways, I have to go. I'll talk to you later. Okay?" She brushed off your need to talk to her. Your desperation to just be consoled by her.

"Okay. Love you." You hiccupped. Knowing now you shouldn't have bothered. She only cared to listen to your problems if they helped prove her point. This did nothing for her, listening to you now was like listening to a gnat. Inconsequential to her.

"Love you." She hung up on you, leaving the receiver beeping in your ear. Leaving you in shambles alone. Leaving you once again believing you were the problem.

You probably were. You just needed to try harder, work harder to fix things. You loved him. So that was enough for things to work out.

Your screams didn't even make a sound, they were just a rushing of air and a tightness in your throat as you sat up from the floor, sitting with your back against your bed, clutching your ring against your chest.

"I don't want another, I'm okay." You refused another drink, a polite smile on your face.

"Oh come on, you've only had one. I didn't think your wife was a killjoy, John, with the way you talk so highly of them. I thought we could all have some fun." One of John's friends complained, trying to push another drink over to you.

"Come on love, it's okay. You can handle another drink, right? Nothing bad will happen to you as long as I'm here. Just drink a little more, if you can't finish it I will." John tried to reassure you, wrapping his arm around you and squeezing your shoulder, bringing you in closer to him. Away from his buddy.

"Okay." You caved, accepting another glass of alcohol. "But I'm not drinking all of it."

John's friend kept drinking, and then he kept drinking. He was totally pissed, babbling on and on about things you couldn't even understand. He was making you uncomfortable, but John reassured you he was harmless.

"Your wife sure is something John. I see why you married them." John's friend drunkenly giggled, reaching his hand out towards you, John pushed away his hand. Bringing you closer to himself. John's eyes were dark and dangerous, something you'd never really seen with him.

"I think you've had enough to drink. Let's get you home." John stood up from the booth, helping his friend up, putting his friend's arm around his shoulder to help him walk straight. "Come on, love. We'll take him home then we can go home too." 

"Oh, okay." You followed close to John, you were buzzed, but you were alright.

"You're such a good man John, being willing to share such a nice thing." John's friend stumbled away from John, wrapping his arm around you. His breath reeked of the alcohol he was drinking, his arm around you was heavy. Felt wrong. 

"What?" Your sudden panic of betrayal was short lived. One moment John's buddy was all over you, then the next John was on him, several feet away from you on the ground.

One hit, then two. John just kept hitting him. Over and over again. His knuckles were bloody, each time he pulled back his arm to hit him again you saw them, it wasn't his own blood. "Don't you ever touch them. Don't you ever touch my wife."

"John. John, that's enough. John, he's had enough." You grabbed John's shoulder, trying to calm him down. It was as if he hadn't even heard you, he just kept hitting his friend. "John, John. John! JOHN! Stop!" 

The sound of your screaming made him stop, stumbling up off of his now unconscious friend. You were surprised the damage wasn't worse, he was holding his punches and he was still a bloody mess. 

"It's alright, I've got you." He wrapped his arms around you, soothing you with his bloody hands, whispering sweetly into your ear, his nose pressed to your temple. The blood on his hands ruining your shirt.

Biting your lip you tried to stop it's quivering. You didn't want to remember that. You didn't want to have to think about that day anymore. It was one of the biggest turning points in your marriage. It was the day things started to get really bad.

"I'm trying to fix things okay?" John yelled at you, running his hands through his hair. "I'm sorry if what I did was shocking to you. I was just trying to get him away from you. I was angry, unbelievably angry."

"John, you're always angry." You cried, trembling as you stood before him. Sobbing like the mess you were.

"Well, who's fault is that?" His tone was biting, tearing into you. "Stop looking at me like that, stop looking at me with that scared face! I have never laid a hand on you. I would never lay a hand on you. So stop acting like a victim." 

You could hardly breathe, climbing from the floor you sat on the edge of your bed, adjusting your towel that had started to slip away from your body. Bringing it around you tighter.

"Mom, things have gotten worse between us. We're both tense since the incident." You called your mom, trying to cry to her again.

"That's normal. Fights are scary to see, but he was protecting you. Defending your honor. You're not worried he'd hit you right?" You could hear her washing the dishes on the other side of the line. Your concerns weren't even worth her full attention. You weren't worth her attention.

"I don't know." You ran your hand through your hair, trying to soothe yourself.

"You love him right?" She seemed to be listening a little better now, if only to hear the answer to her question.

"Yes." You sniffled, wiping the snot from your nose on the sleeve of your sweater.

"Then things will work out. This will pass. Just try to work harder on your relationship." Work harder. Work harder. All you needed to do was work harder. Push farther. Be better. Do better.

Standing from your bed you weighed your ring in your hand, screaming, you threw it as hard as you could. It hit your wall, falling down behind your dresser, as you heard it hit the floor you sunk down to your knees sobbing.

"You know how I said I'd get us a house someday? Well, since I'm being moved to another base we need somewhere closer to live. And I found the perfect place, it's everything you've ever told me you wanted. And, I think a change of scenery could be good for us." John announced to you, a smile on his face.

"It's an actual house? Like, our actual house? We're not renting anymore?" You asked, excitement coursing through you. Jumping up you jumped on him, making him chuckle as he caught you.

"Yes, and it's perfect for us. Has lots of character, just needs a little work." He spun you around. This could be a fresh start, somewhere away from everything you knew, a place to make new memories and experiences.

Your fingers traced over a scratch in the hardwood, you couldn't remember how it got there, maybe it was there before you moved in. Something about it felt familiar.

This home was supposed to fix things, as you fixed it, it was supposed to in turn fix you, your relationship. But relationships can't be fixed with recaulking and repainting. You learned that from trying. 

"By work I didn't think you meant demolition and rebuilding." You joked, stepping out of the car, seeing the house for the first time. 

"It's what I could do, love. And, it's not that bad. Just needs some new paint. We can do it together." John playfully nudged you, pushing you softly. 

"Together." You agreed, laying your head against his shoulder, wrapping your arm around his waist. The moving truck would be there soon with your things, but right now you could just take in the sight of your new home with your husband.

You covered your face in your hands, you wanted to hide. Hide from remembering. The snot running from your nose was beginning to suffocate you, you couldn't breathe through your nose anymore. 

You were still trying to cry out, still trying to wail and scream. But you had no voice left, you'd barely get a squeak out. There was just too much hurt.

"Mom, things are actually getting better. I think this project together is what we needed. We've gotten most of the outside done, but the inside is still unpainted, it has some old wallpaper, I think John's plan is to peel it. It's nice wallpaper but it's peeling already in a few places." You tried to catch your mom up, actually happy to share good news with her.

"That's great. I have to go, but keep up the hard work." She was never going to listen to you. Not when she had other things to do. Not when you were not the most important thing.

"Oh, okay. Bye." You let her hang up, off to do who knows what.

You often mourned the relationship you could have had with your mother, if you were only more like her. Thought, talked, acted, more like her.

If you would have just let her keep controlling and dictating your life. If you'd never left her maybe she would have loved you as a mother should. 

If you reminded her less of your father. Maybe she could have liked you more.

Maybe if it wasn't for her own father, she could have been a better mother.

"Good work, another wall done." You admired your hard work on the outside of the house, putting your hand on John's shoulder mischievously.

"You just got paint on me didn't you?" He looked at your hand on his shoulder before he looked at your face. A knowing look on his face.

"Yep." You laughed, lifting your hand to show him your  palm covered in paint, and the spot on his shirt that now had your handprint. 

"You little-" You booked it, running away and laughing. 

"It's just paint! No need for retaliation!" You watched as John dipped his hands into the paint, chasing after you, you screamed as you ran away. "Stay away from me!"

"Why? It's just paint." He continued after you, much too quick for comfort. "Come on, I just want to embrace my loving wife, you don't want your husband to embrace you?" 

"No!" You laughed, slowing down. You did not have his endurance, you felt like your limbs were going to fall off before playing this prank. Now you were sure you'd die with the stitch that was in your side.

"You already have paint on you, what's a little more?" John caught you, wrapping his arms around you, he put his hands on your abdomen, getting paint on your shirt, marking you with his handprints. 

You continued to laugh. "Okay, okay. Now we're even." You turned around in his grasp to face him, kissing him tenderly.

"Not yet." He cupped your face, leaving a handprint on your cheek. "Now we're even."

You cupped your cheek, feeling where he'd left the handprint. It was long gone. But a piece of you could still feel it. There was so much good mixed in with the bad.

Most things will be okay eventually, but not everything will be. Sometimes you put in a good fight and still lose. Sometimes holding on too tight is the worst thing you can do. Sometimes the best thing you can do for yourself and someone else is let go. 

Acceptance is a small, quiet room. Filled with so much thought and pain you'd think it was filled with angry bees.

"Now that we've finished the outside, are we going to paint the inside together too?" You asked curiously, sitting down with John on your couch, draping your legs over him. He seemed a bit tense, but you were sure you could help him relax. Unwind.

"Actually, I got a call. I have to go, I'm wanted at base. But, you start and I'll help you finish. Pick whatever colors you want." He kissed your forehead, patting your thighs before moving your legs off of him so he could go get his stuff ready to leave.

"Oh. Okay." You watched him leave you. Knowing you'd end up peeling all the wallpaper by yourself. Painting the entire inside of the house yourself. 

Even when you didn't appreciate each other anymore he still felt like your other half. Sometimes he still feels like your other half. The half that's missing. The half you'd sent away so many times. The half you'd watched walk out on you. The half that you weren't sure would come back to make you whole. 

Things began to get worse again, you were either fighting or ignoring the other. You'd have moments where things were good. But you both were distant. You didn't even notice you were crumbling until you fell apart. 

So many years together, so much time and energy spent trying to make things work. 

You just couldn't try anymore. 

"John." You didn't know what to say, how to speak. All words stuck in your throat. 

"Yeah?" He looked up at you from where he sat at the table, a questioning look. You handed him some papers. "What's this?" He took the papers from you, looking them over. Divorce papers. "Oh, I see."

Your mind made you mostly forget what happened that night, but you know you fought, you know he yelled at you, said a lot of hurtful things. You could still remember that pain. But you couldn't remember what exactly it was that hurt so bad. 

His yelling went on for so long, so many hours. Then there was the slamming of the door, and he was gone. Truthfully you were still trying to process leaving him, sending him away.

The divorce went fast, he gave you the house, and most other things. All he took was all he needed. Everything else was left to you.

"Mom, I'm divorcing John." You sobbed at your own realization, having now said it out loud for the first time. This wasn't right. But this was what needed to be done. Your marriage was a sinking ship and you refused to let either of you drown anymore.

"Oh. I knew he was no good, I knew he was a bad man. I tried to tell you to be careful marrying young. Told you that you could stay home as long as you needed, there was no rush. This is what happens when you rush relationships and just jump into marriage." Your mothers unempathetic words struck you. The manipulation, the lies. The gaslighting.

"Mom, you-" You tried to argue, tried to call her out.

"So, are you going to move closer to home? You should." Your mother continued, ignoring you completely.

"No, John left me the house. Said I put in more work on it, so I could have it." You were honestly shocked how much John just gave to you freely in the divorce. How defeated he seemed. He just wanted to get it over with quick and easy. He didn't want to take anything more away from you.

"You really want to stay there in that house?" Your mothers tone was skeptical, unbelieving.

"I do, Mom. I have to go. We can talk later." You refused to let her drag you back home, you were never going to live with her again.

"Oh, okay. Love you." You should have known better, your mom was always like this. Always placing the blame onto you. You didn't know when it was going to stop surprising you.

The aching in your chest wasn't an unfamiliar feeling, you knew it well. At one point you were sure you'd die from it. But you hadn't, you'd just kept living. 

Day by day you'd just kept living. You were still living. You'd come so far, too far to be letting these things still hurt you the way they did.

You stood at the window, watching John put his last box into the moving truck, pulling the door down and securing it. 

It was the truck that was going to take him away. It hurt, watching him. This was really it, you were watching him actually leaving your life. He was going to be gone for good now. 

It felt cruel, being left here without him. Even if you were the one who decided he needed to leave. A life without John in it just didn't sound right. Though you supposed it was time to figure out how to live a life alone.

"No." You'd felt relief then, watching him leave. But you didn't now. You'd changed. He'd changed. You didn't want to miss out on meeting the new him. You didn't want to let your past self stop you from moving on from that hurt. 

You weren't going to lose something you couldn't replace.

He really had changed. He didn't fight with you, even when you were screaming in his face. He expressed the desire not to control anymore, he was truthful even when it was damaging to him. He wasn't just trying to change like he once said. He had changed. 

Desperately you moved to your dresser, pushing and shoving at it, it wouldn't budge. It was far too heavy.

Tearing your clothes from the drawers you threw them on the floor, ruining how neatly folded they were. Once it was empty you pushed again, getting it away from the wall, using your legs you moved it enough to get behind it. Grabbing your wedding ring you held it in your hands.

You didn't want to let go of someone who put in the effort to change. Someone who's trying to change for you. If you don't allow him grace, if you don't allow him to change, all it does is prove that you too, are incapable of changing. 

You had too much love for him, where was that love supposed to go? Even if it was a complicated love, it was still love. Love worth trying again for. Love worth trying again for with equal effort on both sides. 

After so many years your love still remained, you were still stuck with all that love. So why not try? Why not let the love try to find a home in someone one more time?

[carolmunson]

out on the moonlit floor. (older!modern!eddie)

part six of who knows how many orange colored sky set list

you and eddie walk down to the piers at brooklyn bridge after you both meet up for dinner a couple nights after your embarrassing drunk sleep over. you both spur on conversations about each other over icecream -- and when you get home, you both share more than you expected. inspiration from this series comes to you in part by: @loveshotzz 'all i really want is you' series. wanting to fuck that old man. and readers like you.

tw: discussions of minor character death, drinking some alcohol, smut, p in v, oral (f receiving), some vague talk about BDSM, couples first time, reader cries after sex

songspiration: kiss me | six pence none the richer

Now that the humidity broke it was almost a little chilly over by Brooklyn Bridge Park tonight. The water from the Hudson slapping against the posts of the first pier, each little wave winking when it caught the light of the moon. Manhattan sparkled across the river, glittering in both of your eyes while you walked toward the fireboat station turned ice cream parlor. Kids run around with sticky hands and mouths, shrieking and giggling with each other while parents look onward. Other couples walk hand in hand down towards the other piers -- some still under construction.

The air is warm but in a comforting way -- a reminder that fall is on the precipice, peeking itself out in hints so that you want something pumpkin flavored in early August. Eddie's hand is warm and clammy in yours, the silver bands on his fingers warmed by your touch.

"I never come down here," he says, looking around, "Why don't I ever come down here?"

You shrug, "I dunno -- are you a big water guy?"

He scrunches his nose and shakes his head, "Not really -- Steve'll drag me to the beach a lot when he visits and I'm fine with the beach but -- I'm not like, a beach guy. Or a river guy, or whatever. Lakes, sure. Ponds, why not?"

"I love being near the water," you say, leading him into the boathouse. You get in line behind at least ten people, all savoring their dog days of summer with an ice cream cone. It's warm in there, all the fans do is blow around the smell of sugar and cream, waffle cones off the press. He lets go of your hand to lay it gently on your shoulder to guide you through, heated skin to heated skin.

"I can love being near the water," he offers.

"Yeah?" you turn your head to look at him, his cheeks flushing. You look so pretty like this, he thinks. A little warm, a little slick on your skin. In your pretty summer dress that he hadn't seen yet. The soft quirk of your brows when you ask.

"Yeah," he nods, "For you? Of course."

You roll your eyes, taking a few steps forward as the line moves, "What looks good to you?" You pass a sticky menu you to him that he squints to read, apples up his lifting up to hide his eyes. You pull his glasses from the worn collar of his shirt, clearing your throat while you tap them against his knuckle.

"I can read it, baby," he mutters, distracted by the descriptions in light ink on white paper hidden behind a foggy sheet of plastic.

"You're gonna give yourself a headache," you chide. He rolls his eyes this time, taking his glasses and tucking them back on his collar. He passes the menu back to you.

"I already know what I want."

"Sure you do."

You walk out together, him with his Sweet Cream & Cookies cone and you with you Salted Crack'd Caramel in a cup. He's had two bites of yours and already regrets his decision.

"Well if you could read the menu then you probably would've got something more exciting," you tease, pulling your cup away when he reaches again.

"I mean this is good but it's boring," he pouts, "I'm not a boring ice cream kind of person."

"Is Steve?" you ask, his head tilts at the question, turning to you.

"Steve?" he repeats, "Why're you asking about Steve?"

"That's who Big Guy is in your phone, right -- with the little muscle emoji next to it? Your buddy Steve?" you smirk at him, his tongue pressing against the back of his teeth.

"Yeah, that's my guy," he nods, "You know how I said he always drags me to the beach when he visits?"

"I do," you nod, a spoonful of ice cream resting on your tongue before you swallow leaving a coating of mocha, sea salt, and caramel behind.

"He's visiting soon," Eddie smiles down at your lips closed around the plastic spoon, "I'm really excited for him to meet you."

"Do you think I'll like him?"

"I think...Steve's a boring ice cream person," he laughs, "Always gets like -- butter pecan or something. You think I'm an old man? Wait until you meet this guy."

You both laugh with each other like mean girls on the playground.

"Is he um -- is he doing okay? I know you mentioned a few weeks ago that he lost his wife," you're shy while you approach the subject, you could tell it weighed heavy on Eddie to talk about it.

"I think..." Eddie starts, taking a lick of his ice cream while he considers it, "I think he's doing okay for being almost half a year out. I um, I stayed with him for the first three months -- moved him into the house they bought --"

"She passed before they moved," he explains when your brows knit in confusion.

"Oh," you nod along, face relaxing so he can continue.

"Moved him in -- I think he cried for six days straight. We didn't even sleep, just laid on his couch and watched Fever Pitch like, eighty five times in a row," he looks out at the water while he recalls it and then smiles, "Which is so weird considering he's a Cubs fan."

"That's so niche," you giggle before softening, "You're a good friend."

"He'd do it for me," Eddie shrugs, "He's already done like so mu--"

Before he can finish, two runners speed by, knocking him in the shoulder. You both watch his cone fall in slow motion towards the blacktop of the walk way.

"Sorry," the guy calls out while he continues on, barely looking back over his shoulder while he goes. The neon yellow of his running sneakers become little flecks as he gets deeper towards the tree covered walkway on the other side.

"Hey, fuck off and DIE, asshole!" you call after him, a grit in your voice that Eddie hadn't expected to hear. He can't help but laugh at your anger at his expense.

"Hey, hey," he starts, newly free hands resting on your shoulders, "Easy killer."

"There was plenty of space for him to run," you seethe, "He's a fuckin' asshole."

"It's okay," he promises, face relaxed, "It's okay."

"It's not okay," you sigh. You hold your half full cup and spoon out to him, "Have mine."

"But then you won't have one," he says, "I'm not taking yours."

"You already know you like the flavor," you insist, "I'll grab myself another one, I need a water anyway."

Eddie looks at the ice cream and then you, one dimple creasing when a side smile pulls at his lips, "Okay."

When you come back with your new ice cream he's settled down on a bench directly across from the Freedom Tower. You can see all the lights across the water from the Seaport, water taxis and mini dinner cruises coming in an out of dock in the haze of a midsummer night.

"Before Sandy, this used to be a weird sad looking mall," you say, sitting next to him, "And there used to be a really good restauarant called Red -- I loved it cause they never carded me."

"You go to college here?" he asks, you nod.

"I liked the mall cause there was a Bath and Body Works and a Christmas in New York store. I'd go in there every time I was homesick -- just felt cozy for some reason," you shrug.

"But the new stuff there is cool too," you say, taking a bite of your ice cream, "It's definitely like -- for rich people."

"Definitely for rich people," he agrees, his spoon sneaking over to your full cup, his empty one next to him. He steals a bite, letting the flavor savor on his tongue.

"Come on, why do you keep getting amazing flavors?" he sighs. You hold the cup tighter to yourself, a smile working on your lips.

"This one is just for me," you chide, "If you want more go get more."

"Nah, I just wanna taste it one more time," he says smoothly, quietly, leaning in. His hand finds your cheek, ducking in for a long slow kiss, "There we go."

Speechless, you just shake your head and take another bite when he breaks away.

"No, no, I think I need another one -- gotta get the full flavor profile," he smirks, loving the sounds of your giggle when he leans in again for another kiss. He gives you three loud smooches on the lips, enough to make a few people roll their eyes but neither of you notice. Too wrapped up in each other to really care.

