#only followed by Dawn but like she got over that after a while
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Replaying pokemon Y and picking apart dialogues to add to the fan version in my head is very fun, Especially now that I have a vision for Calem as the canon rival:
(This is written almost like a fanfic so yeah there's Kalosshipping inserted in this little thing)
He would be an Obsessed Are the Listmakers type person, he follows the rules by the book and has an scheduled itinerary as to when and how things will be done. While he did considered Shauna, Tierno and Trevor as friends, he mostly organized his free time into studying and learning about pokemon battles, and that made him into the most proficient soon-to-be trainer of their tiny town.
Serena's addition to the team wasn't something unexpected for him, he was actually asked by his parents to help Grace's daughter. And so he did!
He was prepared to explain about the type chart to Serena... only for her to already know the type chart by association. He was ready to teach her about how to catch a pokemon!.. only for her to already have new fletchling in her team. And he was ready to win against her every time!... only for her to be stronger than everyone else.
He couldn't even keep up with his schedule cause the rest would suggest trying to do something else. He would usually reject it and keep on his journey, but Serena had a different pull to him that made him say yes everytime and have fun together as a friendgroup.
Serena is a natural lider, an example and a fantastic trainer. She's in control of herself and of the world around her, and not as a tyranical ruler, but as a light of guidance as bright as the Lumiose tower that could never go out. What is Calem compared to her?
He was the son of two very strong trainers, being the very best was his plan, he had it all written down and ready as to when and how he would receive the champion title from Diantha. It was part of his order, but Serena came and took it all away in one elegant swift.
The worst part? He admired her, her ways of viewing the world and was happily goofing around with his friends. The order of his world was being shifted in a good but unfamiliar way.
And that was the one thing he hated: feeling out of control. And it was all because of that new girl in town.
Maybe that's what made him almost understand and simpathize with Lysandre. He understood the feeling of having all your expectations of the world broken and destroyed, only to want to redo the whole world and start from scratch. And Lysandre was indeed offering that to him.. he could help him in the mission of reactivating the ultimate weapon and start all over..
Thank Arceus, Serena was there to ground him back into reality. To show him that the solution cannot be control or erasure. It is the balance of life and death, of order and chaos, and believing that the future can be done right with a better path.
For a girl that talks so much about balance and letting go of control, she sure has the heart of the boy under her belt. And he would swear to protect her even in the face of a flower of death.
#kalosshipping#character analysis#Calem COULD BE GOOD PEOPLE TRUST ME#I am cooking my own canon here#rival calem#trainer serena#yeah you could say he is the most self sabotaging of the protags in my version#only followed by Dawn but like she got over that after a while
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The High Road ୧ ₊˚ ⋅⩩
Rafe Cameron x fem!reader ୧ ‧₊
Summary: Rafe's girl gets into a fight of her own
Warnings: arguments between reader + her friends, depiction of mild injury, swearing, name-calling
╭── ⋅ ⋅ ── ೀ⋆｡˚── ⋅ ⋅ ──╮
You were absolutely furious, fingers typing so aggressively that Rafe could’ve sworn your phone was going to split into two. Your eyebrows were furrowed, frustrated sighs and groans coming from your perch at the edge of the bed. Your boyfriend, Rafe, was propped up on the headboard, waiting patiently for you to start complaining again so he could convince you to leave it alone.
“I just.. I don’t get it!” You finally complained, throwing yourself back onto the sheets and carrying your phone with you, rolling onto your stomach to continue typing.
“Hm?” He asked, looking at you and growing increasingly impatient but trying his best to keep up the facade.
“Brianna keeps saying.. ugh!” You looked at your phone with confusion and disgust, starting to type again with even more anger than before.
“What is goin’ on? Can’t be that big a deal.” Rafe said, rolling his eyes at your dramatics.
“Brianna is saying that I told Jessie that her ex was hanging out with Jamie but I never said that!” You protested, not raising your gaze to look at his confused face as you continued, “She said that I’m a lying slut but she doesn’t even have any proof!”
Rafe shifted, his defensive side slowly coming out as he heard the full details of the conversation. You went on, re-reading messages while still typing out rebuttals to Brianna’s angry claims, desperately trying to bring Rafe up to speed.
“She won’t let me get a word out, Jesus!” You scoffed, finally looking up at Rafe as tears slowly started to brim your eyes.
“Hey.. hey. S’okay, um..” He said, gently pulling you up to comfort your shaking body, “Let’s just.. go to her house. Reason with her, yeah?”
His suggestion seemed absolutely crazy, but you weren’t ready to keep typing out response after response. Rafe had always told you to be the bigger person, even if most of the time he didn’t follow his own advice. This was your way to end the petty drama.
Rafe’s eyes widened with a bit of surprise when you nodded your head in agreement, “Really?” He asked, a little caught off-guard that you actually want to take his advice for once.
“Yeah, let’s go. Gotta be the bigger person.” You said, your voice an angry murmur as you stood up, pulling your poor, confused boyfriend up with you.
“Whatever you say, princess.” He said, letting you drag him to his car with determined steps.
The two of you got into the sporty car and you crossed your arms over your chest, too angry to play music off of your phone like you normally did. Thoughts raced through your mind as the reality of the situation dawned on you. You knew it was too late to turn back anyways, and Brianna needed someone to talk some sense into her.
Rafe pulled up to her house, looking at you with a knowing gaze as you stormed out of the car. You were on a roll, up until you approached the front door. You let go of some pride when you turned around, waiting for Rafe to be by your side. Eventually, you knocked angrily on the door with him behind you, standing awkwardly with his hands shoved into his pockets.
Brianna opened the door, immediately rolling her eyes at your furious face.
“Why are you saying all of this stuff about me?” You asked, arguing with your hands as you tried to get her to talk to you like a normal person.
“I’m only telling the truth.” She said plainly, obviously trying to stifle a giggle.
“What is your problem with me?” You said, voice raising as she rolled her eyes again.
“Never had a problem with you until today. You lied, sweetie.” She said, glancing over to her side a few times with a smirk filled to the brim with faux confidence.
You looked behind you to Rafe, a confused look on your face as he returned it with a crease in his brow. You looked around the corner, inviting yourself in despite Brianna’s protests. Your jaw dropped when you realized that Jessica and Jamie were both sitting in her living room, giggling to themselves before your eyes connected with theirs. That shut them up real quick.
Without hesitation you invited yourself in, Rafe following behind you but stopping at the door frame as you and Brianna got into it again.
“You know you’re lying!” You yelled, pointing an accusatory finger in her annoyed face.
“All I know is that you’re a whore who likes to cause drama for attention.”
Rafe’s face dropped and you stopped your rant, waiting for anything else to come out of her mouth. Lucky for her, nothing ever did.
“What did you just say?” You asked, astonished that she would ever say something like that while she knew what a hypocrite it made her.
“Yeah, what?” Rafe said from the doorway, the reminder of his presence giving you an extra, and probably unnecessary, boost of confidence.
“God Rafe, mind your business.” Brianna scoffed, stalking towards you.
“Don’t talk to him like that.” You said defensively, taking an equal amount of steps to her as well.
“I’ll talk to him however the fuck I want to. In fact, I think you both are attention whores with daddy issu-“
Your fist made contact with her face before you could even think about it. She crumpled to the ground, holding her cheek. The realization set in and you started to step away, but she got up and swung back almost instantly.
Suddenly, the two of you were throwing your fists wherever you could reach, yelling and screaming over the sound of skin on skin.
Naturally, Rafe swooped in the keep Brianna away and take your place. As expected, she backed off at the sight of Rafe who had a impulsively violent stare in his own eyes. Like clockwork, you got right back to swinging when Rafe initially let go of you. He grabbed your waist, pulling you away as you yelled and screamed, trying to break away to swing again.
“Hey.. Hey! Shut up, will ya? Jesus.” Rafe said quietly into your ear, forcing you out of the house before sweeping you off of your feet when you tried to go back again.
“C’mon tough guy, s’time to go home, a’ight?” He asked you, appearing to be satisfied with the annoyed nod that you gave him.
The ride back home consisted of his occasional concerned glances and your inevitable tears, pouring down your face and onto your swollen lips. You had opened your mouth to say something, maybe an explanation, maybe some kind of defense, but nothing came out and the two of you sat in silence.
Rafe let out a prolonged sigh when he finally got to tannyhill, parking and looking over at you to get a better view. He took your salty-wet face in his hand as he looked you over. A busted lip, lightly black eye, and a few other minor injuries were what you brought back, along with fresh tears as he looked at you with disappointment.
“Thought you were gonna take the high road on this one, hm? Rafe asked, brushing the messy strands of your hair away from your face.
“M’sorry Rafey..” You tried to start an apology, but empty sobs came out of your chest and he held your face in his hands, trying to comfort you as you cried.
The severity of the situation had finally set into you as Rafe made you sit on the kitchen counter to bandage your scratches.
“Didn’t know my girl could swing like that. Didn’t know you had it in ya.” He commented with an unreadable smile, getting the homemade first aid kit from the pantry and eventually coming back to you.
Bandages littered your body as Rafe picked you up, carrying you up to his bedroom and laying you down.
“Thought you knew better than to do that shit..” He muttered as you curled up onto him in his own bed, “Didn’t think I would have to tell you not to start swingin’.”
You rolled your eyes, trying to stop tears from flooding your eyes again, “I didn’t mean-“
“You did the right thing.” Rafe told you, kissing the top of your head as his toxic reassurance coursed through your mind.
“Js don’t be out here doin’ that shit again.”
“Wasn’t planning on it, Rafe.”
“You beat her ass real good.”
You smiled.
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#mariespen#outer banks#rafe cameron#obx fic#rafe cameron fanfiction#rafe cameron imagine#rafe cameron x reader#rafe cameron x you#rafe obx#rafe x reader#rafe x you#rafe x y/n#rafe cameron x y/n#rafe angst#rafe imagine#rafe outer banks#rafe fanfiction#outerbanks rafe#rafe cameron x female reader
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❝ FIRST CODE RED ❞ !
( 𝐢 ) → f!reader, established relationship ( they're all married ), some flashbacks, suggestive, fluff & humor, mention of periods, sanitary pads, parenting, them being adorable dads. headcanon format plus scenarios about their daughter experiencing first time bleeding. characters include—sae itoshi, nagi seishiro, isagi yochi, bachira meguru.
( . . . ) → kudos to dawn for this. @lalunanymph-main . A small gift for her when she comes back. | redirect to blog navigation| tagging –› @tokyometronetwork @fueledbysano
⌗ SAE ITOSHI
Those teal restless eyes dance all around the house and then land on the wall clock. Although occasionally but Sae seems to lose patience with each tick of the clock, each breath growing longer than the bygone moment. He remembers being like this when his wife was in the washroom with a pregnancy testing kit while he was in another country, following another time in another country. He almost cried after his match, and still thinks it was for the victory and not for the positive news of her pregnancy.
And now, he has to sit in the lounge waiting for her daughter who just had her very first bleed. She thinks she got her mother's presence of mind for calling her first and since she was not able to pick up the phone Sae witnessed half of her daughter’s face through the opening of the washroom door, lips parting, and voice steadily asking for sanitary pads. His first instinct was to call her but his daughter quipped, “I already tried calling her. She isn't answering. Probably busy.” So, rather than scouring her cupboards for sanitary pads, he got them from the store, easier and faster.
“Are you feeling all right?”Sae asked with tension brimming all over his body.
She shakes her head, grabs a pillow places it over her belly saying, “um-hm. Just. . . just feel tired.”
“Alright, come here princess.” His daughter carefully walks in between the space of the tea table and the sofa while holding her father's hand as support. She glances at him, pouting, and then sits beside him for a while only to rest her head on his lap.
“I wish I could talk to Mama” Sae smiles at her confession running his palm over her head, caressing and saying, “I wasn't there for her so many times. Always busy with soccer and as such. When I heard that I'm going to a father over a text, all I thought of was to leave the game and come home. But she never complained. She said she's gonna come to visit me. ”
“Are you listening?” Sae asks since the rise and fall of her chest is long, relaxed and he could hear a low purr. “Ah! She missed the best part. ”
“Well this is a rare sight ”
“jealous?” Sae asked taking another cushion to rest her head on it.
She responded, “try again.” before emptying half of the water bottle.
Sae curls his hands around her waist and rests his chin on her tired shoulders murmuring, “She had her first period. ”
“Oh god. Oh my god,” She checked her phone. “I couldn't pick up the phone i was on the bus.” She was aware that her daughter was calling since she had different ringtones for her daughter, her husband, and her brother-in-law.
“It's okay. I took care of it. And was telling her about you”
“ about me?”
“um-hm. How you were so quick to convince Rin that he took the next flight with you and came to visit me. . . and when I saw Rin carrying your bags I was so jealous ”
“Ah! There we go again ” Rin exclaimed in a whispering audible voice throwing his hands in the air in disappointment, from the entrance of the room watching all of these unfold. Sae recoiled like a spring from his wife glaring at his brother, Rin who was being a major hindrance for all the hard work Sae did to get his wife a little in the mood.
⌗ NAGI SEISHIRO
The cash machine beeps making Nagi more nervous than before as he weakly taps his feet on the floor. He has never done this before, not for his girlfriend and definitely not for his wife. Sure, there were times when he witnessed other people buy sanitary pads, maybe even when he went out shopping for groceries with his wife, but never alone like this, standing at the apex of the queue waiting ( and being the center of attraction ) for that particular thing to cash out. Why does it have to be like this? He just came to the nearest grocery store to buy a few things and that is when his daughter called saying that he needs to buy a pack of pads too.
He hates it, hates the fact that he is not there for his family. Not enough. His daughter is alone in the house, god knows what's running through her mind and his wife is on her way home, stuck in traffic. Well, he is no better. He is stuck in a queue. Even though both of them were aware, they could not do much other than wait.
Somehow he thinks his daughter is tougher than him or the fact that she was aware of what's happening to her body. He is thankful that his wife taught her things at the right time and talked her out of it because some firsts can be terribly scary, if not adequately aware of it's happenings.
The cashier looked at him with surprise asking, “this pack has the same price. But it has wings. Would like me to switch? ”
He tilted his head taking both the packs in his hands mumbled to himself,“Do they make you fly or something? ” He looks up to the cashier noticing a tug on her lips that instantly pushes him into a hole of embarrassment. Why does he have to be like this?. “I’ll take both,” he comments and leaves as soon as the payment was done.
Fifteen minutes. It took fifteen minutes for her to freshen up and come out of the bathroom. The longest fifteen minutes Nagi has ever been through. He was on the couch watching TV, trying to and when he noticed his daughter walking towards him and then slouching beside her he couldn't help but chuckle. It reminded him of himself.
“Here, I brought these” he hands out a packet of ice creams and chips to his daughter. “Mama is gonna scold me for having these. I wouldn't be able to eat dinner for sure.” She protested while Nagi grabbed a juice from the packet exclaiming mischievously, “Who says you're getting scolded alone?” handing her a gamepad.
⌗ ISAGI YOICHI
When Isagi walked out of the store buying pads he did not think of the consequences of not picking her up after school for the past few days. It has been weeks since he picked up his daughter from school and sadly that is the only time he properly gets to talk to her, hear her smiles, and see if she is holding up alright or not. It is not like he did not want this, albeit he wanted this, he worked for this to build a home with her. Guess it really takes a toll on the child when both parents are working.
"All okay?" Isagi asked as he walked into the drawing room holding two bags in his hands.
"What is all these?" She asked throwing her hands up in the air, her voice keeping low as much as possible so that she does not wake up her mom. She came straight home when she saw Isagi's text; a text that conveyed that their little girl is now a big girl. And of course, with all the rush, nervousness, and work exhaustion she forgot to buy a fresh set of pads.
"don't worry. I did not forget to bring pads." Isagi said handing her one of the huge packets filled with different types and different brands of pads. He leans to take a look at his wife who was asleep seated on the couch with her head resting on her hand. "no wonder my calls and texts were not reaching her." Isagi carefully lays her down on the couch while his daughter grabs a pack of pads and heads toward the bathroom.
Something does not fill right by Isagi. It is Friday. His wife is supposed to be working late on Fridays but she is here asleep on the couch. He is supposed to pick up her daughter from school, not her. He is supposed to cook dinner for today yet she has been doing it for some Fridays. When did his home start running on fuel? like a factory .
His daughter walks out of the bathroom and halts in surprise in front of the kitchen counter seeing her dad behind the kitchen counter and chopping vegetables. "What?" Isagi asked while his daughter squints her eyes at him saying, "Did you fight with mama too?"
"Probably." and she chuckles at that.
"can I help you?" she chimes walking towards her dad, standing beside her peeking to see what was boiling. It smells nice.
"Only if you tell me what were you talking to mom while I was out..." Isagi says holding his fist out towards his daughter.
"Sure," she exclaims giving him a fist bump.
⌗ BACHIRA MEGURU.
From the moment his daughter told him that she had her first period he has not stopped googling, texting, or calling. It is back-to-back. His immediate reaction was to call her, his wife and luck seems to be on his side. At least he felt so when he heard her mellowed voice saying, "hello." And there it is. the calm in the chaos of his life.
He tells what happened and when it happened to ask where he could get pads, as in, if they're out of it or if he can find them in the usual place. Many times he has done that. She had told him where she kept the pads and he would bring her while she was still in the bath. So, it is nothing unknown to him, nothing to be freaked out about. He drags the drawer in gasping finding it empty. Of all the days, she had to run out of pads for today. So, he wastes no time doing the needful but the question is how? he has never bought pads before. He tried calling his wife again but it was all in vain, must be in a meeting.
Bachira can feel it, feel her stares on him while his eyes are glued on the stretch of selves that has different types of pads of different brands with different types. How does anyone manage to pick the best from all these options? He tried calling his wife again but the call beeps after ringing for a while. out of reach. He looked around totally clueless as he ran out of time. Luckily, one of the staff turned up asking questions. Questions like, "Does she goes to the bathroom a lot? Does she change her pants regularly? does she has trouble sleeping?"
And, how on earth Bachira could answer all of those? He does not know the answers to any of them, not that he is supposed to so he says that, very clearly, that he does not know because his daughter is having her first period and he is freaking out because her mom is not around her. . .So after the staff explains the benefits of various brands he picks the one that his wife uses. Phew! that was easy. why didn't he think of that earlier?
He calls his daughter letting her know that he is on his way home and if he should buy anything to eat since mom will be late today. "Ahhh... then I want some ramen, the one that we always eat," she responded before hanging up. She did not sound nervous but rather bubbly about it. Maybe the food lightened her mood. Bachira smiled since he was already standing in front of that Ramen shop where he used to take his missis once a month when they were still not married, when they were just seeing each other, when everything was so uncertain "She got her mother's spicy tongue." he texted to the number saved Y/N xoxo.
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#sae itoshi x reader#nagi seishiro x reader#isagi yoichi x reader#bachira meguru x reader#bllk x reader#bllk x you#bllk x y/n#bllk x female reader#bllk fluff#sae itoshi x you#sae itoshi x y/n#sae itoshi fluff#nagi seishiro fluff#nagi seishiro x you#nagi x you#nagi x y/n#nagi x reader#bachira x y/n#bachira x you#bachira x reader#isagi x reader#yoichi isagi x reader#isagi x you#bllk scenarios#bllk headcanons#bllk hc#blue lock#blue lock fluff#blue lock scenarios#blue lock headcanons
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you’re welcome // o.batlle x reader
o.batlle x reader
got a bit carried away but was originally based on this request!
also my tooney x lessi x ona obsession needs to be studied bc why do i love them together sm??
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you and ona had first met when you signed for manchester united, hitting it off instantly. since you already knew ella and alessia from the england youth camps, you settled into their group nicely.
when ella and alessia paired up, that inadvertently left you and ona together. although, after a while, you figured they started doing it on purpose so that the two of you had no choice but to pair up.
you never really minded though. you liked spending time with ona. she taught you spanish and you helped with her english, it was a win win situation all around.
at least it was until it hit you one day that maybe your feelings for ona weren’t entirely platonic. unfortunately for you, you weren’t the only one to notice.
it was ella that cornered you in the showers, flanked by an apologetic looking alessia and an equally as excited millie. you stared at your international teammates in confusion, growing uncomfortable under their stares.
“oh my god, what?!” you snapped, glaring at the midfielder in front of you.
“team dinner tonight.” ella told you.
you narrowed your eyes upon seeing the confusion pass over the faces of the girls behind her. “…that’s it?”
“that’s it,” ella nodded. “same time, same place.”
“and you had to tell me like this why?”
the brunette simply shrugged before dragging the blondes away from you. with a heaved sigh, you finally had your shower, trying not to think about what ella could’ve possibly been up to.
later that night, you were stood outside the restaurant, foot tapping anxiously. no one else had arrived and it was beginning to dawn on you that maybe that’s what ella’s plan was, a harmless prank that would have you all laughing at training.
but when ona rounded the corner, her plan hit you like a ton of bricks. you immediately whipped out your phone and glared down at the single message on your screen.
you’re welcome xx
you stuffed your phone back into your bag as ona approached, desperately ignoring the butterflies in your stomach as she smiled brightly at you.
the smile dropped and the all too familiar look of confusion flashed on her face as she realised you were alone.
you gave her a small smile. “i think this is tooney’s idea of a joke, we’re the only ones here.”
“oh,” ona said and your stomach dropped. “well, we can still have a nice time, right?”
letting out a breath, you nodded. “of course we can.”
you shared a smile with the spaniard, deciding in that moment that no matter how the night went, you were definitely punching ella straight in the mouth the next time you saw her.
ᡣ𐭩
you stared at the stadium in amazement, feeling alessia’s grip on your hand tighten as she did the same.
ella was standing on your other side, the three of you uncharacteristically quiet as you took the moment in.
you were in the final of your first ever world cup and you were doing it with your best friends by your side.
“oh my god,” ella whispered. “y/n, look.”
you furrowed your eyebrows, following ella’s eye to see that the spanish team had began walking onto the pitch.
alessia squeezed your hand as the three of you laid eyes on ona, who had yet to notice you.
“you okay?” alessia asked softly and you nodded.
“yeah, i’m fine,” you smiled slightly. “just…haven’t really spoken to her in months, it’s gonna be weird.”
“we’ve got your back, mate,” ella said, patting your shoulder. “now go and say hi to your girlfriend.”
you shoved the girl, making her laugh loudly. alessia tugged her away and you made your way over to ona, waving at her.
“hola.” you smiled shyly as you came to a stop in front of her.
“hola,” she returned the smile and just like that, you felt like you were falling for her all over again. “how have—“
“the rumours are true!” you blurted out before you could stop yourself, squeezing your eyes shut. “jesus, sorry. but um, yeah, if it all goes to plan, i will be joining you in barcelona very soon.”
you held your breath as she stared at you, feeling a wave of relief washing over you as she pulled you into a tight hug.
it felt like forever had passed when she finally let you go. your heart was pounding in your chest as you gazed at her, eyes fluttering across the freckles on her cheeks.
“maybe…we could do something,” she spoke quietly, a soft blush spreading across her face. “when we both get to barcelona.”
you swallowed thickly, feeling your own face heat up. “like a date?”
“yeah, a date.” she nodded.
you bit back a squeal, nodding yourself. “o-okay, yeah. sounds good.”
surprisingly, you managed to keep your cool for the rest of the conversation, feeling giddy as she pulled you into another hug, not missing the way her hands lingered for a moment.
when you turned away from her, you immediately glared at your teammates. ella and alessia were still stood there but katie and mary had joined them, all four of them grinning like chesire cats as you made your way over.
“i hate you all!” you hissed as soon as you were close enough. “why are you watching us like a bunch of weirdos?!”
“you hugged twice and your face is bright red, what happened?” ella asked, poking at you.
“nothing happened—“
“liar!” katie shouted and you shushed her straight away.
“if you must know, i told her about barcelona,” you said and watched as the excitement grew on their faces. “and we might be going on a date—“
ella was the first to cheer, practically tackling you to the floor. “just call me cupid!”
“get off, tooney!” you whined, wiggling from underneath her and gratefully taking alessia’s outstretched hand.
“leave her alone, tooney.”
“thank you, less.”
“you’re welcome.”
“…i still hate you all.”
“you don’t hate ona though.” katie countered, ducking as you playfully swung at her.
“no, she doesn’t,” mary agreed and you switched your glare to her, feeling your face heat up again. “at least we can finally get a break from the running ona commentary.”
“yeah, finally.”
“i didn’t talk about her that much.”
all of them stared at you, unimpressed. “grow up, y/n. you spoke about her all the time.”
you pouted up at alessia, who wrapped her around you. “lessi, they’re bullying me.”
“to be fair, y/n, you have been relentless about her,” alessia said quietly. “especially after the date.”
“you’re welcome, by the way.” ella grinned.
“i’m welcome?” you scoffed. “she told us about barça the next day and nothing else ever happened.”
“but now something has happened and you have a date with the love of your life. so you’re still welcome.”
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i cannot describe what keeper ghost is doing to me, i'm ready to sell all my belongings and leave my soft life to live in a crate for him
please charlie, tell me what happens when reader asks to go down on Simon but ONLY A LITTLE BIT and ONLY TO SEE IF SHE LIKES IT
Honestly same, I just wanna stop doing taxes and waking up before dawn 😭
But going down on Simon, you sayyyyyy?
You’ve been letting (demanding) Simon take care of you with his hands and mouth for weeks now. It’s your favorite pre-bedtime ritual in fact. You sleep like a rock after an orgasm or three and Simon always seems so enthusiastic to provide. (He is.)
That said, you haven’t reciprocated. Not on purpose, anyway. Sometimes while getting off on his thigh, yours will rub against his cock through his sweats. (A few times now, feeling it twitching and rock hard has been the thing to tip you over.) But mostly, intimate encounters have been one-sided and you-focused.
You’re not totally oblivious, you know he’s turned on by getting you off (which… took some time to wrap your head around but wasn’t entirely shocking either.) But again, he never pushes, suggests, asks, or even hints at wanting you to do anything. At most he’ll adjust himself and…. That’s it.