Eddie's apartment is as it always is -- it smells like him, the walls are covered in knick-knacks and framed posters. Maximalism at it's finest -- organized chaos -- but somehow streamlined. You leave your sandals in the hallway, barefeet hugging the cold hardwood from the AC.

"You know what I could go for right now?" you ask. He looks up with his brows raised, putting his wallet and keys in a bowl by the door. He'd forget them otherwise.

"A mezcal marg," you say, "I'd fuck up a marg so hard right now."

"Well lucky for you," he starts, walking over to the bar cart behind the dining room table, he lifts up a bottle of Del Maguey Vida, "I have mezcal."

"Yay," you let out quietly, not too far off from our quiet cheer when you were wasted in his kitchen last week. You can tell he used to bar tend by the way he mixes drinks, how he slaps the mixer and shakes it, how he eyeballs the liquor. It's not long after you've situated on the couch that he comes over to you with your drink.

"Here cutie," he says, carefully passing it to you from behind the couch and walking around it with his own. The first sip confirms he's made these a million times, wonderfully smokey and salty, refreshing and fruity.

"Oh no," you laugh, "It's really good."

"I'll make you as many as you want," he takes a sip and settles down next to you, arm outstretched behind you, "Thank you."

"Why're you so good at everything?"

"Me?" he quirks his brow, "Nah, I'm just -- I have a lot of experience with like, mundane shit."

"No, no, you're like -- you're good at a lot of stuff," you nod, "Give yourself some credit."

You feel bold even though you've only had two sips of the margarita, but it gives you some courage nonetheless, "What else are you good at?"

"What do you mean?"

"Well --" the cat catches your tongue for a moment, suddenly unsure if you want to bring it up. But then again, he's already seen you at your almost most pathetic.

"I saw those handcuffs in your room the first time I was here," you start, "You good at tying girls up?"

He blushes hard, laughing off the embarrassment, "S'cuse me?"

"I'm serious," you laugh, "Are you good at tying girls up? Is that the kind of stuff you're into?"

"I -- wow -- um," he bumble through words trying to find an answer, looking down at his drink and then looking at you and back down again.

"I -- yeah," he shakes his head, surprised at his own confession, "Yeah, I'm -- I'm into that kind of stuff. Not like, not all the time -- but for some partners, sure, yeah." "So you are a little freak then," you tease.

"Maybe," he shrugs, "By the look on your face though it looks like you might be really interested in that."

You shrug back coolly, another sip of your marg giving you a moment to consider, "I can be."

"Yeah?" He leans back on the couch, legs spread open while he looks you over. He keeps his eyes on you, sipping slowly on his drink while he does. You start to get shy under his gaze, exactly what he was waiting for, "You think you could handle it, sweetheart?"

As expected, you roll your eyes, "Ew."

He puts his drink on a coaster on the coffee table, coming back up to give you a kiss, "You don't think it's ew."

"I know," you nod, letting his lips trail down your jaw to your neck and back up again. Unafraid, you crawl back onto his lap like you did the first night you were there. His hands wander more freely, sliding up and around your thighs, listening to your sounds and how you like to be touched. When you roll your hips he doesn't stop you this time, he lets you do it, savoring the relief he gets every time the pressure meets his hardening cock in his slacks.

"I'm not," Kiss, "Gonna do that," Kiss, "Tonight, though."

"Oh," you smirk, holdhing his face in your hands while you look down at him, "Are we gonna do it tonight?"

He blushes again, chastising himself for assuming what you wanted, "No, no, only if you want to. And I want it to be nice and like -- I want it to --"

You lean in for one more slow kiss to shut him up, he groans into it, "I want to."

Eddie gulps, looking up at you with a nod, "I'll um...I'll meet you upstairs."

He watches you get up and head towards the small spiral staircase, his mind buzzing a mile a minute. He collects the glasses and puts them in the fridge for later, cleaning up a bit while his hands nearly shake with nerves and excitement. Just as he's about to make it up the stairs he sees his phone start to buzz on the coffee table. Steve.

And normally he never does this, but for the first time in months he clicks 'Ignore' before heading up the stairs behind you.

You undress after him, trying not to gape at his body, trying to ignore the way it drives you insane. His tattoos dance with each move of his waist and arms, each flex of his thighs. He takes his time making his way over to the bed, sliding the throw to the floor when he sits on the edge of it to watch you.

Your dress comes off slow -- he beckons you forward to stand between his thighs. Neither of you speak while he cups your breasts in his hands, squeezing softly. You let out a quiet sigh when his lower lip drags against the top curve, pressing into a kiss. Moving to the next to take a nipple into his mouth, wet tongue sliding over it while his thumb teases the other.

Your hand reactively reaches for his head, pleasure starting as a line up your neck and down to your pelvis -- a whimper coming out of you involuntarily. He gives a final flick of his tongue before pulling your underwear down to your knees, letting them fall to your ankles. He looks up with a smile and a kiss to your lips, "Lay down for me."

He doesn't have to ask you twice, kicking kicking your panties off and sliding onto his bed. You lay back against the soft comforter and look up at him while he kneels over you, eyes gleaming while they take you in.

“Peach you’re…you gotta be fucking kidding me,” he lets out with an airy laugh. 

You look up at him while he lets his eyes roam over you again, suddenly self conscious. You cover some of your chest with your forearm, tucking in on yourself. 

“No, no baby,” he coaxes softly, “Show me, show me you.” 

You reluctantly release, it had been a while since you were fully naked in front of someone. You grimace when your arms fall back flat on the comforter, hands daintily laying just above your head. He bites his lower lip, the pink in his cheeks flushing to a soft red. His hands reach up to the sides of your rib cage, eyes on you for silent permission.

“Jesus,” he says under his breath. His hands slide down carefully, cascading into the dip of your waist and up over your belly. One finger tip traces a stretch mark just above your pelvis that you wished he hadn’t noticed — that you forgot you had. His hands continue their journey over your hips to the tops of your thighs — your body warm and welcoming to his touch. 

“You are gorgeous,” he whispers — partly to himself, partly to you. 

You lean up on your forearms and look down at yourself briefly, “Yeah? You think so?” 

“I uh – fuck –” he shakes his head in disbelief before leaning forward to kiss you, “I really think so.” 

His lips come in for a long peck, settling himself over your calves, forearms and biceps flexing while he leans on his hands to steady himself on the mattress. He breaks away to kiss your neck – gentle, only a few before placing one soft kiss to your chest – working his way downward. He kisses the pad of fat on the peak of your ribcage, down to your stomach, right over the stretch mark that you wish you’d forget about now. He kisses the other side of your belly, mouth and breath warm while he does, eyes blown like he’s mapping you out. 

You revel in the quiet, watching him savor you, adjusting to sit on his knees between your legs. He bends down like he’s praying, lips blessing the top of one of your thighs. He bends one of your legs up and out, kissing the inside of your knee. 

“Please,” you whisper down at him. He kisses the inside of your knee again, feeling your weight shift in the bed while you open your legs further. He looks down between your thighs, brows tilting in awe at the sight of you bared for him. 

“Push up on the bed a little, honey,” he instructs, so quietly you wouldn’t have heard him if he wasn’t so close. If the rest of the apartment wasn’t so still. You slide up on the comforter while he adjusts the pillows behind you, “That’s good? You comfortable?” 

You nod breathlessly, his smile making you melt the more you see it in the light of his lamp in the corner. He kisses you again, hand reaching up behind your neck to pull you to him while you let his tongue into your mouth. It slides against yours with needy precision, wanting to get as close to you as possible while he does. When you part he lets out a shaky breath, nuzzling your nose. 

“You okay?” you press your forehead to his. 

“Yeah I’m just – I think I’m nervous,” he laughs, “You’re makin’ me nervous.” 

“Why’re you nervous?” you ask, pulling back to look at him. 

“I dunno. I guess I just,” he leans back, “I’m never normally thinking my way through it. At least I haven’t for a while.” 

“What does that mean?” 

“Like I was just taking people home to fuck, then they’d leave,” he shrugs, “I’m like…I’m taking my time and I wanna make sure it’s like – the best sexual experience you’ll ever have.” 

“Sexual experience,” you repeat back in a tease, he puffs out a breath with a roll of his pretty brown eyes. 

“I’m trying to be meaningful here,” he asserts, “M’trying to like – make love to you.” 

You giggle again at ‘make love’ but cover your mouth, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry – I’m not making fun of you. That’s very sweet, Ed.” 

He tinges an embarrassed pink and settles back on his knees, hands running through his hair. 

“Baby,” you soothe, coming up to smooth your hands over his shoulders, “I’m sorry. I promise I’m not trying to make you feel silly or embarrassed. I’m nervous, too.” 

“Baby…” he repeats back, a boyish grin pulling up on his lips, “I’m not a baby.” 

“Yeah you are,” you nod, kissing his cheek, “You’re such a baby.” 

“Thought I was an old man,” he says, that blushy grin still plastered on his face. 

“You can be both.” You lay back against the pillows, watching him take a settling breath before coming back down to meet you for another taste of warm kisses. He lets himself press a loving kiss to your cheek before dipping down to leave intentional kisses down your sternum, following his map from your rib cage to your belly, the top of your thigh, the inside of your knee. Neither of you speak when he kisses the inside of your thigh, letting him part you right before his tongue starts to flick dutifully over your clit. 

Your quiet gasp makes his eyes flutter closed, feeling you settle down into the pillows while his lips open over you, nose resting on the pudge of your mound. His tongue works steadily, working you while your legs bend and creep upwards, thighs to your chest. One hand reaches up to squeeze the inside of one, spreading you apart a little further for him. You feel the warmth of the back of his head as he leans to the side against your thigh, tongue dragging up over and over before moving right back to center. 

“More,” you sigh out, starting to whimper, hips reacting to each flutter of his tongue. He start to suckle, eyes flicking up at the sound of your voice. He nods while he works, one hand coming up to slide a finger in either ease – he’s not surprised. 

“Oh!” you squeak out, the little quake in your thighs makes him huff a laugh. 

“Does this feel good?” he asks against your skin. He kisses your other thigh why he waist for an answer. You nod down at him, breaths picking up while his finger dips slowly in and out. 

“S’really good,” you slur out, the tingle in your belly rising to an electric buzz. 

“D’you like getting eaten out?” he asks, starting again. His middle finger pushes in with his index this time with mild resistance. 

“Hmmm-yes,” you breathe out at the slight stretch, feeling him hook into you once his fingers push the hilt. You push up on your forearms and then your hands, the pleasure making you dizzy while you look down at him. 

“Don’t stop,” you whisper. He obliges, head down and determined, sucking and teasing, the soft flick of his tongue getting you closer and closer. His fingers pulse, pushing in and in and in, the pads of his fingers pressing on your core that makes heat run through you. You aren’t sure if you’re numb with pleasure or you’re flooding over his finger, the buzz is becoming overwhelming. Your heart hammers, his fingers working in a controlled steady rhythm – too grown to know that when a girl’s about to cum you don’t speed up, you stay the course.

“ShhhitI’mgonnacum – ohmigodI’mgonnacum.” 

His lips break away from your clit as you start to come undone, a smirk prevalent on his face when he leans in to kiss you through it. You moan so loud into his mouth it’s almost a cry – a prayer to God that you make it out with all your senses. 

He feels the gush of your release over his first and middle finger, leaking plentifully into his comforter. He smiles when he breaks away from you — soft kisses on your cheeks while you shiver.

You flop flat on your back with a deep breath, shutting your eyes while you push air out of O shaped lips. 

“You okay?” his low gravelly voice settling in your chest. You nod, a little hazy, shifting over a wet spot under your limp thighs.  “Ugh.”

“It’s okay,” he assures, knowing that you can feel what you left behind. He squeezes your calf with a soft chuckle, “Just a lil’ mess, baby. D’y’need a minute?” 

You nod, another deep breath, peeking through your heavy lids to watch him stretch over you while he clicks on another light. The sconces above his bed glow golden and soft above the both of you, glinting against his silver jewelry like a fire. Eddie’s form shifts the mattress when he lays next to you, rough palm smoothing over the top of your stomach to the opposite dip in your waist. 

“That was uh…” 

“Yeah…”

You lay there with each other, eventually finding the strength to move onto your side to face him. He’s confident now that you came, more sure of himself – he knows he can make you do it again. 

“Don’t give me that look,” you chide. 

He giggles darkly, face splitting smile pulling his cheeks up, “M’not giving you a look.” 

“You are giving me a look.” 

“M’just…you know – It’s always good to know you still got it,” he shrugs, falling onto his back. He tucks his hands behind his head, elbows splayed out on either side, biceps flexing, “And I still got it.” 

“Yeah, yeah, you still got it old man,” you laugh, tucking yourself under his arm so that your head lays on his chest. You look down the expanse of him, fingertip tracing one of his tattoos that flows down to his lower stomach. His cock twitches, kicking up at the gentle touch so close to his pelvis. You let out a soft hum when one of his arms comes down to wrap around you, kiss pressed to the top of your head. You tilt up, noses brushing while your fingers still trace, searching lower until the scratch of stubble from week old manscaping finds you. 

You kiss him first, moving out from under his arm, propping yourself up on your elbow while you guide him. He grunts out a low groan when your hand finally wraps around his cock, offering him steady strokes, giving him a type of relief he’s deeply needed this past month and some change. It’s not long before his fingers wrap around your wrist to put you back on the mattress, hard and leaking, desperate to be inside you. Your eyes linger on it while he leans over to grab a condom from his bedside table drawer, he smirks while he rolls it on. 

“Ready?” he asks, cocky, tossing the foil packaging off the bed. You nod hurriedly, grinning while he props your hips up under a couple of his pillows. 

Another kiss and he’s parting your legs again, fingers sinking into the fat of the back of one of your thighs while he guides himself down the slick slit of your core. He goes slow, tip teasing your clit before sliding down to your entrance. He’s concentrating, but he still flicks his eyes up at you beneath his feathered bangs before starting to push. 

“Yeah?” he asks.

“Yeah.” 

He eases in, you feel the stretch immediately, legs springing up tight towards your chest. One, two, three short even thrusts before you’re slick enough to accommodate him. He pushes in slowly, both of you sighing in pleasure when he splits you open to the hilt, your legs parting further. His other hand meets your lonely thigh, gripping tight while he starts at a steady rhythm, head lolling back for a moment then coming back to center.  

“Baby…” he starts, a growl of a grunt coming from his chest, “You – oh, honey – you feel so good, so — oh fuck...” 

You can only respond with choked ‘uhn! uhn! uhn!’s at every thrust, the head of his cock plunging deep at this angle, nearly brushing your cervix. His kiss is welcomed when he lets go of your legs to lean forward over you, propping himself up on one forearm, hand  on your cheek. 

“That’s good? This feels good?” he pants into your mouth. 

“Mhm,” you whine, “You’re so deep.” 

“I know,” he coos, “M’really deep. You like that?” 

“Yeah,” you squeak when his thrusts become intentionally strong and slow. 

“Feelin’ me?” he asks, tip of his nose running along your cheek, forehead against your temple. You nod, groaning while he continues, holding his hips in place after every plunge into your core. His cologne and scent of his hair products blend together in a dark spice that makes your mouth water, eyes fluttering closed when you hear his breaths become gravelly – each one its own growl. You can barely think, your mind’s not able to keep up with the pleasure of where his cock keeps hitting, how full you feel, where his free hand wanders, how he kisses your neck. In the haze you realize that he likes this, he likes being in control. 

Your body bounces against his hips when his thrusts start to pick up in speed, not fast like a jackhammer, but fast enough that the buzz in your belly becomes a vibrant hum. He gives you a final sloppy kiss on the neck and then the lips before leaning back up for more leverage, gripping your waist just above the flare of your hips. 

“Look at me,” he huffs out, more of a command than a suggestion. Your heart rate quickens at the sound, bark and bite while his fingertips squeeze you. Your eyes snap to his like magnets, like when you first kissed after your date in the park. 

“God,” he groans, “S-so – fuck – pretty.” 

His next thrust hits a spot that makes you see white, a whimper choking out of your throat. You grab his wrist, whining, “Ohmygod there, right there.” 

“There?” he teases softly, slowing down to slowly drag his cock in and out. He hits it again at an achingly low speed this time, but the pleasure is just as delicious. 

“Yes, yes right there – please,” you don’t even know what you’re saying please for, what you’re asking. You just need to feel this, you need him to get you there. He quickens his pace, the slick and sloppy sounds of skin hitting skin and ragged breaths disrupting the quiet of the room. Tears pool in your eyes in pleasure while you cry out, back arching into each snap of his hips. 

“More, more, more,” like a chanting prayer flows out of you, spurring him on. His heart thumps in his chest while he looks down at you, your face contorted, the way your breasts bounce. He resists the urge to reach down and clamp over your neck when you bare it to him, pushing yourself against the pillows. He busies himself by gripping your thighs again in a bruising hold, holding steady at a pace that clearly feels great for you but feels amazing for him. Eddie bites his lip, the sight and sound of you sending him reeling. He’s getting close, hips starting to stutter while your walls loosen a bit to accommodate him further, you’re already soaking his pelvis – you’re gonna cum, he can feel it. 

You can feel all your sounds in your throat, kneels pulling together as the vibrant hum in your lower belly becomes a vibration. He doesn’t stop, grunting and huffing like a bull with each thrust while he tries to hold back. He pulls your knees apart to make space for him, chest to chest while he pumps in a little bit faster. Eddie’s mouth takes yours hungrily, greedily while he lets out an aching moan. 

“Fuck – fuck - shit,” he growls, eyes clamped closed while your noses rest against each other. He keeps going, fucking you through his orgasm despite his shaking arms. At this position he can adjust to go a little deeper, and when he does you gush. He keeps going, feeling the pulses of your walls over his cock, a confident grin puffing out tired breaths. 

You grip his biceps when he does one final hit that sends you over the edge, thighs and hips shaking when he does. You feel it in your whole body, goosebumps rising like you can’t handle it, back nearly aching in an arch that settles back down. Your moan turns into a cry – a real cry. You shudder while your body comes down, tears pouring down your cheeks and you can’t quite get yourself to settle down. 

“Oh, honey no, did I hurt you? Are you okay?” Eddie swallows, voice back to soothing comfort while he eases up, “What’samatter? Did you not like it?” 

You wipe your eyes but the tears still come, you shake your head no. Embarrassed from blubbering you try to cover your face but he smooths your hands away, “What’s wrong, Peach? Please talk to me. Was that too much? Was I too rough?” 

“N-no,” you laugh a little, “Sorry, this is r-ridiculous. I’m – m’okay.” 

“You don’t look okay,” he says. He settles on his calves, easing you up to sitting – with some coaxing he gets you straddled in his lap. The exhaustion from your orgasm distracts you from the stickiness between your thighs, the uncomfortable wetness leftover between your legs. You feel sleepy and soggy. 

“Did I do something?” he asks again, hands cupping your cheeks while his thumbs swipe away oncoming tears. 

“N-no it was ju-just really intense,” you swallow and cough, another sob racking through you, “J-just came really hard.” 

He nods, looking at you intensely, “Do you just want me to hold you?” 

You nod back and without a second though he pulls you tight into him, bringing you both back down sideways on the mattress. He lets you let it out, running the backs of his fingers along your back until you start to calm down, sobs shuddering down into sharp breaths, to normal ones, to slow. 

“A little better?” he asks, quiet and sweet. You nod with your eyes closed, cheek squished against the comforter. Eddie smiles, easing the condom off his now softened shaft and tossing it in the bin under his night stand. He soothes you for a while, sitting on the side of you and running his palms over your back and thighs, over your calves, selfishly over the swell of your ass. He puts pressure on your lower back, between your shoulder blades, the top of your neck. 

“This is really nice,” you croak out, feeling the warmth of his hands cascade gently over you. 

“Sometimes it’s nice to just get worshiped, huh?” 

You nod again, breaths steady, “Yeah.” 

“Yeah,” he confirms, “You deserve it, don’t you?” 

“I do,” you smile. 

“That’s my girl,” he coos. My girl, my girl, my girl. 

It echoes through the both of you, the declaration – the claim, but neither of you say anything.In fact at this point, it looks like you might’ve fallen asleep. 

Eddie takes the throw that had been pushed to the floor and covers you up for now, he’ll wake you later for pajamas and water and a snack. For now he figures you should just rest, you look so cute like this – all worn out ‘cause of him. He quietly slips on a pair of socks and gray sweats and pads his way downstairs to make you something, swiping up his phone to see two missed messages from Steve on his screen. 