But now you want more. Simon is a private man - at least that’s the sense you get watching him interact with Johnny a couple times. It’s different with you though; he grants you liberties that you’re pretty sure would get anyone else very Murdered.
So, as is usual in your never-ending quest to stretch him to the limit, you pin him down on the couch one night, hands on his chest again. You’re sitting on him, the length of his powerful body stretched out over the cushions.
“What do you need, pretty? You want my mouth? My hands?” He asks.
You shake your head and wiggle down to perch on his thighs, palms in the hard planes of his stomach now.
“I wanna taste you,” you announce. “But don’t move. I might not like it.”
“‘Course,” he soothes, putting his hands up in mock surrender. “Go ahead and explore. All yours, little one.”
You tug at his belt and zipper, nearly rip the button off his jeans. You make an annoyed noise when you struggle to get them off.
“Easy, easy,” he coos. “Let me help.”
You hmph as he sits up a bit, tilting his hips to slide them down his ass, leaving black boxers behind. He’s already tenting the fabric, a single tiny dark spot just under the elastic waistband. You bat his hands away, mumbling that you’ve got it now so move, tapping your fingers along the outline of it. It twitches beneath your touch, hot and hard.
You dip a hand in, knowing and not caring that your hands are cold. If it bothers him, Simon doesn’t show any sign. Not that you’re looking, either, it’s your playtime after all.
For a minute you just explore the shape and size it through fabric, admiring the shadow where the flared head disrupts the polyester. Then you tug the band down, eyes going moony when his cock springs up, already flushed and wet at the tip.
“Ooh it’s so big,” you murmur, talking to yourself. That Simon is there and might hear is just coincidence. “How the hell does that fit anywhere?”
You trace a fingertip along a prominent vein on the underside, following the curve. When you reach the head, a bean of precum wells up. And you have to taste it.
Simon lets out a little puff of air when you swipe your tongue over the head. Then another when dip the tip into his slit, wanting more.
“Tastes good,” you muse, pleasantly surprised.
He doesn’t respond, knows you’re not talking to him. You press your lips just under the head and hum, giggling when you feel it vibrate throughout his shaft. It feels… good. Fun. You’ve never gotten to just have your way with someone’s cock before, and never been close like this with Simon. Usually there are still plenty of layers of clothes between you too. The novelty is intoxicating.
You lick along the shaft, up and down. Little, tiny flicks of your tongue that are probably maddening. Occasionally, you tilt your head to apply gentle suction along the side, like how it flexes against your cheek.
Eventually, you make it back up to the head and rap your lips around it. Just that much feels like a lots, feels like you’re playing a dangerous game with your jaw. You won’t be taking much more than this. He’s thick.
And all the while, Simon’s little grunts and sighs and gasps are so much background noise, just like the show running forgotten on the TV. He doesn’t thrust into your mouth, or twitch, or reach for you. He never does. He just lets you have your fun in silence.
You lose track of time lavishing just the head of his cock with attention before pulling away, feeling almost sleepy from the meditative headspace you’ve fallen into.
“Mm that was fun,” you conclude. “I want to do it again sometime.”
You wander off to bed, the taste of his precum like honey lingering on your tongue.
#my writing#cod#asks#fanfiction#reader fic#thoughts™️#kept pet ghost#keeper ghost#dark fic#love you lumi
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The Best Kind of Stress Relief
A/N: @cevansbaby-dove It's really a quick in-n-out (😅) and I remember you mentioning that you wouldn't mind being choked by Jensen so *cough cough* here you go! 🤗 Hope you'll like it! 😈🤍
All mistakes are mine!
Warnings: 18+ONLY, language, unprotected PinV, choking, using tie as gag, rough sex, creampie (I am so bad with the warnings- A whole lot of smut that's what this is, so MDNI)
WC: ~1.5k
My Masterlist
You were standing outside of Felicia’s trailer, talking to her after the shooting had wrapped for the day while you waited for Jensen.
“I know it will get better, but lately it's just so hard for me to focus on working. I’ve tried meditating, relaxing baths, everything!” You shrugged defeatedly. “We even went camping last weekend.” You added, referring to yourself and Jensen.
Amusing grin appeared on her face. “You clearly did something wrong there if even that wasn’t relaxing for you.”
You laughed and shoved her playfully. “Stop! We really were just camping, you know?”
She lifted her hands up in surrender. “I know, I know. What I am saying though, is that you should’ve spent that weekend doing something else. Like doing him for example.”
You saw Jensen approaching you two with a serious face, killing the light mood you and Felicia had.
“Y/N, can we talk for a second?”
You started to worry. “Sure, babe.”
You got confused when he started to pull you back towards the set. “What’s up? Where are we going? Aren’t they closing it down already?”
His eyes sparkled mischievously when he looked back at you over his shoulder and grinned widely. “Don’t worry, we’ll be quick.”
You followed him through the maze of different rooms, until you finally arrived at the set of Bunker’s library, and Jensen pushed you to sit down in one of the chairs at the table. You eyed his moves curiously and tried to figure out his plans when he walked to the shelf and pulled one of Dean’s ties, he had worn earlier that day, out from between the books. “What are you doing?”
He ignored your question, threw the tie onto the table and pulled you up from the chair. You were now completely pinned between him and the table. “Oh, babe, what-!” Jensen cupped your cheek and kissed you, deepening it gradually until you were completely breathless.
“Sweetheart, work has been hard lately for you, hasn't it?” he whispered and pulled away from your lips. You nodded without a word, trying to catch your breath. His gaze shifted hungrily between your eyes and lips, as he brushed his thumb softly over your bottom lip.
“And you know that I can't let you take all that work stress home with you, right? It's just not healthy for you.” Jensen turned you around, so you were backed against his chest and you couldn't hold back a gasp at his sudden moves. He pushed aside your hair, revealing your neck and peppered kisses from under your ear along your shoulder.
“So what should I do about it? Fuck it out of you?” His voice was quiet and laced with desire, and you could already feel his erection pressing into your thighs. Deep moan escaped from the back of your throat, when he cupped one of your breasts.
Suddenly it dawned on you, what he had just said. “Wait, what? Right now? What if someone walks in here?” Jensen started to play with the hem of your shirt, teasingly sliding his fingers up your skin underneath it. With one hand flat on your stomach, the other one turned your chin towards him before he kissed you cravingly. “It's definitely risky, but isn't that part of the fun?”
His tongue slipped by your lips, claiming your mouth wholly. Only some desperate groans escaped you when he continued his attack on your mouth.
Without breaking your kiss, his hand moved down to open the zipper of your pants. “But we don't have to do anything, if you don't want to, just say stop, Y/N.” He added, knowing very well, that you won't say no when his fingers had already slipped into your underwear, where you were all wet and ready for him. You pulled away from his kiss and gasped too loudly. “No, Jensen! Don't you dare to..” he clasped one hand onto your mouth to shut you up. “Damnit, baby, you gotta keep your voice down a little bit or I’ll have to stop.” He growled into your ear and pulled away his hand to start pushing down your jeans and underwear. “You don't want me to do that, do you, sweetheart?” he asked when he moved up again and raised one of your freed legs onto the table to have better access to your pussy.
“No, please, Jay, I want you to-” he gave you a quick kiss. “I know, just a second.” He left you there standing for a second to get himself out of his pants. He spat into his hand to lube up his cock, even though you were drenched already. He came to stand behind you again and you could feel his erection sliding between your folds, but instead of pushing inside you, he took the tie from the table and folded it up. “Open up.” He brought it up to your lips. “So you wouldn't scream too loudly.” He added with a grin. You took the tie between your teeth, biting down on it hard when Jensen suddenly pushed himself in. “Mmm..mmhh.” He didn't even give you a chance to get used to him, but started pounding hard into you. You tried to keep yourself steady on the ground, but with one leg it was quite a challenge, and the table under you was too wide to hold on from the edges so you jolted forward with each of his moves.
As he continued pistoning into you, holding you in place with one hand on your shoulder, the other one closed around your throat, squeezing and pulling a deep guttural moan out of you. “Mnhmmck!” Jensen took it as a cry, and stopped moving and quickly released his hand from your neck. “Too much?” He asked, pulling the gag from you. “No…please I want…it harder.” You breathed heavily. He shoved the tie back and buried himself back into you. “Fuck, Y/N, you are just perfect, but we have to be quick now. Don't want them to start looking for us, do we?”
You shook your head. “Mmkh...mm…mmhms.” No words came out through the gag you had, but Jensen understood you perfectly and so your windpipe was closed off again. Your eyes closed in ecstasy, and you reached overhead behind you to find his hair to lock your fingers into.
The edges of your vision began to go white quickly from the air being cut off and Jensen's moves started to falter, letting you know he was near cumming. “Mm..fuck, Y/N, I'm almost close…but I want you to cum first, understand, baby?” He panted into your ear between his thrusts. “I want to feel you cumming all over my cock. I want you to remember this, when we're coming back to work tomorrow with Jared and Felicia and sit at this table. Just remember how I filled you up..”
You tried to moan, but even that wasn't possible with your throat closed off by his large hand, so you just tightened your grip in his hair, making Jensen groan as a result. He saw you were close to your climax and moved his hand from your neck to your mouth, knowing that with the first gasp of air you were going to fall off the edge.
You inhaled loudly through your nose and wanted to scream, but on top of the gag, his hand was also muffling all your cries, as he fucked you roughly through your orgasm. “Let it all out, baby..let it go..” he whispered into your ear, still moving fast in you, chasing after his own release.
Your whimpers started to die down as you were coming off your high. After a few last quick moves, Jensen pushed deep inside you, his cock throbbing hard as his cum covered your walls. “Fuck!” He leaned over you and searched for support from the table. Finally you pulled the tie out of your mouth. “Baby, that was so fucking perfect..” you whispered breathlessly. “But we gotta go now.”
Both of you got quickly dressed and searched for your way out, without being caught. You tried to composure yourself, not to seem suspicious, but you knew your flushed cheeks and breathlessness was not easy to hide.
“Where were you two? We've been waiting for ages!” Jared started to complain as soon as he saw you two approaching the car.
“You were not! Y/N and I just had to have a quick chat.” Jared threw a quick look at you as you and Jensen climbed into the backseat. “Yeah, right! And that couldn't wait until you get home, where you two live together? Alone? Not a single pair of eyes around?” Jared started teasing and Jensen wasn't having any of it.
“Shut up! Clif, let's just go.”
Jared looked over his shoulder to the backseat. “I don't know, Y/N, it looks like you two need to have another talk at home.” To this remark even Jensen bursted out laughing. “Oh, we will, don't you worry about that.” He chuckled and winked at you.
Taglist: @jackles010378 @deanwinchestersgirl87 @alternativeprincess94 @il0vebeingdelulu
#jensen ackles#jensen ackles smut#jensen x female!reader smut#jensen x female!reader#x you#jensen x y/n#jensen ross ackles#smut
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The Gate of Salvation [2/3]
[ young pope • Aemond x catholic • female ]
[ warnings: fingering, smut, sexual tension, angst, religious guilt, doubts related to faith, chauvinism ]
[ description: During the conclave, a new pope is elected, but to everyone's surprise, he does not intend to show himself to the crowds waiting for him. His ideas terrify the cardinals, and one of them convinces his niece, who is studying marketing, to talk to the new head of the Catholic Church in his presence. Main theme: sexual tension & holy touch. ]
A mini-series created as a thank you and celebration of my 2'500 followers. I initially plan that it will have about 3 chapters.
Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3
Aemond as a Pope Edit
Series Characters Moodboard
Aemond NSFW Alphabet
* English is not my first language. Please, do not repost. Enjoy! *
Next chapters: Masterlist
_____
After her meeting with the Pope, she had been writhing around all night, terrified and humiliated, unable to sleep. She couldn't forgive herself for her stupidity, for not seeing in time that it was obvious her uncle was trying to slip her over to the head of the Catholic Church like a snack he might be tempted to focus on.
The worst part was that he had hired her and she didn't know how she could take it back, defy the Pope himself, communicate that she was rejecting his proposal.
She got up before dawn, recognising that she would not get any rest anyway, and decided to take a warm shower. She thought while standing under the stream of hot water that she would try to distance herself, be professional and not give satisfaction to either her uncle or the Pope himself.
She hoped that when he finally decided to give any sort of interview the commotion around him would quiet down and she could quickly offer her resignation.
She sighed heavily, running her hand over her wet face, wondering how she was supposed to reconcile this madness with her classes at the University.
A car with the same driver as the day before arrived outside her townhouse again and took her straight to the Vatican; driving through its streets, she noticed that many people had pitched tents in and around St Peter's Square, waiting for any new information about their Pope.
She sighed quietly, resignedly thinking about how unnecessary his stubbornness actually was.
This time it was not her uncle waiting for her in the square, but a middle-aged priest who could have been her father, dressed in a plain black cassock. He smiled at her in a way that seemed genuine to her and she reciprocated the gesture when he indicated with a movement of his hand that she should move to follow him.
"The Pope is just having breakfast in the garden and he will receive you there." He said as they walked along the marble corridors filled with works of art; she looked at him surprised and sighed quietly, glancing out of the window, finding that it was indeed pleasant warm weather, the sky was cloudless.
They walked out one of the back exits to the cloisters into a small garden consisting of a maze formed of walls of shrubbery, which, however, easily led them to its centre, on which stood a large arbour styled in antique manner, with a dome and Corinthian-style columns.
She grinned with some kind of disbelief when she spotted his figure seated at an ornate small white table, his cassock also white, he held in his hands a newspaper he had just been looking through.
She thought with amusement that he was reading about himself.
Only when they got closer did she notice that other gazettes from different countries lay folded on the table top; the front pages of each asking who the new pope was, why he wasn't showing himself, why he was silent.
"Your Holiness." Said the priest standing next to her and nodded; the young pope, however, did not even bestow a single glance on them.
She pressed her lips together as she saw his thumb go to his mouth, he licked it and then used it to flip the page of the newspaper.
The priest who had brought her left them alone, as if he had already become accustomed to the lack of reaction and any culture on his part. She stared at him in silence for a moment, standing in front of him in the same dress as the day before, not having time to buy anything else.
"Holy Father." She said softly, wanting to get it over with, standing a few steps beside him.
He did not look at her, instead lifting his hand and extending it towards her, a signet ring of pure gold on his heart finger.
She looked at him for a moment in disbelief, then swallowed hard and walked towards him, grasping his warm hand in hers.
She leaned in, placing a quick, brief kiss on his ring and let him go immediately; he took his hand without even giving her a glance and went back to reading the newspaper.
She pressed her lips together feeling his intense, pleasant-smelling male perfume again.
"What do you think of what they write about me?" He asked, carelessly tossing the newspaper he had just read onto a pile of others, the discouragement on his face bordering on disgust, as if what he had read made him sick. "They are already reaching my family. Day and night they chat outside my mother's house."
She felt a tightness in her throat at his words and some kind of sympathy, because although he must have known what his decision entailed and what the consequences would be, some journalists crossed all possible boundaries, recognising no sanctity.
She shifted from foot to foot, looking at the French croissants that lay on one of the porcelain plates and a jar of strawberry jam, and reminded herself that she hadn't eaten breakfast. She grunted quietly, looking away, staring at the field flowers that grew around them – she spotted a gardener in the distance who was cutting the shrubs with his big steel shears.
"They won't stop until you give them something, Holy Father." She replied truthfully, hearing him snort under his breath.
"They will always want more." He replied dryly and she glanced at him out of the corner of her eye – he was staring at her sitting with his legs crossed.
She shuddered and looked at him in disbelief as he pushed the other chair in front of her with his foot clad in white elegant shoes, moving it away.
"Sit down, child. You are pale. Did you eat breakfast today?" He asked disapprovingly, like a parent expressing their discontent. She shook her head and he sighed heavily, indicating with his hand gesture to the seat next to him.
She thought that this certainly had nothing to do with behaving according to protocol, but decided that it probably didn't matter much to him. She sat down next to him, smelling the intense scent of his perfume again, adjusting her dress, remembering not to sit with her legs crossed.
"Eat." He said dispassionately; she wasn't going to argue, figuring that since she was being forced to be at his every beck and call now, she could get something in return.
Therefore, she reached for the croissant and jam, which immediately drew the attention of her stomach – she casted him a wordless surprised glance as she heard the sound of the lighter being lit and the hiss of the cigarette he held in his mouth.
He took a deep drag and spread out comfortably in his chair, looking at her thoughtfully, letting the smoke out through his nose. He smirked, as if something in her gaze amused him.
"My chancellery contacted your University. They were happy to hear that you will be doing a sort of…internship here. You don't have to worry about your exams or classes." He hummed as if he was talking about something trivial and uninteresting, an irrelevant piece of information he had to convey to her, and took another drag, the tip of his cigarette igniting red.
"− what − but −" She started, but decided it made no sense; whoever he was, this man had clearly already planned everything for himself and had no intention of changing anything, much less asking her opinion.
"I thought you'd be pleased. Your uncle arranges for you accommodation and studies, the Pope makes sure you pass your exams without your personal involvement. Isn't that beautiful?" He asked with a sneer, and she felt a tightening in her throat, a cold sweat on her back; she stared wide-eyed at the half-cut croissant on which she had just spread jam, but lost the urge to eat.
He knew everything about her and thought she and her uncle were the same.
She pressed her lips together and leaned back against the backrest, placing her hands on the armrests even though she shouldn't be doing so and crossed her legs. She saw his gaze drop involuntarily to her bare knees, his cigarette burning slowly between his fingers.
"My uncle wants you to take me to your bed, Holy Father." She said quietly, recognising that she didn't have the strength for this, for their games, their hookups, the secrets they obviously adored, of which the entire Vatican was made.
She blinked when he chuckled, his pointing finger hitting his cigarette so that the ash from it fell to the stone floor beneath him.
"Tell me something I don't know. Eat. We have a lot of work ahead of us." He muttered, taking one last drag on his cigarette, letting the smoke out through his nose, extinguishing the remnants of it on his plate.
"What do you want, Holy Father?" She asked lightly, taking a piece of croissant into her mouth. He threw her an amused look and raised an eyebrow.
She stared at him with her heart pounding fast, thinking in disbelief that he really was a few steps ahead of everyone else.
He was perfectly informed, and although his words and actions seemed chaotic, there was purpose in them.
She had the impression that he took satisfaction in teasing her, his gaze fixed on her lips, which she involuntarily licked.
"Many things. Above all, holy peace and quiet, but I am not afforded it. Get up, let's take a walk." He said matter-of-factly and rose abruptly, putting his hands behind him, moving ahead without looking at her towards the corridors made of tall, evenly trimmed bushes.
She quickly swallowed the piece she just had in her mouth and stood up, following him, levelling her step with his, sunshine and birdsong all around them.
"We're being watched. It's harder for them to eavesdrop on me as I walk." He said coolly; she turned behind her and saw the gardener she noticed before, who was apparently just pretending to water the flowers around the arbour.
She looked at him in horror, realising that he must have been spied on all the time.
That they all wanted to know what he was going to do, surely he must have kept them in an iron grip since no picture of him had leaked to the press yet.
"What's going to make the atmosphere calm down and the journalists back off?" He asked discouraged, and she sighed quietly, looking up at the cloudless sky.
"Your private invitation."
She was surprised that her idea that he would hold a press conference where he would be invisible and only his voice could be heard appealed to him. He felt that, in fact, his faithful should hear his words and what he has to share with them, and this did not require his image to be revealed at all.
He decided to receive the TV and newspaper envoys in the Sistine Chapel, recognising that this was some kind of milestone moment that required a special place, a black veil was placed in front of his papal throne.
Although on the one hand it looked comical, on the other it added a sort of solemnity and impression of holiness, something tangible and yet inaccessible.
The cardinals and his office workers had prepared a script for him, which he tore in front of her eyes before the speech itself, handing her the shreds that remained of the pages, staring blankly at the black fabric in front of him. She took it from him, not knowing what else she could do; he demanded she be by his side in case someone asked an uncomfortable question.
Her heart was pounding like mad, she could feel the cold sweat on her back and wondered if he felt a similar anxiety.
She glanced at him out of the corner of her eye and although his face was stony, he seemed even paler to her than usual, his large hands on which she could clearly see the outline of his veins clenched on his armrests – he sat comfortably on his throne with his legs crossed.
"Holy Father, why don't you want to show your face to your faithful? Is this some new kind of Vatican policy, a way of getting the whole world's attention?" They heard the question echoed by the first journalist on the other side of the curtain; she saw him press his lips together and swallow loudly before his cold, matter-of-fact, dispassionate voice began to spread around them.
"My face is not useful to my faithful for anything. They need my action. My causality. They need my intervention in matters of urgency, in the problems of paedophilia in the church, in the embezzlement and misuse of church assets, in the restoration of law and order, in the opening up of the church to young people who feel forgotten and unwanted. My face, my history, my personal views will distract them from all these things."
He said without stammering. She looked at him in disbelief, realising that he couldn't have prepared this answer beforehand.
He was saying straight from his heart what he was thinking and there was something touching about it.
Somehow she understood what he meant.
"What about the pilgrimages, what about the Sunday masses celebrated by the Pope?" Asked another journalist. She heard him sigh heavily, noticed that his hand trembled as he raised it to his face, tightening his fingers on the base of his nose.
"The Pope is not alone, he has his cardinals who can assist him in his missions around the world. As for the masses, I will attend them as a guest, but I will not be visible. The Pope is not unique. The Pope is chosen as first among equals. As Pope, I still remain a cardinal, one of the apostles. I am not Christ. I am not God."
She looked at him in pain, breathing unevenly through slightly parted lips, remembering what she had told him a few days earlier.
They need a guide, not another invisible God.
She couldn't believe that after what she had heard she had begun to feel sympathy for him – his answers seemed thoughtful and sensible, and she wondered if she had just seen his true nature, or if he was as perfect a manipulator as any of the cardinals.
She wondered how he had convinced them.
How he became Pope.
When it was all over he left without a word; the journalists were led away, and she prayed that it would help, that public opinion would calm down a little.
She watched all the news editions that evening with bated breath – the whole world quoted his statements and his decision, to her relief, most of the experts spoke warmly of him. The newspaper headlines also left her under no illusions.
The Pope has spoken. He doesn't want to show his face, only his actions.
The Pope who chooses the fight against paedophilia over the glamour of glory.
The Pope without a face − a new beginning.
The end of splendour − the Pope retreats to work like any of us.
The end of the church as we know it. The Pope at last again the voice of the weakest.
The next day she arrived in the Vatican with a stack of newspapers, eager to show him the result of their work, hoping it would satisfy him and allow her to return to normality.
"The Pope is exercising, but he said he would receive you." Said the priest, who was called Father Lenz, and who was apparently his private secretary, always waiting for her to lead her wherever he just happened to be.
"He's exercising?" She asked with amusement, and he just raised his eyebrows, himself clearly not knowing what he thought about it.
He opened the door for her and she stepped into a large room, with a beautiful baroque vaulted ceiling and hundreds of paintings on one side, rows of tall windows on the other, illuminating an exercise machine consisting of a small bench with a mattress on which he placed his back as he pulled on the railing at the end of which the weights hung, his legs braced on either side of the machine for balance.
He was dressed in white tracksuits.
She stared at the sight in disbelief, waiting for him to notice her; it only happened after a while when he took a break and sat down, reaching for a bottle of water standing on the old wooden floor. She lifted up a bundle of newspapers and he nodded, running his fingers through his hair, trying to calm his breathing after his exertion.
She walked over to him and handed him the magazines she held in her hand; she felt a pleasant throbbing between her thighs feeling the smell of his sweat mixed with the scent of his perfume, his lips slightly swollen and pink from the blood that pulsed faster through his body.
He flipped through the front pages of the papers one by one and sighed quietly; she thought with surprise that there was a sort of expression of relief painted on his face, as if what was happening frightened him somewhere deep inside and filled him with anxiety.
He put them down at last, looking ahead, grabbing the white towel that hung over the railing at the other end of the machine.
"I prayed to God after I was elected. I prayed that he would show me the way, and although he usually answered me in some way, that evening he was silent. It was a silence full of rejection, as if the heavens did not agree with the decision of the conclave. How was I to go out to the crowds in such a situation, to convince them that Our Father in the heavens was sending me to them?"
He asked, rising with a quiet creak from the metal bench, surprising her completely with his words; because of his clothes and the way he spoke she had cognitive dissonance and had to remind herself that he was the Pope and not just a young man close to her age.
His confession touched her in some way – she was able to imagine his despair on the evening he was elected as people chanted his name, but it was the voice of God that he wanted to hear.
He stood a few steps away from her, drinking the contents of his small water bottle to the end, and stared ahead, as if he had returned with his mind to that time, as if he needed to get it out of himself.
"That's why I asked my faithful to pray from me. And what did they do? They despaired. They despaired that they could not see my face, that they could not touch me, tear me apart, dissect my private life and my past. I have never felt so lonely." He said with a regret from which she felt a squeeze in her throat and lowered her gaze, not knowing what to say, reminding herself with shame that she had thought the same thing about him as all those people.
"Perhaps it was also the will of the heavens. In the end, when the time comes everyone will face God alone. Maybe it was his words: don't follow the crowd, don't conform, that's not why I sent you." She said softly, but immediately regretted her words, recognising that she had no right to interpret anyone's spiritual experiences, much less those of the Head of the Church.
She heard him snort with amusement; he pulled a lighter and cigarettes from his pocket and for a moment she thought he would want to smoke in this beautiful baroque chamber, however, he moved ahead towards a small door other than the one she had entered through.
"Come." He hummed, so she moved after him, knowing that it was pointless to resist.
For the rest, the more she got to know him, the more she liked him.
They passed through a narrow corridor and began to climb up a stone staircase that spiraled around a large pillar – it seemed to her that they were in some older part of this great complex. They reached a small wooden door, and when he opened it they emerged onto the roof of one of the buildings located to the right of St Peter's Square.
The view in front of her struck her –the sun was rising over the Vatican, lazily leaning out from above the church standing in the centre of the square like a nimbus, the air around them pleasantly cool and crisp.