Big Guy💪👔 37m ago Did you just bitch button me? 

Big Guy💪👔 37m ago What the fuck?

Big Guy💪👔 36m ago Photo notification. 

Eddie rolls his eyes, opening his phone to his texts. His eye roll stops when the picture of Bandit curled up on his bed by the sliding door pops up. Eddie said the bed was way too big for him, but Steve insisted he’d grow into it. 

Eddiesorry dude, i was busy. u around? 

Big Guy💪👔 0m ago Taking Bandit on a night walk. You okay? You have a show tonight? 

EddieNah.  🍆🍆🍆🍆🍆

Big Guy💪👔 0m ago Hell yeah dude 😎 Congrats! 

Eddiethanks man.just putting something together for her for when she wakes up.

Big Guy💪👔 0m ago fucked her to sleep lol 

Eddie gotta change my middle name to nyquil 😎

Big Guy💪👔 0m ago so it was good huh? 

Eddie i’ll tell you all the horny details tomorrow but honestly dude? i might end up loving this one. 

He wakes you up later leaving gentle kisses on your forehead, set of his comfy clothes in his hand for you, “Made you a little snack downstairs, you hungry?” 

You stretch, nodding, feeling a dull ache in your hips and inner thighs. You frown when he eases the throw off of you, forcing you to stand up and get dressed. Eddie’s scent is prevalent on his clothes, enveloping you again when he does the same with his arms. 

“You sure you’re okay?” he asks again. 

“Yeah, I’m okay,” you assure, looking up at him, “Now, don’t get a big head about this or anything – but that was easily some of the best sex I’ve had in my life.” 

He lets go of you, shrugging with a smile and tilt of his head, “What can I say? I –” 

“I said don’t get a big head,” you warn, stifling a giggle, “Don’t you go around bragging about it either.” 

“Okay, okay, I won’t, I promise,” he holds his hands up, leading the way down the stairs. 

“Not even Steve.” You follow him down, body taking over to lead you to the snacks he laid out on the counter of the island. 

“Not even Steve,” he repeats, picking up his phone again. 

Eddie she just told me that this was the best sex she’s ever had in her life lol i’m the fucking man

Big Guy💪👔 0m ago you da man 😎

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[kooktrash]

love lies | jeon jungkook [1]

summary: an arrogant womanizer who’s spent his life numb to love. an unlovable romantic who’s been hurt one too many times. he’s your friend’s ex boyfriend but he tells you he wants you. he’s obsessive and you’re not as much of a victim as you make yourself out to be. you’ll both do whatever it takes to get what you want.

warnings: 14.3k. angst. smut. future yandere jungkook. college student au. rich kid jungkook. f!reader. unhealthy attachment.. slutshaming. toxic friendships. implied emotional trauma from both ends. you want to be loved [cassie howard tease]. jungkook is obsessive. both are toxic, one just shows it more. daddy issues/mommy issues. jungkook dated your friend. stalking. unprotexted sex. my boy can go to to town. multiple orgasms. slight degradation. riding. oral [f recieving] missionary. love bites. and probs a lot more warnings. series. MINORS DNI

part one is acc pretty soft compared to how the rest of the chapters will go

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He never considered himself the type to be so easily swooned. A man with looks, charm, and money never had difficulty choosing who and what he wanted. He’s not sure he’s ever been told no whether it be for something as small or big of a want. It’s been an easily life, a spoiled one that made him think he can have and do whatever he wanted.

And it was true to some extent. He’s soaring through University with not-so-great grades, he’s got a high paying position in his father’s architecture company waiting for him, he’s never short of women. He’s a man who knows how to get what he wants and makes sure he always gets it. What else could he have wanted? To keep it simple, you.

You’re not a stranger nor a familiar but he knows that what he’s experiencing right now, he’s never experienced before. There’s a ringing in his ears he swears were similar to bells. A feeling in his chest bubbling up almost causing him pain but in the most blissful way possible. It’s that feeling in your heart where it feels a sudden ache when reacting to something in a positive way. It’s almost like the same tug on your heartstrings when you’re broken but it’s opposite. Like reading a love letter and your heart seems to drop in joy. That’s the only way he can explain what he felt when he saw you again.

The world seemed to stop spinning. Everyone froze in blurs of faceless people. The only person in focus was you, under red and blue hues that danced across your face like sneak peaks into your entire beauty. Small peaks into the shape of your eyes under shadow, the curve of your lips as you spoke, the hips hugged perfectly by a pretty skirt. His heart skipped a beat when a light shone above almost like a spotlight aimed right at you for him to see. It seemed like you and him were the only ones living in the present. The only ones in clarity among the phases of people with no focus. Had you always had this magnetic pull? He remembered always thinking you were attractive but never like this.

At one single moment, his eyes trailed from your heeled feet up the length of your legs to the end of your minidress. Your hips next and then your waist, to your bust up the valley of your neck and to your lips. The bridge of your nose and then finally your eyes. A pair of hypnotizing eyes staring back at him yet you speak to another. The same eyes he’d stare at through the course of his brief encounters with you and yet it was never this intense. He always knew you were around but this time you were front and center in his mind.

Everyone unfroze but he didn’t notice. His eyes locked on yours as you walked and talked to whoever was next to you. It couldn’t have been more than a couple seconds but it felt like an eternity. And when you finally pulled your gaze away from him as if there hadn’t been such an intensity burning through both your gazes. He could feel the burn in his eyes as they threatened to water but he blindly let them follow after the ghost of you through the crowd. His lips slightly parted in complete awe. He didn’t think of anything else but your moving head through the crowded bodies pressed against each other. There wasn’t an ounce of focus on the people he came with. His foot lifted, mid-step forward ready to take the lead and go after you.

A hand hit his arm in a gentle but firm pat on his shoulder. It seemed to snap him out of a trance he hadn’t known he was in. His head whipping over to the source who only flashed him a wide grin holding a brown liquor in his cup. Jung Hoseok laughed at Jungkook’s blank and off-guard expression and shook him by the shoulder, “You okay there? You zoned out on us.”

Jungkook couldn’t bring himself to even think about what his friend had just asked him. The other two joined them waiting for his response and yet he didn’t give one. Instead he turned toward the general area he’d seen you in and left. He could hear them snicker behind him as to what his deal was but he didn’t care. His drink was brought to his mouth by his tatted hand as his eyes locked on your location chugging back the liquor before dropping the cup on the floor.

You were at the bar, head hung low listening to another girl say things into your ear. He knew you both and you knew him too. Jungkook slid in easily as the person on the stool next to yours emptied and he took ownership. Your friend noticed him first but he kept his gaze forward like he was just waiting to order a drink. His black and gray Dior button-up rolled up to his elbows exposing a forearm covered in intricate ink. His credit card was black with a gold lining and a gold emblem on the cover and he tapped it against the counter.

“Let’s go Y/n, there’s unwanted company,” your friend said as Jungkook told the bartender his order while simultaneously easedropping. He couldn’t help the upward curl of his lips in a smirk that was neither impressed or offended. “Namjoon invited his friend out tonight to meet you. Why don’t you just give him a chance? They’re waiting for us in our section.”

Jungkook couldn’t help the way his jaw tensed. He couldn’t have you leaving to another guy right now that he’s attempting to approach you. As if reading his mind, you shook your head no in an answer, not giving her anything more in a form of response and yet it was enough for her to understand. You didn’t want to do anything at the moment but sit at this bar alone. You looked up to Jungkook releasing a heavy sigh when you recognized him and turned your chair away from him even more. Fine, is that how you want to play?

Your friend seemed to hesitate at your silent response. She wanted to push for you to go with but there was nothing leaving her lips. Instead she nodded looking at everyone around you before turning to leave. You watched her go for a moment probably deep in thought before turning to face the bar. Jungkook could practically feel the soft sigh that escaped your lips on his skin. A warm fan of air that he’s not sure how he felt but he did. Goosebumps rose on his skin and her he couldn’t understand what he was feeling right now.

He’s never felt this intense attraction toward anyone in his life. He’s floated through life seemingly bored. No excitement, no change and he never realized how boring it all seemed until recently. Where’s the joy of having to work for something? What happens to someone who’s always had his way? It’s exhausting. No fight. No questions. Any woman he’s wanted, he’s managed to bed and then he throws them away like it was nothing. Every opportunity he’s been given he’s never had to work for it. He’s never had to think for himself and he’s never known struggle. The strangest part is that he knew you, not well but he did. He’s spent time at your apartment, he’s made out with your friend on your couch. He’s dumped that friend of yours when someone better came along and yet here he was trying to talk to you. You clearly seemed upset about something but that only intrigued him more. He wanted to know why your feelings were so displayed on your sleeve at the moment. It was weird to him, to see someone so open with how they felt but he knew he was the problem and not whatever you felt. Your feelings are not numb like his and maybe that’s why he felt such excitement locking his gaze with yours just moments before. In your eyes he could see every emotion he’s never felt.

“Excuse me,” his eyes seemed to roll to the back of his head, breath heavy as he inhaled deeply at the sound of your voice. It wasn’t soft but it wasn’t harsh. Had your voice always had this effect on him? Why wouldn’t you even look at him? It was a melody he couldn’t quite put his finger on but something that sent electricity dancing across his skin. You weren’t even talking to him and yet he felt every syllable vibrating through his bones. You looked to the bartender who seemed to ignore you and your bottom lip was dragged between your teeth as they sunk into the soft flesh clearly defeated. You raised a hand out trying to get her attention once more but you couldn’t grab it.

“Hey,” he called out firmly, attention drifting to him as the bartender came over with a flirty smile. He looked down at her unamused as he motioned with his tipped head in your direction, “She needs something.” The bartender seemed almost disappointed when he directed her to you instead of asking for something himself. On another day, another night, he might’ve played along. He might’ve flirted a bit just because he knew it made women’s heart beat faster and yet he wasn’t doing that tonight. Instead he’s looking to you again as you met his gaze with a skeptical one.

“What?” The girl asked in a demanding tone that had you shrinking back with clear confusion at her hostility toward you when she’d just been smiling at the handsome man next to you. No, Y/n, you’re drinking, remember who he is and keep your distance. Jungkook glared at her as if equally offended by her tone of voice used against you. Couldn’t she see that you were hurt over something Jungkook barely understood due to your friend? Couldn’t she see how vulnerable you were at the moment. It made his skin crawl with a sudden anger he’d never felt before.

She seemed to roll her eyes at your hesitance before repeating your response, “Just a water?” You gave a simple nod and she was shoveling into the ice before bringing you your ice water. You thanked her and she left flashing one last look toward Jungkook but he didn’t even react. His face was cold, emotionless and unamused.

“Hey,” it was barely an audible sound that could’ve gone unnoticed if Jungkook hadn’t been painstakingly aware of your entire existence just inches away from him. All thoughts of his friends and the poor girl he’d pick to take home tonight completely out of his head. You pulled your hair behind your ear and he only caught a glimpse of the action from his peripheral. You finally spoke again and this time he allowed his eyes to fully follow you, “What do you want Jungkook?”

“Is that how you thank someone who just did you a favor? If I didn’t help you, who knows when you would’ve been helped,” he said almost in a flirting manner but he was still trying to keep it under wraps. You rolled your eyes in annoyance but Jungkook couldn’t find it in him to be upset over it. You looked at him again, “Nobody asked you to do any favors.”

“And yet I did,” he said with a taunting smile that only seemed to annoy you more. He bit his lip, his piercing moving with the action and he looked down at you, “So why don’t you tell me what’s wrong.”

“Why do you care?” You asked clearly exasperated. He let out a sigh, “Because I hate seeing pretty g—“

“I see you’re still insufferable to be around,” you said with a roll of your eyes, you did not want to deal with Jungkook at the moment. Jungkook smirked, “And yet you’re still here talking to me.”

You couldn’t help but scoff, one foot on the floor already as you began getting down from the stool. You pushed against the bar for support but before you could truly get away his hand was going to your waist, more specifically your midsection. He was smiling, “Oh come on. Sit with me for a bit. I haven’t seen you in a while and I’m just curious. How’s Soomin?”

You sighed. You’re not sure why you’re still talking to him but you weren’t making a move to leave, “Good question, when you find out feel free to let me know.” His brows furrowed in confusion, how could you not know how your own friend is doing? He licked his lips in thought, “Why wouldn’t you know? I thought you were supposed to be her bestest friend.”

“Yeah well I thought so too,” you told him honestly turning to look at him as you twirled your straw around in your cup. He looked back at you with an expression you couldn’t read. Of course you knew Jungkook and you knew what kind of person he was. When you saw him tonight you didn’t expect for him to actually come over and talk to you. It wasn’t like you were friends or even close enough to talk and yet here he was and here you were. His brows furrowed in confusion, “You don’t talk anymore?”

“Well you see, after you ghosted her for no reason, she started shutting us out,” you told him with slight attitude. You’re still friends but she’s definitely distanced herself from everyone. Even if you’re not close with Soomin anymore you remember how hurt she was when Jungkook just stopped talking to her. They only dated for six months but Soomin had been in love apparently. Jungkook was arrogant and honestly hard to be around but Soomin loved him. Then one day, he just stops talking to her. He doesn’t respond to her calls or texts. He doesn’t let her into his apartment, he doesn’t stop to talk to her when she stalks him at work. He was just done with her and never gave her a reason for it. Obviously at the time you were still friends with her so it was easy to hate Jungkook. Yet here he was talking to you when Soomin wouldn’t. He didn’t even bother defending himself for ghosting your friend. Frankly he didn’t care. He had reasons for it anyway.

“Alright, now tell me why you’re upset tonight,” he changed the subject with no regard to the previous topic, “And don’t tell me you aren’t because you clearly looked it when Yeonwoo was with you.” You rolled your eyes at him drinking the rest of your water. You weren’t standing anymore so there was no reason for his hand to still be on you to keep you put but you didn’t have the energy to argue with him over it. It’s not like he was a complete stranger but he was your ex best friend’s ex. It still felt weird. His hand rested on your lower back keeping you close to him.

He had been attracted to you since the jump if he was being honest. It was one of those ‘chose the wrong friend’ sort of moments but there was nothing he could do about it. He had already been dating Soomin so there was no way to make a move on you. So, instead he shoved you in the back of his mind but he always was too aware of you whenever everyone gathered together. Now, tonight it was like a new awakening for him. He hadn’t seen you in months and for good reason since he ghosted Soomin without a single care and it was no surprise all of Soomin’s friends hated him for it. What he didn’t expect was for him to run into you tonight and remember how he used to feel attracted to you but this time around it was about ten times stronger.

“Why should I tell you?” You asked and though usually he’d be turned off by a girl’s abrasiveness he found himself smiling. He’d never admit but the reason he dated Soomin was because of how easy it was to get her to stay with him. He could do whatever he wants and with a little gaslighting she’d be the one apologizing to him. He liked his partners like that. It’s just more proof that he’ll get what he wants with no consequences. He didn’t even stutter in thought before speaking, “Because I’m asking?” You sighed, “Fine. I was dumped. Happy?”

Yes. Yes he was if this was the same guy he remembered you going through your talking stage with just earlier this year when he was still dating Soomin. The first time he met him Jungkook already didn’t like him. He was too eager to please you and it just proved to Jungkook that the guy didn’t have a backbone. Jungkook just nodded in acknowledgement, “Did he tell you why?”

Yeah, what a hypocrite. As if he ever told Soomin why he ghosted her but this was different. This was you. You scoffed looking away from him, “Why do you wanna know? So you could take notes and figure out how to properly break up with someone?”

“Oh I know how to end things when I want to,” he said ignoring your sarcastic tone as his hand touched the hem of your skirt where your back dipped in a little where you spine didn’t meet the waist band. The small gap giving him perfect space to let his pinky rest inside. He was closer now and you knew it. You should’ve moved away, gone back to Yeonwoo and her man, Namjoon but you didn’t. You were tired of hearing Yeonwoo argue with you over your poor taste in men. Why you kept falling for losers? Who knows. What you do know is that Yeonwoo would kill you if she still found you talking with Jungkook. You’re supposed to share a mutual hatred for him even if you only spoke to Soomin on occasion. It was girl code.

“So are you gonna move your hand or am I gonna have to make you?” You didn’t mean for it to come out in a flirty tone. To be honest, you were aiming for threatening but the smile that fell on Jungkook’s face told you it was anything but. His thumb began to caress your back taunting you, “That depends. How do you plan on making me?”

“I don’t go for my friend’s exes,” you said suddenly, no need to beat around the bush when you can feel Jungkook’s intentions. He leaned toward you a little more, daring himself to see how far he could go before you pushed him away. You probably should just ditch him but you’ve always thought Jungkook was attractive and he was giving you attention, unwanted or not, you thrive on attention. His was face was close to yours now, practically tasting you on his tongue but he didn’t make a move just yet. Instead, he said, “Good thing you’re not friends anymore.”

“You’re not my type,” you lied leaning back a little, that same pretty smile was back on his face. His nose brushing against yours as a sign to how close the two of you were. You should not be doing this but you can’t help it. The broken person inside of you, always eager to give into a man, was starting to come out. He let his lips skim over yours but never pressing them together, “Really? Because I don’t believe you.”

“That’s fine. You don’t have to,” you said just above a whisper trying to turn your face away as a last effort to hold onto the small amount of self respect you have left. Don’t fall into the tricks of your friend’s ex. You know too much about their relationship to be this stupid. He wasn’t a terrible boyfriend but he wasn’t a good one either, clearly. “Kiss me,” he whispered in a husky voice unable to contain himself. He’s been thinking about your soft lips since the second he saw you tonight. It was like a sign from the universe. Just when he’d been living his life without a single thought about Soomin—the occasional thought about you—and just doing his own thing, you come back into his life. Practically served to him on a platter of red and blue. The music playing around you two blurred into the background along with everyone and you couldn’t help yourself anymore.

You were hesitant at first but with a simple, uncertain nod in agreement, he acted before he could stop himself. His hand cupped the side of your face gently and he did most of the moving, as tender as he could manage despite being lust-driven, he let his lips meet yours in the softest touch. You jumped like a startled lamb about to be eaten by a lion but after the short shock, your lips were meeting his efforts and kissing him back. You can’t believe you were kissing your old friend’s ex like it was the most normal thing in the world—especially after knowing how he treated her.

He physically crumbled into your touch, letting himself press even closer against you trapping you on his stool and against the bar counter. Your hand raised to touch his face, startled by the cold metal hitting against your lip but you didn’t move away. You let him take ownership of your mouth for the moment, a hand coming down to your waist in hunger before letting his tongue slide along your parted lips. Your tongue swiped along his and he audibly groaned into your touch and just as the hand gripping the fabric of your skirt was pulling you into him, someone was yanking you back.

“Ow!” You winced alarming him as he glared at the intruder in who just pulled on your arm forcefully. There Yeonwoo stood looking anything but pleased, “Fuck no, not on my watch.”

“Don’t pull her like that,” Jungkook cut in trying to reel in his anger from snapping at her as his gentle hand never pulled away from your face. She turned a fierce glare at him that he stared back with as she scoffed, “Fuck off Jungkook. We all know you’re a piece of shit. Y/n’s just drunk so she’s not thinking straight. What do you even want with her?”

“Am I supposed to care what you think?” Jungkook asked bitterly, “Why don’t you go worry about your boyfriend and get the fuck out? Y/n’s a big girl, you don’t need to speak for her.” You sighed, already fed up as they started a back-and-forth. You knew this was a bad idea and it was giving you a headache. Even worse, you don’t even regret it.

“Actually I do,” Yeonwoo argued though it wasn’t in your favor, “I’m not letting her make the same mistake with you as Soomin did—“

“Jesus Christ, it was just a kiss!” You stood suddenly making him pull back. You looked between them both, “And you’re both annoying the hell out of me so I’m going home.”

“I’ll drive you,” Jungkook rushed out but you raised a hand to stop him. “Don’t.” Yeonwoo gave him a smug look as you started walking away, neither one going after you knowing you were already annoyed. Jungkook raised his middle finger at her mouthing a quick ‘fuck you’ as he left in the other direction.

When the two of you are dating he’ll convince you to ditch her. She’s a bitch, controlling, and she’s always treated you like you were stupid. So did Soomin. You were always the one getting picked on because you fell in love to easily but he always thought that was the best thing about you. Even when he’d just observe you from his position as Soomin’s boyfriend, he knew you were a romantic. He considered himself one too but all the girls he’d been with would probably disagree. How’s he supposed to explain to them that it’s because they just weren’t worth expressing himself over. He didn’t love them, especially not Soomin, so he wouldn’t treat them like he did.

It’ll be different with you. He just knows it. The electrifying moment he saw you tonight and then the short but passionate kiss told him so.

“God, I still can't believe you'd kiss that dickhead. You’re lucky I stopped you before you made an even bigger mistake," your friend, Yeonwoo, said a few days after the night at the club. You were supposed to be shopping but instead you were just skipping through every hanger on the clothes rack without paying attention. This was the third time she's brought it up since then, "This is why you're always getting your heart broken. You fall for guys too easily and then what happens? You cry because you got dumped. You know Jungkook ain’t shit and yet you make out with him as if he didn’t just ghost Soomin out of the blue? God, how could you?”

"Yup, thanks for the reminder, really appreciate it," you said with a roll of your eyes. You didn't even try and deny it. You did. It wasn't your fault, okay? You've had a rough upbringing and your only coping mechanism is falling in love too easy seeking male validation because it's something you didn't have growing up. Why you fall for complete losers is a wonder to you too. You've gone through more relationships at the tender age of 22 then most people have in their life but it's really not your fault. You believe a guy too easily when they lovebomb you only to be complete pieces of shit. Not your proudest moments but what else is a romantic supposed to do? Of course you've been slutshamed time and time again for all your relationships but you don't know how to change your fate. Yeonwoo released a sigh when she noticed you were zoning out on her, “Soomin texted me last night. She wants to get drinks with us and Yoongi.”

“She didn’t text me,” you said with a shrug. You and Soomin had been close since the summer after your high school graduation. You met her through Yeonwoo and it was always obvious she was closer with her. It didn’t mean she didn’t care for you but you were always on the side of whatever friendship they had until Soomin distanced herself from Yeonwoo. You’re used to being second choice and even though all your time is spent with Yeonwoo, you know you’ll be ditched by your friends too. Especially if Yeonwoo tells her Jungkook kissed you.

What happened the other night was embarrassing but you didn't regret it. Whatever, it was just one kiss and though he’s currently texting you asking to meet up, you wouldn’t. You had enough respect to not do it again. He wasn’t a good guy to Soomin and that’s that they were dating. How’d he treat you when you’re nothing to him? You know she’s mad at you for doing that with Jungkook but you also know that’s not the only reason why. She's really just mad you didn't give her boyfriend's friend a chance because you were too distracted. You agreed to meet up with Taehyung again and actually be engaged in talking with hm but only because Yeonwoo begged you to. You looked down at your phone, it was the third time it rang and Yeonwoo was getting fed up, “Who’s calling you so damn much? I swear to God Y/n if it’s Jungkook then you’re the biggest idiot I’ve ever met.”

“Right because I have control over who calls me? Plus, it’s not him,” you said making her eyes roll. She left your side to head into the fitting room with a pile of clothes on her arm and you told her you’d wait outside. With an annoyed groan you got you phone, “What do you want?”

“To see you,” Jungkook said simply as he headed to the parking lot of his campus. It was past sunset but he had a class that had been pushed back so he was just getting out. Now, more than ever, did he wish he went to the same University as you. Usually he liked dating girls who he didn’t have to run into often. Girls from different schools, different cities, different circle of friends. It just made it so much more easy when he left them because then he didn’t have to deal with their crying faces begging for him to take them back. He never did anyway, unless it was for an easy fuck.

“Who says I want to see you?” You asked slightly annoyed as you looked to the fitting room so Yeonwoo didn’t catch you on the phone with the exact person she suspected had been calling you, “Besides, how do you know I’m not busy?”

He found himself smiling even if you were being too difficult for his liking. He’s used to girls just giving into him. He doesn’t remember the last time he had to put effort into wanting to see someone, usually he’d send a quick text and his needs would be met. He bit his lip to stop his smile, “My answer to both your questions is, wishful thinking?”

You rolled your eyes though you couldn’t lie and say you didn’t smile but that just annoyed you even more, “Is that all you want to say? Cause I’m shopping right now with Yeonwoo.”

He couldn’t help but pout a little as he opened the door to his car, “Let me see you.”

“Jungkook I—“

"I've gotta go back to campus when we're done, do you work tonight?" Yeonwoo said suddenly as she swung the door to the dressing room making you jump in surprise nearly dripping your phone in the process. You quickly recovered turning your phone away no longer thinking about Jungkook who was still on the line. "No, but I've got a lot of assignments to do so I'll definitely need to stop for some coffee and go home." You looked down at your phone, hanging up quickly as the two of you went to go to the checkout line.

"Hey Y/n," Yeonwoo called out to you as the two of you left the store. You turned to wait for her, "I'm not trying to be a bitch, but I'm just tired of seeing you get hurt. I'm your best friend so I can't just sit back and watch you cry every time someone dumps you."

The two of you barely made it out before you got a text. To be honest, you had actually forgotten you had Jungkook’s number. It was from months ago when he was still dating Soomin. For a while Soomin didn’t have a phone since she’d lost it on a night out. Jungkook let her use his phone for about a week or so you saved his number and he saved yours. In reality, she asked Jungkook to help her get a new phone but he said no even though he had enough money in his bank account to pay for one in full. Even if she couldn’t afford one during that time, Jungkook still didn’t let her use his phone often unless it was to text you or Yeonwoo.

It’s strange to him actually. He’s only now realized how much he used to pay attention to you. He knows he’d keep you in the back of his mind but it was never this intense. He just thought you were attractive and that had been it—or so he thought. Maybe the night of the club when he first saw you after months, hadn’t been his awakening to wanting you. Maybe it had always been there and he just didn’t notice.

How could he not remember the way he used to stalk your social media around Soomin, zooming in on your face, checking your likes, all of it. How he used to ask her who she’d be hanging out with and he’d only ever say he’d join her if he knew you’d be there. Hell, he had completely forgotten the way he’d reread the texts you and Soomin shared the time she didn’t have a phone. He’d blame it on curiosity but really he would just read your texts with a slight smile acting like he’d been texting you instead. Even after breaking up with Soomin he found himself looking at your contact just wondering if he should take his chances and talk to you again. Now that he had an excuse to text you, since you kissed the other night, he went for it.

jeon jungkook: don’t go anywhere. we’ll get coffee together

jeon jungkook: where are you?

Fuck, it was so fucking stupid of you to actually want to see him. He wasn’t a good boyfriend to Soomin. They were always arguing about something. She was always crying and you had even heard the stuff he told her when they fought. Everything about him screamed red flag. He is a male Virgo for fuck’s sake. Yeonwoo was already judging you for what happened at the club because for some reason she took it personal. Soomin had ignored you both without a single care and yet you were still supposed to respect girl code? All because she was texting Yeonwoo available but not you? Like yeah, part of you felt guilty because she had been your close friend at one point and you missed hanging out with her. It’s not like you didn’t know she had dated him but fuck you can’t help it. You just got dumped two weeks ago and now someone new is giving you attention.

you: i don’t want to wait

you: I’m gonna ride the bus to __

Once the bus got to the stop the two of you swiped your cards and found your seats. Even after she stopped on campus you kept going till you were in your neighborhood. You got off at your stop and left to the coffee shop you've become a regular at. Thankfully, the place was practically empty only one person in front of you and it was a tall stranger dressed from head to toe in black. A huge contrast to your cream colored sweater and gray leggings. His voice was deep and familiar but you had known who it was before they spoke.

When he was done he moved to the side looking behind him. Jungkook smiled warmly, finally, he thought. He sped over to where you’d told him and since he knew the bus would do multiple stops and it’d give him time get here before you. And you actually smiled back at him. His heart melted. He hasn't been able to get the taste of you off his tongue. He wanted to do it again right here, right now. Possibly do even more, he doesn't care who sees. "Well surprise, surprise," he responded as he reached over you to pay for the drink. Your head tilted in amusement as you moved to stand next to him waiting for your drink, “Is it though?”

His was made quickly and they were calling his name to get it but he waited for you, "100% I definitely wasn’t still on the phone when you told Yeonwoo you were getting coffee. And I also didn’t ask for you to tell me where so I could come and see you.”

“Woah, don’t start exposing yourself,” You said teasingly. He matched your smirk, “What are you doing this weekend? I want to take you out.”

You smacked your lips feigning disappointment, “Sorry I’m busy. I’m meeting up with Yeonwoo, her boyfriend, and his friend on Saturday and I work Sunday.”

“What about Saturday night?” He asked even though he was more curious to know the guy Namjoon would be bringing. If it was the same one mentioned at the club he needed to know. You looked down at your phone, a new text from Yeonwoo, “Can’t. Apparently we’re getting drinks with Soomin and Yoongi.”

“Friday?” He was just getting more and more frustrated trying to find time that you could spend with him. Who was the guy and why was Soomin suddenly wanting to talk to you again? You shook your head in response, “I’ve gotta work.”

His jaw clenched. Why can’t you just make time for him instead of Soomin? That’s going to fuck up his chances with you. You looked to him waiting to see how he’d react but instead of talking about Soomin, he brought up something else.

"It's a shame Yeonwoo cut in," Jungkook said with an exaggerated sigh. Oh God, he was bringing up the kiss. You were hoping you could just see him again without having to think about the kiss and what it could mean that he’s bringing it up instead of a drunken accident. “Jungkook.”

He bit back a groan, it sounded so good coming from your lips he couldn't wait to have you screaming it. He'd treat you so damn good, better than he's treated anyone. He'll hurt whoever the fuck hurts you and he won't care who it happens to be. He’s never felt this intense for someone before. He’s had tons of girlfriends. Tons of girls before but he could never say that he honestly ever cared about them. Sure he played the concerned boyfriend if they’re upset but deep down he had just been so annoyed by their moods. Why he was so determined to date you and vows to be the perfect boyfriend for you is even more confusing but he just wants it so bad. And he needs to get what he wants.

Shit, you’re trying to say something to him, “I don’t know how I feel about the other night. It’s just weird you know? Can we not talk about it?”

His smile dropped instantly, “Why? You’re single, I’m single and it was just a kiss. There’s nothing to be weird about.”

You rolled your eyes at that, but your voice spoke just above a whisper clearly uncertain, “You know what I’m talking about.”

He sighed looking away, “I know what you’re talking about but that’s in the past. You didn’t care the other night when we kissed. All of a sudden, Soomin wants to talk to you again and now you won’t even give me a chance? Plus, who cares what Yeonwoo says.”

You shook your head, “It’s not just what she’s said it’s ab—“ “Look at me,” he said, your eyes seemed to soften and he took the chance at scooting his chair around the table to sit next to you, trapped you further into the corner against wall and window of the round table you were sitting at. You didn't shy away from him either and that excited him. He can't wait to shower you in riches and love. You'll never leave him, he'll be perfect for you just as you're perfect for him. Don't ask him how he knows you're meant to be together, he just does. You leaned into him a little as you looked up at him. He stared into your eyes softly to show you how serious he was, “I’m into you, alright?”

“I know you’re feeling guilty because of the fact that I dated your friend and I also know you think I’m a piece of shit just like Yeonwoo does,” he kept going, “But I’m telling you right now that I really want to see if anything happens between us. And I know you’re curious too so just give me a chance.”

You whined in frustration, “You’re so annoying.” You still leaned into him a little and he was leaning into your touch too.

"I’m being serious," he said, a hand going under your chin and as if already knowing what he wanted, your lips met his in another electrifying kiss. Fuck, you were the absolute worst. That’s what everyone would say when all your friends find out. But you still weren’t backing away from him. Part of you did want him just a little but you shouldn’t.

It was so fucking weird that he dated your friend and now for some reason you’re both feeling an instant attraction. It’s not like the two of you had been friends. You were his girlfriend’s friend who he’d see on occasion when forced to go with Soomin somewhere. You’d only talk when Soomin was around and that one rare time he gave you a ride home from her place where you talked about movies. Obviously when he disappeared on Soomin you thought he was the absolute worst and that’s how you felt until you stopped talking to Soomin as much. Then after that he didn’t really come to mind when you didn’t see her anymore. But the night of the club when you saw how intensely he was looking at you, you had instantly been intrigued.

You're not sure how it happened and it's times like this that you wondered if you were too stupid to know any better. But even with those thoughts in your head you still invited him into your house to touch your body.

"We should slow down," you sighed out as he kissed along your neck hungrily sitting next to you on your bed. He growled at that, hand still groping at your sides inching your sweater up enough for his hand to touch bare skin. He was practically crawling onto your lap trying to get closer than he already is. He sucked that sweet spit on your neck that had you biting back a moan as you held him by a hand on the back of his neck. He let his tongue flatten against it soothing any pain from his harsh sucking, "You’re right, but you’re just so pretty, I just want to devour you."

He kissed your lips shushing you and you happily met his efforts with need as he pushed you down onto your bed as if it was his own. Soon he will take you to his penthouse, lay you down on his king sized bed and give you all his love. By morning he'll make you breakfast, pull you into his hot tub and make love to you again. In the tub, against the window, on the floor, the counter, the wall, his car, his sink, everywhere. He'll fuck you everywhere his heart desires and he knows he'll never get tired of it. He doesn't care if this was the second time he's seen you in months. You're meant to be with him. He knows that now. The bad part is that he knows he’s slowly becoming obsessed and he doesn’t know how far he’ll take it since this is a new emotion. And he won’t let anyone get to your head and tell you this is wrong when it feels so right.

"You don't have a girlfriend, right?" You asked. You're too embarrassed to admit how many men you've slept with who had girlfriends you didn't even know about. And you wouldn’t at all be surprised if Jungkook had anyone at the moment. From the way he treated Soomin and how obsessed she was with him, you know he can have any girl he wanted. You’re proving his point and yet you didn’t do anything about it. He kissed your lips with a smile, you're just so cute to be asking him that even as you laid under him. How could he have a girlfriend that isn't you? He's only had quick fucks recently but he's got bigger plans than that for you. You're what he's been waiting for all his life. He kissed along your jaw between words, "Do you want to be my girlfriend?" Say yes, he thought.

"I don't know," you said honestly with a little gasp as he kissed down the column of your throat crawling down your body until he was kissing your exposed collarbone letting his hands inch up your sweater and fondled your breasts through all the fabric. You really wanted to be. As depressing as this might sound, you didn't know how to be single. Clearly that was noticeable by the way you were getting over an ex when you reconnected with Jungkook. You didn't know how to be independent. All you knew was the security being in a relationship brought you no matter how shitty it was. All you know is that you'd do anything for someone to love you and this man wants you even if he dated your friend. You're not even questioning it enough.

You're not sure when his head dipped under your sweater or when he yanked your bra down enough for your tits to spill from the top. You couldn't even see him as he attached his mouth to a breast. All you saw was a big lump under the fabric and the sensation of a warm, wet tongue running over your nipple immediately making it stiffen and your back arch. Jungkook wasn't shy with his touches, he was hungry. If he would’ve known he’d fall for you this hard when he had his mind set then he would’ve ditched Soomin sooner and took his chances with you way sooner. He wants you all to himself.

It's the greed talking. The spoiled rich kid in him that's making him like this but he doesn't care. He's going to have you. The tit that wasn't getting completely slobbered on in his mouth was being fondled by a rough hand. Squeezes around the plump flesh of your breast, fingers pinching your nipple making it harden enough for him to play with it. He was squeezing them together trying to force both in his help but he couldn't. He hadn't known he'd begun to rut against your bed. His cock growing so unbelievably hard and fast it was painful. His body never felt like this.

All the girls he'd fucked in the past had been just that. A quick fuck. He didn't seek out their pleasure. He didn't care about them. He put as much intimacy into that rough fuck as Patrick Bateman did fucking prostitutes. With girlfriends he acted nicer but when he wasn’t in the mood anymore, he was done.

"God, your body is so fucking slutty baby," he said in a low growl as he reappeared from under your sweater, hair tussled and lips swollen red and out of breath. His hands didn't stop their groping on your breasts even as he looked you in the eyes. You whined at that. The only times you've been called slutty is when insults have been thrown at your face. He was yanking your sweater off you, "I love it. I want you to be the nastiest fucking slut for me and only me. Can you do that?" He could hear the roughness in his voice and that’s no what he wanted. He wanted to cherish you but he wanted you so damn bad he couldn’t help it.

Suddenly you felt different. He didn't mean it in a bad way? He wasn't trying to bring you down? He wasn't asking about your body count or your past? He wasn't looking at you in disgust when your body reacted so quickly to a man's touch? You finally nodded after he was tearing into the middle of your bra between cups. You didn't realize how easy it was for him to split the material and clearly he didn't have time to unclip it from the back as he was tearing it off you like an animal. You gasped once more at the roughness and he smirked, "You like that bunny? I wanna make love to you all fucking night, you hear me? I want you screaming my name. I want you clawing at my back begging for more and I promise you will be begging. If you need me to slow down, say yellow but I'm not stopping. You're mine."

Fuck, it sounded so good coming from him but it still felt like it shouldn’t. He was such an ass to everyone and you know this and yet you don’t care. You don’t care how he left Soomin. You don’t care about how he treated her at the time. It was awful. You felt awful but your body was a horny mess all the time and you know it. Your past boyfriends never cared for pleasuring you. They used your body however they wanted for a quick fuck and whenever they were done they didn't even want you touching them.

Sure, Jungkook is using your body but he's actually providing pleasure with his rough touches. He's hungry for you and you could feel it through every kiss he left down your body. Of course you couldn't see the line of red bruises forming in your abdomen as he quietly marked your body in love bites making sure to have them on both breasts too and he wasn't stopping until he got to your pussy. He wanted you completely drowned in his affection and he had no problem marking you up cause of it. He was still fully dressed when he started tugging on your leggings and panties. You kicked your legs with a whine that had him clicking his tongue with a shake of his head. He reached for the back of his t-shirt pulling it over his head and discarding it on the floor. His hair was a messy black mop fanning over his face but he just waved it away. His hands slid against your legs.

They started at your your shins sliding up to your knees where he parted your legs with a firm grip. His nails dug into your thighs as they traveled toward your inner thigh making you spread them even more. His eyes traveled from your covered core up the line of love bites forming in your stomach and between your breasts to your face. Self-consciousness rose inside you as he smiled down at you leaning forward to capture your lips with his. Your legs threatened to squeeze shut but as soon as they tried, his muscular form stopped you from doing so. His hands gripped them roughly, his nails digging into the inside of your thighs just near your pubic bone. You whined into his mouth and it made him pull back with a groan.

"You're so gorgeous,"  he said breathlessly as he pulled away to take his jeans and briefs off. He struggled with the thick denim for a moment before laughing lightly dipping back between your legs to kiss you once more. His body pressed against yours as his tongue licked along yours dragging his mouth back so only his tongue would touch yours. He looked down at the indecent act, his saliva mixing with yours before taking your mouth with his again letting his eyes fall shut. Your arms wrapped around his neck dragging his mouth with yours and his body pressed you into the bed so deeply that you felt ever ridge of muscle on him. Finally, his free cock was pressing against your cunt, “I’ve always thought that, you know?”

"Ju—" you couldn't speak with his hungry kisses, thick and heavy cock sliding between your pussy. Your slick coating his angry member making the slide all that more delicious. He let you squish him by the neck against your lips, he felt all your desire and it made his heart race. Your hips were becoming restless and he knew you were just so desperate for him that he had to do more. He pulled away with a groan sinking down until he was hoisting your legs up and around his neck. Without another thought, he was yanking you toward his face.

"Tell me," his voice was demanding, but desperate licking his lips as he stared down at your core. You'r hands came around to hide but he was quick to send you a glare strong enough to stop you in your tracks, "Tell me, do you want to be mine baby?" He looked you in the eyes as he gave a tentative lick along your cunt only as a tease to make you gasp, “Fuck just say yes.”

He knows he’s asking for too much right now but he can’t wait. One could say he’s known you for a while even if it was in completely different circumstances so technically there’s no reason you two can’t move quickly.

"Yes" you said with a roll of your hips in the hopes that his mouth would slide up and lick your clitoris. You were feeling such pleasure just from his hands. You were too used to whist being fucked and left to fend for your own pleasures that you weren't used to all this attention on your body. As if answering your prayers, his nose rut against your clit, "You want me to touch you? Make you feel good?"

You nodded with a squeeze of your eyes that had him smiling, another tentative lick lime before. "You mean...like this?" he said to which you shook your head no, he kissed your pussy lips like he kissed your mouth. "So you want to be with me?”