She watched as he moved ahead and walked closer to the stone wall, firing up his lighter and leaning forward with a cigarette in his mouth – there was something so obscene about the sight that she smiled involuntarily.
He looked at her over his shoulder and raised an eyebrow, taking a drag, then slid his cigarette out of his mouth with a motion of his hand and let the smoke out silently through his nose, shaking the ash to the ground with a flick of his finger.
"It has been reported to me that journalists are slowly making their way into my past. Don't worry, I don't think it's your fault. I knew it would happen, but I thought I had more time." He murmured lowly seeing her surprised, horrified face, suddenly as if tired and discouraged, taking another drag with a quiet hiss of fire.
She thought looking at his silhouette illuminated by the first rays of the sun, that he looked like a saint.
"I want you to hear it from me. Will you listen to what I have to say?" He asked calmly and she nodded, feeling her heart pounding fast, looking at him with her lips slightly parted, terrified of what he wanted to tell her.
"My mother I told you about is a nun. She adopted me a few years after I was placed in a convent orphanage." He said calmly, looking away, staring at the crowds of people walking around St Peter's Square.
"They took me from the woman who gave birth to me because she liked to inject various stimulants into her veins. She was asleep when one of her men decided he didn't like the way I looked at him, that I was complaining about being hungry. He decided that he would gouge my eyes out, but he only succeeded with one, my screaming would wake even the dead."
He muttered, not looking at her but somewhere in the distance, letting out a puff of smoke with a deep breath; she looked at him with her eyebrows arched in pain feeling the squeeze in her throat, her cheeks red with emotion.
She wanted to say something but was afraid to interrupt him, she knew that what he was telling her was of the utmost importance and she wondered if anyone else knew about all this, if he had confided in anyone.
"Sister Alicent after I was brought in wouldn't let me call her my mother. So I called every woman I saw that, cooks, cleaners, teachers. She adopted me in the end, unable to look at it anymore. She got a dispensation from the Pope." He said lowly, throwing the cigarette butt on the ground, crushing it with his completely white Adidas.
"Some trashy, cheap magazines are already writing about the fact that I am the son of a nun and the Pope, others with mockery recognise that I am certainly her immaculate conception. That they mock me doesn't bother me, but it fills me with sadness that journalists stand outside her house all day. She can't even go out shopping or gardening. I guess you think the only way out of this situation would be an interview where I would tell my story?"
He asked disapprovingly, looking at her finally; she was shocked and horrified that he was asking her opinion on such an important matter. She shook her head helplessly, shrugging her shoulders.
"You cannot allow them to make your mother a hostage, Holy Father. You must show strength. Call press conferences where you talk about what decisions you make, but don't answer questions about your family. In the Vatican, you are Pius XIII, not Aemond Targaryen. When they see that they cannot blackmail you, they will let go. In my opinion, you both have to bear it." She said what she thought, thinking in the back of her mind that journalists would always want more and the matter would only get worse.
He looked at her silently as if analysing her words and sighed finally, kicking a stone that lay under his feet with his shoe.
"Have you ever kissed?" He asked lightly and she looked at him with shock written all over her face, feeling her heart pounding like crazy, her cheeks burning with heat.
She couldn't believe such a question had come out of his mouth.
"You don't have to answer. I'm just curious. I've never kissed anyone." He replied after a moment, seeing her embarrassed reaction, as if he wanted to clarify and elaborate that his interest was purely scientific and theoretical.
She swallowed loudly, pressing her lips together, thinking that he had told her about himself, about the most private aspects of his life, and decided that nothing bad would happen if she answered him.
"Once, in high school." She muttered, stroking her arm in a gesture of uncertainty and embarrassment, looking away. She heard him hum under his breath, intrigued.
"Did it feel good?" He asked softly, standing a few steps away from her with his hands tucked into his snow-white tracksuit bottoms, cocking his head.
She looked up at him in disbelief, breathing erratically, clasping her hands tighter, involuntarily her gaze escaped to his full, glistening lips.
"It was a very moist, soft and warm sensation." She muttered feeling a tightness in her throat, her gaze fleeing from his eyes to his lips, unable to stop herself from imagining how wonderful it would be to feel how they tasted.
"Hm." He murmured, looking away thoughtfully.
They stood like that for a moment in silence – she could feel the wordless tension around them, as if electricity flowed through the air with their every word and movement.
"Did you confess this deed?"
She blinked and felt her heart stop. She shook her head, looking at him with slightly parted lips.
"Pardon?" She asked in disbelief, feeling discomfort in her lower abdomen and a cold sweat on her back, not believing that he was suggesting such a thing.
"Failure to maintain chastity before marriage is a sin." He replied indifferently; she pressed her lips together, feeling tears of shame and humiliation under her eyelids, her eyebrows arched in pain.
"So I am a sinner, Holy Father." She said coldly, and turned away, leaving without any pleasantries or even a simple goodbye.
She burst out sobbing as she ran down the narrow stairs.
It was only a kiss.
She just wanted to see what it was like.
In fact, she felt bad afterwards, but not because she thought it was a sin, but because she was not in love with this boy.
She asked Father Lenz for any of the drivers to take her home; seeing her face red from tears he asked what had happened, but she did not answer him.
She opened up to him, spoke about an intimate part of her life, and he could only judge her, make her another Eve, a fallen woman.
It was only a kiss.
She returned to her flat filled with regret and disappointment – she angrily pulled off her long dress she had bought and chosen specially to be able to present herself as expected, to keep herself humble, but for what?
She decided that she would never appear there again.
There was no kind of real contract between the two of them, she had only signed documents regarding her collaboration with the Pope's secretaries and a confidentiality clause.
She changed into her pyjamas, undid her hair, took the box of leftover cakes from the cupboard and lay in bed, browsing social media platforms on her phone, trying not to think about what had happened.
She tilted her head back and groaned in frustration when she saw that her uncle had started to call her. She muted her phone and flipped the screen down, sighing.
She lay back on her bedding, staring blankly at the window, and thought with pain that the man who should be giving her the strength to be a better person had made her doubt herself, made her feel sinful and dirty.
She started to think that maybe she should go to confession after all, that maybe he was right, that she was only making excuses for herself without wanting to admit that she was wrong, but she felt even worse at that thought and just burst out crying.
Exhausted by sobbing and remorse, she finally fell asleep, seeing only through her closed eyelids that the phone display lying next to her glowed again and again.
She shuddered, rising quickly to sit up in complete darkness when she heard someone's loud knock on her door; she looked around with a pounding heart, not knowing where she was, whether it was evening or morning.
She glanced at her phone and saw that she had slept for several long hours and the sun had set, on her screen 20 missed calls from her uncle and a plethora of text messages that she didn't have the energy to read.
She sighed heavily and got up, walking reluctantly to the door, knowing her uncle would now make a litany for her; she turned on the night light on the way so she wouldn't trip over anything and she turned the lock, opening it.
"Oh God."
She muttered, seeing the figure of the young Pope in front of her, still in the same white tracksuit and sneakers.
He had his hood up over his head.
He pulled the white earphones out of his ears with a soft flick of his hand – she could hear the heavy metal music playing from them.
"Will you let me in?" He asked indifferently; she looked at him in disbelief, thinking he was risking a lot by going outside just to see her.
She sighed quietly and stepped back, allowing him to go inside. She leaned out wanting to check if anyone had seen him and closed the door quickly.
She glanced at him over her shoulder and saw that he had turned off the music on his player and put it back in his pocket.
They stood for a moment in silence, his gaze focused on her naked thighs; she swallowed loudly with shame at the thought that she was standing before the Head of the Catholic Church in nothing but pyjamas consisting of cream shorts and a shirt buttoned up the front, under which she didn't even have a bra.
She turned her head, running her trembling hand over her face, her heart pounding like mad.
"I made a mistake." She heard his voice full of regret. "I wanted your uncle to pass it on to you, but you didn't answer."
"I didn't and don't feel like talking to anyone, Holy Father." She muttered, feeling a tightening in her chest, fiddling restlessly with the cross hanging on her neck.
She heard him swallow loudly and look to the side, pulling the hood off his head.
"I made you doubt in yourself. In your purity and your value in the eyes of God." He said lowly, and she felt tears gathering in the corners of her eyes for the umpteenth time that day. She closed her eyelids and tilted her head back, trying to control herself, not letting them flow out.
She did not reply.
"My words arise from my depravity, which I fight unsuccessfully. From my vanity and jealousy. I would rather have you locked up in a convent. You could then be by my side and no one would ever touch you again. You could be mine." He said softly, thoughtfully, looking at some point on the floor, as if he had drifted off completely in his musings – she felt her lips part in disbelief, her brow arching in pain.
I would rather have you locked up in a convent.
You could be mine.
What was she to reply to such a shocking confession?
She shuddered when he finally turned his attention to her, the gaze of his healthy eye sharp and piercing, while his artificial one was empty, white, lifeless.
"Though never before have my members reacted to the sight and thought of a woman, when I see you, I long to touch you, to taste you, to smell you. I have become addicted to your scent and try to recall it after evening prayer before I fall asleep." He spoke calmly, as if it was not an emotionally driven statement but something thought out, something that had been going on in his head for a very long time.
She felt with fear how her body reacted to his words with a greedy throbbing between her thighs and a moisture from which the material of her underwear was getting wet, her nipples hardened, more clearly visible from under her shirt.
She froze when she saw his gaze flee to her breasts, seeing exactly what she feared, his full lips parted slightly; she could hear his breathing clearly, fingers of his hands rubbing against each other in an anxious, nervous gesture.
"What do you feel now?" He whispered and she drew in the air loudly, feeling a tightness in her throat. She licked her lips dry from stress, taking a step backwards, hitting her back against the wall, feeling that she had nowhere to run. She helplessly clenched her thighs together, wanting to stop what was happening, seeing that his pupil widened at the sight.
"I'm wet." She confessed in shame, recognising that there was no point in pretending that there was something innocent in what was happening – her body was twitching with desire, begging for his touch and relief, her heart pounding like mad.
She heard him draw in a loud breath at her words while looking straight into her eyes, she saw fire in them, heavenly or hellish.
"Does it feel good?" He asked softly, gazing shamelessly at the spot between her thighs – she felt a wonderful heat in her lower abdomen and a tickling inside her, her walls were clenching around nothing at his question.
She thought helplessly that she had never felt anything like this before in her life.
"Yes." She whispered in a trembling voice, feeling her whole body quiver and pulsate, feeling desire in her fingertips, in her lips and down there, deep, deep inside her.
She shuddered as he approached her with a slow step and lifted her terrified gaze to him. His lips were parted in an anxious, hitched breath, in his eyes heat and darkness from which she felt a squeeze in her throat and between her thighs.
He stood over her, for a moment just looking at her – his trembling hands finally raised, reaching for the buttons of her shirt. They looked at each other with some kind of pain and suffering from which she felt a sting in her heart as a coldness enveloped her naked skin.
It seemed to her that it lasted an eternity – he took his time, his gaze fixed on the line of her bare body as he unbuttoned her shirt fully; he didn't expose her breasts, he just looked at her.
She gasped when he lifted his hand and ran his fingertips slowly over her sternum down to her stomach – she closed her eyes and sighed quietly, feeling her lips pulsate with desire, swollen and thirsty.
"− so soft − so warm −" He whispered; her quivering palm rose and touched his fingers, his hand larger and more massive than hers, she could feel the outline of his veins clearly under her skin.
She pressed his hand to her heart, heard him draw in the air hard as he felt it beat beneath his fingertips.
He looked at her, remaining still, as if frozen, knowing that one word from him, one expression of hesitation and they would be left with only shame, only regret, only disappointment.
She felt the tears under her eyelids, which involuntarily one by one ran down her face; he noticed it and shook his head, his breathing shaky, uneven, despairing.
"− you're so pure −" He whispered, nuzzling the tip of his nose into her cheek as if seeking refuge. She clenched her eyelids in shock at how intimate and desired this closeness was, his scent filled her entire lungs, his warm breath enveloped her cheek.
"− looking at you I feel terror because I regret − I regret that I will never feel you − that I will never give you what I want −" He muttered in a trembling voice; she felt his warm tears running down her skin.
They both gasped when his shaking hand tentatively began to slide lower and sobbed in pleasure as his fingers slipped hesitantly under the material of her shorts, deep between her thighs.
They were panting and quivering with desire, her trembling hands clenched on his arms as his fingertips pushed the material of her underwear aside with a shy gesture full of shame, she heard his low, helpless groan as he felt how wet she was.
"− God, help me −" He mumbled in a broken voice full of guilt – she tried but was unable to stop the moans of pleasure that left her mouth with each tentative movement of his fingers that brushed her swollen, throbbing womanhood, her body was so tense she felt she was on the edge.
"− please −" She whimpered pleadingly, placing her hand on his with a gesture full of desperation, wanting to feel him harder, deeper.
She tilted her head back as she finally felt him the way she wanted to, his fingertips digging into her fleshy, hot, moist folds with intense, circular strokes – she could feel his hot, ragged breath on her skin, his face pressed against her cheek, her hands clenched in a helpless gesture on the material of his sweatshirt.
Tears of despair and delight streamed down their faces, tired of pretending and fleeing, shivers ran down her spine every time the tips of his fingers teased again that tender bud from which her sobriety of mind was taken away; it seemed to her that their bodies were moving on their own, something hard and throbbing under his trousers rubbing against her thigh with desperate strokes.
"− forgive me − say you forgive me −" He mumbled pleadingly in a breaking voice.
She felt him trembling all over just like her, unable to stop now, knowing there was no way back, her face wet with her and his tears.
She reached her palm into his hair and combed through it with her fingers, letting out her breath with a loud sob, moving involuntarily to the rhythm of his hand as it pressed harder and harder against her fleshy skin with the lewd click of her moisture.
"− I forgive you − I forgive you and ask for forgiveness −" She gasped as she felt something approaching, moaning louder and louder.
She thought that despite the fact that he was touching her in this forbidden, sinful place, some incomprehensible kind of intimacy and innocence was added to what was happening by the fact that he hadn't exposed her naked body, that he hadn't wanted to possess her, only to experience something with her and in her presence.
"− good God, you're leaking − so sticky − I'll lick it off my fingers −" He whispered with a kind of awe, as if he were talking about something sacred and mysterious.
She felt that his words had done something to her – she cried out loudly, parting her lips in disbelief when suddenly a wave of warm pleasure surged through her body like a lightning bolt.
She felt wonderful tickling in her lips, in the tips of her fingers, in her breasts, in her chest, her inside's clenching greedily around nothing, her moisture trickled down onto his hand, she heard his low, surprised groan.
Her body suddenly became numb; she would have fallen if he hadn't put his arm around her in time, his hand ran over her cheek heated from the exertion.
"− you look like Bernini's Saint Teresa − so beautiful −" He mumbled in a trembling voice, panting hard along with her, looking at her dreamily. She sighed sweetly, laying her head on his chest, letting him embrace her tightly.
She could feel his manhood throbbing under the damp material of his sweatpants.
He came.
She stayed in his embrace not daring to look at him, not daring to think about what they had done, wanting to push back the moment when they would feel remorse, pain and regret, sinking only into this wonderful relief.
You look like Bernini's Saint Teresa.
A sculpture in which a holy woman curves in ecstasy after an angel pierces her with an arrow of Divine Love.
God's Delight.
______
Aemond Taglist:
(bold means I couldn't tag you)
@notnormalthings-blog @nikstrange @zenka69 @bellaisasleep @k-y-r-a-1 @g-cf2020 @melsunshine @opheliaas-stuff @chainsawsangel @iiamthehybrid @tinykryptonitewerewolf @namoreno @malfoytargaryen @qyburnsghost @aemondsdelight @persephonerinyes @fan-goddess @sweethoneyblossom1 @watercolorskyy @randomdragonfires @apollonshootafar @padfooteyes @darylandbethfanforever9 @fudge13 @snh96 @rwdkarla @echos-muses
#aemond fic#aemond fanfiction#aemond targaryen#aemond x oc#hotd aemond#ewan mitchell#ewan mitchell fanfic#modern aemond angst#dark modern aemond#modern aemond smut#modern aemond#prince aemond#prince aemond targaryen#aemond#aemond one eye#aemond targaryen x oc#aemond kinslayer#aemond targaryen smut#aemond smut#hotd smut#ewan mitchell smut#aemond angst#aemond targaryen angst#hotd angst#ewan mitchell angst#aemond fanfic#hotd fanfiction#hotd fanfic#hotd fic#ewan mitchell fandom
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Hii! My ranchero!Miguel obsession is running wild today and i had a thought, well actually a whole scenario. Miguel getting his own ranch after he takes cherry baby with him after their marriage. He starts off humble with only a few horses and a small land he was gifted by his father, after he learned he was gonna be a grandfather. Miguel works tirelessly to expand the ranch, bring in more animals and more people to work. Cherry baby, although pregnant, does her fair share as well. She does the finances and document work of the ranch, the only thing Miguel let's her do cause he doesn't want her to strain herself too much. Despite that she dabbles into a bit of gardening, planting all sorts of pretty flowers on the property along with some fruit trees with the help of her strong husband.
Slowly but surely the ranch is growing. There are more horses and barn animals and people. It's become a lively and lovely little haven. Miguel was missing one thing though. Augustin. The horse that was the reason for him meeting his sweet wife and mother of his child. He wondered how he could get him from reader's father's ranch. He was also pretty worried for the horse's wellbeing considering Augustin would listen only to Miguel and no one else. He shared this with his wife one night while cuddling, hand on her stomach, trying to feel their child's movements. This gave cherry baby an idea how to mess with her family for insulting her and her baby.
She gathered the ranch boys on the land and told them about her plan to sneak in her father's ranch and lure Augustin out so they can relocate them. All of them agreed instantly because although Miguel is a strict boss, he was also a great leader and mentor to them and they were all greatful and looked up to him a lot. Knowing the land like the back of her hand she instructed them how to do it so they don't get caught. And so the plan was in action. Following cherry baby's instructions the boys use the guise of the night to go there. They easily found the black stallion. Before Augustin could make a fuss one of the boys brought up one of Miguel's shirts that smelled the most of him to the horse which instantly made him calm down. Augustin is very food motivated so they lured him out using his favorite treat and Miguel's scent so they can make sure he stays calm. They managed to get the horse inside the carrier and hurriedly made their way back to their ranch.
They arrived a little before the break of dawn. Cherry baby had woken up very early so she could be there when the boys arrive. She got out of the house in her pajamas, belly slightly poking out. Her smile as wide as can be when she saw the beautiful horse once again. Augustin seemed to have recognized her which made him start neighing loudly. She tried to calm him down but the boys quickly surround her to protect her. All the commotion wakes Miguel up, the familiar neigh making his eyes shoot open. He made it out the house as fast as he could to see his horse causing a ruckus, as he always did, and his boys surrounding his wife as a way to protect her. With wide eyes and disbelief, Miguel calls out to Augustin, like only he can, which makes the horse quiet down and everyone else turn their head in his direction. Miguel makes his way to the horse, petting him like he would usually do and connecting with him again. He still can't believe this is happening.
(I'm gonna add a little dialog but I'm not very good)
"i need to know who was the mastermind of this whole fiasco?" Miguel says looking over his shoulder.
No one dares say a word. Was he... mad?
Cherry baby makes a step forward and puts her hands on her hips
"you're looking at em" she says, feigning confidence
The look on Miguel's face is unreadable before he says
"Boys, go somewhere else please. I need to speak with my wife"
After Miguel gives cherry baby an earful about how stupid, dangerous and irresponsible this whole thing was, he finally calms down and makes an assessment of the situation. His wife is safe, the boys are safe, he got his horse back and he could stick it to his father in law. It's not so bad after all. Knowing his father in law, he had no use of Augustin without Miguel so hebwas either gonna sell the horse or kill him for meat.
That day was spent with Miguel once again riding and training Augustin, the ranch workers having a day off for the day and cherry baby being busy in the kitchen making treats and lemonade for everyone.
The end. Sorry for the long ask I just really wanted to share this idea😅. Hope you enjoy♥️
Also i hope i didnt mess up any names. I'm pretty bad with names
OMG. Yes yes yesss. This gave me an idea for a future chapter of this wee Miguel Ranchero series 🤭🤭. Thank you for spoiling me with your ideas ❤️❤️. LOVED IT!!!
We'll have more of him. Promise 👀👀❤️.
P. d. Never thought that Miguel Ranchero would be a thing 🤭🤭. How we should call this Novela? 🤔
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Alone and Forsaken
one-shot
Joel Miller x fem!reader
A/N: I got COVID and haven't had a coherent thought in five days, so if this doesn't make sense it's not my fault, it's the virus. (Thank you @benkeibear for the dividers)
Summary: You're aren't anything to Joel Miller. You're a comfort, habit, and necessity. But you've never been anything more. It gets to you and you do what you always do, you run. When you make the permanent move to Jackson you've got no choice but to face the truth of what you are to each other.
WC: 9.4K
Part two here
You glanced down at Ellie, sweat was beading on her forehead and she was shivering in her sleeping bag. You glanced towards Joel, he was staring down at his gun, he’d been cleaning it for the past ten minutes.
“We’re right near Jack-”
“No,” his voice was rough, a command rather than an interruption. You sighed and went back to crafting some arrows for Ellie. “We’ll find some medicine tomorrow.”
You gave a noncommittal hum, you could hear him sigh from across the fire. You’d managed to clean out an old office today, you were camping out on the roof. Joel had determined the fog provided enough cover to not have to worry about others seeing the smoke.
He placed his gun down and leaned his elbows on his knees, you could feel his stare boring into you but you refused to give in. He wasn’t the only one who could be a stubborn bastard. “Y/N-”
“You’re acting like an old fool.”
He scoffed, “I’m not that old.”
“Joel,” you finally glanced up. “Ellie needs medicine, we’re right near your brother’s we might as well see if he’s got anything.” He stared at you for a long moment, not saying anything, until his shoulders slumped and he shrugged. He went back to cleaning his gun and you could tell he had conceded.
You’d made it to Jackson a year ago after the Firefly incident at the hospital. But it had been too much for all three of you. Years of killing, fighting to keep yourself alive, all on your own, it was too jarring to be in such a quaint little place.
You couldn’t wake up every morning to a “Howdy, neighbor!” like nothing had changed. There were too many people and it was too forceful a transition from fighting for every last resource to suddenly having everything willingly handed to you.
Eventually, when it became too tiring to keep fighting, you were sure you would move back to Jackson. For now, each of you enjoyed the freedom of not having to fight for anyone but yourselves. It was an occasional pit stop for supplies and a dose of normalcy.
You’d been on the road for about six months now, it was time to cycle back onto the path towards Tommy.
Good timing too, about two days ago Ellie had a sore throat and now she’s pretty much deadweight behind you both. “We’ll head out at dawn.” Joel stood up, nothing more to say, and took first watch. You tucked your arrows away and laid down, hoping to get some sleep before you were on the move again.
“How much further?”
“Another few miles,” Joel glanced over his shoulder at you. “How’s she doing?”
“I’m doing fine,” Ellie interrupted. But it was hard to believe her when her voice was a barely audible croak and she was leaning against you for support.
Joel sighed and glanced towards his right, there was a creek and a sunny patch of grass. He started towards it, dropping his pack on a rock and coming to a stop. “We’ll stop here for a break.”
“I said I’m fin-”
She interrupted herself with a cough that was so jarring you winced. It sounded like her throat was being ripped apart. When she finally caught her breath she reluctantly followed you towards the creek next to Joel. “I’ll check out the area, we shouldn’t be out here long.”
Joel nodded, standing guard next to Ellie while she wheezed trying to catch her breath. You moved away from them, going to check the surrounding area. Just when you deemed too much time had passed and were about to turn around you could feel something cold pressing into the back of your head.
“Don’t move.”
You slowly dropped your rifle to the forest floor, raising your hands in surrender as the person behind you pulled back the hammer of their gun. “Okay, it’s okay, we can talk about this.” The gun pulled back abruptly and then they were in front of you.
“Y/N! Damn girl, almost killed you.” Tommy tucked his gun into his holster and pulled you into a brief hug. You sighed and picked your gun back up.
“The hell are you doing this far out?”
“Been seeing a lot of infected, had to start patrolling out further.” Tommy peered around you, looking for something. “Joel with you?”
You nodded, leading him back to Joel. There was a brief reunion, nothing much considering they’ve been seeing each other a lot more than they used to. Tommy took Ellie on his horse back to Jackson, said it would be faster that way.
You and Joel still had a few more miles left, walking in silence side by side.
The silence, as always, had you contemplating your something with Joel. Because you wouldn’t say you and Joel were in a relationship. You’d both loved and lost too much in your life to ever truly be open to something like that again.
But you granted each other a softness you didn’t offer anyone else. There was an unspoken connection between the two of you that never went acknowledged. You glanced over at him, nudging his arm with your elbow. “More excited about coffee or a shower?”
“More excited about you finally showering.”
You scoffed in faux offense and shoved him lightly. His eyes crinkled, the crow’s feet becoming more prominent as he smirked at you. “Jerk. I smell amazing,” that was a blatant lie. Neither of you smelled great. It’d been about a week since you’d had a chance to really freshen up. Still, it was always fun to mess with him a little bit.
When you finally made it to Jackson you moved quickly through the inspection station, showing the medics your bite-free body and then headed towards Ellie.
She was already knocked out, whatever flu medicine they’d managed to scrounge up had done its job quickly. Maria led you to a house at the far end of town, you watched as Joel entered the one across from you.
You showered, enjoying the foreign feeling of fresh, hot, water running over your skin. You used the clothes Maria provided you, but after an hour of just wandering around the house you were starting to feel restless.
You had sat on the couch, stared at the black screen of the TV, and gotten back up about three times. You huffed out an irritated breath and headed towards the door. You weren’t sure where you were going but the quiet was starting to feel suffocating.
The pristine, cozy house, was overwhelming you with memories of a past best left forgotten. You opened the door-
“Why!”