"Yes," you mumbled as he parted your pussy for a long, languid lick. "Of course you do" he bumped into your clitoris once more and you clinged to his shoulders. "Because I like you so much more than everyone else. And I’ll treat you so good, so much better than any other guy. You know that, right?”

"Jungkook," you sighed, "Do you mean it?" You shouldn't believe it, it was only your second time meaning him and yet he's telling you everything you want to hear. And you know what he’s like, you’re just so naive when it comes to relationship ships and he came at the right time.

His head was pressed between your legs, his tongue flattened against your slit as he licked from, your already dripping entrance, to your clit. Even like that he was nodding his head moving with the buck of your hips not giving you any time to rest. He stopped to circle the bundle of nerves before sucking it between his lips swirling it around with his tongue. "Fuck Jungkook !" You let out a moan, that had his eyes darkening in hunger.

He groaned against you and your hips bucked thrust against his face. You panted, a hand down on your hair, "I'm gonn—gonna—"

His hold on you tightened and he seemed to push himself deeper into you. He snuck his hand up next to his mouth that attacked your clit. Without warning, he plunged two wet fingers into your tight cunt. He fingered you at a rapid pace, the combination of his tongue on your clit, his fingers inside you. You let out a loud and long moan, your back arching off the wall, your legs shaking around him as you began to release. He was quick to remove his fingers and forcing your hips down on the bed as he lapped up every last bit of you with his tongue.

"Tastes so sweet, just like I know you would," he moaned out licking the corners of his mouth. He was wrapping a hand around his cock, fisting his dick as he lined it with your entrance, "You'll let me fuck you like this, right? Are you on the pill?”

"Haven't I made you feel good?" He asked licking his lips as he let his leaking tip gather your slick puddles at your entrance. You shook your head, "Yes bu—"

"Don't you trust me?" He asked letting his tip press into your cunt, "Haven't I already treated you so much better than all the others? Don't I deserve to feel your wet pussy all on my cock? Feel it baby, feel how much I love you. Won't you let me have you like this?"

"Mm," you nodded but he needed more, he grinded against your pussy knowing he almost had you, "Yes, please fuck me raw." He moaned into your mouth, sinking in with one shaky breath catching you both by surprise. His arms came around to the back of your knees forcing your legs up to your chest so he could reach deeper. It made you both audibly moan into each other's mouths. His back arched creating a curve letting his hips pound into your pussy.  

Your hands clawed at his back and it made his eyes roll with the burn of each scratch. His elbows dug into the pillows around your head trapping you under him raising his hips back only to pound his thick cock into you feverishly. He looked down at your pretty face watching the way in controrted in pleasure and he was breathing heavily, "Doesn't it feel god like this honey? A thick cock stretching your tight little pussy? Making you feel better than anyone else has? Am I doing it? Tell me."

"Yes baby," you moaned and he swears his heart exploded in his chest at the name, "Do you want me?"

"So fucking much," he grunted rocking his hips into yours roughly. His back muscles tensing with each powerful thrust, "Nobody else will ever treat you better than me. We were meant to be together."

"Bu—" you were so close to your second orgasm and his words were only inching you closer. He knew this too. You clawed at his back in one final effort to hold onto your climax but it did nothing. Your walls broke within you, release escaping around his cock as he held you roughly while riding out your high. He growled into your neck as you squeezed around his member deliciously with each twitch of your cunt. He dragged his cock out, biting into your shoulder lightly as he came with a loud grunt, spurts of creamy white liquid painting your thighs.

"One more," he said panting, sweat covering every of his skin as he swallowed dryly. He didn't give you time to argue already rolling onto his side dragging your hips over his. His voice was raspy and dry, too low. You let out a small whine in acknowledgement as you nodded your head lining him up with your entrance. You'd do anything if he loved you despite your body being exhausted. You lifted yourself so Jungkook can enter when he's ready. He strokes his cock a few times getting more turned on with how fucked out your body looked for him. He looks down so he can position his cock right below your entrance before letting you sink back onto his hard dick. His mouth draws open in a silent moan, breathy gasps as his eyes rolled. He's in love with you.

Fuck he loves you. This is everything he'd been waiting for all his life. Yes, he knows how crazy it sounds but it just makes sense. There’s a reason he saw you again after months he just didn’t realize it until you were looking into his eyes under those blue and red lights. You were the one he'd been blindly following and that’s why he put up with Soomin for six months when he hated being with her. Look what he could’ve been enjoying.

You began to fuck yourself slowly barely able to raise your hips. You were completely spent. Jungkook had already dragged two orgasms out of your body and you're not sure how much more you can handle but you'll never tell him. You won't disappoint him because then he'd leave you like everyone else, right? He said it himself nobody will treat you like he does so you can't lose him. So instead, you let your body try and feel good again.

"Fuck, it feels so good," you moaned out honestly, when his hand groped your ass digging his nails in with small grunts every time your thighs smacked his. You needed more intimacy. You didn't just want to feel use and so you leaned down. He met your efforts kissing you passionately as your hips continued bouncing on his member, letting him drink in your moans. Both hands on your ass night, helping you ride him as his neck began to hurt from reaching up to kiss you. His hips lifted off the bed as his feet dug into the mattress and he breached further into your cunt. On birth control or not, he knows what the two of you are doing is dangerous and not something two college kids were ready for.

"Oh my god," Your hands latched onto Jungkook's  shoulders sitting back again with the overwhelming pleasure making you squirm. He forced your ass to grind on him. He didn't make you bounce on his cock. He pulled you to the hilt and let your wet cunt make a mess on his naked body. Your thighs had been hitting against his hips so much that they were sore from where they bulged out from his pretty frame.

"I can—can't, Jun—I," you moaned, hips speeding up already feeling a third orgasm. Jungkook drills his cock into you, fully allowing himself to sit up cradling you on his lap crossing his legs to hold you better. Jungkook shushed you pressing his face into your hair, letting you rut on his dick, your legs wrapping around him locking him in place, "Shh, you can. One more bunny, you can do that for me, right? Please? I love you, do this for me."

"Cum for me," he whispered over and over into your ear until finally your legs twitched in one final moan of his name as you came. Unlike last time, he couldn't wait for you to calm down before chasing his own release. He lifted you up enough to tug his cock out before pointing at your ass. His eyes on yours as he climaxed.

It took you both a moment, Jungkook's head rested on your chest catching his breath. He motioned for you to get off him and onto the disheveled bed and immediately fell down right next to you. He took your hand in his breathlessly pressing it to his lips so he could kiss your knuckle. He looked at your tired face, "Let's get you cleaned up before you go to sleep."

You didn't say anything as he moved to sit up still out of breath as he moved around to your side of the bed. You stuck your arms up and he gladly leaned down to take you in his hold. Naked and yet not aroused, it was oddly domestic. That's what Jungkook was going for. He's showing you how much he loved you. He's proving how little everyone else has loved you by just being a gentleman taking care of his girlfriend after a rough fuck. You expected him to leave, he knows you did but he'd never.

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request 1

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a/n, sooo I decided to make this a series bc when I saw my word count was 14k and I still wasn’t done with the plot I figured to just make it a series. I don’t usually do series cause I get bored easily but rn it’s just on my mind so I need to write it lol

also, thoughts on new cover idea, I edited the pic to match my blog theme cause it’s originally yellow and blue 😭 anything for the aesthetic 💅

[imaginedreamwrite]

Water Under The Bridge: Part 2

“…we, therefore, commit this body to the ground, earth to earth, ashes to ashes, dust to dust; in sure and certain hope of the Resurrection to eternal life…” He was there at the graveside service just as he was at the ballroom turned funeral parlour, his presence lingering at the back of your mind with a warning.

You were meant to be sitting close to your mother and Cade, you were meant to be sitting upon the white chairs that were set up and lined by the six feet hole in the ground that would seal your father up below the earth where he could finally rest.

His rest wouldn’t bring peace, or maybe it would and you were bitter enough to hope it hadn’t. Your relationship with your father, your mother and brother were never what they should have been, and you knew that it had everything to do with your grandparents. And Lloyd Hansen, the man who was coming to steal you like a thief in the night because you were meant to be his.

Your father had been the only child of your grandparents and had been raised in the world your grandparents had built with every expectation to take everything over with no restrictions. As it turned out, your father had made many mistakes and many enemies that had only been cowed down because of your grandparents, and it was a few too many mistakes.

Your grandparents hadn’t liked your mother, they held even more disregard for your brother who had carried all the same tendencies of your father, with the penchants for making the same crippling mistakes.

They weren’t willing to leave their legacy to your father without stipulations, and when you were born and had been regarded as somewhat of a mistake in your father, mother and brother’s eyes, your grandparents had stepped in. It was your grandfather who knew you could have been spared from the same toxicity that your father had inflicted upon your mother and brother.

And when your soulmate mark had appeared and his name had come upon your arm, your grandfather had changed the will and the future of the business he had built. Your grandfather had stipulated that your father would only get the business and the avenues, all the accessibility to have power if he had then passed it on to you.

Your father had worked on removing your mark and deleting it from any registries to keep Hansen away, and your grandfather had arranged for Val to watch over both you and your father. Val was more like your father due to him being your guardian all your life. He had worked for your father, but his true and hidden priority had always been you.

Even now that your father was long gone and being buried, Val was watching over you.

He had kept track of you when you went off to school and when your father had promised you that you would never have to come back here. Val had kept his eyes on you even from your place across the country when you attended university to forget your past, he was watching you.

“You can’t run from Hansen.” “…from ash to ash and dust to dust…”

“The family would like to invite you back to their home for a celebration of life-“ The graveside preacher was announcing the invitation while you had raised your head and gazed at your mother and brother.

The two of them were standing side by side, your mother was shedding crocodile tears on her designer dress, mourning the loss of the man who was fuelling her shopping habits. Your bother was standing next to her holding her hand but as you looked toward him, you had seen his lips getting pulled into a smirk and his eyes darkening.

He had taken the figurative appearance of a predator who was readying himself to strike and if you had to make an astute comparison, you would have thought he was something akin to a snake in the grass waiting to strike with fangs glistening. He wasn’t as subtle as he thought he was, and Val had given you an accurate forewarning of what they were planning. Between Lloyd Hansen and your brother Cade making plans to kill you to take control, you were rightfully screwed.

“You will be coming home,” your mother called over her shoulder, the birdcage veil had been draped over the right side of her face and eye, the curve drawing attention to her red lips coloured like blood, upturned in a snide and almost gleeful smirk.

“Of course mother.” You hadn’t denied her, you couldn’t have let her know that Val told you what she and Cade were planning.

You would happily play the part of the fool, let them have their fun and games while they could. You knew it would come back to hit them, you knew that for every scheme they had attempted to hurt behind the scenes a grieving widow and son would come full circle and knock them on their ass, just as you knew with absolute certainty that at some point Lloyd Hansen would take you.

It was a guarantee, not a matter of if but a matter of when, where and how.

“You can’t run from Hansen. No one can.”

Your childhood bedroom had remained untouched almost as if it was a time capsule to your younger years, a surprising sight since you had left the day you turned 18, moving immediately to your university of choice. You would have thought your mother and Cade would have burned everything in the room to turn it into her second closet however it was as pristine as you remembered.

But perhaps the most surprising part of your childhood bedroom was finding the man who was described as a vile and sadistic bastard, laying on your bed with his ankles crossed. He seemed amused with his hands holding one of your yearbooks, his soft and apt hums coming as he read the details of your high school life.

He was taller than you anticipated, now that you had a better look at him, and your initial observation of him was undoubtedly matched with the appearance of a man who was strong and broad-shouldered, but he had also carried a great strength in his shoulders and chest.

“You don’t know how to knock?” You had broken the silence with a comment that made him close the yearbook with a snap and drop it to the bed, your view of him now unobstructed.

“Hello sunshine,” he turned and planted his feet against the carpet, still managing to keep one leg bent against the side of the mattress, “I’ve been waiting for you.”

“Have you?” Val’s warning had echoed in your head, and you had felt some initial fear of the man whose name you had been removing from your body for years, “I should’ve kept you waiting longer.”

You stepped further into your room yet kept your distance from him, contrasting his appearance with your bare feet and dime-store dress as opposed to his sleek Italian-crafted shoes. He was well dressed as you had observed earlier, only now you could detect the weapons he had on his person and the kind of soulmate mark that bound the two of you.

Your name was clear, it was concise as it remained on his forearm while his name was removed. Through painful and irritating treatments that you had to get twice a year, if not more, his name was removed and scuffed from your flesh in an attempt to hide you from him even though it would have all been folly in the end.

“Cute bedroom sunshine,” Lloyd had reached for one of the stuffed animals your grandparents got you for your 6th birthday, the material still looked untouched despite the time that had passed between you receiving the gift and you standing here today, “very delicate-“

“I know what you’re going to do and why you’re here.” You inhaled sharply when he had set the bear back down and turned to face you, his strong shoulders becoming taut as his eyes dropped to the space on your arm, his lips curled into a deep sneer that was communicative of his emotional state.

You had wanted to hide your arm behind your back, you wanted to obscure his view of your blank flesh just to have his penetrative gaze off of you, although in the end, you remained still. You let him stare you down, you let the weight of his gaze hover on you as tension and expectations had risen with uncertainty of when he would strike.

“You’re adept, not like your brain-dead brother.” Lloyd Hansen’s lips had twitched, barely forming a smirk before he frowned again.

He took a step toward you.

His footsteps muffled on the carpet as he languidly explored your childhood bedroom with his gaze, studying the possessions you had that were indicative of your treatment from your grandparents and the lack thereof from your father and mother. Lloyd had stopped once more before he approached you, his hand hovering over a picture of a hospital bracelet from years ago that you’d forgotten to get rid of.

It was dated for a day after you had turned 16, the third appointment you’d had since your grandparents died. You had shoved the band into one of your desk drawers after the treatment was over, wanting to forget the amount of pain you’d been put through to remove his name from your arm, pain that had only gotten worse as you got older.

“Your father was a snake.” Lloyd held no love for your father, spitting on the man’s legacy after he shoved your medical bracelet into his pants pocket, huffing once and then he rolled his shoulders back and stood straighter. “Your mother is a gold-digging whore-“

“I’m not going to make it easy on you, soulmate or not-“ You stopped talking and fell quiet when he laughed, almost pleasantly, and continued walking toward you with an air of humour among him.

“I’m counting on it, sunshine.” He reached toward you, his fingers curling slightly as he grasped a chunk of your hair, running his thumb and forefinger against your strands. “I’m counting on you fighting and trying to run.”

“No one runs from, Hansen.” Val’s warning had come again, a promise that Lloyd Hansen was playing for keeps

“Are you going to draw it out or get it over with?” You pressed yourself against the wood, your chest rising and falling rapidly with every breath as you truly felt like you were a trapped animal, waiting for the predator to strike.

“Are you that eager to go home, Mrs. Hansen?” Lloyd drew himself closer and raised his hand, drawing his fingers against his moustache.

“Home or hell?” You quipped, sucking in the air and holding it as he tried to reach for you again.

You had turned and shoved your shoulder into his chest, giving you the momentum to slip from your bedroom, nearly stumbling into the wall when your foot caught on the doorframe. You corrected yourself and moved to the staircase, gripping the railing as you hurried down the stairs knowing that he was after you and there was no rush or risk to him.

You weren’t so foolish to think that he didn’t have a small army at his disposal, and at the house, however, you didn’t fancy being manhandled by him.

“You little bitch!” your mother’s shriek had startled you, it had thrown you and you skidded to a stop as she came flying out of the sitting room with your bother following. “You whore! You slut!”

Her hand was raised as she came toward you, intending on striking you across the cheek in a blind rage fuelled by the vodka she had been diving into as a celebration for getting rid of your father and now you. You hadn’t been given the chance to react or negate her strike, but Lloyd had.

He had grabbed her wrist and twisted it painfully behind her back as she shrieked and cursed him out, his deadly and animalistic glare centred entirely upon your mother and brother, the latter of which was being held on his knees.

“We had a deal, Hansen! You bastard! We had a deal-“ Your mother kicked, she fought against him with some kind of resolve to keep herself prideful.

“She’s not yours to sell.” He kicked her feet out from under her while still holding onto her wrist, his blue eyes brimming and almost overcome with the drive to not just seek revenge but completely obliterate her whole world. “Take Mrs. Hansen out to the vehicle.”

Hands had grabbed your arms, fingers digging into your flesh had come loose when you shook them off and cursed in retaliation. You were made to follow them, you understand the order and had the knowledge that they would become much more physical if you didn’t give in. Still, you shook them off and followed as they moved, one before you and one behind you.

“Ungrateful whore! Everything we’ve done for you-!” Your mother was holding strong to her place as the self-appointed matriarch of this estate and business your grandfather had given to your father, her dignity hanging on by threads.

“What are you going to do with it?” You asked him, hovering by the open door, wondering what would become of everything your mother and brother had held so dear.

“Burn it.” Lloyd was looking at you but he was speaking to his men, the few that had begun pouring gasoline on the floor. “I want nothing left standing.”

“Hansen!” The door was shut behind you, your mother’s screams and protests muffled but not silenced.

The blacked-out SUV was waiting for you, the rear door opened giving you a view of the luxurious leather and hand-stitched interior that was likely reinforced and armoured. You had trounced down the steps yet hesitated to get into the vehicle even though you were outnumbered by his men, and unwilling to get a black eye or broken arm from trying to fight.

“Mrs. Hansen-“ You entered the vehicle and grasped onto the handle, slamming it shut in the brute’s face, nearly nicking his fingers in the process.

You looked out the window as smoke started to rise from the house, billowing and black, a preemptive look at the promise or order that Lloyd made, the directive that nothing was left standing.

You waited for the door to be open again, and he appeared with a single duffle bag in his hand and a sadistic, victorious smirk on his face. The right rear passenger door opened and he had thrown the bag in at your feet before he climbed in and joined you, the sour stench of gasoline and smoke clinging to his clothes.

“You have a choice, Mrs. Hansen.” He looked toward you, his hands resting on the space between you. “You choose-“

“Oh, I have options? I thought you were a totalitarian. Direct me like one of your pissants.” You snipped at him, angling your back to the door while kicking the duffle bag away from you.

“We go home,” Lloyd smirked at your attitude and licked his lips, “or we go somewhere private and sunny. Celebrate our early honeymoon-“

“Fuck you.” You grit your teeth and shoved his hand away from you, warmth bubbling in your stomach as your heart thrashed.

“Don’t be so eager, sunshine.” He tapped the roof of the vehicle, signalling the driver to had out. “Home it is.”

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[sluttywonwoo]

instead of you [part thirty-nine] || l.mh

pairing: [best friend’s brother] lee minho x college!reader ft. han jisung

summary: you didn’t expect to spend your summer pretending to be your best friend’s girlfriend- then again, you didn’t expect to fall for your best friend’s brother, either. 

warnings: swearing, angst

word count: 3.1k

a/n: revamped my tom holland series from my main blog ( @wazzupmrstark ) to try and motivate myself to finish it!!

“How much longer until we reach it?”

“You’ve asked that six times in the past ten minutes!”

“That’s because no one’s given me an answer!”

“Because no one knows, Felix! None of us have hiked this path before.”

Felix grumbled something behind his brother’s back but he must not have heard because he didn’t argue further.

The majority of the hike thus far had been uphill, something that the park rangers had neglected to mention when they sent you off into the forest. Thankfully, the mountains and canopy of trees provided some kind of shade but it was still scorching hot. And humid. And you were sweating like crazy. 

Everyone was. Minho had already taken his shirt off and Felix had completely sweat through his. That was probably why he was complaining so much. He refused to take it off, though. Something about not wanting to get sunburned again. 

“You doing okay?” Jisung asked, looking over at you. 

The two of you had found yourselves in the middle of the pack for once, walking behind his parents and in front of his brothers. 

“Yeah, fine,” you answered, trying not to sound as out of breath as you felt. 

“Did you bring your inhaler?”

“Um...”

“Why do I even ask?”

-

After fifteen more minutes of walking and a bathroom break, you finally reached the waterfall. 

Felix sighed. “That’s it? We walked all this way for this?” 

“Shut up, Felix,” Jisung snapped. “It just looks small from the bridge, it’s not actually that small.”

“I’d say it’s a pretty average size,” you added, “maybe even kind of big.”

Minho laughed behind you. Thankfully, his parents didn’t seem to hear your comment. To be fair to Felix, it wasn’t a huge waterfall. It certainly wasn’t the biggest waterfall in Hawai’i, but it was one of the few that visitors could swim under. That’s what made it so popular. 