“Shit,” Joel grimaced, offering you an awkward pat on the shoulder instead of an apology. You rubbed your forehead, pain radiating from where he’d hit you. “I was trying to knock, didn’t think you’d open the door.”
You sighed, glancing up at him and shrugging. “I can’t stand being in here. House is too…”
“Big,” he finished. You nodded, stepping outside and joining him on the porch. You both started walking, heading towards his house, the one that actually had chairs on the patio. Luckily the houses you were staying in this time around were farther away from everyone else.
People walking with their families was a distant noise that was barely discernible.
Families
The thought made you want to scoff. Families in the apocalypse, fucking ridiculous. “It’s peaceful here.”
“For them,” you glanced at Joel and he seemed to share the same thought as you. You’d changed too much, spilled too much blood to ever let yourself be fully comfortable in a place like this.
“Do you think you could ever be happy here?”
You glanced across the street at the large looming house you had just been in. “Not in there, it’s too big for one person.” He nodded, his fingers drumming a soundless tune against his jeans while he sat with you.
“Went down and saw Ellie while you were cleaning up. She’s making friends.”
You looked at him in astonishment. Hard to believe she was bedridden and being pleasant. He laughed a little and shook his head. “Well, I suppose they were interrogating her more than anything.”
You smiled slightly, “That’s more like it.”
He was looking off at the town, viewing the few distant people you could see. “She’s been asking to come back a lot more. I think she likes movie nights.” You sighed, knowing where this was going. You supposed the change was inevitable, you had just really hoped that you could push it off a little while longer.
You just weren’t ready.
“House is too big for me, too. Maybe it needs two people.” He was already looking at you when you turned to face him. His face didn’t betray anything but a type of tiredness that was set deep in someone’s bones.
You could say no, go off on your own. You’d make it a little while longer but the loneliness would get to you and eventually you’d slip up. Be torn apart or turned.
Besides, you weren’t ready to leave them, leave him. Not yet.
“Yeah, maybe.”
One Year Later
“Morning.”
You groaned at the sound of Joel’s voice, rolling over and covering your head with a pillow. He laughed and you could feel it reverberate through your back where his chest was resting on you.
“Come on, darling. It’s noon, you have to take care of the sheep today.”
You weren’t exactly verbal when you’re woken up abruptly. So you just grumbled-most likely something incredibly rude-under your breath and curled up into a ball.
Joel chuckled again, his arms wrapped around your waist and rolled you over. He dragged you out of the warmth of the blankets and directly back into the sunlit room. “Joel,” you groaned. “Five more minutes.”
“Nope.” He stood up, you still slightly in his arms. He half carried and half dragged you out of bed. You held onto the blankets and kept your eyes closed as long as you could. But when your feet touched the cool wood you conceded that your day had started. Whether you wanted it to or not. “Ugh, you’re a real piece of work. You know that?”
Joel let out a surprised scoff as you walked past him into the bathroom. You could hear him muttering under his breath about who was really the piece of work in this home. But he didn’t say anything to you, just joined you at the sink to brush his teeth.
Sometimes the normalcy was nice. You’d wake up and most days Joel was there next to you. Or he was making you both breakfast, or occasionally a note left next to a plate of food telling you he was out on patrol.
You spent most of your time together, sharing the big old house while Ellie slept in the converted shed out back. But days like today, where he tried to joke with you while he brushed his teeth but his voice was too thick with sleep and you couldn’t understand his accent, they made you ache.
Your heart would pulse painfully and you’d have to look away from him. You shared the same bed, lived in the same house. But you didn’t mean anything to him. You were just an old friend there to keep him warm at night.
You’re pretty sure you’d both been traveling together for so long that it was habit and necessity that kept you together more than anything. You wished, yearned for more from him, but you knew he could never give it to you. You knew it was an impossible ask.
Which made staying with him start to feel more suffocating. You feel like another part of his routine. Something akin to brushing his teeth rather than genuinely wanting you around, a chore. And you couldn’t handle that feeling anymore.
You were drowning in the comfort of Jackson. But you were too much of a coward to ever fully leave him. Too hopeful to let go of that one fleeting feeling that maybe one day you could be more to him.
Joel smiled at you as you made your way downstairs. “I got your lunch, you should probably head out now. You’re already late.”
You took the bag from him, thanking him and left for the sheep. And that night when your shift was over you’d look over at Joel’s house. You’d see him strumming lightly on his guitar as he waited for you and you’d slip out of Jackson’s walls. Unwilling to face another night of heartache that made you feel so ridiculous.
2 Years Later
“Y/N in here? Jesse’s looking for her.”
Joel glanced up from his guitar, he had been tuning it when Ellie’s head popped over his porch rail. “No, haven’t seen her in a couple days.”
He’d known being in Jackson was too much for you. Sometimes when he was getting a drink at the bar he could feel his skin crawling with how many people were surrounding him. His instinct to always be on guard, always be alert, was not easily lost after so many years.
There was the siren’s call of peace here in this town, but he still had to patrol. Still had you, Ellie, and himself to look out for. He could never afford to let himself fully settle into the calm reprieve of Jackson. It would end up screwing him over only when he was outside the safety of the walls.
So he sat, always a curling, burning feeling in his stomach as he tried to untense his shoulders. Join his brother for a ‘family’ dinner. Plaster on as friendly a grimace as he could when his neighbors would wave in the morning.
You were not the same. You didn’t bother with pretending to be happy for Ellie’s comfort. You patrolled near constantly, outside the walls more than you were in. Which set him even more on edge. You’d be gone for days at a time before mysteriously appearing in his bed one morning.
You’d smile then, as genuine a smile you could manage. Every time he’d ask where you’d gone and you would tell him you needed some air. He never asked what you did on the outside, where the bruises came from or what you’d done to earn them.
You would eat breakfast, listen to him strum on his guitar and in a few more days disappear again. He thinks one of these days, now that Ellie’s grown, he might just disappear alongside you. Ellie sighed, “What’s Jesse want with her?” Joel asked.
“He was gonna have her patrol with him today,” she had a shit-eating grin on her face as she propped her head in her hand. “I think he’s got a crush on her.”
Joel barked out a laugh, imagining Jesse pining after someone as disinterested as you. He’s sure he just admires you like he admires Joel. He looks up to you, probably just presents differently. “I’d love to see him try something,” he said through laughter.
Ellie shook her head, walking up the stairs and sitting next to him. “I’m pretty sure he’s terrified of her.”
He shook his head, “Rough combo.” Poor kid probably didn’t realize you weren’t mean, you just had a real bad resting face. “Ya know, I gotta head out soon. I can see if I can find her.”
Ellie perked up, crossing her legs as she leaned back in the rocking chair. “Would you?”
“Sure,” Joel went to place his guitar down but Ellie stopped him.
“What’re you working on?”
“Oh,” he glanced at the instrument and shrugged. He wasn’t sure, really. He’d had to step back from patrolling as much as he used to. The cold was fucking with his back and knees. Made it harder for him to be as fast as he should be. You liked to tease him about it, call him an old man, but he caught you rubbing your shoulder every time it was about to rain.
But without the ability to go on rides or kill infected, he was beginning to feel restless again. An uncomfortable thrumming under his skin that screamed at him to move, do something. So he screwed around with the guitar, tried to sing something, but nothing came out.
He passed it over to Ellie, she immediately propped it on her lap, strumming something soft. “Nothing really, just needed something to do.” He sat with her a little while longer, giving her pointers as she went over some songs she’d been writing.
He groaned as he got off the old rocking chair, saying goodbye to Ellie and heading to the stables. He was sure you were nearby, somewhere in a three mile perimeter of town. You’d been gone about four days, usually you’d be coming back by now.
Tommy was waiting for him as he got his horse. “Partnering up today.”
“Alright,” Joel rode up to the barred gate of Jackson, waiting for the doors to open. “Ellie wanted me to look for Y/N while we’re out here.”
Tommy’s brows furrowed as he glanced at him. “She still gone?”
Joel hummed an affirmative, brushing the hair out of his eyes in irritation. You’d have to cut it again, it had gotten too damn long. He felt like one of the stupid teenage boys in town, always blowing his damn hair out of his face.
“Where’d ya wanna head first?”
“She likes lurking around that old ski resort. We’ll see if she’s there first. If not, I’m sure she’ll pop up soon.”
They rode in silence for a little while before Tommy sighed. Clearly growing bored with the lack of conversation. Joel let his brother suffer, watching in amusement as he shifted back and forth in his saddle and tried to think of what to say.
He finally broke, showing Tommy some mercy. “Jesus, boy, spit it out.”
“It’s just,” Tommy paused, slowing down his mare to match Joel’s slow pace. “It doesn’t bother you?”
“What?”
“Her being out her on her own all the time. I mean, if Maria left as often as Y/N does I’d be losing my mind.”
“Well,” Joel sighed, “I’m a lot tougher than you are.”
Tommy scoffed, glaring at him. “Whatever smartass, I wasn’t screwing around, I want to know.”
“Fine. Don’t know why you’re so damn interested.” Joel shrugged, thinking about it before finally answering. “Yeah, I guess it bothers me, a little. I mean, I’ve known her a long time. I know she can handle herself, I’m not really worried about her dying or nothing. I’m more worried about her just deciding she wants to be gone for good and leaving.”
Tommy was quiet for a bit, leaving Joel uncomfortable. The answer wasn’t very deep. It didn’t share a lot, but it left him feeling a particular shade of vulnerable that had him shifting around. He rolled his shoulders back, focusing on the feeling of snow nipping at his cheeks rather than his younger brother’s nosy stare.
“I woudln’t worry about that.”
“Yeah,” Joel’s voice was curt, snappier than usual. “Why’s that?”
“Well, I don’t fucking know why, but she likes you. Likes Ellie, she might not love Jackson, but she wouldn’t just leave you guys.”
“Since when the hell are you an expert?”
Tommy smirked, “Since I got married.” Joel rolled his eyes, his brother had gotten entirely too smug when he married Maria. Suddenly, being married, made him an expert in anything and everything. He certaintly didn’t know a damn thing about Joel’s love life.
Or lack thereof.
Because you’d never talked about what you were, if you even were anything. That’s probably why it set him on edge so much when you left. You weren’t his to love or keep-honestly he wasn’t sure he was capable of that type of love anymore.
You were friends. Allies more than anything, which was arguably more important in this world. There was nothing to tie you to him or encourage you to stay.
He wasn’t deluded enough to believe you’d stay for Ellie. She was pretty much an adult now, and you’d never been a parent before. You didn’t know what the pain of losing a child was, she wasn’t as important to you as she was to him.
He had no damn idea what had kept you here for so long. But he knew you were getting restless and he didn’t know how to help.
They made it to the ski lodge and immediately leapt off their horses. There were screams coming from inside, screams that sounded a lot like yours. Joel ran for the doors, finger already on the trigger when the doors blew open.
You looked up at him in surprise, “Joel! What’re you doing out here?” He drew back, stopping himself from slamming into you.
His eyes scanned your form, you were covered head to toe in gore. The bandanna pushing your hair back had been a light blue, but now it was completely dyed red. Your jacket was in shreds. But you were still smiling up at him, then Tommy.
“Jesus H Christ woman,” Tommy muttered behind him.
You looked down at yourself, “Oh, yeah.” You sighed and once again were staring at Joel. “Fucking clickers, weren’t here before.”
“Are you alright? Were you bit?”
You waved off Joel’s concern like he was being dramatic. Like you weren’t standing before him covered head to toe in guts. “I’m fine.”
“Dammit,” you jumped slightly at the sound of his voice. He was getting a little louder, voice a little deeper as his frustration grew. He hated when you were this flippant about basic safety. “I told you to stop coming out so much, that we’d been-”
“Seeing more hordes. I know, sorry Joel, I didn’t mean to freak you out. I’ll,” you trailed off, your eyes darting around before reluctantly landing back on his. “I promise I’ll stop leaving.”
Joel glanced behind himself, but Tommy had wandered back over to the horses. He was the opposite of subtle as he whistled, clearly giving you as much privacy as he could. Joel turned back towards you and took a step closer.
“I’m not telling you to stop coming out here completely. I don’t want to take that from you.”
You shook your head, stepping closer as you shivered. Joel figured your jacket was in tatters and you were probably freezing your ass off. He took off one of his own coats and draped it over you. “I’m being reckless, risking infecting you and Ellie by coming out so much. Besides, it’s starting to get a little lonely.”
“Well,” Joel gave you a brief smile, “maybe one of these days you should wake me up when you slip away. I’ll come out here with you.”
You grinned, “Think you’d be able to keep up, old man?”
He scoffed, slinging an arm over your shoulder and leading you back to his horse. “Could you?”
You laughed, “With you? Probably not.” He was just about to join you up on Sunny when all three of you heard a strange noise coming up towards the lifts. You had cleared out the resort. So, what could it be?
You hopped off Sunny quickly, pulling out one of your guns and following Tommy and Joel as they went back through the clicker infested hellhole you’d just cleared. The noises got louder, it sounded a lot like feet pounding up the mountain.
You made it outside, near the resort's old supply sheds. You were checking out the area, double checking you didn’t miss any infected. You were about to turn back around when you heard a scream.
You ran towards the source of the noise, watching as a woman was crushed under a swarming body of infested. The only thing separating her from them was a flimsy metal gate. Tommy rushed forward before either you or Joel could stop him. Grabbing her and dragging her out from the bodies.
“Fuck!”
“Tommy!”
Both of you wanted to scream at him. That was such an unbelievably stupid thing to do. She’d had at least fifty infected on top of her, there’s no way she wasn’t bit. But beyond that she was a stranger, you had no idea if she was a piece of shit that would lead raiders right back to Jackson or not.
You didn’t have time to scold him, though, the swarm was screaming, racing towards you all. You ran back into the resort, heart racing as you slammed the doors to the lift closed behind you. “Tommy!” Joel called out, “Help me move this!”
They worked on wheeling a broke down lift towards an open window. You turned towards the hulking woman, “Got a gun?”
She nodded and you tossed her some ammo, “Good. Don’t fucking miss.” You raced throughout the station, trying to keep infected off Tommy and Joel while they moved the lift. But there was only so much you could do. Your rifle had jammed and you had used most of your supplies taking the clickers out earlier.
And these bastards were fast, they seemed faster than normal. Maybe the cold irritated them or something.
You screamed, taken off your feet as a runner threw itself at you. You rolled over, shoving your gun in its mouth and pulling the trigger. Brains splattered onto your face and before you could even roll it off of you there was another one leaping at you.
Before it could sink its teeth in your neck there was the warm feeling of blood trailing down your chest. Joel stood over you, machete buried in the infected’s back as he yanked you to your feet. He didn’t let you walk, grabbing you and practically sending you flying towards Tommy.
You scrambled up the lift and through the window, running towards the horses and mounting Sunny. You grabbed Tommy’s mare and rode the horses back to the open window. You watched the others spill out, keeping an eye out for any more infected and letting Joel hop up in front of you.
Tommy and the woman shared a horse as she screamed out instructions to head towards the old mansion at the top of the mountain. You were too busy keeping infected away from your group to fully realize where you were going until it was too late.
You were already through the gates of the mansion, infected being set on fire behind you when you grasped the situation at hand.
You’d just wandered into some stranger’s camp, nearly completely empty on ammo, battered and tired. You didn’t know who she was or who her people were. Joel and Tommy seemed to be realizing that too, each of them tensing up as they got off the horses.
“Thanks for the help back there. I’m Abby.”
Joel offered you a hand down, you hopped off Sunny and glanced around the garage. You were definitely fucking outnumbered and they had way more ammo than you.
You hid slightly behind Joel, taking in the amount of people and trying to gauge how many guns were in the garage. Your eye snagged on a lone shotgun on a workstation and the bullets surrounding it.
“I’m Tommy, this is my brother Joel…” Tommy’s voice trailed off before he could introduce you. Instantly everyone in the room had turned to stare at Joel, and every single one of them looked hostile. Like he’d punched each of them in the face at one point.
And honestly with the amount of people he’s screwed over you wouldn’t be surprised. Still, this was not promising.
Joel tensed up in front of you, nudging you slightly behind Sunny. You ducked behind her, hoping to go unnoticed by the rest of them and praying that Sunny didn’t buck out at you.
Abby sucked on her teeth. She stared at Joel for a long minute before nodding her head towards the door and heading up the stairs. “Joel,” you whispered.
He shook his head, subtly waving you back into place as he was forced to follow the others up the stairs. You watched them herd him and Tommy out, one of the men in the back checked his ammo was loaded and you felt your throat seize in panic.
Shit shitshitshitshitshit
Okay, this turned into a clusterfuck so insanely fast. You waited until every set of footsteps was a distant echo to move out from behind the horses. You were nearly out the door when you double backed for the shotgun.
You heard a shout from upstairs, your head whipping towards the open door. You raced up the stairs, “Tommy!” It was Joel shouting, panic lacing his voice.
You can never say what happened next exactly. You made it up the stairs, heard the sound of a shotgun being cocked and you’d never run that fast in your life.
The door to the room was open, all you could see was Abby with a gun in hand, pointing it towards Joel. Your finger was on the trigger before you could even aim properly. The shot missed, hitting the wall behind her, grazing her back slightly.
But it caused enough of a distraction, Joel wrenched the gun from her grasp, using the butt of it to knock her out. You shot at one of the men pinning Tommy down, it caught him in the side and he dropped to the ground. Crimson pooling out around him.
The room went quiet, each of them staring at their dead comrade. “You cunt,” the woman leapt at you, knife raised in the air. You didn’t notice her protruding stomach until you had pulled the trigger. Her legs flew out from under her, nearly completely blown off from the shotgun blast.
There was a primal sound of pain. One you’d heard many times in your life. It came from two directions, the pregnant woman bleeding out on the ground and the man who was now flying at you.
He knocked you to the ground. You wrestled for control of the shotgun, his hips pinning your pelvis painfully to the floor. You groaned out in pain and panic, shoving all your weight into the gun, bringing it up to catch him in the jaw. His head knocked to the side and you shoved him off of you.
Shots were firing all around you, different screams and insults flying past your head. You were tuning in and out, ears ringing as you wrapped your arms around the man’s neck. You pulled until it snapped. When you were done you swiped his pistol from his holster, stepping over the twitching woman below you.
There were only three people left when you walked back into the room, Tommy and Joel disposed of them quickly while you grabbed some rope and tied up Abby. She was still knocked out, a bad bruise forming on her head. You can imagine her day was going to get a lot worse when she woke up and saw the carnage around her.
It was a slaughter, each of her friend’s lay brutally destroyed at her feet.
But, it was their own damn fault. They shouldn’t have tried and fucked with you all.
“Are you okay?” It was your turn to fuss over Joel. He had clearly been their target. It had to have been someone you’d screwed over, Joel had screwed over. But the list was too long and you’d never seen this woman before.
Joel nodded, but there was blood soaking through his jacket. You ignored his protests, ripping the jacket off and inspecting the wound. It wasn’t anything too bad, a bullet must have just skimmed his bicep. You wrapped it up pretty quickly, then you let your head fall to his chest.
He chuckled slightly, his hand coming behind you to rest on your back. “You okay?”
“I was scared.”
Your voice was quiet, quiet enough that you almost hoped he had missed your small confession. “What?”
His hand had stilled before it moved up your back and lightly cupped your neck. He tilted your head back so you had to look at him, had to make eye contact. “I was scared.” You huffed out, nearly ashamed at presenting yourself like this to him.
You didn’t get scared, the entire time you’ve known him you’ve each been fighting for your lives. This wasn’t anything new. But something about this really got to you. It felt more final this time. “They were after you, Joel. Had a gun pointed to your head.”
“I always have a gun pointed at my head, darling. Comes with the territory.” You rolled your eyes and stepped away from him, ignoring the way his hand lingered on your cheek for a moment before it dropped to his side.
The door behind you all flew open and all three guns were pointed at the intruder. Ellie raised her hands and stumbled back in shock at the sight of the dead bodies around you all. “Holy shit. What the fuck happened?”
You sighed and lowered your gun, Tommy and Joel doing the same. “Ellie, head back to Dina,” you instructed. You were going to have to get some information from Abby, you were sure Joel didn’t want her to see the methods about to be used.
Ellie opened her mouth to argue but Joel cut her off. “Do as she says, Ellie. Head back to the others and say everything’s fine and that we’ll be back soon.”
She seemed like she wanted to stay, desperately. Instead she conceded and closed the door behind her as she left. You, Joel, and Tommy each shared a look before you got to work.
Abby was tied up in a chair, you’d wrapped her up more than you would have with anyone else, mainly because her biceps were the size of your head.
When she finally woke up, she immediately started screaming. You’d moved the bodies of her friends, propping them up in front of her so they were the first thing she saw when she woke up.
Tommy had left for Jackson, made sure no one would suspect why you and Joel were gone for so long. Now you were sitting on a table behind Abby while Joel started. “What are you doing here?”
“Fuck you,” she spat.
Joel sighed and tried again, “Does anyone else know you’re here?”
Same response. It happened a few more times, she was unphased by anything Joel did to her. Just telling him to fuck off more times than you could count. You got sick of it after a while.
You hadn’t had to torture anyone in a couple years, you were hoping to just get this over with as quickly as possible. You stood up and Joel let go of Abby’s chair, backing away from her.
“My partner,” you started, “prefers brute force to get the answers he wants. Me,” you stood in front of Abby and pulled out your hunting knife. “I’m a little more creative.”
You dug the knife into her skin, peeling back a layer or two of epidermis and ignoring the way she screamed. Twenty years ago, you might have felt guilty for this. Now, she’d tried to hurt Joel, she’d brought this on herself.
Five pulled nails and a lot of skin later she finally squealed. No one knew they were out here. They were stationed in Seattle and wouldn’t come looking. Joel had killed her father, the doctor from the hospital, and she wanted revenge.
You rolled your eyes, pointing out the hypocrisy of her actions. How many fathers had she killed on her way here to get to Joel. How many lives had she taken to protect someone she loved. When she tried to argue you slit her throat and dragged the bodies to be put in the pile of burned infested.
“Damn.” You sat behind Joel on Sunny, watching the bodies go up in flames. He turned her around, heading back towards Jackson. “What a way to start the day.”
The bed was empty when Joel woke up. He felt surprised, usually you gave him a few days before you left again. But before he could linger on the thought for too long the door to the bedroom was opening and you were walking in. Your back was to him, you were carrying something in your hands.
When you turned around you frowned when you saw him already waiting for you. “It was supposed to be a surprise.”
“What are you doing?”
You swatted him away when he stood and tried to help you carry the tray in the room. You put it on the nightstand and shoved him back in bed. He could have resisted, pushed against you, but he let himself fall as he chuckled at the determined look on your face.
You hummed and shrugged your shoulders, placing the tray in his lap. “Thought I’d bring you breakfast.” He glanced down, a plate with a stack of pancakes, bacon, and eggs. Most importantly; coffee.
“Where the hell’d you get all this?” You didn’t answer, just had a mischievous little smirk on your face while you tidied up the room. Joel caught your wrist as you passed him, he tugged you into bed next to him, careful not to spill the tray. “Come on, help me out with all this. Can’t eat it all on my own.”
He could, and would do so eagerly. But it had been a while since he’d eaten breakfast without you rushing out the door. And for once, he was feeling domestic without the crushing weight of guilt turning the taste of your pancakes bitter in his mouth. He wanted to enjoy this, however long it lasted.
You didn’t bother arguing, picking off some of his food while you both sat in contented silence. Eventually you broke it, sitting at the end of the bed so you could face him while he sipped on his coffee.
Lord, he had missed the taste of caffeine.
“Where are you working today?”
“Promised Bob I’d help him out with shoeing the horses today. You?”
“Helping Maria with fixing up that new classroom in school.”
“You're not leaving? You've been hangin’ around here a lot.”
He knew instantly he shouldn’t have opened his mouth.
What once had been easy silence instantly turned tense. The warm sun that had filtered through the blinds was right in his eyes and causing a headache. The sheets were scratchy and that blank look on your face was oppressive.
Your easygoing smile, one he hadn’t seen in a long time, dropped from your face and you shifted uncomfortably on top of the comforter. “Yeah, guess you're right.”
“Didn’t mean it like-”
You stood up, patting his leg with an awkward stiltedness and moved to the closet. “I should head out, promised Maria we’d get it done by end of day.”
He knew what he said had been wrong, but he wasn’t completely sure what about it was so wrong. He watched you leave without another word and sighed to himself, getting out of bed and forcing himself from the comfort of the house.
He’d only had a moment, one singular moment, where he’d finally been able to relax for once. And he didn’t feel restless, or anxious, or guilty about it. He’d felt at ease, a feeling so foreign it was halfway through the day before he’d finally been able to identify it.
He was in the middle of cleaning Sunny’s hoof and he’d nearly gotten kicked in the face with his distraction.
But he didn’t have any sort of epiphany over what could have possibly upset you so much.
A normal person, not you apparently, would be completely unbothered by Joel’s question. Because that’s all it was. A question, a simple, understandable, inquiry about why someone as flighty as you had been in one place for so long.
Still it stung. He’d said with a tone like ‘Why the hell are you still in my house?’ And in a crazy, uber-paranoid-lady way, it was confirmation of what you were to him. You were a daily task, necessity, and required comfort, but you were not something permanent. And you’d deluded yourself into believing you were something more. Your own fault, not something to place on Joel’s shoulders.
Still, the bitter taste of rejection was a hard one to get off the tongue.
“God, I’m insane.”
“What was that?”
You glanced up at Maria, momentarily having forgotten you weren’t alone. “Um, nothing, sorry.” You let yourself get lost in the repetitive motion of painting the walls of the classroom. Using old stencils they’d found or created to do a row of ABC’s and numbers along the perimeter of the wall.
How is this what you turned into?
You’d gone from a deadbeat smuggler who’d kill without a second thought to someone painting an elementary classroom worrying about boys.
Well, men, you supposed. Seemed unfair to put Joel in the same category as someone like Jesse.
Even though you were sure that Jesse would never make you feel like a chore instead of a person.
Annnnnd… new low reached, considering Jesse as a viable option for dating. Damn, you needed a hobby or something.
Around noon Tommy stopped by, he had sandwiches from Seth and you didn’t want to think about the lengths he’d gone through to get them from the cantankerous old asshole.
“So,” there was a certain tone of voice Tommy would get when he was about to meddle in someone’s business. You stopped midchew to stare at him in suspicion while he smirked. Maria eyed her husband and simply sighed, resigned to let him interrogate you. “You and Joel.”
You huffed, swallowing the rest of your food and throwing the sandwich down on the plate next to you. “This was a bribe wasn’t it?”
He laughed, “Yep.”
It was interesting to you how different Joel and Tommy were. Joel’s accent was gruff, commanding, most times hard to understand. Especially when he was pissed off. Tommy had a lightness to him the both of you lacked. You assumed it came from Jackson, he’d been here a lot longer than either of you. And he’d also found Maria.
He also didn’t know how to butt out. A skill Joel, thankfully, understood. “Just curious about you two. You know, Joel’s seemed a lot happier in Jackson now that you’ve been around longer than a week.”
“Well, I think he’s getting a little sick of me.”
Tommy frowned, “Why’s that?”
You shrugged, taking another bite before answering. “I don’t know, just something he said this morning.”
“What’d he say?”
“Damn, Tommy, I can’t remember. It was how he said it, I guess.” You huffed and glared at him, “Look we’re not your new version of the bachelor, alright. Butt out.”
Maria opened her mouth, probably to scold you for being a bitch. Tommy held up a hand and shook his head. “Alright, you’re right. I’m sorry.”
“That’s it?” You asked, watching as he finished his sandwich and wiped his hands on his jeans.
“Yep,” he leaned over to kiss Maria on the cheek and gave you a strong pat on the back. “That’s it. Message received, I’ll just butt out now.”
Both you and Maria watched him go, a suspicious look on both of your faces as he went. Tommy never gave up that easy, ever. “You know he’s up to something, right?”
You glanced over at Maria, sighing as you picked up your paintbrush again. “I know.”
The answer to what exactly he’d been planning came three days later.
Despite yourself and your feelings of rejection, you’d stayed in Jackson. You’d been paranoid since the run in with Abby and her people. It was dangerous for Joel to stay in one place, word would spread and old enemies would know where to find him.
That thought plagued you every time you glanced at the door out of Jackson. If something happened while you were gone and pouting over something petty, you’d never forgive yourself.
But you did put some distance between you and Joel. Staying in the guest room instead of his, not bringing him breakfast like some wife from the fifties. You’d put up boundaries where there weren’t any before, determined not to be used as some sort of daily comfort.
And if Joel had anything against these new unsaid rules, he didn’t react. Which kind of pissed you off more. Trust, if there was a therapist you would see one. You’re aware your train of thinking isn’t what most would consider healthy.
But there isn’t, so you just force yourself to push it down everyday and keep going. Like you always have. It wasn’t until you got here that rejections or emotions meant anything to you. This place was making you too damn soft.
Tommy dropped by one night and invited both you and Joel over to his for dinner and Joel had accepted before you could say no.
There wasn’t much you could bring over, you couldn’t cook and didn’t feel like burning down the kitchen trying. So you stole some flowers from the garden of the mean old lady that lived next to you while Joel kept watch.
Maria and Tommy’s house wasn’t too far from you and Joel, but god, walking next to him you’d think they lived a mile away.
“You know, foods gonna be gone by the time we get there.”
Joel huffed out a short laugh. “We got time. Feel like you’re always tryna rush off lately.” You didn’t have an answer for him, not one that wouldn’t reveal why you didn’t want to be alone with him. So you just shrugged.
You could feel him staring at you, eyes drilling holes in the back of your head, but you refused to say anything. “How’s the guest room?”
The question caught you off guard, you stumbled over your own feet for a second before turning around to face him. “Uh, fine. Bed’s smaller, I guess. But I don’t have a giant hogging the sheets,” you attempted to smile at him. But he didn’t seem to find anything funny about your response.
His brows were furrowed, lips set in a pissy sort of line. You finally caught on to the undertones of anger in his voice. The special sort of gruffness that only comes out when he’s pissed off.
“Why?”
He shrugged, “Just wondering.” And that was it. He brushed past where you’d stopped walking to face him. His shoulder clipping you as he did and was walking off to Tommy’s, leaving you behind.
You scoffed at the attitude. Not entirely sure what you’d done to deserve it and followed after him. The both of you finished the walk in angered silence, neither one of you aware why the other was so angry. You just were.
When Tommy opened the door the smile on his face quickly turned into a smirk. “There you two are. Trouble in paradise?”
You shoved the flowers into his chest and stormed past him. “For Maria.”
You heard Joel mutter the same thing you’d told Tommy a few days ago. “Butt out.”
Maria was in the kitchen, finishing off whatever meat she’d decided to cook for you all tonight. You’d gotten so used to the QZ’s strange square ration bars, sometimes you struggled actually identifying real food.
You helped her set the table, ignoring the stares of both men on your back and were about to sit down… When Tommy literally dove under you to force you to sit next to Joel.
You glared at him while you circled the table, throwing yourself down into the chair and sighing at the self-satisfied look on his face. “Your brother’s insufferable.”
Joel grumbled but didn’t say anything. So you were getting the silent treatment now. Really?
Fucking child.
“Alright, dinner is served.” Maria placed the roast on the table and took a seat beside Tommy, smiling at you all. She either didn’t notice or didn’t care how tense it was on your and Joel’s side.
“Thank you, Maria.”
You forced a smile, not one to let Joel be the only one with manners. “Yes, thank you, Maria.” She hummed, carving into the roast and taking a slice for herself and Tommy. You reached for the knife and fork but Joel beat you to it.
He cut off a portion and dropped it down on your plate, the mash potatoes spreading slightly at the impact. You sighed, muttering a belligerent thank you and took a bite.
Couldn’t help himself could he? Always the Texan gentleman.
It was infuriating.
For a few minutes there was only the sound of metal scraping porcelain. And you felt bad, honestly, Maria and Tommy invited you both over for a nice dinner and you were pouting like toddlers.
You weren’t even sure why you were upset with each other!
Obviously, you were still stinging from Joel’s use of your “relationship.” But you had no clue what had crawled up his ass and died. “Can you pass the bread?”
You looked up from your plate, staring at the side of Joel’s head. He continued to shovel food in his face. “Joel?” Nothing, not even a twitch.
You reached across from him, purposefully shoving your arm in front of him so he couldn’t eat the bite on his fork and grabbed the bread basket. “Ain’t got manners, now?” He growled at you, his voice barely above a whisper.
“Says you,” you hissed back. This was devolving into childish anger so quickly. And you didn’t know why!
God, what was his problem?
“So,” Tommy started and you were startled out of your glaring match with Joel. “Y/N, you know Bob?”
You slowly turned away from Joel and nodded. “Yeah, the horse guy.”
“Yeah, he’s been asking about you.” Tommy took another bite of food and shrugged, “Told him you were free this Saturday.”
You ignored Joel’s fork clanking loudly against his plate and shook your head. “No I’m not. I’m patrolling with Joel.”
Tommy waved you off, “Nah, don’t worry about it. You need to get out more anyway. Socialize some.”
“Tommy,” Joel started. His voice was low, an unspoken warning lacing it. “You need to stop meddling.”
“What? You’ve got a problem with a little date, Joel?”
You glanced between the two, hidden in their stares was a secret language only the brothers were privy to. There was a tense silence before Joel was picking his fork back up and eating, refusing to make eye contact with anyone at the table.
“Not interested, Tommy. Thanks though.” It would feel wrong going on some blind date like you weren’t currently pining over the man you lived with. Besides, you were past the period of life where you wanted to ‘date.’ About one apocalypse past it.
“Too bad, you’re going.” You opened your mouth to argue but both Tommy and Maria were leveling you with glares that allowed no room for negotiation. Since when did Maria join him in these ridiculous schemes?
“We’re having our harvest festival this weekend,” Maria stated. “Bob will accompany you.”
The rest of dinner was spent with Tommy and Maria blabbering away while you and Joel fumed in your seats. You didn’t know his reason but you were pretty pissed off you were being forced into a date.
One, you were planning on skipping the stupid fucking harvest thing. It was a waste of resources and you didn’t understand why they clung to old traditions so desperately.
Two, you didn’t want to go on a date. The only man you wanted to be with was sitting next to you and currently taking his anger out on a piece of bread.
You let your mind fade into the background. Your eyes tracked the movements of Joel’s hands while he ate, no longer hearing Tommy and Maria. Until you blinked and dinner was over and Joel was waiting for you by the door.
You nearly jumped at how loudly Joel slammed the door closed. You toed your boots off, watching him throw his jacket on the kitchen chair and reach for the bottle of whiskey on the counter. He ignored you, heading up the stairs and into his office.
You took in a deep breath, trying to shake off the funk from the last couple of days. Slowly you made your way up the stairs, knocking on the doorframe to his office.
He was just sitting in his chair, staring at the guitar on his desk. There was a glass of amber liquor in his hand, but he wasn’t making any moves to drink more. “Wanna talk?”
“‘Bout what?” He placed the glass on the table and picked up the new strings for his guitar.
“I don’t know,” you walked in and sat down on the stool next to him. “You’ve seemed off since we left for Tommy’s.”
His finger drummed across the denim of his jeans. He stared through the window, the lights of Jackson casting a warm glow over his face.
If you tilted your head just right it softened him. The scars faded, the only wrinkles you could see were smile lines and you could see a shadow of the man he once was. The father, brother, contractor, someone long lost to the cruelties of time and the world outside these walls.
“A date,” he scoffed. “My brother never knows when to stop, does he?” You didn’t bother answering. You know he wasn’t talking to you, just thinking out loud.
You propped your elbow on his desk, resting your head while you waited for him to collect his thoughts. He let out a long sigh, his eyes on the guitar while he addressed you.
“You drive me insane, you know that?”
“I’m aware.”
He cracked, his lips lifting slightly at the corners. Barely a smile, but it was better than nothing. “I think I’ve got you figured out. Think I finally understand how this,” he gestures between the two of you, “works. Then you disappear, or bring me breakfast, or you suddenly leave and start sleeping in another bed and I’m lost all over again.”
You shifted in your seat, fiddling with your nails, trying to figure out what he meant. If either of you were confused, it was you. “What’re you talking ‘bout, Joel?”
He sighed and finally looked at you, “Talkin’ about us. I’m talking about how infuriating you are.”
Your brows furrowed, scoffing slightly at the tone of his voice. He was still angry, for no damn reason. You stood up, ready to leave, when his hand wrapped around your wrist. “Didn’t say I was done, sweetheart.”
You gasped when he tugged you down. You landed in his lap, his legs spreading to accommodate you. “Joel what’re you doing?”
“Something I’ve been putting off for too damn long.”
Fireworks don’t go off somewhere in the distance and the world doesn’t stop. But your heart races and your body tingles when you taste the whiskey on his lips. You become hyper aware of each individual strand when his hand comes up to bury itself in your hair.
And when your lips part to let him in you swear you’ve never felt like this before. Your body is working like you’re running from something, getting ready to fight something off, but it’s the first time in a while your mind is completely calm.
You shift, your legs wrapping around his waist as a blanket of calm drapes itself over you. It rushes through you like a raging river, shutting everything unnecessary down.
You don’t worry if you’re too out of practice, not having kissed anyone in a long while. You don’t think about if you're too stiff on his lap. You run your hands over his chest, squeezing the muscles of his arms and then letting them delve into his hair.
At a certain point, you’ll have to breathe. You’ll have to talk about what this means for the two of you. But for right now you’re content, at ease, happy to just live the rest of your days in this moment.
Kissing Joel Miller like there’s nothing outside these walls, no other purpose but to be with him.
part two
end. — I do not own the characters or the game The Last Of Us, but this writing is my own all rights reserved © not-neverland06 2024. do not copy, repost, translate & recommend elsewhere.
TAGLIST: @chrysanthemum-00 @marimarvelfan
#joel miller x reader#tlou x reader#Game!joel x reader#Joel miller#tlou#the last of us x reader#The last of us
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Love to Hate (Ch. 12)
Author: kpopfanfictrash
Genre: Fuck Buddies / Enemies to Lovers
Pairing: Jungkook / Reader
Synopsis: Born with a silver spoon in your mouth, you've done your best to rid yourself of the taste since you were old enough to walk. Occasionally though, your mother manages to rope you into an obligatory function – or a blind date with playboy billionaire, Jeon Jungkook. Jungkook stands for everything you loathe about the world you left behind, but you can’t deny the spark of attraction between you. Intrigued by the promise of mutual satisfaction, you agree to one night in bed… and quickly realize you’re in far, far deeper than you ever intended.
Rating: 18+
Warnings: multiple orgasms (male + female), fingering, breast play, dirty talk, somewhat rough sex, oversensitivity, oral (female), cum play, sex without a condom (with other forms of birth control), spanking
Word Count: 20,122
Seven hours. Seven hours, or four hundred and twenty minutes until you can breathe freely.
Lips pursed, you survey yourself in the warped bathroom mirror. Tonight’s launch party will last several hours, ending whenever Seokjin rounds up the final group for karaoke. You have the aquarium booked until dawn, just in case.
Twisting around, you examine yourself from behind. Although its neckline is high, the dress exposes your back, its fabric dipping low to end just above your ass. Already, you worry it’ll be too much but before you can talk yourself out of it, your phone buzzes on the counter.
Whipping around, you’re disappointed to find it’s only an email. Exhaling, you drop your phone to your clutch and exit the bathroom – only to immediately trip over Dante, splayed out on the ground. He’s utterly exhausted after your walk, which is a good thing. Hopefully, he’ll wreak less chaos at Jimin’s.
Gathering Dante’s things, you pull his leash from its hook. Olya and Hoseok arrived over an hour ago and have been playing video games at Jimin’s while you got ready. Although you’re the last one again, this time isn’t your fault. Things kept going wrong at the venue, resulting in you being the last one to leave. This cut your hair and make-up time nearly in half.
“Here we go, Dante,” you sing-song, grabbing his collar to clip. “Let’s visit Jimin! Isn’t that exciting? You like Jimin.”
Dante gives you some side-eye which says that yes, he likes Jimin, but he also sees right through you. Clipping on his leash, you stand and tug Dante towards the door.
The moment you enter the hall, you hear your friends shouting. Not in an angry way, but in the way which ensues whenever they game together. (“I said, LEFT, Jimin! As in – not right!” “The only thing not right is your memory, Hoseok, since you definitely said go right!”)
No one answers your first knock, so you try again – louder. Olya yells something at the game and you snort, since her threats are more vicious than either of the men.
Finally, on the third knock, someone hears.
“COMING,” Hoseok calls, followed by the loud thunk of his controller hitting the table. “I hope that’s you, Y/N, since we’re leaving whether you’re dressed or – ah,” he says, pulling open the door. “Good. It is you.”
Dante bolts forward the second he fits through the door, bounding across the room towards the sleeping Peaches. When she doesn’t wake, Dante takes this in stride and flops down beside her.
“What if it hadn’t been me?” you ask Hoseok, brushing past. “Your threat would’ve been wasted.”
“Never wasted,” he says. “Merely misplaced.”
Glancing upward, Olya’s eyes widen when she sees your outfit. “Damn, Y/N!” she gasps. “That dress is amazing! You look perfect and – shit, you’re ready. Okay,” she says, jumping up from the couch. “Where’s your bathroom, Jimin? I need to go before we leave.”
“First door on the left,” he says without looking up.
Olya disappears down the hall, leaving you with the rest. Not returning to the game, Hoseok stoops by the couch to gather Olya’s things. Watching him do this, you smile. It’s nice for Hoseok to be with someone – he’s usually so focused on work, he barely thinks about himself. Like calls to like, you suppose.
Turning around, Hoseok sees you watching and pauses. “What?” he asks.
“Nothing,” you sigh. “It’s just nice seeing you like this.”
“Like what?”
“Like if Olya jumped off a bridge, you’d be right behind her,” Jimin says, pressing pause on his game. Glancing upward, he blinks. “Whoa, Y/N.”
“I know!” Olya squeals, exiting the bathroom. “That’s what I’m saying! Y/N is ready to break hearts tonight.”
“No – No!” Alarmed, you shoot Hoseok a look. “That’s not the vibe I’m giving off, is it?”
Hoseok shrugs, not seeming to care either way. Offering Olya an arm, he helps her put on her shoes. “I don’t know. You look nice, Y/N.”
“Nice.” Olya wobbles. “You look more than nice, Y/N, you look hot.”
Feeling your face start to burn, you turn around. “Okay, enough,” you groan. “Let’s head out. Jimin – are you good with Dante?”
Dante, who is currently snoozing beside Peaches, doesn’t stir at his name. Jimin looks down, and then nods. “I think we’re fine,” he says. “Have fun! See you all tomorrow?”
Hoseok and Olya nod, and you give a noncommittal shrug. You still haven’t decided if you’ll want social interaction after tonight – especially not in the form of two happy couples. Jimin seems to understand, and on your way out the door, you give Dante a wave. He completely ignores this, too busy pretending to sleep beside his (one-sided) best friend.
Your descent to the lobby is treacherous, made even worse by your high heels and dress. The shoes are fine on flat surfaces, but your building’s staircase is exactly the opposite. At least these are the only stairs to climb tonight.
When you reach the front doors, you sigh in relief. Seokjin is already waiting, idling at the curb in a different car than last time. The night at Yoongi's restaurant seems ages ago, even though it was less than two weeks.
A knot in your stomach tightens. You haven’t seen Jungkook since he came to Clean Ocean and asked to become a donor. He’s attending the launch party, though – both he and Namjoon confirmed this via email. The contract between you has also been signed, neatly expedited with no objections from legal.
Except – that first part isn’t quite true.
Although you haven’t seen Jungkook since Wednesday, you’ve talked to him. At first, it was just a question he texted, clarifying a point in the contract. Then Jungkook asked if you needed help with the launch party, to which your answer was a resounding no but then he mentioned a contractor and now – absently, you scroll through your texts.
Most are professional but every now and then, something slips past which makes you wonder.
“Y/N!” Seokjin rolls down the window. “What are you doing? Get in here before you’re late to your own party.”
Returning your phone to your clutch, you hurry in. Clambering after Hoseok, you buckle your seatbelt and smooth out your dress. Olya claims the passenger seat, being prone to motion sickness. Seokjin is in the driver’s seat, his moon roof open to let in the breeze.
As he pulls from the curb, Seokjin glances in the mirror. “Damn, Y/N.” He whistles. “Is that dress work appropriate?”
Worried, you glance down. “I don’t know – is it?”
“Ignore him, Y/N.” Yanking down the mirror, Olya starts to re-apply lipstick. “The amount of leg I’m showing is way worse than your back. Don’t let them bully you.”
“Yeah,” you say, lifting your chin. “Don’t bully me, Seokjin.”
Seokjin bats his eyelashes. “Who, me?” Before you can respond, his gaze moves to Hoseok. “Olya has a point, though. Hoseok – why aren’t you showing as much leg as your girlfriend?”
“Hers are far superior to mine.”
Still touching up her makeup, Olya reaches over the console and squeezes Hoseok’s thigh. Hiding a grin, you lean back in your seat as Seokjin turns up his music. A Top 40 pop song blares but after a while, you somehow find your phone returned to your lap.
Open to your texts.
Your finger hovering above a certain thread.
You know Jungkook hasn’t texted. You know this and yet, a tiny voice in your mind wonders what-if. What-if Jungkook has decided not to come, what if he reneges his RSVP, what-if –
You press on the thread.
Stomach dropping, you see you were right – Jungkook hasn’t texted. His last messages are displayed onscreen and, absent-minded, you scroll.
Jungkook: you know what concept has always eluded me? [Friday, 1:07 AM]
Y/N: sleep? [Friday, 7:02 AM]
Jungkook: always. But no – I was referring to the dress code. What, exactly, does ‘dressy casual’ mean? Isn’t that an oxymoron? [Friday, 7:31 AM]
Y/N: Google is free, Jeon [Friday, 8:10 AM]
Y/N: okay, so Olya says ‘dressy casual’ means a combination of relaxed and formal. Basically, no jeans but you can be more casual than black tie [Friday, 8:14 AM]
Jungkook: got it [Friday, 8:20 AM]
Jungkook: I lied. That doesn’t help at all [Friday, 9:05 AM]
Y/N: lol what do you mean? What are you stuck on? [Friday, 9:42 AM]
Jungkook: Is a suit too dressy? [Friday, 9:50 AM]
Y/N: depends on the suit. Send me a pic [Friday, 9:53 AM]
Jungkook: *jpeg* [Friday, 9:55 AM]
Paused on the photo, your breath catches again. Looking at it now is as devastating as the first time. Jungkook must have worked from home on Friday since you recognize the tile of his bathroom behind him.
The photo is only from the neck down, but the way Jungkook fills out his suit is exquisite. The color is black, but lace panels dress up the white shirt beneath it, and several buttons are undone. The overall effect is devastating.
In your ear, Hoseok whistles. “Who’s sending you pics, Y/N?”
Startled, you fumble and nearly drop your phone.
“No one,” you blurt, your face burning.
Seokjin’s ears perk up in the front. “Y/N is looking at nudes in a car full of people?” He sounds overly gleeful about the possibility. “I guess that’s one way to relax.”
“I’m not looking at nudes. Jungkook asked for my thoughts on his suit – that’s all.”
“Jungkook?” Olya turns, surprised. “Are you talking about our new donor, Jungkook?”
Frozen in the backseat, you realize your mistake. Although you’re friends with Olya, you were trying your best to keep the Jungkook mess separate from work. It’s bad enough you have to work with him going forward without all of your employees knowing you messed up.
“I – we, uh, know each other,” you say.
“Ah.” Olya adopts a sly grin. “Nice. He’s hot.”
Hoseok’s smile abruptly disappears. “Why don’t we change the topic? Y/N has enough to worry about without thinking of Jungkook.”
Thankful, you nod and Olya leans over the console to pat Hoseok’s knee.
“It’s cute when you’re jealous,” she says before she pulls back.
Hoseok stares, and then sputters, “I’m not… jealous! Objectively, Jungkook is hot.”
“Can we please stop talking about him?” you beg, a bit pained.
Olya winces, mouthing sorry before facing forward. Returning your phone to your clutch, you stare out the window as Seokjin turns up the volume. His playlist has lapsed into what sounds like pop-ified sea shanties, something you deem oddly fitting with the night ahead. You’ve nearly pushed the topic of Jungkook from mind when –
“So.” Seokjin sounds like he’s holding back laughter. “Jungkook sent you a suit pic?”
You slump low in your seat. “It’s nothing.”
“It’s something,” Hoseok says. “I saw a bunch of your texts while you scrolled. You were talking all day to him on Friday.”
“Hey!” you huff. “Privacy, Hobi.”
“The man asked you what he should wear, though,” Seokjin says.
“And? He didn’t understand the dress code.”
“Didn’t understand the – okay.” Seokjin snorts. “Y/N, that man has been attending formal gatherings since he was old enough to sit up. Jungkook knows what to wear when the invite says dressy casual.”
These words give you pause, since Seokjin is right. You aren’t sure why you didn’t think of this before. Maybe part of you felt it was simply more believable than thinking Jungkook texted you to talk.
“Maybe it’s been a while,” Olya says, defending you. “I’m sure whatever Y/N thinks is correct. She knows him best, after all.”
You smile at Olya, grateful for the interjection. Mercifully, Seokjin allows the matter to drop, turning his head to stare at the road. You, on the other hand, turn the matter over in your mind. No matter what people do, you always tend to assume the worst.
It’s far easier to assume this and be surprised than assume something positive and be let down. Objectively, the fact that Jungkook texted you is a good sign. Much easier to believe it’s coincidental than he actually likes you.
Even if he does though, you can’t allow yourself to be drawn in. Not when so much is riding on tonight’s party. You need to be one hundred percent focused, and Jungkook is nothing but a distraction.
A ridiculously gorgeous distraction who might return your feelings.
Pushing this hopelessly from mind, the rest of the ride passes and soon enough, you pass beneath the aquarium’s arch. Seokjin drops you off at the front since no one is wearing the right shoes for cobblestones. Already, you run through an endless to-do list in your mind – but the moment you enter, all of it fades.
When you left earlier, the venue was a work in progress. The hanging trellis was only half-lifted, none of the lights were lit and packaging material cluttered the floor. Now, you step into paradise.
The tanks on the walls cast blueish green light, its effect softened by golden orbs hanging from the ceiling. Between the lights, greenery drapes to give the impression of algae, as though the dance floor itself has sunk underwater. To your right, double doors lead to a patio with a view of the ocean.
Staring in awe, you turn in a full circle.
Hoseok comes to a stop. “Whoa,” he breathes. “You really outdid yourself tonight, Olya.”
Beaming, she waves. “It was nothing.”
“It was something,” you argue. “This place is absolutely gorgeous, Olya. Our donors will love it.”
“Hopefully, they love it so much they cough up more money.” She laughs. “Okay, enough with the compliments. I need to check about a thousand things before guests start arriving – Hoseok, are you coming with?”
He nods and follows suit, glancing at you to ensure you’re alright. You wave him off with a nod, returning to your mental task list. Guests will start arriving in an hour, which is no time at all.
After speaking to catering – not Min Yoongi, unfortunately – checking the sound system, and running through a list of approved songs with the DJ, you stop by the bar to catch your breath. Pulling your phone from your clutch, you’re about to check texts when someone calls your name.
Glancing upward, you spot Olya rushing across the floor. She moves like a woman on a mission and slowly, you return your phone without looking.
“Y/N,” Olya says, skidding to a stop. “Thank god I caught you.”
You stare at her, bewildered. “I’m here all night, Olya – is something wrong?”
“I -well.” She straightens. “Nothing is wrong, exactly. It’s just I was checking the guest list – searching for last-minute cancellations, that sort of thing.”
“Okay…”
Her lips tighten. “I wasn’t thinking earlier. I was so caught up in arriving, I didn’t think but now, when I saw the list again, it hit me.”