And the bridge had made it look smaller than it really was. 

There was an area to rinse off before and after getting in the water so you all took turns under the showerhead. 

Nikki was the only one who didn’t want to swim, which meant that she was stuck with all of the bags. You felt sort of bad when Jisung handed over the backpack you were sharing but Nikki assured you that it was fine, that she would rather hold them for you than have you rent one of the rusty lockers to store it in. 

Waimea Falls required everyone to wear a life jacket, regardless of swimming ability. You knew it was a liability thing but you still couldn’t help but shiver when you slung on the cold, wet vest and buckled it around your chest. Who knew how many people had worn it before you today.

Shoes were optional so you left your sandals in the gravel by the bleachers and tiptoed your way back over to the edge of the water. The boys did the same. 

The five of you stood there, staring at the rocks leading down into the lagoon, trying to figure out how to proceed without falling. It was hard to determine the best way in as all of the rocks that were big enough to step on were either jagged and/or slippery.

“Ladies first,” Felix said unceremoniously.

You glared at him but decided to take a step down anyway. Someone had to go first and since everyone else was being a pussy it might as well be you. You moved at a snail’s pace, trying your best to move in a way that wouldn’t send you tumbling down the incline if you misstepped. 

The rocks seemed stable enough to hold your weight without sliding around in the mud but one of them wobbled under you upon stepping on it, making you nearly lose your balance. 

“Careful!” Jisung and Minho shouted at the same time, causing you to turn around and make a face at them both. 

They traded weird looks with each other before turning their attention back to you, who had made significant progress toward the water. By the time you finally reached the edge, the boys had started trekking down behind you, much more haphazardly than you had. 

You extended your leg out in front of you to feel it out, trying not to scream when your toes grazed the water. It was freezing, way colder than you expected, but you knew it would feel incredible once you were fully submerged. It was one of if not the hottest days of the trip and you had sweat through everything. Even the life vest they’d saddled you with was beginning to feel sticky. 

“How is it?” Jisung called from behind you. 

“Feels good!” you lied, not trusting yourself to turn around and show him your face. He’d know you were bluffing instantly. 

Since you didn’t want to hold up the line, you took a deep breath and pushed yourself off of the ledge, finding your footing with both feet in the water. The bed of the lagoon was also covered with rocks. They were more slippery than the ones on the path seeing as they were wet and covered with algae so you had to be extra careful. 

You moved away from the shore so that the boys could get in after you. 

“Oh, Jesus fucking Christ!” was Jisung’s shout from behind you.

You turned back to see him submerged up to his waist. He apologized to the people around him for cursing before glaring at you. 

“You little brat!” he muttered, lunging at you.

You let out a yelp as the weight of your best friend dragged you under. You both emerged with dripping hair, laughing and sputtering. 

“You said it felt good!”

“It does! It’s refreshing!”

“It’s cold as fuck,” he muttered, “and you knew that.”

“What, can’t take a little chill?” you taunted.

He splashed you. 

“Are we going to swim over to the waterfall or what?” Minho’s voice echoed from behind you both, sounding annoyed. 

Jisung smirked before turning around to face his older brother. 

“We don’t all have to go together. You could have gone on without us.”

Felix was the last to get in, gingerly stepping on the algae-covered rocks to make his way over to the three of you. Dom stayed by the edge, content to keep Nikki company from the water. He claimed to be too old to swim against the current just to get thousands of gallons of water dunked on him. 

“Let’s go, babe,” Jisung said, jerking his head over his shoulder in the direction of the waterfall.

Swimming to the base of the waterfall proved to be a lot more difficult than it looked. The current was strong and moving against it required a lot of effort. People who weren’t strong swimmers had no chance of making it all the way under. 

It was doable for you, but not without struggle. The boys seemed to be in the same boat, save for Minho, who was the fittest out of all of you. He was already several strokes ahead of the rest of you when Jisung called out for him to wait up. He paused and tread water while he waited for you and the twins to catch up. 

“I thought we were going together,” Felix panted bitterly. 

“Not my fault you guys are slow,” he rebutted. 

“Maybe we should hold hands,” Jisung suggested and pointed to another family who was making significantly more progress. “They’re doing it.”

“You think that’s going to work?” you asked. 

“Yeah, how do we know you guys aren’t just going to hold me back?”

Felix clicked his tongue in annoyance. “Minho-”

“You could stand to pull some more weight, K-pop boy,” Jisung pointed out.

“Tsk, fine. How should we do this?”

Minho obviously helmed the line. You were stuck between him and Jisung, with Felix bringing up the rear. You didn’t argue about your place in the order but it did feel strange to be holding both Minho and Jisung’s hands at the same time. You couldn’t tell whether they felt similarly but you had to assume they did. 

Minho tugged you along and you pulled Jisung in turn. They held on to you tightly so as not to lose you in the tide. You tried to focus on keeping your head above the surface instead of the feeling of both of their hands in yours. 

Jisung’s hand-holding strategy actually worked and you made it to the waterfall twice as fast as you would have on your own. 

Trying to get under the waterfall was another ordeal. The water pressure was so aggressive that you had to fight against the water in order to get up on the rocks right beneath the stream. 

“This kind of hurts!” Jisung shouted over the roaring of the water. 

“Yeah, I think I’m getting bruises!” Minho agreed. 

“You guys are pussies!” you yelled, even though it did hurt and you wouldn’t be surprised if was bruising you. 

“I think Mom is trying to take a picture!” Felix screamed.

Automatically, all four of you posed even though you couldn’t see where Nikki was and you could barely open your eyes under the stream. You grabbed for Jisung but got Minho instead, accidentally squeezing his ass in an effort to hold his hand. How you mixed up the person standing beside you and mis-approximated where their wrist was, you didn’t know, but you immediately let go once you realized your mistake and fumbled for the right person’s hand instead. 

If Jisung noticed what happened, he didn’t say anything about it. Minho definitely did notice and you could see him trying not to laugh out of the corner of your eye. 

“Should we swim back now?” one of the boys, you weren’t sure which, asked after you had stood there for what felt long enough for their mother to have snapped a couple of photos. 

“You guys can, I think y/n and I are going to swim around by ourselves for a bit longer.”

That was news to you but you weren’t necessarily upset about it. You hadn’t been in the water for long anyway and you wanted to make the most of it. And if Jisung wanted to be alone with you, you weren’t going to say no. 

Your number one priority was winning him back, making it up to him, as much as you could. 

You followed Jisung to a secluded part of the pool, letting him tug you along as you floated on your back. Minho and Felix either got out or fucked off to another part of the lagoon. You weren’t paying attention when you split up and you weren’t about to look for them. 

“Did you want to talk about something?” you asked your best friend. 

“No, just wanted some space from my brothers.”

“Oh, ok.”

“Did you want to talk about something?” he parroted. 

You made a face. “No, unless you’ve changed your mind.”

You could tell he knew what you referring to immediately from the way his expression shifted. 

“Not here, yeah?”

You nodded in agreement. He was right, you should have that conversation somewhere private. Still, you took his answer as a good sign. ‘Not here’ implied that there was somewhere that you would have that conversation, which meant that he was willing to have it. You counted that as a win. A very small win, but a win nonetheless. 

“What?” Jisung asked, squinting at you through the sunlight. 

“Huh?”

“What’s got you smiling like that? What’s on your mind?”

You hadn’t realized you were smiling until he pointed it out. 

“Just happy to be here with you.”

-

You had dinner at some famous burger place that night. You were too tired to pay much attention to what you were eating or what everyone was talking about but you’re pretty sure the food tasted good. 

The restaurant was in the middle of their dinner rush when your party arrived so you had to wait for a table. There was a small surf shop attached to the same building so you went with the boys to check it out while Nikki and Dom scoped out somewhere to sit. Everything was expensive so no one bought anything but window shopping kept you occupied for the time being. 

After dinner, you rode with Jisung’s parents back to the resort. He seemed indifferent to your presence this time, which you took as another win. He held your hand in the back seat and you rested your head on his shoulder. Neither of you fell asleep but you kept your eyes closed, enjoying the silence.

“We’re here, kids,” Nikki said softly once Dom had parked in the lot.

Jisung stretched, forcing you to sit up too. You thanked them for the ride, and for dinner since they paid, before Jisung asked if you wanted to take a walk on the beach. 

“Sure, let’s go.”

He led you by the hand through the maze of buildings to the hotel’s beach entrance. You passed other couples as you strolled past the pool and the firepits and it made your heart sink a little. You were jealous of them. Jealous that they could enjoy each other’s company out in the open like that. Jealous that they looked so happy. Jealous that they weren’t sacrificing one relationship for another. 

You were definitely projecting, they absolutely could have been in the same situation as you and you would never know but you refused to acknowledge that possibility because you were resolute on feeling bitter. 

The sun hadn’t fully set yet despite the late hour. Being that it was still the middle of summer, it wouldn’t get dark until much later than usual. You were also convinced that daylight lingered longer in Hawai’i than it did in other places but you had no evidence to back that up. 

“Here, I’ll carry your shoes for you,” Jisung offered, holding out his free hand for them. 

You paused. “Oh, are you sure?”

“Yeah, I know you don’t like the feeling of sand in your shoes.”

“Thank you.”

You bent down to undo your sandals and handed them to Jisung. He looped the straps around two of his fingers and resumed holding your hand. 

The sand was still warm, holding on to the heat of the day. 

“Are we going all the way down to the water?” you asked. 

“If you want to,” Jisung answered. 

“I don’t really feel like getting wet again.”

“That’s fine with me.”

You settled for walking along the outline of the tide where the sand was still dry. You followed the curves of the waves from hours past, tracing the remnants of high tide with your arms out like you were walking on a tightrope. Jisung trailed behind you for a few moments before catching up with you again. 

You had pulled your hand out of his grasp moments earlier to run ahead, distracted by the seafoam in the distance. You waited for him and put your arms back by your sides. 

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to ditch you,” you sighed when he reappeared at your side. 

“I know,” he replied. 

Instead of offering you his hand this time, he gave you his elbow. You took it gently, resting your hand on his bicep. 

He was uncharacteristically quiet. You wondered what was on his mind. When he invited you down here, you thought it would be to talk, to finally have that conversation. Maybe it had been and he changed his mind. Or maybe it had never been his intention in the first place. 

You were starting to think you’d never get an answer when he finally spoke. 

“I’m sorry for what I said.”

You tensed but kept walking, not wanting to confront whatever expression might be on Jisung’s face. If you stopped, you would have to look at him or stare at the ground. If you continued walking, you could just look straight. 

“I... didn’t mean that shit... about wishing I never met you. Or any of it really. I wanted to mean it. But I couldn’t, because none of it’s true. I was just really hurt. I still am, to be honest.”

“I understand,” you responded. 

“I want us to move past this,” he continued, “but it still feels really fresh. I mean, I only found out about you and Min a few days ago.”

You nodded as you listened. He was right. It had only been a handful of days even though it felt like an eternity. Being at odds with Jisung was hell. He was your best friend, after all. You had lived life with him by your side for the past four years. You didn’t want to imagine what that would look like without him. 

“Right.”

He cocked his head to the side, lost in thought. 

“I’m sorry too,” you added, wanting to reiterate just how shitty you felt about the whole thing. 

“I know,” he said softly. “I know you are. I knew you were then too. I’m sorry for invalidating your apology-”

“Don’t be!” you interrupted. “My actions and my words... they don’t add up. I would’ve thought I was bullshitting too.”  

Jisung scratched the back of his neck and forced a laugh. “Yeah, it wasn’t easy to wrap my head around. But I get it, I think. There’s just something about Minho, isn’t there?” 

You snuck a glance at him but didn’t say anything. You had a feeling it was a rhetorical question. 

“You must have been miserable this whole time. Trying to push down your feelings for him and then finally acting on them but being consumed by guilt when you finally do.”

“It hasn’t been the best,” you admitted, “but it’s my own fault.”

“Not entirely,” Jisung reasoned. 

You were surprised he was coming to your defense but you figured he’d go up to bat for anyone if it was against Minho. 

“Enough of it is.”

Your best friend shrugged. “I mean, it’s not like you’re known for your decision-making skills.”

You scoffed and nudged him with your shoulder. He laughed a real laugh for the first time in days. You had missed hearing it. It made you smile too. You rested your head on his shoulder and for once it felt natural. 

“I really am sorry, Ji,” you sighed, your voice wavering. 

“I know. I can’t pretend that I’m over it... but I will be. I also know that I can’t ask you to end things with him...”

“You can-”

“No,” he murmured. “I can’t. You would resent me for it.” You opened your mouth to protest but Jisung shook his head and you closed it again. “You would. Maybe unconsciously, but you would. Things wouldn’t be the same.”

“Things won’t be the same if I don’t end things with him,” you pointed out.

“I know,” he agreed solemnly. Then he sighed as if it was something he had already come to terms with. “But you’ll still love me the same. And that’s enough.”

lmk what you think i always appreciate feedback!!

[sailor-aviator]

Meet Me at the Sea: Chapter Eleven

Meet Me at the Sea: Chapter Eleven

Pairing: Jake "Hangman" Seresin x Reader

Summary: Your best friend, Bob Floyd, had insisted you join him for the summer at his family's home along the Carolina coasts. You had been hesitant at first, but ultimately agreed to his request. Now, here you were in a new town with strange locals who spoke in hushed whispers and cryptic retellings about glistening scales, glowing eyes, and haunting songs that echoed from the sea. You didn't believe them at first, but when you wake up on the beach one morning after having fallen overboard the night before, you can't help but think that maybe you hadn't imagine the strong arms and deep, green eyes of the man that had saved you.

Trigger Warnings: Reader expresses doubt, Reflection on relationships, Flirting, Mildly suggestive conversations but not really, Chaste kissing, Jake being handsy, The boys being idiots, Magic, Siren songs/mind control, Reader is lured, Identities revealed. I think that's it, but please let me know if I missed anything!

Word Count: 3.2k

Series Masterlist || Moodboards || Playlist || Jake "Hangman" Seresin Tag List

Trust was a funny thing, when you really sat down to think about it. You could believe someone with every fiber of your being, but there will always be a single shred of doubt, no matter how small. That’s where trust comes in.

Trust isn’t belief. Trust is the bridge between belief and fear. Trust is what you grip on to when everything else tells you to give up hope. Trust is the thing that prevails when all else seems lost, that morphs itself into hope. It’s the thing that will always keep you going.

Which is why you were sitting on the edge of Nat’s bed, thinking back on your conversation with Jake just a few days before.

“You’re being awfully quiet,” she commented, eyeing you carefully as she strolled back into the room with her makeup bag in hand. “Have been for the past couple of days, actually.”

You sighed, offering her a smile that felt half-assed even to you. Grimacing, you shifted on the bed, running your hands over your thighs as you watched her set up her vanity with everything she would need.

“What are you going to do when I’m not around anymore for you to treat like a living doll?” You joked. Her eyes met yours in the mirror, and she raised an eyebrow at you. You squirmed under her gaze, letting out a sigh as you grimaced. “It’s nothing, really.”

“It’s not nothing if you’re worrying about it so much,” she countered, sitting down in the chair across from you, her brow pulled together in concern. “You know you can tell me anything.”

“It’s just,” you paused, chewing on your bottom lip, “I found out about what the mating bite entails.”

Her head jerked back in surprise, her eyes growing wide as she absorbed what you just told her.

“You…what?”

“I was talking with Cole when I went to pick up the masks the other day,” you murmured, eyeing the masks in question as they sat on the vanity. “He told me more about the mating bite and the legends surrounding it, and truth be told, it’s all I’ve been able to think about since.”

“Have you talked to Jake about it?” She frowned.

“Yeah,” you nodded, your cheeks heating up at the thought of the other night. “I’ve talked to him. He told me that it was all true, but that he’d never hurt me.”

“And?” She pressed. You glanced up at her, confusion plain on your face.

“And what?”

“Do you believe him?” She clarified, crossing her arms and leaning back. “Do you believe that he’ll never hurt you?”

You didn’t say anything for a moment. Jake had never given you a reason to believe that he would hurt you in any way. Still, even the slimmest possibility that you might not resurface from the depths of the water when Jake pulled you down under had the familiar sinking sensation of anxiety fill your belly, a chill running down your spine at the thought.

But then again, there was no doubt in your mind that you would let him pull you under in the first place. It wasn’t a question of “if,” but “when.” Jake was many things, but someone who intentionally hurt others was not on that list.

“I trust him,” you settled on finally. “I trust him with my life.”

“I know it’s scary,” she murmured, eyes searching yours for any sign that you might be having doubts. “After all, the claiming ritual is what the old myths and legends of mermaids and sirens are based on, you know?”

“Yeah,” you nodded, “I guess you’re right.”

“But those stories are wrong, Skipper,” she said, leaning forward to take your hand in hers, squeezing it gently. “Those stories are born out of fear of what people don’t understand, of what they want to believe. The monsters in the stories aren’t the people we know and love.”

“What are you trying to say, Nat?”

“I’m saying,” she paused, sucking a breath before letting it out slowly. “I’m saying that you can hear as many things as you want to hear. Whether it’s good or bad or somewhere in between. It’s okay to be scared of what you don’t know, but don’t let it keep you from the things that you do know. Don’t let fear keep you away from a lifetime of happiness.”

You stared at her for a moment. Of course you knew everything she was saying was true. You knew that Jake, Bradley, Javy, and Reuben weren’t the monsters in the stories you’ve heard. They were your friends.

Reuben was smart and funny when he wanted to be, having taken time to show you how to sail when the gang would take the boats out on the sunny, summer days. He made sure you stayed hydrated when Jake wasn’t around to do it instead, who acted so much like an older brother towards you.

Javy was another brother you never realized you wanted. Teasing you and making sure you got home safe when the others were busy or when he picked you and Nat up to take you home. Even when it was just the three of you, he always made sure you felt included and never like the third wheel you knew you were being.

Bradley rounded out the trio of your new older siblings. Always making sure you were safe and out of harm’s way. Sweet Bradley who coped with the loss of his security at such a young age with an easy smile and flirtatious nature. The man who never once made you feel like an outsider in the longstanding group of friends.

Then there was Jake. A man who was perfect by no means, but was clear about his intentions with you from the first moment you met. Who would rather suffer the wrath of others than lie to you even for a second. Who made you feel safe and wanted even when you thought your own mind was playing tricks on you. He was everything you wanted.

“I won’t, Nat,” you smiled, squeezing her hand back. The brunette let out a relieved sigh, smiling softly back at you before standing from the chair and dragging you towards the vanity.

“Alright, we’ve got a lot of work to do before the festival starts, so let’s get to it.”

The sun was slowly nearing the horizon when you set foot on the boardwalk, a sizeable crowd already gathered on the boardwalk. Several booths and stalls were set up along the sides, the local vendors doing their best to advertise items from their shops to the tourists that stopped to look.

Everyone was dressed like they were going to a party. The women who walked down the streets were dressed in a rainbow of different outfits - mainly dresses. The men were dressed more casually, but some still wore suits as they escorted their dates up and down the festival walkways.

“I’m definitely getting some stir fry for dinner,” Nat beamed as she looked over at Javy. He chuckled, resting a hand on the small of her back as the three of you waited by the entrance for the rest of your friends.

“We said 6:30, right?” You murmured, glancing down at your phone before back up at the crowd that parted to pass your tiny group.

“Don’t you worry, Skipper,” Javy smirked, waggling his eyebrows at you. “I’m sure those nerds will be here any second. They probably wanted to make sure they look nice and pretty for all the girls tonight.”

“Aren’t they wearing masks?” Nat asked, arching a brow up at her boyfriend. He shrugged, shoving his hands in his pockets as he turned his attention to the crowd in search of the others.

“Yeah, probably.”

“You’re so helpful.”

“I know,” he grinned, raising a hand to wave to someone in the crowd. You followed his line of sight, sucking in a breath when your eyes met green ones. A smile found its way to your lips as Jake picked up his pace, nearly running to stand next to you. His strong arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you gently to him as you rested a hand on his chest to steady yourself.

“Hey,” you breathed, practically in a whisper as you gazed up at him through your mask. His lips pulled into a smirk as his grip tightened on your waist, your cheeks heating up at the gesture.

“Hey,” he murmured, leaning down so that his lips hovered over yours. “Missed you.”

“Missed me?” You giggled. “How could you have missed me? You saw me just this morning.”