“What hit you?” you ask, dread unspooling like thread in your stomach.
“I gave Jungkook a plus one.”
“And?”
“And.” Olya sighs. “Jungkook said yes. He said yes for him plus a date. Which means he’s planning to bring someone this evening.”
Staring at Olya, every sound seems to fade. Reality steps forward to burst your bubble. Jungkook is bringing someone. Jungkook is bringing a date. After donating to Clean Ocean like a goddamn knight in shining armor, he’s decided to bring someone to the fundraiser he saved.
Self-blame instantly kicks into high gear. If you’d only been honest with him earlier, responded in a more expressive tone, maybe he would have – but no. Taking a deep breath, you force yourself to calm.
The two of you go around and around, and no one ever wins. You didn’t tell Jungkook how you felt, he didn’t ask, and you both end up hurting each other. If Jungkook is here with a date, you’ll deal with it, just like you have with everything else. He’s not the most important part of tonight.
Either way, you need to make it through the party in one piece. You can figure out what to do about Jungkook tomorrow.
“I’m so sorry,” Olya says, wringing her hands. “I debated whether or not to tell you, but figured you finding out now was better than Jungkook showing up and –”
“No – no,” you interrupt. “You’re right. It’s better I know now. We gave him a plus one, right?” you add, injecting your words with false cheeriness. “He’s fully entitled to use it.”
Olya hesitates. “I mean, debatable. He didn’t have to bring someone. Whether you’re together or not, he’s been texting you all week. It’s rude to bring someone else!”
“Maybe,” you sigh. Your next words are more difficult. “But despite how I feel about him, we’re not dating. We haven’t been… anything for a long time. It was nice of Jungkook to donate, but it wasn’t romantic. I – I actually need to go check something,” you say, choking a little.
With a sympathetic glance, Olya nods and steps aside. Clearly, she understands your retreat for what it is – a hasty excuse for running away.
Entering the nearest bathroom, you pause at the mirror as you’re struck by an immediate sense of déjà vu. The last time this happened was at your parents’ party. That night, you vowed to forget about Jungkook and now, here you are. Stuck in the same situation.
Stiffening, you meet your own gaze. No – that’s not true. Back then, you were crushed by a situation of your own making. Tonight, you have the chance to make things right. Strengthened by the thought, you stay long enough to gather yourself and then leave – only to walk straight into Seokjin.
He seems to have come straight from Olya, and it takes nearly ten minutes to convince Seokjin you’re fine. (“You can kill him after the party, Seokjin, I swear.” “Why not now?” “Death will be equally satisfying at a location where I have plausible deniability.” “Don’t care.” “Think about Yoongi! Would he really go out with the guy suspected of murdering his best friend?”)
“First of all,” Seokjin declares. “I’m too good to be suspected of anything. But fine! If you really want, I’ll pull back. Just say the word, though.”
“I appreciate that, Seokjin,” you say. “But right now, I have to go host this event.”
“Ah – right.” He nods, slightly chastised. “Fair enough.”
Stepping aside, Seokjin sheepishly allows you to return to the list. Your remaining minutes are spent triple-checking the guests, stopping again to chat with security and adjusting the timing of the hors d’oeuvres. By the time you find Olya, your first guest is arriving, and you’ve barely had time to think about Jungkook.
Or – this is so until you’re confronted by a black, shiny town car pulling to the curb. Stomach sinking, you prepare for his appearance, only for Javier and his husband to step from the car.
Breaking into a smile, you wave, and they walk towards you.
“Well, I never.” Javier smiles, taking hold of your hand. “This place looks stunning, Y/N.”
Glancing around, you can’t help but agree. “Thank you,” you say, ushering them in. “And hello to you, too, Alex. I’m afraid I can’t take any credit for tonight, though,” you add as you enter the main room. “The theme is all Olya.”
“When I see her, I’ll sing her praises,” laughs Javier. “But don’t forget tonight is an accomplishment for you, too! Do you remember our first fundraiser?” he adds, turning to Alex.
Alex nods. “That little bar off the highway. How could I forget?”
Both laugh in remembrance.
“In the back of that gas station!” Javier tsks. “Shut down, I hear. But look at you now! Renting an entire aquarium – Clean Ocean has certainly come a long way.”
“It’s a shock to me, too,” you say, turning to face them.
Wryly, Javier shakes his head. “Your success will never surprise me, Y/N. If anyone has the ability to change the world, it would be you.”
Face heating, you find yourself unable to think of a response. One isn’t necessary though as, realizing other guests have arrived, Alex and Javier say goodbye and head for the bar. Nerves flood your stomach, anticipating Jungkook again but instead, Indra Gupta and his wife appear through the door.
“Y/N!” he calls, heading for you. “What a splendid night! Jaya and I are thrilled to be here – we can’t thank you enough for inviting us.”
“Of course,” you say, shaking their hands. “Thank you both for coming.”
When they pull back, there’s a pause until Jaya coughs. Hastily, Indra reaches inside his coat pocket to withdraw an envelope.
“I almost forgot,” he says, handing this over. “I felt bad attending a second Clean Ocean event without any sort of donation, so please find enclosed our contract. My office will contact you Monday to arrange the details – for next year,” he adds, noticing your expression. “I know you needed funds now, but we’re unfortunately all fiscally tied up.”
“No – no, that’s fine,” you say, taking the envelope. “I’m excited to have you as a future donor. And please, don’t worry about the funding right now – we found the money.”
“Oh, how wonderful,” Jaya exclaims.
Indra perks up. “Anyone I know?”
“Indra,” she laughs, swatting his arm. “We’re monopolizing the poor woman. Thank you again for inviting us,” she adds. “Now, let’s get you a drink. Lovely to see you again, Y/N!”
“Thank you,” you call as they leave. “Truly.”
They also disappear towards the bar, leaving you somewhat dazed. Eventually, you come to and stride across the floor in search of Olya. Guests are still arriving, and it wouldn’t do to lose Indra’s proposal before you can sign.
Finding her by the kitchen, you hand Olya the contract, and she promises to take good care of it. By the time you return, enough people have arrived to form a line at the bar. Setting to work, you put on your best host smile to greet your guests.
Nearly an hour passes before you have time for a break. Sagging against the nearest bar, you pull out your phone to double-check the guest list. Based on your internal count, nearly everyone has arrived.
Everyone – but one.
Pushing thoughts of Jungkook away, you accept the glass of champagne handed to you by the bartender. Taking a slow sip, you turn around to scan the party.
Most of your attendees have escaped to the patio, making this your next stop. Heading in this direction, you pause beneath the arch to take in the view. Far below you, waves crash against the sand in a muffled roar. Ahead of you, moonlight cuts through glittering ocean waves.
You aren’t the only one amazed by the view; most people stand about you in groups, chatting happily while the moon rises. At least no one will call your event boring, you think as you move – only to stop dead in your tracks, spotting a familiar profile.
Abruptly, you whirl and plunge into the crowd.
Heading in the opposite direction, you drain your champagne and set the empty glass down. Reaching the railing, your hands clutch at the metal, willing your heartbeat to slow.
Several moments pass before your breathing steadies. Exhaling lowly, you stare into the waves. Sure, you can hobnob with the rich and famous but throw one ex-whatever-Jungkook-is into the mix and you immediately flee. No matter how prepared you thought you were, a part of you can’t stand seeing him with someone else.
When someone enters your peripheral, you go still. After a long moment, you turn and are flooded with relief when you find Seokjin before you.
Taking a long sip of his whiskey, he stares at the waves. “Jungkook is here.”
“Ah.”
“Inside, I think.”
“Right.” Bolstering your nerves, you nod. “Is he here with his date?”
Seokjin glances your way, his hair whipped by the wind. “I didn’t see, but I heard someone mention he came with a woman.”
“I see.”
You stay there for a moment, debating what to do before realizing it’s now or never. If you wait any longer, you’ll convince yourself to go home. Besides, waiting for Jungkook to find you is passive. By seeking him out, you place yourself in the driver’s seat.
Seokjin watches you carefully. “Are you alright?”
“I will be,” you say. “After I go greet Jungkook and his guest.”
“You seem… oddly calm,” he observes.
“I am calm.”
“Not a good calm.” Seokjin pauses. “Serial killer calm.”
Subtle, you lift a brow. “Don’t tell me you’re suddenly concerned about Jungkook’s well-being?”
“I’m not,” he assures you. “But I like you, Y/N. It’d be a shame if you went to prison.”
“Thanks.”
“Because you wouldn’t survive.”
“Okay,” you say, turning around. “That’s enough of a pep talk. I’ll see you later.”
“Bye!” Seokjin calls, waving you off. “Good luck!”
Striding away, you leave Seokjin behind to enter the crowd. Externally, you hope you portray a façade of total calm because on the inside, you’re sweating. Each mental scenario is worse than the last, replacing each other in your mind like bad movie reels.
What-if Jungkook decided to bring Giselle, the woman from the fundraiser. What-if he brought someone from work – someone who’s strong, successful, and not afraid of commitment, unlike you.
Stomach dropping, you force yourself to continue. Each step you take is instantly forgotten, fading to past as you face your future. Inside, you scan the length of the aquarium. Every person you pass you half-expect to see Jungkook and when they’re not, you find yourself disappointed.
Wandering further in, you say hello to several guests and greet their plus ones. By the time you’ve made a full lap, you’re starting to wonder if Seokjin’s intel was right – which is the moment you see him.
Feet stuttering to a halt, you stare when Jungkook fully appears. A couple drifts past you, previously concealing him from your view. Greenish-blue light washes over his features, blurring his face when he looks away.
You wish you’d had foresight to refill your glass since Jungkook isn’t alone. Turned away, he responds to someone by his side – a petite, demure someone, by the looks of it since they barely reach Jungkook’s shoulder. Forcing yourself to keep walking, you take several steps forward.
At this point, there’s no other option. Either you run and they see you, which would be humiliating, or you continue, and they greet you, which will be devastating.
Stuck in a difficult situation, all you can do is walk. You’re close enough to hear then, when Jungkook throws his head back to laugh. The sound stops you again, staring at him in confusion. Out of anything that could have happened, him laughing is the worst. Laughter means his date knows Jungkook well enough to make him laugh.
Which means she’s important.
Stomach roiling, you consider whether to flee when Jungkook suddenly turns and locks eyes.
Surprise crosses his features, followed by something you don’t understand. You stare back at him, frozen until you realize you need to do something.
“Mr. Jeon,” you intone, closing the distance between you. “Thank you so much for coming. I want to personally thank you for–”
“Y/N,” Jungkook blurts, finding his voice.
You falter, thrown by his excitement.
“I’m so glad you found us,” he hastens, “because there’s someone here I want you to meet.”
“Oh?” you say, careful.
Although it’s been weeks since you and Jungkook were anything, this feels like a strange level of enthusiasm for having his current date meet his ex, well – whatever you are.
Stepping back, Jungkook reveals the woman standing by his side. “Y/N, this is my aunt – Jeanette Mason. Aunt Jeanette, this is Y/N, the owner of Clean Ocean.”
His aunt. This is Jeanette Mason, Jungkook’s aunt.
Time seems to slow. The woman standing before you is older than Jungkook by at least thirty years. Not that this means anything, but she’s holding his elbow in a maternal gesture and again, Jungkook introduced her as his aunt.
“Mrs. Mason,” you repeat, your words faint.
Jeanette gives her nephew a sly look. “I know who she is, Kookie,” she scolds, patting his hand. “Am I, or am I not, the one who set you up?”
Cheeks turning slightly red, Jungkook lowers his head. “You can’t just say things like that,” he mutters in her ear.
“And why not?” she demands, not bothering to lower her voice. “It’s lovely to meet you at last, Y/N. I hear such wonderful things about you from your mother.”
Your eyebrows shoot up. “From my… mother?”
Seeing your expression, she can’t help but laugh. “Yes, well.” Jeanette shrugs. “What I deem to be wonderful, and what your mother deems to be wonderful are two rather different things, I suppose. Your mother is quite the opinionated woman, is she not?”
“She… yes, she is,” you manage to say.
“I’ve known your mother for a long time. She’s mentioned her daughter before – usually in exasperated tones, mind you, over your wonderful charity. And the very first person I thought of was my nephew.” Beaming, Jeanette turns to face Jungkook. “He always used to go on about the ocean and the environment when he was younger.”
“Oh?” you muse, glancing at Jungkook. “Is that so?”
Jungkook seems as though he wishes the earth would swallow him whole. He must not have anticipated how his aunt could embarrass him, which makes you smile.
Forlorn, his aunt sighs. “It’s a shame you two didn’t hit it off. I know so many people think Jungkook is like his father, but he has nothing in common with that cold man. He’s so much more like his mother. An absolute angel, that woman.”
“I’ve heard that,” you say softly. “And I agree, he is wonderful.”
Sharply, Jungkook looks at you and some of his color fades. Unable to hold his gaze, you force yourself to look elsewhere.
“Well.” Jeanette drains her glass. “It was very nice meeting you, Y/N. Jungkook has been talking my ear off about how wonderful you are.”
Loudly, he clears his throat. “You mean how wonderful Clean Ocean is – right, Aunt Jeanette?”
Jeanette shrugs, looking as though she couldn’t care either way. Stifling a laugh, you rather enjoy the rare sight of Jungkook flustered.
More than that though, you’re forced to rethink the situation. Jungkook didn’t bring a date tonight. Or – he brought a date but not a romantic one. Instead, he brought the single family member he still has a good relationship with and wanted you to meet her.
All night, you’ve imagined the two of you stuck in a loop, playing the same game over and over but now, you see you were wrong. This is different. Jungkook has been trying to tell you something all week and the moment you realize this, you make your decision.
“Actually,” you say abruptly. “Do you mind if I steal your nephew, Jeanette? There are a few donors I’d like him to meet.”
“Of course!” She waves you both away. “I was planning to head out soon, anyways. Always leave them wanting more, and all that. I’ll see you next weekend, Kookie.”
“Are you sure?” Leaning down, Jungkook kisses her cheek. “I can have my driver take you home.”
“Nonsense,” she says. “I have my own driver, darling. He’d be bored stiff without me. Have fun!” she calls, turning around to melt into the crowd.
Jungkook watches her leave, a faint look of amusement on his face.
“Sorry,” he says, turning towards you. “I didn’t ask her to –”
“Can we talk?” you blurt out.
Jungkook stops and blinks. “I – okay, sure. About what?”
“In private,” you say, shaking your head as you turn.
In the corner of your eye, you see Jungkook follow. Your heart is thudding so loudly, you’re certain he must hear it. You’re sure everyone must hear it, even over the music but somehow, no one notices. Every now and again, you look back to ensure Jungkook is following.
He is.
Your original intent was to bring Jungkook to the entrance, but when you find the space occupied, you continue. Entering the next hall, you search for some privacy. Both footsteps echo on marble, the noise thinning around you as you leave the party.
Around the next bend, the hall empties into an aquarium with a domed ceiling.
“Uh, Y/N?”
Turning, you find Jungkook beside a sign that reads closed. One hand in his pocket, he looks at you and smiles, and you nearly melt.
“Yes?” you whisper, not daring to move.
He glances at the sign. “I don’t think we’re supposed to be here.”
“We rented this entire place,” you say, turning around. “That includes this room. Olya put up those signs to discourage guests from roaming.”
“Oh. Okay, then.”
Leaving Jungkook at the entrance, you wander in. The dome above you is fully glass, surrounding you on all sides with water from the aquarium. Colorful fish dart past, twisting and turning before they disappear into coral. Feeling slightly silly for having brought Jungkook here, you force yourself to stop.
His footsteps continue until Jungkook stops alongside you. The shape of him is clear in your peripheral and it takes everything in you not to turn your head.
“They don’t bite,” you say, staring at the tank.
“I know.” Jungkook’s voice is rough. “They’re not the reason I’m nervous right now.”
Uncertain, you turn and meet his gaze. The moment you do, all the words you had planned somehow disappear.
Jungkook exhales. “I’m scared,” he admits, quiet. “Scared you brought me here to reject me. Scared you saw right through me out there and are trying to let me down easy where no one can see us.”
Hearing this, it’s all you can do to remain upright. Jungkook being afraid you might reject him means there’s something to reject.
“I’m scared I’m being an idiot,” he continues, stepping closer. “Scared I’m reading into signs that aren’t there, imagining you feel the same way about me when you obviously don’t.”
Jungkook stops mere inches away and you realize he’s waiting for a response. All you can think though, is what if you’re wrong.
“And…?” you ask him. “What is it you feel for me?”
“Isn’t that obvious?” Jungkook looks at you, tortured. “It feels… like I can breathe. Like I’ve been trapped my whole life but with you, I can finally breathe. I’m not creative, but you make me want to be. To write songs – poetry, just to hear you laugh. You make me ramble,” he adds, his voice catching. “I’m scared of confessing this but the thought of losing you again scares me even more. I want everyone to know how I feel – especially you, Y/N.”
You stare back at him, speeches and wonder if there comes a point when joy is too much. When happiness is akin to pain since you know at one point, this feeling must end.
Stepping closer, Jungkook’s hands skim your elbows. “Please,” he adds, searching. “Please, Y/N. Say something and put me out of my misery.”
It’s the way he says please that breaks the dam inside you.
“You’re not imagining things,” you whisper, the words rushing out. “Everything you said… I feel it, too, Jungkook. I’ve been falling for you ever since the night we watched Ted Lasso.”
Incredulousness enters his gaze. “That long, huh?”
Scoffing, you move to swat his arm, but Jungkook catches your hand and tugs you closer. Smiling down at you, he wraps both arms around your waist.
“I’m kidding,” he says. “I’ve been falling for you since Chez Moi, Chez Toi. Although I didn’t realize it until later.”
“Our first date?” you ask him, amazed.
Jungkook nods. “I don’t have much experience with all this. It took me a while to understand what I was feeling.”
“Which was when?”
“When you stayed at my place.” His face softens. “I saw you in my t-shirt and just… knew something about this was different. I barely thought twice before sending my date home. Even then, I didn’t want to admit it. I don’t think I really understood until I woke up in your bed.”
“You were better than me,” you admit. “I didn’t realize until Aleve.”
Visible frustration crosses his features. “That night.” Jungkook shakes his head. “I was such an ass– I’m so sorry about it, Y/N. It’s just… when I saw you with him… it brought back all these memories, and I didn’t handle it very well.”
You stare at him a long moment, then exhale. “It’s okay. I understand. I – well, I spoke with Yoongi.”
Rather than seem surprised by this reveal, Jungkook merely nods. “I know,” he says softly.
“You… know?”
“Yeah, kind of.”
“Since when?” you demand.
His upper lip quirks. “Since Thursday. After seeing you, I couldn’t get you out of my mind. I wasn’t sure if you felt the same, so I went to complain about it to Yoongi – and barely got your name out before he exploded.” Jungkook lets out a laugh. “He called me an idiot and said I should confess before I lost you completely. The truth came out after that,” he adds, a bit dry.
“I’m… so sorry,” you blurt, shaking your head. “I didn’t tell him to say that. I didn’t mean to go behind your back the way I did, it’s just –”
“You weren’t getting any answers from me,” Jungkook finishes.
Helpless, you nod.
“I get it, Y/N,” he says, his grip tightening. “I’m not mad, I promise. If anything, I’m glad you went to Yoongi because it gave me hope. It made me think…” Jungkook hesitates. “That maybe you cared for me, too.”
“God,” you mutter. “We’ve been such idiots.”
He sadly smiles. “Me, more than you.”
“We can call it a tie.”
Laughing, Jungkook moves closer, and everything else seems to fade. His presence overwhelms you in a way that makes your mind go quiet. Unthinking, your gaze drops to his mouth. Suddenly, you’re very aware of each part of your body pressed to his.
“We…” Jungkook licks his lips. “We should probably head back.”
Despite this, his voice roughens, and you suppress a shiver. Tentatively, you lift one hand to splay across his chest. Jungkook’s gaze dips to your palm on his fabric.
“Probably,” you agree.
“Except…” Subtle, Jungkook lowers his head. “We’ve waited a long time to get our shit together.”
“That’s also true.”
“Mm.” He stops. “There’s just one problem.”
“Problem?” you say, dazed by his proximity.
“Yeah.” Tilting his head, his lips nearly brush yours. “If I start kissing you, I won’t be able to stop.”
“And that’s a bad thing, because…?”
“We’re currently in public.”
“In public.”
“At an event that you’re hosting.”
“Hosting,” you repeat, reduced to a parrot.
Jungkook chuckles. “People will notice,” he murmurs, although his hand continues to caress your waist, “if you go missing. And I don’t want to be rushed. I plan to take my time with you tonight.”
His last word is a growl, said lowly in your ear and immediately, your breath catches. Hand fisting in his jacket, you attempt to move even closer, but Jungkook stays maddeningly separate.
Huffing, you look up. “I didn’t think you were the type to back down from a challenge, Jeon.”
“Are you giving me one, princess?”
Boldly, you close the distance between you. Jungkook’s reaction is instantaneous, his entire body stiffening but before you can move, his hand finds your chin.
“Careful,” he warns, tilting your face to his.
“Come on, Jeon.” Sweetly, you smile. “Be stronger.”
“Impossible,” he mutters. “Not with you around.”
Before you can react to this, his lips are on yours. Jungkook’s hand roughly slides from your jaw to your neck, pulling you closer as you melt against him. Heart hammering, your fingers curl tightly into the lapels of his jacket. Each place you touch him feels aflame and at the same time, you’re drowning, sinking into his presence.
When you finally pull back, Jungkook bites down on your lip. Gasping, you arch and he claims your mouth again. He swallows your whimper, walking the two of you backwards until your spine touches glass.
Keeping you upright, his muscular thigh wedges between yours. Trying to get closer, you knock your head against the glass – and Jungkook goes utterly still.
“Y/N,” he groans, ripping himself away. “You’re going to be the death of me.”
Still struggling to catch your breath, you stare back at him. Jungkook hasn’t stepped back, a fact which hasn’t escaped your notice. When you arch against him, Jungkook pushes his hips against yours.
“Careful,” he murmurs, pressing you to the tank. “Unless you want to be fucked right here and right now. I wouldn’t overestimate my self-control.”
Lips parted, you stare and Jungkook can’t help but grin. It’s hard not to melt because his smile is your favorite – and only now are you realizing that’s because it’s solely for you.
“What is it?” he asks.
“Nothing.” Slowly, you shake your head. “I’m just… happy.”
If you thought you loved Jungkook’s smile before, you were wrong. Eyes crinkled, his smile widens, and now, you fear for your life. For the life of everyone at this party because dear lord, Jungkook is perfect.
“I can’t imagine why,” he says. “I’m the lucky one.”
“Agree to disagree.”
His grip on you tightens and you expect him to kiss you again, but he doesn’t. Instead, Jungkook merely stands there, and you wonder if this is what people mean when they speak about happiness. When they mention perfect moments, understanding another without words – this must be what they speak of.
Eventually, you glance past him. “We should probably return.”
“Probably,” he agrees, although he still doesn’t move. “It’s not fair, though. Those people have had your attention all night.”
“And you’ll have the rest of it,” you tease him. “Right after I figure out a way to leave without telling the whole party, ‘Hey, my boyfriend is about to fuck me silly.’”
Jungkook releases you and you start to walk past, only to realize he still hasn’t moved. Puzzled, you turn.
“Jungkook?” you ask. “Did you… not want to do that tonight?”
“That’s not it.” Dazed, he turns his head. “It’s just … you called me your boyfriend.”
Your entire world stops.
“Oh.
Frantic, you backpedal and search for a way out. Obviously, that was too much, too soon – you aren’t sure why you said it, other than the fact that it’s true. You want Jungkook as more than just a fuck buddy, more than just a friend.
For the first time in a very long time, you want to say boyfriend, but Jungkook is new to all this, and you don’t want to scare him away.
“I didn’t mean that,” you hasten, stepping forward. “I was just talking out loud, and I didn’t –”
“No,” Jungkook interrupts. “Don’t take it back. I want that. I really want that. It’s just… it was nice to hear you say it.” An embarrassed smile spreads over his face. “Say it again?”
All the tension drains from your limbs. “Say what?” you tease. “Say you’re my boyfriend?”
Jungkook’s gaze darkens. “I thought you didn’t want me to fuck you right here and right now?”
Heat pools in your center and it’s all you can do not to crush his mouth to yours. An inkling of self-preservation prevents you from doing so, because Jungkook is right. People would notice if you suddenly disappeared.
Still, it doesn’t keep you from lifting to your toes. Lips hovering at his ear, you feel Jungkook’s entire body go taut when you whisper, “Your aunt will want to say goodbye.”
Roughly, he exhales, and you laugh when you pull back.
“Please,” Jungkook groans. His expression is half-amusement, half-pain. “Let’s not talk about my aunt right now.”
“Come on,” you say. “Let’s go and say goodbye.”
“Just – give me a moment.”
Patient, you wait while Jungkook screws his eyes shut. Several seconds pass until finally, he opens them and some of the heat has dissipated.
“Okay, I’m ready,” he declares.
Before you can respond, Jungkook takes your hand in his and pulls you away. You try and savor each, since you’ll soon need to part, but time seems to blur, buoyed by your happiness. All too soon, you’ve reached the entrance and Jungkook is turning to face you.
Continuing to hold your hand, he glances over your shoulder. In the aquarium, someone laughs, and you’re reminded again why you can’t leave just yet.
Jungkook exhales, somewhat mournful. “We timed this terribly.”
“Okay,” you announce. “Here’s the deal.”
Returning to you, his lips twitch. “Deal?”
“Yep.” You force yourself to sound stern. “I’ll go in now. Give me a five-minute head start, and then follow. I’ll talk to a few donors, chat with a few sponsors and then –”
“We meet back here for aquarium sex?”
“Stop that,” you laugh, swatting his arm. “No. And then, we meet out front at eleven. Okay?”
Jungkook adopts a look of mock-anguish. “Why so late?”
You can’t help but smile. “Wish it were sooner?”
“Don’t tease me,” he says, voice dropping. “I thought I was clear about my plans for you for tonight.”