“Always miss you,” he hummed, letting his lips rest against yours. It wasn’t a kiss, not really, but your heart fluttered in your chest nonetheless. His face was half covered by a white mask with golden accents, the offending object bumping against your own, causing another chorus of giggles to slip past your lips as he smiled. You heard a gag from beside you, and you glanced over to see Bradley gagging as the others watched you.

“You two are gross,” he asserted, wrinkling his nose. “Get a room.”

You rolled your eyes, squeaking when Jake chuckled and pulled you impossibly closer.

“If you insist,” he grinned, moving to pull you back towards town and away from the boardwalk. You stumbled after him, lurching when a hand grabbed your upper arm, pulling you back and away from Jake.

“Oh, no you don’t,” Nat snapped, shooting a glare at the blonde. “I worked too damn long and too damn hard for you to steal her away this early. She deserved to be showed off.”

Jake pouted at her, but considered her words for a moment. The smile once again finding a home on his face, he offered you his arm, which you took gratefully.

“Well, what are we waiting for then?” He taunted, already pulling you towards the festival. “Let’s get a move on. I have a lady that needs showing off.”

The others followed the two of you with rolls of their eyes, and you looked back grin at Nat excitedly.

“So, what’s first?”

“Well, I’m starving,” she declared, rushing past you with Javy in tow. “I say we get something to eat first and foremost.”

“What are you thinking?” Bob asked, his eyes darting down to look at where Nat and Javy’s hands sat intertwined. His eyebrow arched slightly, blue eyes meeting yours for a brief second behind his silver mask. You shook your head slightly, and his face told you that the two of you would most definitely be talking about the development later.

“Stir fry,” Nat grinned, wagging her eyebrows at him. Bradley scoffed, earning a glare from the brunette.

“We’re not getting stir fry,” he said, an edge of disgust in his tone as he crossed his arms over his chest. “We are treated to delicious fried food but once a year, and you want to waste this opportunity getting stir fry?”

“The stir fry is the best damn thing here, Bradshaw, and you know it,” she fired back, letting go of Javy’s hand to cross her own arms as she glared the man down.

“Why don’t we just get our own things?” Reuben suggest, coming up to stand next to the two, placing gentle hands on both of their shoulders.

“Sounds like a plan to me,” Mickey chirped, rubbing his hands together as he scanned over the different booths, shooting a dazzling smile to a group of girls huddled by one of the jewelry stalls. The girls giggled, whispering amongst themselves as they eyed your group in appraisal. Reuben let out a low whistle as he followed Mickey’s line of sight.

“Damn,” he murmured, a charming grin sliding onto his face.

“We’ll, uh, catch you later,” Mickey threw over his shoulder, making a beeline for the other group with Reuben hot on his tail. Bob rolled his eyes, already moving to follow them.

“I’ll go make sure they stay out of trouble,” he muttered. Bradley gave him a broad grin, letting out a loud cry of encouragement that set the bespectacled man’s cheeks ablaze.

“Yeah!” Bradley called, clapping his hand and earning a few looks from the passersby. “Go get’em tiger!”

If looks could kill, you surmised he’d be dead ten times over with the glare Bob shot back at him.

“Can we go now?” Nat groaned, looking around at the rest of you. “I’m starving here!”

“Yeah, but we’re not getting stir fry,” Bradley asserted once more. Nat bristled, and you watched as the two went in for round two of their argument. Jake leaned down so that his lips brushed against the shell of your ear, sending a tingle up your spine that nearly took your breath away.

“They could be at this a while,” he whispered, his breath fanning over your cheek as his arm came to wrap around your waist. “Let’s get out of here and go find our own thing to do.”

You nodded, allowing him to lead you discreetly away from your friends and towards the booths. The two of you walked in silence for a moment before he turned to look down at you.

“Are you even hungry?” He asked, stopping as you looked at the jewelry at one of the booths.

“Not really,” you murmured, eyeing a set of the handmade earrings on display. “Are you?”

“Nah,” he replied, wrinkling his nose. “We can just walk around for a little bit, if you want?”

“That sounds just fine to me,” you smiled, meeting his gaze and stopping. For a moment, it was like everything else faded away and it was just the two of you, standing and staring at one another. Jake’s eyes began to glow an iridescent green the longer he stared at you, his breaths coming out a little more ragged. You could get lost in those eyes, you were sure of it.

“Can I help you find anything?”

You jumped, turning to the woman behind the table as she smiled at you.

“What?” You asked, breathless as your mind scrambled to catch up. “Oh, no! I’m just looking right now, but thank you!”

The woman nodded before turning her attention to another customer. You looked back at Jake who looked like he wanted to say something. Before he could, a chime sounded, and he dug in his pocket for his phone. He pulled it out, scanning the message before casting an apologetic look towards you.

“It’s my mom,” he explained, gesturing at the phone. “She wants to talk to me. Do you mind if I…?”

“Not at all,” you smiled, waving him off. “You go ahead, just text me when you’re finished and we can meet up again, yeah?”

He gave you a small smile, leaning in to brush his lips against yours in a gentle kiss before turning and walking away.

You perused several different booths before the pangs of hunger made themselves known. You decided to get yourself a bag of popcorn to tide you over while waiting for Jake to text you that he was done, bouncing excitedly at the thought of the buttery treat. You scrolled on your phone while you waited in line, skimming different articles as the line inched forward slowly.

Skipper.

You glanced up, expecting to see one of your friends, frowning when you didn’t. You could have sworn you heard your name, and an uneasy feeling made its way across your skin, clutching at the pit in your stomach. A low hum could be heard on the breeze, and you noticed a few of the vendors glance around uneasily.

Skipper, come find me.

You looked around, trying to find the source of the voice. Several other people looked around with frowns on their faces, but you paid them no mind as you scanned the crowd frantically.

Come find me, and everything will be fine. Don’t you want to find me?

“Yes,” you whispered, stepping out of the line, eyes still searching for the source of the honeyed voice. “Yes, I want to find you. Where are you?”

Follow my voice, Skipper.

Your head felt light, your body like it was floating as you took another step into the dense crowd. Your eyes still scanned the crowd, stopping as they made contact with glowing green. They stared at you intently from behind a solid black mask, the top half of the man’s face covered entirely. His lips twitched up into a knowing smirk as he watched you, slowly raising his hand in offering to you.

There’s a good girl. Do as you're told, and everything will be just fine.

The fact that his lips weren’t moving should have concerned you, but you were so focused on getting to him that you didn’t even notice. You took a few steps towards him, only stopping when the mark on your neck pulsed.

Come on, Skipper. You’re almost there. Just a few more steps and then we can live happily ever after. Don’t you want that?

You hesitated. Did you want that? You were sure you did, but somehow this felt wrong. It wasn’t supposed to be this way.

The mark on your neck pulsed again, almost as if it were pleading with you not to go. You frowned, reaching up a heavy hand to run your fingers over it.

Ignore it, Skipper. Listen to me. You want to come with me, don’t you? I would never hurt you. I can give you everything. Trust me.

Yes, that was what you wanted. You wanted to go with this man. How could you have thought otherwise? This man looked at you so intensely, almost like he was driven mad with need as he called for you.

Just a little more, sweetheart. Then we’ll have nothing to worry about ever again.

You were only about a yard away now, so close and still so far. You wanted to please him, make him proud. All you had to do was take a few more steps, and-

You let out a grunt as someone bumped into you, nearly sending you to the ground with the force of it. It was like everything came rushing back to you all at once. The floating feeling stopped, and suddenly you were aware of your surroundings once again. You looked around at the surrounding crowd, noticing how a few of the local vendors stared at you with unease, their eyes flickering away to focus on something else. No, not something. Someone.

Your head whipped up, locking onto the figure who stood before you. Your eyes widened in terror at the way he looked at you, his eyes shining with a mix of anger and despair as you fought for coherency once more. You knew those eyes.

Someone bumped into the man, startling him, and you watched as he let out a strangled cry filled with frustration and anguish. The passerby stopped, raising his hands to put some distance between the two of them.

“Woah, man,” the stranger said, eyes widening as the man tore his mask away in anger, glowing eyes seething as he bared his teeth. “I’m sorry, okay? It was an accident.”

Your breath caught in your throat as you continued to stare, your mind trying desperately to reconcile what you knew with what you were seeing.

The man looked back at you, tears now in his eyes as he let out another anguished cry, turning on his feet and racing through the crowd.

Cole.

A/N: Welp...here's the reveal, at long last. What do you guys think? Was it worth the wait? What's going to happen next?? Only two chapters left! As always, reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated. If you enjoy my work, consider leaving me a tip! You can also find my works on AO3 under the username sailor-aviator!

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[andypantsx3]

something in the water | 2 | shouto x reader

pairing: Todoroki Shouto / Fem Reader

length: 5.2k | 2nd of 6 chapters

summary: As a future marine biologist, you’ve scored big on your final internship: a summer in the tropics, researching the waters off the coast of a lush, sunny island. But what you thought would be all beach days and piña coladas turns out to be the revelation of a lifetime when you haul in a handsome merprince, and discover not everything in these waters is quite as it seems.

tags/warnings: mermaid au, interspecies relationships, mating rituals/courting behavior, (sort of) case fic, aged up characters, eventual smut, fem pronouns/afab reader

series masterlist

You stared at the man in the water, your mouth falling open.

The snorkel mouthpiece dropped right out of it, leaving a wet streak down your chin. You quickly tore your goggles back off, convinced the glass was somehow distorting your vision.

The man in the water blinked back at you. His eyes darted over your body quickly, twin flashes of color, as if assessing a threat. You could see his left eye was the vibrant turquoise blue of the surrounding waters, the right a dark stormy gray, like the clouds of a tropical storm. His hair was as evenly-split as his eye color, snowy white on the right and a fiery red on the left, slicked back from his face with ocean water.

And his face. His face.

He was easily the most beautiful man you had ever seen, and you felt the breath punch out of your lungs just looking at him. His mouth was so soft and sensuous, his nose high-bridged and sweet, at complete odds with the strong, masculine sweep of his jawline. A pink scar circled his left eye, somehow intensifying its color.

Every single one of his features were so precise, so symmetrical that a shiver went up your spine, and something about the way they all fit together had all the lights in your brain flickering out, one by one.

And then his perfect, plush mouth moved, shifting suddenly into a vicious snarl. He let out a hiss, the likes of which you’d never heard before, and your vision seized on a set of very sharp canines set into the sides of his mouth. Incredibly, inhumanly sharp canines, that was.

“Holy shit,” you said, your focus snapping away from his mouth as a long-fingered hand came up to grasp the net over him—a hand tinted a deep crimson red, tipped with pointed claws. Your heartbeat kicked into your throat, and your gaze traveled under the water, down a powerful chest and across a long, sinuous, red-and-white flecked thing that was most assuredly not a pair of legs.

And that’s when you realized.

This man was not a man.

“Oh my god, oh my god,” you breathed, stumbling back from the edge of the boat. Your foot caught on the upturned plate, sending you sprawling over the back seat to land hard on your ass.

A snarling hiss sounded over the side of the boat, accompanied by a slapping sound, and another wave of water arced up over the side.

The slap of water to your face helped you return to your senses, and you realized he—or, it—the thing in the water with the human face was caught in your net, and you had no idea what that meant for him. Some species needed to swim to keep oxygen-rich water flowing over their gills.

And just because this guy–er, creature–had a human face and hands didn’t mean that’s where he breathed from. As you thought this, the sounds of his thrashing grew even more panicked.

You grabbed the seat you’d fallen over, hauling yourself upright, and crept to the edge of the boat, receiving another wave of water in the chest for your troubles.

You unhooked one of the emergency oars along the side, shoving it out to draw part of the net back towards you. The creature in the water hissed again, eyes snapping to the movement of your oar, and he seemed to try to retreat from it as far as the netting would allow.

“I’m not gonna hurt you, I’m not gonna hurt you,” you chanted in a squeaky, panicked tone that you were sure did nothing to calm him. “Oh my god please don’t hurt me back. I’m gonna get the net off you,” you promised him.

He thrashed harder, those blood-red claws swiping at the oar as you managed to hook it through one of the holes in the net, and quickly drew it back towards you.

“Oh my god, oh my god,” you moaned as a claw raked a deep gouge into the top of the oar.

You wondered for a wild moment, if you shouldn’t just leave him, run back to the wheel and start the boat as fast as you could. You wanted to be as far away from those claws as possible once this dude had been freed.

But another look at the panic in his eyes as he thrashed about told you you couldn’t. Not if it meant this creature would potentially drown. You carefully reached out a hand, grabbing the net off the end of the oar.

“Okay, I’m just gonna pull this up until it comes untangled,” you said, though it didn’t look like he was hearing you at all. He leveled another snarling hiss in your direction.

A lightning bolt of adrenaline shot through you, numbing your hands, tingling down your spine. “Oh my god come off of it, asshole,” you said, in a wild moment of insane bravery. “I’m just gonna let you out and then I’m gonna drive away and literally never, ever come back here.”

He cast a long look at you, blinking, seeming to calm for a second. Then he made a motion towards you, those claws reaching out again, and you bit off a scream.

“If you try to take my hand off, I will use this oar on you,” you promised him darkly. “I will knock all those sharp teeth right out of your mouth, do not try me.”

The creature paused, blinking again, those heterochromatic eyes flashing up to yours.

You watched him in mutual shock, your hands shaking on the net.

“Uh, okay yeah. Can you understand me? Probably not but, uh, good. Calm,” you said, trying to sound coaxing. “I’m not gonna hurt you, uh, unless you hurt me. Right? Totally no reason for anyone to do any hurting out here.”

The creature’s tail beat, but he made no other movements, even as you raised your hands again, drawing the net upwards so that it started to separate. It tipped him over a little bit, and he spun in the water like a burrito coming unrolled.

You had to stifle something between a horrified sob and a laugh. You kept up a stream of inane commentary in the lowest, calmest tone you could manage, which wasn’t very calm or low at all. “Okay, looking good. Just a little bit more. And we’re definitely not going to attack each other when this is over. I’m just some random biologist and you’re just some random, uh, sea guy…Which is very cool and normal…”

To your surprise, however, he let himself be rolled gently, until finally the net came free, and you quickly hauled it back over the side of the boat. He whipped back around to face you, and you took a startled step back, fumbling for your oar.

“No, do not come over here. Your face is very handsome and I would hate to break every single bone in it,” you said, waving the oar at him threateningly.

He just watched you, floating there in the water, staring weirdly.

You observed him, waiting for any sign of movement, the both of you entered in some strange marine standoff. But he made no further moves, and you thought if you booked it, you might just be able to get out of there without getting your eyes clawed out.

You hurriedly dropped your oar and clambered for the front of the boat, throwing yourself at the throttle and gunning the engine. The motor rumbled to life again, completely deafening, and you quickly steered the boat back the way you’d come from. Water sprayed out behind you, leaving a thick white bubbling trail, under which you lost sight of the man in the water.

He didn’t seem to follow you, however. You hightailed it all the way back to the main port, barely managing the appropriate docking knots with your shaking fingers. You threw yourself back onto the dock and raced ashore, your heartbeat only kicking back down once you’d made it safely onto the main street, where groups of tourists were poking through gift shops, queueing outside the various food and juice vendors, and chattering at the tables outside the open air restaurants.

You stumbled all the way back to the inn, a journey roughly fifteen minutes longer on foot than by jeep. Yu caught you on your way in, coming back from the office with a cup of iced coffee in hand, and she frowned as she looked you over.

“You look like you’ve seen a ghost, kid,” she said, pulling down her sunglasses. You watched her brow furrow in thought.

“No!” you said quickly, though why you rushed to deny it was beyond you. “No, nothing like that just—one of the nets was shredded and I didn’t think to bring a spare.”

Yu’s frown deepened. “Shredded?”

You nodded. “Yeah like something—uh, or someone—cut through it. It was totally done for.”

Her gaze sharpened over the tops of her lenses. “Someone?”

You swallowed, the memory of heterochromatic eyes and claw-tipped fingers flashing before your eyes. “Um. Yeah maybe. It didn’t look to be um, a shark or anything. It was torn too cleanly in too many places.”

For some reason Yu looked excited. “Like a diving knife? You think it could be Sunfish?”

After glimpsing those wicked claws yourself, you had absolutely no doubt what had been at work on that net. But after a moment’s hesitation you nodded, saying vaguely, “Uh, could be. Maybe.”

Yu hummed to herself, tossing a blonde lock over her shoulder as she gestured you back inside her bungalow. She drew you up your usual chair by the observation equipment, slurping loudly from her iced coffee. “We’ll have to keep an eye on them,” she said, a touch of relish in her voice that you did not like at all. You were learning that Takeyama Yu always enjoyed a good fight.

You gulped, settling down uneasily in the chair. You hoped she did not mean for you to go back to the reef too soon—though if that creature was smart he would have cleared out by now.

But you couldn’t bring yourself to say anything. You watched blankly as she clicked back into her monitoring windows, and nodded on auto-pilot as pointed out a couple things she’d noticed while you were gone. Your mind was elsewhere, back on the reef, replaying the events that had just occurred.

You couldn’t make sense of anything, didn’t know what to think.

All you could say was that you thought you might have, possibly, unbelievably, encountered a real life merman. You didn’t know what to make of that.

—

The next few days did not clear things up.

In fact, they seemed to make everything worse.

You went through your daily tasks, monitoring observation stations, maintaining equipment and carting things back and forth between all the professionals on your team. Yu loaned you out to Kamui for testing and you spent an afternoon hunched over a microscope, comparing slides of microbes, endlessly piping and staining. You prepped batches of slides to be mailed back to the main lab for more extensive testing, and learned more about water acidity than you ever had in any of your university lectures.

But over all of this activity loomed the shadow of the thing you’d seen in the water. Every time you took the boat out to rebait a station or resample the water, you couldn’t help but look over your shoulder. Even worse than the reef shark, you thought every shadow was the merman in waiting, every slash of red the merman’s clawed hands reaching towards you, every movement in the corner of your eye the last thing you might ever see. You eventually made it back to the reef and deployed a new net, and you thought your heart was going to punch straight through your chest, it was pounding so hard.

You never caught sight of the man in the water again, but somehow, some way, you felt like you were still being watched.

Although maybe that was just paranoia.

Almost worse than your daily heart attacks though, was the data you were gathering. The results of Kamui’s testing and Yu’s observations weren’t lining up with the initial reports that had prompted your presence in the first place. A sample sent with the report had showed incredibly high levels of chemical pollution, and though you were finding some thinning of expected populations and slight microbial unhealthiness, none of it was lining up with the expected levels given in the whistleblower report.

The report had been anonymous, so there was no telling where the sample had come from.

But you couldn’t help but wonder if somehow you were monitoring the wrong places.

Remembering Izuku’s friendly chatter from the day you arrived, you eventually dug out your phone again, clicking into the address for Kacchan that Izuku had provided. You wondered if, as a local gatherer, he might have a better read on where things were, and where you were going wrong.

A quick follow up conversation with Izuku in the main office revealed that Kacchan’s real name was Bakugou Katsuki, and that he had the day off today, to Izuku’s knowledge. Armed with that information, you followed directions back out of the dirt drive onto the main lane, following it for a few hundred feet until it pulled off again into another dirt path. You made your way down it through the thick tropical growth, until it spat you out into another cleared drive on which a jeep was parked.

There was a small, whitewashed house behind it, almost right up against the sand of the beach. A row boat was pulled up onto the sand, and further out into the water you could see a motorboat anchored. It had been painted a dark grey, at odds with the tropical surroundings, and you could just make out vibrant orange lettering spelling out the boat’s name—the Fuyumi.

You could see a man on the beach, padding across the sand to the rowboat, several waterproof bags and boxes in hand. He was blonde and just as well-muscled as Izuku had been, his skin littered with the same workman’s scars.

“Um, hello!” you called. The man whipped around, a red-eyed glare meeting your curious gaze.

“Who the fuck are you?” he demanded, his voice a low growl.

You blinked, slightly unnerved by this greeting. “I’m, um, Y/N. I’m a marine biologist.” The man’s glare didn’t waver. “Um, well, intern.”

“And?” he asked in the most impatient tones you’d ever heard.

You tried to push down a sudden annoyance. You needed details from this man. It wouldn’t do to flip on him straight away.

“Izuku said you work as a chef at the resort. He says you collect a lot of local ingredients?”

Bakugou scowled. “What of it.”

It wasn’t phrased as a question, but you answered anyway. “I’m with a team who’s looking into the possibilities of over-fishing and wastewater pollution in local waters. I was just curious where you collect plants, where you fish, and if you’ve noticed any particular changes over the past couple of months?”