“Plans?”
Jungkook takes a step closer. “Nice try,” he murmurs, lowering his head. “You’ll find out later tonight. Now, go – the sooner you leave, the sooner you come back.”
Reluctant, you turn. “I’ll be back soon,” you promise. “Five-minute head start. Don’t forget.”
Before you can leave, Jungkook’s hand catches your wrist, and he pulls you backwards. Kissing you deeply, he molds your body to his and by the time he lifts his head, you’re rendered speechless.
His gaze bores into yours. “Eleven. No later.”
Unable to think of a response, you nod. It takes every ounce of your self-possession to turn and walk away. When you finally enter the main room, you take a deep breath to focus.
Several new guests have arrived, and you’re only on your second when you realize your mistake. Now that you have Jungkook waiting, you’re finding it difficult to string sentences together. Nearly mixing up the names of two donors, you’re saved from embarrassment by Hoseok’s sudden appearance.
Grasping your wrist, he pulls you closer. “We need to talk,” Hoseok hisses, smiling balefully at the others. “Apologies, everyone, but I need to steal Y/N for a minute.”
Ignoring the ensuing chorus of no problem! and of course, Hoseok leads you away until you’re both concealed behind a potted plant. Turning, he drags a hand down his face, and you look on in alarm. Originally, you thought this might be about Jungkook, but no longer.
“Hoseok, what is it?” you demand.
Resigned, he meets your gaze. “Your parents are here.”
Hoseok might as well have said elephants have arrived. Neither sentence would make sense in the context of Clean Ocean.
“My… what?”
“Your parents,” Hoseok repeats. “They’re here. Olya wasn’t near the front, and the bouncer wasn’t sure what to do, so he let them in.”
“But…” You stare at him, flummoxed. “That makes no sense. Why are they here?”
“I don’t know. To offer congratulations?”
The laugh you give sounds like a wheeze. “These are my parents, we’re talking about.”
“Right, well.” He looks at you, helpless. “Only way to find out is to ask them, I guess.”
Staring at Hoseok, you wait for the rising wave of panic which always accompanies the presence of your family and feel – nothing.
For the first time, you’re confident that whatever mischief your parents have in mind won’t affect you. Clean Ocean is doing well. You and Jason are solid. You have great friends, a good life and – a boyfriend, waiting for you outside at eleven.
Insides warming, you can’t help but smile – something that swiftly disappears when you look at Hoseok. Based on his expression, he seems to be worried you’re having a nervous breakdown.
“Alright,” you say, straightening. “Where are they?”
“Patio. Last I saw, anyways. Want me to come with?”
“No thanks,” you exhale. “They’re my parents. I can handle them.”
Hoseok examines you carefully, then nods and steps aside. He’s long learned not to mess with your familial ties after attending several parties where your parents ignored him. Striding through the main room, you force your expression to neutrality and run through potential options.
Maybe your parents are here because of an important donor. Maybe they came to look good in the papers. Or maybe (most likely) it’s unknown option three which will leave you reeling and nauseous in a way only they can. Stepping onto the patio, you scan for the signs of impending doom.
A breeze rolls in from the ocean, prickling the hair on the back of your neck. Not seeing them, you walk forward – and Jason steps in your path.
“Y/N,” he blurts out. “I’ve been looking for you.”
Instantly, your eyes narrow and you grab his arm. “Why didn’t you warn me they were coming?” you hiss, leaning in.
“I didn’t know!” Jason protests. “Mom texted they were here when I stepped from my car. I’ve been searching all over for you but couldn’t find you. Hoseok didn’t know where you were, either,” he adds, giving you a questioning glance.
Careful to keep your expression blank, you fall into step alongside him. “Busy night. I’ve been running around.”
“Right. Sure.”
The look Jason gives you makes you sweat a little but before he can say anything, the sound of your mother cuts above the crowd.
“Y/N! Darling,” she cries, appearing from nowhere.
Grimacing, you lean in for the double-kiss, disentangling yourself before she can follow up with a hug. This is when your mother loves to whisper her disapproving comments in your ear. Smile in place, you step from her grasp and turn towards your father.
“Mom and dad,” you say brightly. “I didn’t realize you were coming. Did something change in your plans?”
Stepping backwards, your mother sips her champagne. “Nothing changed, Y/N. I’m positive I told Miranda to reply to your RSVP. And even if she forgot – which would be typical – is it so surprising we’d like to support our only daughter?”
Rather than offer an uncharitable response, you nod.
“It was nice of you to come,” Jason agrees. “Are you enjoying the evening?”
Your mother glances at the patio. “That DJ is too loud. He’s going to burst someone’s eardrum, and I’m sure their insurance won’t cover third parties. Did you take out an umbrella policy?” she asks, not waiting for an answer before she continues. “Other than that, the night has been tolerable. There’s an almost respectable crowd here. I know most of the guest list.”
Knowing your mother, she meant this as a compliment. Still, you find yourself wishing you’d at least had the foresight to grab another drink.
“And what about you, dad?” Jason asks, sounding strained. “Are you enjoying the evening?”
Your father blinks, as though startled by being addressed directly.
“Yes – oh, yes,” he says with a nod. “Very nice.”
A pause follows, so Jason continues.
“It is,” he says proudly. “Y/N worked so hard to pull this together. I mean, when she said Infinity Motors pulled out, even I was panicking. The fact that this launch party is happening is nothing short of a miracle.”
Hearing this, your mother looks at you sharply. “What did your brother say? Liam is no longer a donor of Clean Ocean?”
Wincing, Jason realizes his mistake but it’s too late. Seeing no easy way out, you adopt your most neutral expression.
“Yes,” you exhale, turning to face your mother. “Infinity Motors is no longer a donor for Clean Ocean.”
Finally, this gets through to your father. “What happened?” he demands. “Was it a matter of money? Was the offer too small? I’m playing golf with Liam on Sunday – I could talk to him then. We could work something out; this doesn’t have to be the end.”
“There’s no need for that, dad,” you hasten.
“Don’t be so proud,” your mother cuts in. “Listen to your father. He’s been doing this for much longer than you have, Y/N. Do the other donors know?” she asks, changing topics. “It really isn’t right to throw a launch party when the program is cancelled.”
“It’s not cancelled,” you say through clenched teeth.
“There’s no need for that tone, Y/N. I’m just thinking of you, here. I assume this means you’ve broken up with Liam?”
“We were never dating, mom.”
“Oh, right. Is that really what you want to go with?”
“Yes, it is,” you say. “And why does it matter, anyways? One minute, you’re pushing me to date Jungkook and now, you’re all about Liam.”
“I’m willing to admit when I’m wrong,” your mother says with a sniff. “You and Liam Jessen make more sense as a couple. And you were right about that Jeon boy,” she adds, a bit darker.
Hearing this, you pause, unsure how to respond. Your mother has never shied away from supporting the Jeons before. Sensing your hesitation, Jason jumps in.
“What do you mean?” he says, curious.
“W-ell.” Like the cat with the canary, your mother swirls her champagne. “I was speaking to Louise Trapp the other day and she said that apparently, Jungkook is running his father’s company into the ground.”
“Oh?” you ask, the word faint.
When Jason looks at you with confusion, you pretend not to notice.
“It’s true.” Your mother shakes her head. “He’s investing all their profits into renewable energy. Forgoing any sort of shareholder dividend! He fired all the old executives, the ones who’d devoted their lives to the company. Terrible – just terrible,” she sighs. “That company will go under soon, mark my words.”
For a moment, you stand speechless. Hearing your mother list all Jungkook’s accomplishments as faults is a level of surrealness Dalí wouldn’t expect.
“Hm.” Jason seems thoughtful. “Those don’t sound like bad ideas.”
Ignoring this, your mother shakes her head. “Such a pity, too. That boy had such potential. All the opportunity in the world, and this is what he chose.”
Hearing her clear disdain helps you regain your voice. “And what, exactly, did he choose?” you ask, your words full of soft venom.
Both mother and father blink at your tone.
“Well, he…”
Your mother falters.
“Now, Y/N,” your father says, cutting in. “You know your mother meant nothing by the comment.”
“Oh, I’m sure,” you say sweetly. “So, what did you mean?”
Your mother’s gaze narrows, never one to back down from a fight. “I only meant,” she says stiffly, “that he’s turned a lot of former friends into enemies. And that it’s a pity to see his father’s tremendous work be undone.”
“Jungkook’s father,” you snap, barely aware of what you’re saying, “isn’t worthy of being mentioned in the same sentence as Jungkook.”
Your mother stares at you, aghast and in the corner of your eye, you see Jungkook appear.
He stands at the edge of the patio, searching for something – or someone, you realize, when your gazes meet. Briefly, he smiles before stepping from the dais to melt into the crowd. Suddenly, it seems foolish to have separated from him at all.
“Speaking of Jungkook,” you say, turning back. “I’ve been meaning to thank you, mom.”
Both your parents seem perplexed.
“Thank me for what?” your mother asks tightly.
Rather than answer, you turn around and wave. Your timing proves to be correct, as Jungkook appears as though called from the crowd. When he sees you waving, he stops and glances behind him. Realizing no one is there, Jungkook pivots, and you wave again. Puzzled, he tilts his head, and you nod.
Once you’re certain he’s coming, you return to your family.
“For encouraging me to go out on dates,” you say, answering your mother’s question. “You were right. I was going out with all the wrong men. I needed someone who can hold their own, and now I’ve found that – thanks to you.”
Your mother continues to look bewildered, but Jason breaks into laughter when Jungkook approaches. Your brother quickly disguises this as a cough, taking a large gulp of his whiskey.
Jungkook appears by your side, holding a glass of red wine and looking fully at ease. Stepping closer, you slip your arm into the crook of his elbow and Jungkook glances at you, surprised. This only lasts a moment before he gives in.
“Darling,” Jungkook says, placing his other hand on your lower back. “Are you alright? Do you need a drink?”
“No, no – darling,” you add, just to watch his lips twitch. “I only wanted you to meet my parents. As my boyfriend.”
Something heated flares in his gaze, followed by understanding. Turning towards your family, Jungkook’s expression shifts to one you’ve only seen a few times before. A thrill runs down your spine at the detached look of Jeon Energy’s CEO.
“No fucking way,” Jason breathes.
Your mother instantly straightens. “Jason,” she hisses. “Language!”
“Sorry, mom.” He shakes his head. “So, does this mean you two are actually…”
“Dating?” you supply, your smile widening. “Yes. That’s what I wanted to thank you for, mom. For bringing us together.”
Placing his hand over yours on his elbow, Jungkook inclines his head. Expression unchanging, he keeps you firm by his side.
“I should be thanking you as well, Mrs. Y/L/N,” he adds, solemn. “If it weren’t for you, I never would have found someone as wonderful as your daughter.”
Your mother’s mouth opens, then shuts, clearly torn. On one hand, it’s rude to directly contradict an acquaintance. On the other hand, she doesn’t agree with Jungkook. You don’t think you’ve heard your mother ever use wonderful and daughter in the same sentence.
Luckily, your father steps in. “Well, isn’t this fantastic,” he booms. “How long has it been since I’ve seen your father, Jungkook? I’ll have to set up golf with him soon.”
The change is barely perceptible, but Jungkook’s smile dims. Squeezing his arm with your hand, you force him to look down and he softens.
“We were just talking about you,” you say, looking upward. “My mother was giving her thoughts about your performance as CEO, and I thought it’d be good for you to hear them in person.”
Jason nearly spits his whiskey back into his glass. Your mother is similarly stricken, although she composes herself quickly. Jungkook, on the other hand, seems mildly amused.
“Was she now?” he asks, turning to face her. “I must say, the reviews so far have been dismal. Most people seem to think I’m running the company into the ground.”
Your mother looks a bit sallow. Faced with two bad options – lying or saying something rude to Jungkook’s face – she chooses her next words carefully.
“Yes, well.” She nods. “It takes great… fortitude to make such large-scale changes.”
Jungkook lifts a brow. “Ah, yes. True. But enough about me,” he adds, glancing your way. “Shouldn’t you make the rounds? I’d hate to keep you from your guests.” His expression hardens slightly when he returns to your parents. “It was lovely to see you,” Jungkook adds in a tone which clearly says it was not. “We should do this again.”
Hearing his insult disguised by kind words, your mother stiffens. Your father doesn’t seem to notice and, with a nod, he scans the place for a bar.
Bending, Jungkook brushes his lips against your cheek. “Do you want me to stay?’ he murmurs. “I don’t like leaving you alone with them.”
If you felt any uncertainty before, it immediately vanishes.
“I’ll be fine,” you whisper back. “I’ll see you at eleven.”
Nodding, Jungkook pulls away to face your parents again. “Have a goodnight,” he says before leaving.
You watch him enter the crowd, your side feeling suddenly empty. Before you can offer up any type of explanation, Jason starts to chuckle.
“Wow,” he says. “Jeon Jungkook, Y/N.”
“What about it?” you ask, turning back.
“Nothing.” His grin widens. “I thought that you hated him.”
“Yeah, well.” Somewhat sheepish, you shrug. “Turns out, I don’t.”
Jason continues to smile, and you can’t help but return it – until your mother regains her voice.
“Y/N,” she huffs. “You could have warned us before calling him over like that.”
“I thought you’d be pleased,” you say blithely. “You were the one who introduced us.”
“You – we.” Coming to a stop, she takes a deep breath. “While admittedly, that Jeon boy comes from a good family, he’s hardly the type of man we’d encourage you to date.”
“Oh?” you ask, a dangerous note to your words.
Not for the first time, you understand your mother will find fault in whatever you do. Here’s a man she set you up with and now, because you chose him, she’s taking back her approval.
Oddly enough, the fact barely stings. Not long ago, it might have. Glancing around, you spot Jungkook by the bar and realize he’s watching. He pretends not to, but every now and again, he glances your way, and his expression tightens.
You smile reassuringly. Returning to your parents, you look them each in the eye.
“Then it’s a good thing I’m the one dating him and you’re not,” you say simply. “Thank you for coming. I hope you enjoy the event.”
With that, you turn around and leave. Behind you, Jason jumps in to save the conversation, and you feel a surge of gratitude. While you may not always agree, you can’t deny your brother has your back.
Now, keeping your distance from Jungkook until the end of the night seems pointless. Cutting through the crowd, you make your way to his side. Jungkook watches you navigate and, once you arrive, hands you a glass of champagne. Taking it, your heart flutters, since Jungkook has selected a brand you ordered before.
“Hey,” he says softly.
“Hi.”
Smiling back at him, you take a sip from the glass.
“No. Way.”
A third voice makes you start. Turning, you find Seokjin staring between you, open-mouthed. Before you can explain, Jungkook turns casually to face him.
“So,” he remarks. “I hear you like Yoongi.”
Gaze jerking to him, Seokjin shuts his mouth. Stifling a laugh, you lean into Jungkook, and he places a hand on your lower back.
Seeing this, Seokjin groans. “Are you two together now? Because if so, I’ll need at least a five-minute warning before you enter a room. New couples are the worst.”
“Yes, we’re together,” you say, smiling up at Jungkook.
He smiles down at you, and in the background, you hear Seokjin offer congratulations before disappearing. Jungkook’s fingers trail lower, realizing how much of your skin is exposed.
“This dress,” Jungkook murmurs, lowering his lips to your ear, “is indecent.”
“Are you trying to tell me what to wear, Mr. Jeon?” you ask in mock-outrage.
Withdrawing his hand, Jungkook turns you to face him. “I wouldn’t dare. Allow me to rephrase – seeing you in that dress is making me want to do indecent things.”
Heart hammering against your ribcage, you stare upward. Before you can respond though, your phone vibrates in your clutch. You determine to ignore it, but then a second vibration occurs – followed fast by another.
Jungkook’s lips tighten. “You should probably get that.”
As much as you hate to admit it, Jungkook is right. Pulling away, you reluctantly unzip your clutch. Spotting Hoseok’s name on the screen, you scowl and swipe.
Hoseok: you saw Jungkook?? Was that before or after we talked? [9:01 PM]
Hoseok: hang on – Seokjin says you’re with him now? [9:29 PM]
Hoseok: and you didn’t tell me?! [9:30 PM]
Hoseok: Y/N! [9:30 PM]
Reading over your shoulder, Jungkook chuckles. Handing him your glass of champagne, you respond.
Y/N: yes, I saw him and yes, we’re together. Additional questions will be answered at a later time [9:32 PM]
Belatedly, you realize this is your group chat when you see Seokjin’s ellipses.
Seokjin: they’re being nauseating out on the patio [9:33 PM]
Seokjin: steer clear [9:33 PM]
Y/N: we are not being nauseating [9:34 PM]
“We kind of are,” Jungkook murmurs. Wrapping his arm around your waist, he lowers his chin to your shoulder. “Which reminds me – you should probably be in there, talking to people.”
You huff, knowing he’s right and your phone dings again.
Hoseok: Y/N, go home [9:36 PM]
Surprised, you stare at the screen. Hoseok continues typing, and another message follows.
Hoseok: Olya agrees – go home. You’ve been here for hours and said hello to everyone important. We can handle the rest. [9:37 PM]
Before you can counter, Jungkook’s hand closes around your phone and tugs it from your grasp.
“Thank god,” he sighs, kissing the nape of your neck. “Because it’s taking my last shred of willpower to keep from ripping this dress right off you.”
His free hand splays across your middle, tugging you backwards as you sharply inhale.
“Are you ready to leave?” he asks, low in your ear.
“Yes,” you blurt, making your decision. “Let’s go. Right now.”
Jungkook chuckles, following close behind when you take his hand. Not caring who sees, you drag him through the crowd and towards the main entrance.
Once you’re outside, you reach for your phone and Jungkook sets this in your palm. Coming to a stop alongside you, he slips both hands in his pockets.
“Where do you want to go?” He tilts his head. “Your place or mine?”
A million (not PG) possibilities run through your mind, rendering you speechless. Judging by his expression, Jungkook seems to be thinking the same.
“Your place,” you say, only to pause. “But… Dante is at my neighbor’s.”
“We can go to your place,” Jungkook offers. “Or we can pick up Dante and head to mine. I don’t care either way.”
You stare at him, speechless, too stunned by the absolute perfection standing before you.
Mistaking your silence for disapproval, Jungkook starts to backtrack. “Or not,” he says. “You could ask your neighbor to watch Dante? Or we just head to your place. I really don’t care, Y/N, I just want –”
“No – no,” you blurt. “It’s not that. None of what you just said is bad. It’s just – you’re wonderful,” you say, somewhat breathless. “Let’s get Dante and go to your place. If you don’t mind.”
Jungkook breaks into a smile. “I really don’t,” he says, turning around as headlights swing into the drive. “I hope you don’t care I had my driver waiting.”
“I don’t,” you respond, your giddiness only growing when Jungkook takes your hand.
Opening the door, he waits for you to sit before crossing to the other side. You’re nearly buckled in when he joins, leaning over the console to give his driver directions. When the car starts to move, Jungkook settles backwards – casually pushing the button to raise the partition.
Ensconced in darkness, every inch of your body goes taut.
Shifting on leather, you stare straight ahead and do your best to ignore the mounting tension between you. You have an entire car ride before you reach his place. This is easier said than done though, because the longer you sit, the more you remember the first night you met.
“So.”
Jungkook’s voice is low, seductive, and unthinking, you turn. You immediately regret this because now, you’re aware of how close Jungkook is. His right hand splays across the seat between you, taking up space in a way that’s distracting.
“So,” you exhale.
Your voice is breathy, even to your ears and his upper lip curls. Leaning forward, Jungkook gently drags his thumb along the curve of your jaw. Unbidden, you shiver.
“Did I tell you how gorgeous you look?” he murmur, not looking away.
“If I didn’t know better,” you say, “I’d think you were trying to get me naked.”
Jungkook lifts a brow. “Oh, I am. Not here, though. I won’t make that mistake again.”
“Mistake?”
“Mm.” His voice drops. “You don’t deserve to be undressed in the backseat of a car. You deserve to be spread out like a feast – worshiped and eaten until I’m fully sated.”
You feel your heart quicken. “And… if I want the first option?”
“Well, then.” His hand slowly slides to the back of your neck. “We’ll just have to compromise.”
Bending, his teeth scrape your jaw as you tip your head back. Other hand finding your waist, Jungkook pulls you closer as you squeeze your eyes shut. Tilting your head, Jungkook lightly tugs the lobe of your ear between his teeth.
A whimper escapes you, thighs clenched tightly together.
“Slow,” Jungkook whispers. “We have all night.”
“But I want you now.”
His grip on you tightens. “Careful,” he warns. “Each time you’re a brat, your orgasm gets delayed.”
Chest rising and falling, you open your eyes. Jungkook stares back at you, his gaze lidded as a sudden wave of boldness overtakes you.
“So, what can I do, your highness?” you ask.
Absent, his thumb strokes the side of your throat. You aren’t sure Jungkook is even aware that he’s doing it, so focused is he on the shape of your mouth.
“I don’t think we have enough time for roleplay tonight, princess,” he muses. “What you can do is let me worship your body the way that I want.”
“The way that you want?”
His gaze flicks to yours. “What I want is for you to be so wholly undone, you forget your own name.”
Oh.
Sensing approval, Jungkook shifts even closer. His other hand spans your ribcage and when he brushes the underside of your breasts, you suck in a breath.
“Jungkook,” you groan.
Lightly, Jungkook swipes his thumb over your nipple. Due to the low back, you aren’t able to wear a bra with this dress. It means you feel every touch, each caress as Jungkook plays with your body.
Shifting even closer, he cups your breast with one hand. “Fuck,” Jungkook mutters. “I’ve missed being able to touch you like this.”
His thumb circles your nipple, other hand joining to find your other breast. You long to touch him back but are afraid if you start, you won’t be able to stop.
Pressing your legs tightly together, you rock against your seat in desperate search of friction. Hand rising to the back of your head, Jungkook crushes your mouth to his. Unable to take it, your arms twine around his neck to pull him even closer. His hand falls to the seat, covering your body with his as he–
The car beneath you slows.
Freezing above you, it takes several moments for Jungkook to speak. In the corner of your eye, you realize you’ve reached your apartment and slowly sit back.
“Fuck,” you exhale.
Shutting his eyes, Jungkook still doesn’t move. “Yeah,” he mutters. “Fuck.”
Eventually, he shifts to unbuckle his seatbelt. Hiding a smile at his clear distraction, you push open your door and step onto the curb. You’re halfway to the door when his arms wrap around you from behind.
“Come on,” he sighs, pulling you backwards. “Let’s go and find Dante before I let you convince me to fuck you in my car.”
“Jungkook!” you gasp, glancing around to ensure no one heard.
The street is thankfully empty and, stifling laughter, you pull him inside. The five stories to your apartment are less painful than usual, possibly because Jungkook refuses to let go of your waist. It makes for rather awkward travel, but you can’t bring yourself to complain as you reach your front door.
“Jungkook,” you laugh, fumbling in your clutch for the key. “I need Dante’s things.”
“Mm.”
“Which means I need my hands,” you point out.
Pouting, Jungkook drops his arms and reluctantly steps away. Unable to deal with his face, you turn around on tiptoe and kiss him. Accepting your touch as currency, Jungkook holds open the door while you step inside.
Dropping your clutch on the counter, you head straight for your bedroom. The faster you pack, the faster you reach Jungkook’s apartment, and the rest of your night can begin.
“Do you need any help?” Jungkook yells.
“No!” you call back, grabbing a duffel bag.
Tossing clothes in, you barely pay attention to what you grab. Scanning your bathroom, you throw in some face products and zip up the case. When you return to the kitchen, you come to a stop.
Jungkook has assembled a random assortment on your counter. Dog food, treats, bathroom bags, a few leashes – basically, everything you might need for Dante. Lifting a brow, you walk closer.
“Is this for Dante?” you ask, picking up a chew toy.
Jungkook nods, a bit sheepish. “I wanted to help, so I pulled some stuff together.”
Setting your bag on the floor, you reach up and pull his face down to yours. Your kiss is soft, sweet and Jungkook looks puzzled when you pull away.
“Thank you,” you murmur. “That was really cute.” You glance sideways. “He only needs like, a quarter of this but it was cute.”
Laughing, you help Jungkook pack what Dante actually needs in a second bag and finally, you’re ready to go. Switching off your lights, you head towards the door – only to walk straight into Jungkook’s chest.
Surprised, you look up. “What?”
He glances at your duffel bag. “What’s in there?”
Pulling the strap tighter across your chest, you shrug. “Things,” you say. “Clothes for tomorrow, face stuff, pajamas –”
“Pajamas?” Jungkook nearly smiles.
Determined, you lift your chin. “Yes, pajamas.”
Taking a step closer, Jungkook lets his arms fall. You take an unconscious step backwards, your hips hitting the counter as, slowly, he places one hand on either side of you.
He tilts his head. “Do you really think you’ll be needing clothing tonight?”
Before you can utter so much as a syllable, Jungkook turns around to pull open your door.
“Let’s go,” he announces.
Adopting a scowl, you stalk past. Laughing quietly to himself, Jungkook shuts the door as you cross the hall. You knock on Jimin’s door, and several barks follow (most of them Dante’s).
Stopping beside you, Jungkook holds out a hand. It takes you a moment to realize he’s asking for the duffel bag. Ignoring him, you knock a second time and Jungkook uses your momentary distraction to relieve you of the bag.
You’re just turning sideways to scold him when the door opens. Seeing the two of you, Jimin’s jaw drops as he freezes.
“Jimin, hi!” you blurt as a furry bolt of lightning enters the hall.
Dante runs straight for Jungkook, and you watch – utterly betrayed – while Dante rolls onto his back. Staring up at Jungkook with heart-eyes, Dante wags his tail. Obeying the obvious demand, Jungkook bends to give Dante belly rubs.
Regaining himself, Jimin leans against his door. “Wow, Y/N,” he says with a laugh. “Seems like you’ve been replaced.”
Glancing upward, Jungkook squints. “Hey, Jimin. Nice to meet you again.”