For a brief second, you thought the harsh line of Bakugou’s mouth softened, and he blinked. But moments more and it was gone, replaced by a distrustful look. “Sunfish’re scum but I don’t have any info. All my plants and shit are fine. Fish too, if maybe thinned a little.”

You quickly drew out your phone again, clicking into the notes app. “You’ve noticed a population decline then? For any particular species?”

Bakugou let down his waterproof containers to cross those intimidating arms over his chest. “I fish for barramundi.”

You quickly noted that down. “Can you describe what you’ve noticed in terms of decline?”

Bakugou scowled again. “The fuck is there to describe? They’re harder to catch because there are less of them.”

You suppressed an eyeroll. “Okay. Anything else you can tell me?”

Bakugou’s mouth thinned. “No.”

You sighed, then tucked your phone away in your pocket again. “Alright. Last thing. Just—is there a particular spot you usually fish for them?”

Bakugou looked like the last thing he wanted to do was tell you, but he finally pronounced, “By the reef on the north side.”

Your skin prickled with the memory of the creature you’d encountered at the reef. You wondered, wildly, if that creature—that merman—had anything to do with the fish populations thinning. Maybe he was an invasive species—an over-hunter. Maybe it was nothing to do with Sunfish LLC at all…

That would explain why you were finding less significant microbial change than you had expected, even if the native species’ populations were declining.

You nodded in understanding. “Okay. Thanks for the details.”

Bakugou said nothing, seeming to wait for you to leave.

You cast another eye out over the beach, to the rowboat he’d been heading towards and back out to the motorboat anchored offshore. Even from this distance you could tell it was a much nicer model than the ones your team had rented out, and judging by the meticulous, clearly-custom paint job, it was well loved. Your gaze wandered over the vibrant orange script again.

“Who is Fuyumi?” you wondered.

Suddenly every fiber in Bakugou’s body went stiff—even more impossibly angry than before. “Get the fuck off of my property right the fuck now,” he said.

Your eyes darted back to his. His crimson gaze was somehow intensified even more, and you got the sense that if you did not find your own way out, he’d very well show you the hard way.

You gulped. “Right. Okay. Thanks for your time. I’ll, um, just be going.”

Bakugou grunted, his arms crossing tighter over his chest.

You turned on your heel, edging into a quick trot back up the dirt drive. Bakugou watched you the entire way, and you met his crimson glare as you looked over your shoulder just before you made it back into the dense tropical foliage. You followed the path back out onto the main road, ruminating on your encounter.

For the little help that he’d provided, you got the distinct sense that there was something Bakugou hadn’t told you, something he was deliberately withholding from you. But there was no telling what that might be, and there was no way you were going to be able to pry it out of a guy like that.

You sighed as you followed the driveway back to the inn, waving at Izuku at the front desk as you passed, and made your way back into Yu’s bungalow to report what you’d gotten out of Bakugou. She decided you’d take a trip back out to the reef tomorrow to have a more careful look around—a directive that sent a swarm of shivers down your spine. You really, really hoped that merman had moved on by now.

You spent the rest of the day re-reviewing old footage with particular focus on barramundi, trying to annotate where in the footage you’d seen some and how many members were in their school.

When work finally wrapped up you trekked back to the port to have dinner and drinks with the entire crew, catching the team up on the interview you’d had with Bakugou, and listening to their updates in turn. Kamui had apparently had no further luck in testing, Masaki had nothing conclusive in terms of counting yet, and Death Arms was still locked in some sort of political stalemate with Sunfish LLC over when you’d be able to get onto the premises to inspect the property itself.

Dinner wasn’t a total wash though. You managed a pina colada, pleased at the stereotypical tropicality of the choice, and spent most of the evening entertained, watching Kamui defend his plate from Yu’s wandering utensils and listening to Masaki recount previous field operations he’d taken part in. Before the internship, you’d sort of assumed you’d always work out of a lab, but you were growing enamored with the idea of field work, especially when it might take you to another place like Yuuei.

The team went their separate ways after dinner, retreating to your individual bungalows. The sun was still setting by the time you made it back inside, though—and still fuzzy with good food and your pina colada, you thought it was high time you spent some time on the beach, especially with a view like this one.

You made your way down onto the sand and plopped down at the edge of the water to watch the evening deepen. The beach’s view was mostly southern, but the color of the setting sun spilled generously across the horizon like watercolor, and you still appreciated the effect on the slice of sky you could see. The water was darker, a deep indigo in the oncoming twilight, and the waves lapped gently at the shore. It was so unbelievably beautiful, and you thought again that field work might be your calling.

You made a note to ask Masaki how he’d gotten into his line of work, and options for you to do the same.

You were absently tracing out a note to that effect in the soft sand when the sound of splashing roused you from your trance. You just managed to jerk your head up in time as something warm and wet closed around your ankle.

Before you could even scream, you were being dragged into the shallows. The water closed above your head, filling your mouth, gargling your panicked shout.

You struggled for a moment, kicking out, splashing water everywhere. Your eyes had closed instinctively, so you didn’t see whoever grabbed you, but suddenly you were being righted, your face guided back above the surface by a strong hand. The grip of another stayed clamped, vicelike, around your left ankle.

You spluttered and coughed, blinking your eyes open against the seawater. The water stung your eyes and at the back of your throat, and then the inside of your nose as you inhaled sharply at the sight of the handsome face peering back at you.

It was the merman from the reef.

He was poised over you, his handsome face only inches away from yours, his mouth a serious slash. Little droplets of water beaded on his skin and collected on the tips of his long lashes. You could see the careful tension in the line of one well-muscled arm, feel it in the clawed fingers that were still clamped around your chin, keeping your head above water.

You let out a weird gurgling noise, freezing in his hold.

“Holy shit don’t kill me,” you said.

Those heterochromatic eyes blinked, then traced over your features slowly, consideringly.

“I swear I did not say a thing about you,” you babbled, horrified. “Literally nothing. I was so quiet, like nuclear launch code levels of tight lipped, okay? I was so mum about everything so there’s no reason to get revenge, right?”

The man’s eyes dipped to your mouth as you spoke, as if mystified by your human babble. You instantly quieted, not wanting to irritate him further.

And then he opened his mouth. And out came an unnervingly human set of words.

“You let me go.”

He spoke in a low tone, smooth and soft, like the quiet rumble of waves at a distance. But there was something behind it too, something you felt like you could feel behind your teeth, a bioelectric hum somewhere in the depths of your brain. A shiver went down your spine.

Your mouth fell open against his claws. “You can talk?”

You watched his mouth shift minutely, pursing, like he was annoyed with the way you’d phrased this.

“As can you,” he said blandly.

Well of course you could talk! You were a person using person words!!! But he was—he was—

“But you’re a….sea….dude.”

His mouth quirked on one side, just barely perceptible. “A merman is the term, as far as I am aware.”

You didn’t dare ask how he was aware of anything people called him. But it certainly implied that you were not the first human this guy had come across.

But if other humans had come across this merman before, you didn’t doubt you would have heard about it by now. The existence of merpeople was not exactly a topic to keep quiet on. Which meant—which meant—

“Are you about to kill me?” you asked fearfully, becoming all-to-aware again of the prick of claws at your chin and ankle. Claws that had shredded the net at the reef like it was nothing, that had gouged deep welts in the oar you’d used to free him.

The merman looked perturbed. “Not if you answer my questions.”

You gulped. “Okay yes—yes I am an open book! Whatever you want to ask me, I will tell you! I am so open, you will not believe how open—”

A claw against your mouth silenced you, and that little shiver went up your spine again. Your eyes darted back up to the merman’s. Up close, you could see that he had a scar around his left eye, the skin a deep, dusky pink. It made the electric blue of his iris stand out that much more.

“Why did you let me go?” he asked, a white eyebrow raising.

You opened your mouth carefully, and he removed his fingers. “Is there…a reason I wouldn’t let you go?”

Those heterochromatic eyes narrowed on you. “Humans are dangerous.”

You couldn’t help the way your eyes trailed down to his claws again, then flicked back up to those sharp canines. You didn’t think you were the dangerous one in this scenario. Plus, you were a good person. What the hell were you supposed to do with a captured merman? Put him in a zoo?

“Yeah that’s why I grabbed you and pulled you out into the shallows,” you said, slightly offended by the implication.

Both his eyebrows went up, and he leaned a little further into you. You splashed backwards, as far as his grip on you would allow, which wasn’t much.

“You threw a net on me,” he said, his tone accusatory.

“Not on purpose,” you said. “I didn’t even know you were there. I was doing my job.”

“Which is?” he prompted.

“I’m a marine biologist. Uh, intern. We’re monitoring Yuuei coastal waters for adverse effects from, um, a cannery.”

“Sunfish,” he said.

You blinked, surprised. “Oh, you know it?”

A frown marred that perfect mouth. “Yes. They are not to be trusted.” As he said it, there was a scraping feeling behind your teeth, attached to that weird bioelectric tingle that his every word left curling in your brain. You could quite literally sense his dislike.

A strange feeling crept over you, and you remembered Bakugou implying something similar not hours ago. What exactly was it that everyone seemed to know except you? And how would a merman of all people know?

“Then, they are doing something bad out here?” you asked, curious.

“Their nets are dangerous for my kind, and they are growing ever more present,” the merman’s eyes flickered up and down your face again, like you might be at fault for the proliferation of nets instead.

“Hey, we’re just testing different environments,” you held your hands up. “We’re catching and releasing, we just want to take a look at a couple different species, count them, and see how they’re doing. We’ll be gone in just a few weeks.”

The merman looked you over for a long moment, as if assessing the veracity of this claim. His gaze slowly trailed down your body and you fought down a strange wave of embarrassment. His fingers flexed on your ankle, those claws rasping sweetly, dangerously over the thin skin there, and he pulled your leg out a little bit, like he was inspecting it.

“How strange,” he murmured, his tone going soft with the subject change.

You didn’t know what to think, just stared at him as his gaze roved over the bare skin of your leg in your sea-soaked shorts.

“I thought you–uh, have met people before,” you said, face flushing. “It’s just–that’s just my leg.”

Those heterochromatic eyes cut back to yours, startlingly intent. “I have. But Katsuki would sooner kick me than let me look closely, and Izuku finds it uncomfortable. And yours are…..more interesting…”

Well of course Izuku would find it uncomfortable! The swell of your embarrassment about your leg being more interesting momentarily choked off all thought—but then it hit you what this merman had just said.

“Katsuki like Bakugou Katsuki?” you demanded. “And Izuku like Midoriya Izuku?”

The merman hummed, staring at your leg again like he was uninterested in this conversation. “Yes. You’ve met them. I can smell them on you.”

You jerked back, startled by this assertion. He could smell that you’d been near them? What the fuck. You were floored. And had this been what Bakugou might have been hiding when he’d all but chased you off his property?

“But you—how can you—? Just who the hell are you?” you demanded, as the merman petted a careful finger across the hollow behind your ankle bone.

You shivered as he looked back at you, a little amused indent at the corner of his mouth.

“I am called Todoroki Shouto.”

He stared at you expectantly, as though he expected some reply, and you quickly scraped together your manners, though you never imagined you’d need to use them on a merman.

“I’m Y/N,” you offered, carefully reaching out a hand to shake, wondering if Shouto was as familiar with human customs as he was with words.

He accepted your hand carefully in his own clap-tipped fingers, eyes glittering. “So you are not here hunting my kind,” he said, sounding more like he was coming to a conclusion than asking a question.

You nodded hurriedly, aware of how small and fragile your own hand felt in his much larger one. “I didn’t even know you existed until I accidentally netted you. And we’re trying to stabilize this environment, not kill things in it,” you told him. “With any luck we’ll be getting rid of Sunfish and you won’t have to worry about them anymore either.”

Shouto’s claws pricked gently over your wrist as he released you, and he leaned in again, his handsome face serious. “Then we will be friends,” he said, with all the sober certainty of a child declaring the kid they’d just met five seconds ago was their new bestie.

With Shouto’s hard form looming close and his taloned fingers still clutched around one of your legs, you rather thought there was little room for disagreement. But you were fascinated by him nevertheless, and thought you might not have wanted to deny him anyway. Here would be the opportunity to observe and interact with a merman, something no outsider to these waters might ever get to do again.

You nodded, and a small smile tugged at the corner of Shouto’s mouth, clearly pleased. His fingers tightened where they still gripped your ankle, and your stomach fluttered with nerves.

And that’s when you knew there was so much more to these waters than you’d initially understood—and things were about to get even weirder.

[loveshotzz]

A sneak peek of part one to make up for not posting today. 🎄coming 12/20

series masterlist

Moving with the flow of the crowd, the beginning jingle of Mariah Carey’s ‘All I Want For Christmas Is You’ starts to play, and with the grand spectacle that the holiday decorations are every year, it’s hard not to feel all those emotions of nostalgia they’re trying to pull from you, making you roll your eyes singing along with her under your breath.

The big water fountain in the middle of the men’s department comes into view from the tops of bobbing heads, one of the many physical markers in this building you’ve had to use so you don’t get lost in the retail maze they’ve created letting you know that you’re close to your destination. Weaving through the sea of people, you try to gear up to break free from the human traffic jam, the signs pointing to the escalators in your sights. His panicked voice is what you hear first, an obvious friendliness still hidden underneath it despite the way it shakes every time you hear him say “excuse me?”

Your eyes search for the owner, and when you find him, regret buries itself deep in your gut when they land on his face.

A perfect mess of dark chestnut hair, with tips that look like they were dipped in honey sits on top of his head. The hints of gold hidden inside shimmer under the lights, as it curls wildly behind his ears. It almost looks styled that way, that is until you see his big hand run through it twice in the span of a few seconds. Warm brown eyes squint as he turns in a full circle glancing between his phone and the signs the point to the city street exits on either side of him. The hoards of people surrounding him completely ignoring his existence as he looks around painfully lost.

His nose is sharp, just like his jaw that’s dusted with the faint hint of a five o’clock shadow. The two prominent moles that sit side by side on his cheek stick out on his unseasonably sun kissed skin that seems to glow against the dark maroon color of his sweater. It’s snug across a broad chest, just like the washed out black jeans that fit a light too well around his thighs. His chocolate colored peacoat looks tailored to fit his biceps, with shiny gold buttons that match the buckle on his russet leather loafers, and the chain that dangles from around his neck.

You watch him try to ask a few friendly faces for help, only receiving a shrug and a half smile by the ones that actually acknowledge him. He mutters something that sounds sarcastic to himself as you get closer, his hands moving animatedly before he huffs pinching the bridge of his nose.

Maybe it’s the Christmas decorations, or the Mariah Carey, or maybe it’s just the fact that you’d rather take pity on a handsome stranger than go to your job. Whatever reason it is, you decide to make the stupid mistake to help him.

“Hey,” you greet timidly, getting just close enough to smell the cedar and cinnamon that seems to cling to the expensive wool of his coat, ignoring the way your stomach flips because of course he smells good right?

“Are you lost?”

He doesn’t hear you over the internal battle going on inside his head, not even registering that someone is finally stopping to offer the help he’d just been pleading for, quietly grumbling, ‘you wanted to move to the city, now you can’t even find your way through a damn store’ to himself.

You clear your throat before it can get anymore awkward, alerting him of your presence while letting your curious gaze wander up his tall broad frame. Those squinted brown eyes look big now as they meet yours, and you can see green inside them that you couldn’t before and it sparkles brighter than the tinsel hanging from the boughs behind him.

Yeah, you’ve made a huge mistake.

He blinks a few times, before a wide smile stretches across his face somehow making him even more handsome as he reveals a set of perfectly straight teeth. The smile pushes up his cheeks, and crinkles the skin around his eyes, and you watch all the aggravation from before melt off of his perfectly sculpted face and you wish you could go back those few minutes in time and abort the mission. This is no damsel in distress.

“Hi” is all that he says, peony’s painting his cheeks as he runs his hand through his thick hair again and it looks even softer up close.

“Hey,” You giggle, nerves taking over and you want to pinch yourself for it, “I just wanted to see if you needed some help, you look a little lost.”

You try to seem indifferent when you catch the way his gaze roams quickly down your body, thankful you did laundry last night and had on your tight fitting work slacks today that showed off your curves.

“So lost!” He groans, the blush on his cheeks deepening with the tips of his ears. “If I’m being completely honest with you, I don’t even know what floor I’m on.”

You try to hide the way you snort, slapping your palm over your mouth.

“Hey, be nice!” He laughs, trying his best to fight it to put on a hurt expression, “this is like, my first time here, okay?”

“I’m sorry,” you try to fight off you smile, “I didn’t mean to laugh at you —“

“Steve.” He interjects with a grin, those perfect teeth biting at his full bottom lip as he sticks out one of his hands for you to take, a gold band wrapped around his middle finger you didn’t notice before gleaming when it hits the light.

“Well, Steve,” You try not to laugh, which ends up being easy to do when you slip your hand into his and watch it disappear behind his long fingers when they wrap around it, “you’re on the first floor if you can believe it.

“That’s fucking embarrassing, wow.” He groans, letting your hand go to run his palm down his face, and you hate that you feel the loss in your gut, “sorry I didn’t mean to cuss.

“I’ll let it slide this time,” You tease with a wink, enjoying the way it only makes the color on his face deepen. “Where are you trying to go? I work on the seventh floor. I might be able to take you on my way.”

It takes Steve a minute to formulate an answer to your offer, still stuck on the fact a complete stranger was being so nice to him, and the silence between you goes on just long enough to make you second guess everything.

“Or I could just try and give you directions if that’s more comfortable for you.” You offer, adjusting the straps of your backpack nervously.

“I’m trying to get to the women’s department,” Steve finally blurts out, sensing the shift in your energy and quickly tries to recover with another card through his hair and a crooked smile, “specifically the handbags, and I absolutely think you should take me.”

His gaze narrows the color in his eyes darkening into something more flirtatious than nervous.

“Who knows how long it’d take me to get there without a beautiful, clearly smart woman such yourself to help me anyway.”

Your stomach does that thing that you hate again, and all the heat in your body licks at your cheeks like flames. You can’t remember the last time a man actually used the word beautiful. Hot? Absolutely. Cute? Sure. Pretty? Yeah, a few times, but never beautiful. It sits in your chest where it blossoms into another painfully big smile that pushes your cheeks up even more, and you have to look away from his face for a moment when he matches it with his own.

“O- okay, if you just, uh wanna follow me?” Words get lost on your tongue and it comes out more shy than you would’ve liked, but you turn on your heel before you can think too hard about it when he gestures you forward.

You hear him mutter ‘are you kidding me?’ under his breath as you lead him to the escalators just around the corner, making him realize how close they were this whole time and you wonder just how long he was actually looking for them. The smell of mint hits your nose as you pass the Frango chocolate stand and it mixes with the spice of his cologne as he trails close behind. Butterflies threatening to break from cocoons hearing the way his steps match yours.

He stops next to you as you come to halt to wait your turn to hop onto the moving metal steps. You look up at him and there’s an awkwardness that threatens to fill the small space between you that has you giving him a tight lipped smile that he returns with the kind of confidence that makes your palms sweat and you have to look away.

“I say we make our move after white puffer coat comin’ up here.” His voice startles you when it comes out low, close enough to the shell of your ear that you swear you can feel the whisper of his lips. Spearmint stings your nose from the gum that snaps between his teeth, and the heat of his breath makes goosebumps jump along the back of your neck.

Why did you do this?

You meet his gaze from the corner of your eye, letting him see the playful glint that dances in them before giving a curt nod of your head.

“On the count of three…” You play along, despite everything inside you telling you to stop flirting back and it makes Steve’s whole face light up, long fingers flexing at his side with the need to find yours again.

“One..” He starts, and your eyes meet ‘white puffer coat’ who’s now only a few steps away before finding Steve’s again who’s stare very obviously never left your face.

“Two..” You giggle trying to hide the way your body starts to buzz and if it wasn’t for Steve’s giddy expression you’d be more embarrassed than you actually are.

“Thre-“ His final count gets cut off by the feeling of your fingers wrapping around his, tugging him onto the stairs early with a loud cackle that has you throwing your head back and he swears the sound tilts his world off its axis.

His cheeks dust pink under the bright light looking down his nose at you with a wide smile that shows all his teeth. An expensive loafer sits wedged between your work shoes and the other on the step above, caging you against the side as you ride up to the next floor, and he’s close enough for you to see a smattering of more freckles that dot the bridge of his nose and the side of his neck, even one on the tip of his earlobe.

He’s still holding your hand.