“Nice to see you.” Grin widening, Jimin glances your way. Over Jungkook’s head, he mouths, so, is this a thing? before he turns back. “Will we be seeing the two of you tomorrow?”
“Tomorrow?” Jungkook continues to rub Dante’s belly. “What’s tomorrow?”
“I’m having people over to play video games,” Jimin says. “My girlfriend will be there, along with Hoseok and Olya. You’re more than welcome to come.”
“Thanks for the offer.” Jungkook looks up. “If Y/N wants to, I’m in.”
“We’ll see,” you say. “It all depends on what we’re doing.”
Brow lifted, Jungkook slowly stands from the floor. Heat floods his gaze, understanding exactly what you mean. If you’re able to withdraw yourself from Jungkook’s bed before next week, you’d be surprised.
Glancing between you, Jimin pauses, then nods. “Cool.” Subtle, he raps on his door frame. “I’m heading back inside before you do each other in the hall, but text me if you’re coming, Y/N. Night!”
Stepping inside, Jimin shuts his door. Jungkook stares after him, startled before chuckling. Bending, he scoops both bags from the ground.
“That guy just says whatever’s on his mind, huh?” he muses, clipping on Dante’s leash. Dante actually lets Jungkook do this, which is in itself a rarity.
Trying not to let on how amazing this is, you shrug. “Jimin is blunt, but he’s also super nice. If you did want to go tomorrow, we can.”
“We’ll see.” Jungkook straightens. “Like you said, we may be… otherwise occupied.”
He gives an exaggerated wink and it’s a physical battle not to kiss him right now. Turning away, you head down the hall. You absolutely refuse to jump Jungkook in the hallway.
Outside, you take Dante to the bathroom while Jungkook sets your stuff in the trunk. You’re unsure if Dante will enter a car other than yours but needn’t have worried. As soon as Jungkook opens the door, he bounds right in and curls up on the backseat.
The entire drive to Jungkook’s place, Dante insists on sticking his head out the window. At first you try to pull him back in, but Jungkook doesn’t mind, even going as far as to join Dante at the end. You cringe beside them, unable to keep from laughing when they both bark at passersby.
Once parked, you take the special elevator from Jungkook’s garage to his place. His doors slide open, and Dante bounds forward, forcing you to drop the leash.
Allowing him to explore, you enter the hall at a slower pace. Jungkook is close behind, setting down the bags to remove his loafers. Stopping beside you, he places a hand on your back.
“Hey,” he says.
Exhaling lowly, you turn to face him.
“Hey,” you murmur.
Jungkook searches your face. “Are you okay with all of this?”
“Yeah. It’s just… this feels big. You know?”
“I know.” He pauses. “I haven’t been serious about much in my life, Y/N, but I’m serious about this. About you.”
“Good,” you say, and step closer. “I’m serious about you, too, Jungkook.”
He smiles down at you. “Good.”
Bending, Jungkook brushes his lips to yours – once, twice before he pulls back. He leaves a small space, enough room to say no. Instead, you grip his jacket and pull him closer. Jungkook breaks down, a low groan in his throat as his mouth opens yours.
Cupping the back of your neck, Jungkook pulls you to him. He molds your body with his and you inhale, feeling his arousal thicken between you. His hardness presses against your stomach and you bite down – hard – on his lower lip.
Abruptly, he pulls back. “Wait,” Jungkook pants.
Somewhat dazed, you stare up at him. Tearing his gaze from yours, Jungkook glances away and you spot the source of his concern splayed out on his sofa. Dante – now fast asleep, all paws in the air.
“He…” Jungkook gapes. “He was just running around.”
Reaching up, you return Jungkook’s stunned gaze to yours. “He’ll be like that until morning,” you say. “Dante only does things full-out.”
“Hm,” he muses. “Likewise.”
Slowly, Jungkook’s gaze drops to scan your curves. His hands follow, cupping and seeking each inch of bare skin. When he stops above your ass, Jungkook cups you roughly and pulls you against him. Lowering, he opens your mouth with his in a dizzying kiss.
Without looking up, Jungkook walks the two of you backwards and down his hall. At his room, Jungkook ignores the handle to press you to the wood.
“I’ve thought about this so many times,” he confesses, breaking away to kiss down your jaw. “Every night since you left.”
‘Since I left? Jungkook, you were the one who –”
“You said I shouldn’t have come.”
“Because you shouldn’t have,” you say, distracted by his tongue on your skin. “That didn’t mean I didn’t want you there.”
“Complicated woman,” Jungkook growls, lifting his head. “Let’s just say what we mean from now on, yeah?”
You can’t help but smile. “A lofty goal.”
His gaze sparks. “I like to be aspirational. For instance”– achingly slow, his hand travels down your thigh – “I want you to come three times tonight.”
“Three?”
Hitching your knee, Jungkook presses his hips to yours. You inhale when you feel his cock harden against your core. Without looking away, he thrusts upward, and you can’t help but whimper.
“Three,” Jungkook repeats.
Hand sliding higher, he regrips your ass. Holding tight, Jungkook thrusts again and you groan at the feel of him through his pants. You want less fabric, more clothing gone and Jungkook seems to echo your urgent desire.
Reaching behind you, he fumbles for the door. It opens abruptly and you nearly fall, but Jungkook catches you in time. Kicking the door shut behind you, he doesn’t bother with the light – not with the skyline so bright before you.
Turning you around, Jungkook drags both palms up your sides. You can’t help but shiver, moaning when his lips brush below your ear.
You’re surprised when he doesn’t remove your dress. Instead, Jungkook steps closer and entwines your hand with his. Pulling you backwards to his chest, he slowly lifts your arm to drape around his neck.
Slipping a hand beneath your dress from the side, he cups your breast. Inhaling, you arch when Jungkook flicks over a nipple. This is followed by a soft caress, turning your nipple rock hard while you squirm against him.
Pushing back with your ass, you grind his crotch until Jungkook grabs your hip.
“Be a good girl,” he murmurs, flicking your nipple again.
Exhaling roughly, you slip a hand in between you to palm over his pants. Rather than punish you for it, Jungkook pushes his cock forward, into your hand.
“That’s it, princess,” he breathes in your ear. “So fucking dirty, aren’t you? Couldn’t keep yourself from touching my cock. See how hard you make me?”
“So hard,” you whimper. “Want you inside me.”
“Not yet. Need you out of this dress.”
Barely do the words register before Jungkook tugs down your zipper. You’re forced to let go when Jungkook steps backwards. Undoing the clasp at your nape, he releases your dress to fall to the floor.
Staring at him in the window, you watch Jungkook step forward.
“Look at you,” he murmurs, gripping your waist. Pressing you to his front, he casually trails a hand up your naked body. “So fucking beautiful.” With his other hand, Jungkook plays with the line of your panties. “What do you want, Y/N?”
“More,” you pant, watching your reflection’s chest rise and fall.
“Hm.” Cupping your sex, Jungkook pulls you back. “I need you to be more specific,” he whispers in your ear. “My mouth? Hand? Want to come on my cock?”
“All of it,” you blurt, greedy.
Jungkook chuckles. “Need you out of those heels first, princess. No matter how fucking hot you look in them.”
You nod and, in the window, watch Jungkook bend to help you from the shoes. Tossing the heels aside, he sits back on his knees. You stare at his reflection; certain you’ve never seen someone so beautiful.
“Bed,” Jungkook rasps with a jerk of his chin. “I need you to walk to my bed, princess. Then turn around and place both hands on the mattress.”
Whatever snappy retort you had dies on your tongue. Instead, you merely nod and obey. Watching him in the window, you see Jungkook stand, palming himself as you walk. Reaching his bed, you lower your palms to spread on the sheets.
Silent, Jungkook watches, only heightening your anticipation.
His footsteps are soft, heavy while approaching the bed. Your breath quickens at the soft click and thud of his belt hitting the floor. Glancing over your shoulder, you almost wish you hadn’t. The ravenous look on his face, staring at your cunt nearly ruins you.
Gaze flicking upward, Jungkook catches you watching.
“Face forward,” he says, stepping closer to run his hand up your thigh. “Or I’ll go even slower.”
Swallowing hard, you face forward. True to his word, Jungkook is slow in his exploration. His fingers casually glide along the edge of your panties, teasing and dipping but never removing. Every now and then, he slips a single digit inside, barely grazing the mound of your swollen flesh. Biting down on your lip, you push your ass backwards.
Darkly, he chuckles. “Do you want these panties gone, princess?”
“Yes.”
“Yes, what?”
“Yes, please,” you grind out, glaring over your shoulder.
Smiling wickedly, Jungkook slips his hands under your panties and pulls towards the ground. He helps you step out, leaving you suddenly bare. Placing one hand on your lower back, Jungkook pushes you forward until you feel his weight over yours.
“All this,” he murmurs, sliding his hand up your leg. The tips of his fingers brush where you ache, and you suck in a breath. “For me.”
“For you,” you groan, head hung in anticipation.
The warmth of him is tangible, his waist aligned with yours but just out of reach. Jungkook’s hand wanders up the back of your thigh.
“Can I touch you here?” he murmurs, dragging his fingers in a v over your aching center.
“God, yes.”
Repeating the motion, Jungkook lightly strokes each side of your sex. On his way back down, his thumb swipes your center, and he lets out a groan.
“So fucking wet,” Jungkook says, sounding pained. “You’re so fucking wet, and I’ve barely touched you.”
“I can’t help it,” you whimper.
“There’s nothing to apologize for,” he says, his tone soft as he slips a finger inside. “Fuck, you’re gorgeous. Men should line up and kneel before a pussy like this.”
A spark ignites. Lifting your head, you meet his gaze in the window.
“Then, why don’t you?” you ask sweetly.
Jungkook’s pupils dilate. While you watch, he lifts his hand to slap the round curve of your ass. “Because,” he says lowly, “other men don’t know what to do with a cunt as gorgeous as yours. I do, though – don’t I, Y/N?”
“Yes,” you exhale, arching again. “You do.”
Even this – the slow anticipation – is driving you wild. You know Jungkook will make you orgasm and know he’ll do it in a way which makes you feel good; a level of trust you’ve extended to few others.
“That said.” Jungkook chuckles and drops to his knees.
Staring, your lips part when he spreads your folds. You’re sure you must be a sight, bent over and glistening while he stares at your opening. Suddenly, Jungkook spits and you sharply inhale. His spit trickles down your pussy, mixing with your slick and making you clench.
“Fuck, Jungkook,” you groan when he circles your clit with his thumb. Before you can say any more, Jungkook spreads your folds and the next thing you feel is his tongue. “Oh my god,” you gasp, broken.
Bent over, the best you can do is stay upright while Jungkook eats you out. Nose brushing your clit, he follows this with his mouth, then tongue. At some point, his fingers join in, gently tracing your opening before slipping in one, and then two to slowly stretch you.
You whimper, hands fisting in the sheets while your legs start to tremble. Jungkook sucks on your clit, long and slow before flicking his tongue in staccato. Thighs spreading further, you sink down to allow better access.
Switching positions, Jungkook licks your clit while his fingers fuck you. “Goddamn, Y/N,” he breathes. “You’re so wet.” Pulling away, he stands from the floor to bend forward. One hand on the bed, Jungkook parts your legs with his other palm. “Clenching around me so nicely.”
Slipping two fingers back in, he spreads you wider before pulling out. Lips brushing your neck, Jungkook plays with your pussy as though he owns it.
“That’s it,” he murmurs. “You’re doing so good with just two of my fingers. Need to stretch you out before you can take my cock.”
“I can take it,” you pant.
“Not yet,” Jungkook says, curling his fingers. “Want you dripping and ready before I fill you with my cum.”
You clench at the thought, and Jungkook lets out a hiss. Lifting his hand from the bed, he cups your front to stroke your clit. The pleasure builds quickly, his fingers continuing to move while his other hand teases. Bent over and helpless, all you can do is take it.
“Jungkook,” you gasp, your thighs shaking. “I’m close.”
“Oh?” he murmurs, adding a third finger. You groan, feeling stuffed – and still not remotely close to how thick his cock is. “Take another – you’re doing so well for me, princess.”
Shifting, his fingers hit a spot deep inside you which makes you cry out. Pushed over the edge, your orgasm is fast – squeezing his fingers, you gasp as you ride out the wave. Jungkook helps you through it, coaxing you gently down from the high.
When the last of your tremors has subsided, he withdraws his hand. Pressing a kiss to your neck, Jungkook waits until you turn around.
“How was that?” he asks.
“How… was that?” you ask, amazed as you catch your breath.
Earth-shattering, and yet you barely feel sated. Most of Jungkook is clothed and, feeling the injustice, you take a step forward and press your naked body to his.
“I want more,” you tell him.
“That so?” Jungkook murmurs, cupping your ass with one hand.
“Yeah,” you say, your breath quickening when his fingers swipe through your slick. “Want you naked, Jungkook. Please.”
Wordless, he steps backwards to lower his hands to his pants. Jungkook undoes a button and, finding his efforts too slow, you move forward. Replacing his hands on the zipper, you tug them down as he laughs. Assisting your efforts, Jungkook steps free from his pants to reveal black boxer-briefs.
“Now, your shirt,” you demand.
Lifting a brow, Jungkook undoes the first button. “So greedy,” he says, unable to stop from smiling. “Someone might think you only want them for their body.”
There’s no bite to the words, but you soften regardless. Yoongi’s frankness about Jungkook using sex to keep people away surfaces in your mind. When Jungkook’s shirt hits the floor to reveal tan skin and ink, you barely even notice, stepping closer.
“Hey,” you say softly.
He pauses.
“Jungkook.” You hesitate. “As much as I love… this, between us… that’s not why I’m here. I’m here because I want more than that. I want you. In every way. I need you to know that.”
Uncertainty steals across his features, soon replaced by understanding. Bending his head, Jungkook kisses you – a gesture so light, you barely feel it.
“Thank you,” he murmurs. “I do know.”
“Good.”
“Good.” He pulls back. “And as wonderful as that is to hear, I have every intention of making you come in my bed until you forget your damn name.”
Your breath catches, followed by a moan when his teeth scrape your jaw.
“Sit on the bed,” Jungkook says quietly in your ear.
Unthinking, you obey. When your knees hit the mattress, you sit and scoot backwards until your feet leave the floor.
Jungkook tilts his head. “Spread your legs. I want to see you.”
Slowly, you spread them and lean back on your elbows. Jungkook inhales, his eyes darkening as he takes a step forward.
“Wider,” he murmurs, lowering one knee to the mattress. “Good. That’s better, princess.”
Sliding one hand up your thigh, Jungkook brushes a kiss to your skin. Grasping your waist, he uses this as an anchor while leaning forward.
“How do you want me?” he asks and looks up.
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, how do you want me?” His lips curve. “From behind? Standing? Bent over? Spooning? You aren’t on your period, right?” Jungkook asks, as though the thought just occurred to him.
“N-no,” you assure. “Not yet.”
“So?” he asks, returning to the question at hand. “What position do you want to start in?”
“Uh, all of them?”
His lip twitches. Sitting back, Jungkook crosses both arms across his chest. This causes his biceps to flex which, honestly, is unfair. It seems Jungkook knows what he’s doing, as well – he lifts a brow with maddening arrogance.
“All in good time, princess,” he says. “But how do you want me to fuck you right now?”
“I want to see you,” you confess. “Please.”
Understanding, Jungkook nods and lowers himself to his elbows. Little by little, he releases his weight to press you to the bed. His kisses start slow, but soon, Jungkook’s hands are skimming your curves, losing himself in the feel of your body.
Grinding your hips, you feel the length of him harden. Sliding one hand down his side, you trace the band of his boxers to tug them lower.
Jungkook starts to laugh when you mostly succeed in freeing his ass. Scooting backwards, he removes his boxers and tosses them on the floor. When Jungkook returns to your legs, you exhale with satisfaction – which soon turns to a groan when he captures your nipple with teeth.
Wrapping your legs around his waist, you arch against him. Jungkook’s cock slides against your sex, getting him wet in a way that drives you mad.
“Y/N,” Jungkook rasps. “Look at you. So fucking needy beneath me.”
“Need it,” you moan. “Need you.”
“You have me,” he says, intensity flooding his gaze.
“Do I?”
“All of me,” Jungkook promises. Reaching lower, he positions himself at your entrance. “I’m yours, Y/N.”
Almost reverently, Jungkook drags his cock through your arousal. Teasingly, he circles your clit before moving lower. He does this again – and again, and again – until you think you might burst.
“Jungkook,” you pant.
Gaze lifting, Jungkook presses his cock to your center – and freezes. You go still as well, certain something is wrong.
“Jungkook?” you ask, tentative. “Is everything alright?”
“Fuck.” Jerking back, his hand drops. “Shit – I forgot. Condom.”
Leaning across the bed, Jungkook starts to open a drawer when you grab his hand. Halting his movement, Jungkook glances your way.
“What’s wrong?” he asks, returning immediately. “Do you want me to stop?”
“I – no,” you breath, face suddenly hot. “It’s just… I’m on the pill. And I’m clean. I was tested last week, and I haven’t been with anyone else since the second time we, uh…”
Jungkook looks at you intently. “What exactly are you saying, Y/N?”
“I’m saying you don’t need to use a condom – if you’re also clean.”
“I am.” He pauses. “I went to the doctor this week. But Y/N…” Jungkook trails off. “I’ve actually never…”
He falters, unsure and you realize what he’s trying to say. Jungkook has never had sex without a condom. You suppose you shouldn’t be surprised, given his lack of relationships but still – you didn’t think there’d be anything you’d done before him.
Gently, you touch the side of his face. “We don’t have to,” you tell him. “I know this is a big step. I just thought I’d ask.”
When you move to withdraw, Jungkook catches your hand in his. “It is a big step. But I want to take it with you. If you’re sure,” he adds, quiet.
“I’m sure.”
Jungkook stares at you a long moment, then releases your hand. Lowering himself, he opens your mouth with his. Fingers twisting into his hair, you raise your hips, and he lets out a groan. When you shift, feeling his cock press to your hip, the need is nearly unbearable.
Reaching down, Jungkook repositions himself at your entrance. There’s a moment of hesitation before he pushes in, stopping after only an inch. Both of you inhale, relishing the feel. The tip of his cock is swollen and thick, and when Jungkook pushes in a bit further you stifle a moan.
“Fuck, Y/N,” he gasps, sounding raw. “You feel so fucking good.”
Lifting your hips, you make him slide an inch deeper.
Jungkook grunts. “Don’t do that,” he warns. “Unless you want me to come in the next twenty seconds.”
Smiling, you fall back and allow him to go at his pace – not that you mind. Jungkook stares intently at the point where he enters your body, unable to believe this is happening. Each inch he gains makes you feel a bit fuller and when he’s nearly halfway, you reach down to slowly rub your clit. Jungkook’s eyes glaze at the sight, muttering something beneath his breath about how hot you are.
With a final thrust, he sheathes himself fully and you gasp. Filled to the brim, you have the unbearable urge to move but Jungkook’s expression is nearly past his limit. Exhaling lowly, his gaze lifts to yours.
“God,” he mutters. “This is… the way you feel… is so unbelievable.”
Breath catching, you nod. Without a condom, you can feel every inch of Jungkook inside you. It makes him feel closer, as though you’ve let him in in more ways than one. Lifting your hips, you try to take him deeper.
Jungkook grits his teeth. “Not yet,” he warns. “Give me… a minute.”
Eventually, the tension leaves his jaw and Jungkook slowly pulls out. The loss of him makes you whimper, and with equal deliberation, Jungkook pushes back in. When he sees you bite down on your lower lip, he smirks.
Before you can huff, Jungkook repeats the motion – this time, harder. Both of you groan when your hips meet, feeling the way you easily stretch around him.
“Goddamn,” he murmurs, one hand on the bed. “You’re so perfect for me, baby. Feel so fucking good wrapped around my cock.”
Tightening your legs around his waist, you take him in deeper. Lifting himself onto his elbows, Jungkook thrusts a bit harder to hit a new angle.
“Ah,” you moan, arching your back. “There, Jungkook – right there.”
“There?” he murmurs. “That’s what you want, princess?”
Frantic, you nod and try to coax him faster. Jungkook merely chuckles, dragging the motion out so you feel his entire length inside you.
“Patience,” he coaxes. “You’re so good for me, Y/N. So fucking tight and perfect – made for me. This pussy was made for my cock.”
“Yeah, it was,” you breathe, your chest brushing his. “You’re so fucking hard. Fuck me so good.”
“Yeah, I do,” Jungkook growls, claiming your mouth with his own.
He doesn’t change speed, but each thrust is sharp, hard, driving you up on the bed. The motion causes your breasts to bounce, caught in between you. Breaking away, Jungkook lowers himself to suck a nipple between his teeth.
“Oh my god,” you whimper.
Pulling abruptly back out, Jungkook adopts a kneeling position. Yanking your thighs closer, he notches himself at your entrance and pushes – a groan escapes, the position allowing him to get even deeper.
“That’s it,” he breathes, bending forward. “Want to feel you come on my cock.”
Pressure building, your hands slide up your body to cup your breasts. Inhaling softly, Jungkook fixates on the sight as he thrusts even harder.
“Is this what you want, princess?” Jungkook grunts, the hard, heavy hit of his cock makes your eyes glaze. “Thought so.” His smile is smug. “All you want is a thick cock inside you.
“Yes,” you groan. “Don’t stop, Jungkook.”
“I’m not gonna stop, baby,” he says, leaning forward to hit a deeper angle. “Need my cock to make you come so good, right? How’s that?”
“Th-that’s it,” you gasp, choking on words. “Jungkook!”
Each thrust deepens the pleasure, your thighs starting to shake while you fight to hold on. Your perception narrows to his cock between your legs, his chest brushing yours until you come. Pleasure breaks over you, so strong it nearly pulls you under. Gasping his name, you hear Jungkook swear when you tighten around him. He continues to thrust, supporting your orgasm until you whimper.
Slowly, your eyes open to find him above you. Brushing a kiss to your cheek, Jungkook gently pulls out and sits back. Struggling to prop yourself up on both elbows, your gaze lowers. His cock stands in what must be a painful erection, but Jungkook pays this no notice.
Instead, his attention is fixated on you. “Are you alright?”
You nearly laugh. “Are you?”
A wry smile crosses his face. “Answer the question.”
“I’m… amazing,” you exhale, collapsing slightly. “Blissed out by the multiple orgasms.”
Jungkook’s brow sketches upward. “Just two, and you’re done?”
His tone is dark with promise and instantly, your body stirs. Not that it ever fully relaxed – the second orgasm did more than the first, but still, you crave more.
“Are you done, Jungkook?” you ask sweetly.
Boldly, his gaze lowers to your spread legs before him. Blistering heat enters his gaze, taking in your drenched cunt.
“No,” he admits, slowly fisting his cock. You watch while he drags his hand up and down. “I’m not done, but I can come on your chest. Or in my hand. Whatever you prefer.”
“Or,” you exhale, flipping onto your stomach, “you could fuck me like I know you want to.”
From behind, Jungkook inhales. Glancing at him over your shoulder, you nearly come on the spot. Jungkook stares at you, ravenous, as though you’ve gifted him heaven. There’s no need to ask twice.
“On your hands and knees, baby,” he demands, moving closer. “I need you hard and fast. Feeling you come around my cock was so fucking hot – I won’t last long.”
Nodding, you hastily position yourself, ass-up on the bed. Coming to a stop, Jungkook drags his fingers through the slick at your entrance. Grasping your hips, he pulls them higher and leans forward.
‘Such a good girl,” he murmurs, slipping two fingers inside you. “Can you come for me again?”
“Yes,” you pant, pushing back on his hand.
Withdrawing his fingers, Jungkook replaces them with his cock to fill you with one thrust. He pauses, adjusting to the feeling of you from behind. In the window’s reflection, you can see how good it looks to be fucked by his cock.
Jungkook’s eyes meet yours. Smirking a little, he lifts his hand to bring it back down. You groan at the sound, arching your back to invite him further. Jungkook obliges, spanking you harder when he thrusts his hips deeper.
“You want it rough?” he murmurs, sliding one hand up your spine. “Can you take it, princess?”
“Please, Jungkook,” you beg him. “I need you to make me come again.”
“So greedy.” Dragging his fingers through your arousal, Jungkook rocks his hips forward. “I love a woman who knows what she wants.”
“Harder, Jungkook,” you pant.
His grip tightens. “As you command.”
Pulling back out, he pauses – and releases whatever hold he had on himself. Jungkook doesn’t ease you into it; as promised, he fucks you hard and fast. Fingers digging into the sides of your ass, Jungkook pounds into you. Each thrust has his balls slapping your clit, pleasure sparking inside you.
“Oh – fuck,” you gasp, head thrown back. “Jungkook!”
Shifting his hips, he hits a spot deep inside which makes your whole body tremble. A deep, throbbing need spirals through you, leaving you weightless.
“Jungkook.”
Sensing the shift, he manages to go even faster. “Right there?” Jungkook grunts, and you nearly sob. “That’s it, baby. Just relax. I’ll take care of it. I’ve got you.”
Turning your head, you lower your chest to the sheets and spread your thighs wider. Yanking your hips upwards, Jungkook takes control and drives into your body.
“Oh – oh,” you gasp, worrying you might split in half.
“Come for me, baby,” Jungkook urges. “Want to feel you around me. Want to paint this cunt white.”
Edged beyond belief, your hand slips higher to trace over your clit. Noticing this, Jungkook groans.
“That’s it, princess,” he pants. “Touch yourself. Feel how fucking hard you make me. How badly I need to come. Can’t wait to fill you up. Let everyone know whose pussy this is. Do you want that?” he grunts. “Want me to mark you like that?”
“Yes,” you hiccup. “Want your cum so bad inside me. Want to feel you for days.”
The thought of it overwhelms you so much, you can’t hold it in – your orgasm claims you. Jungkook’s hips stutter when your body releases, squeezing him tightly. Gasping, he follows, the heat of his cum pulsing into your body. Jungkook continues to thrust until there’s nothing left, staying inside you while your breathing steadies.
Slowly, he bends and lifts you from the bed. Limp in his arms, you can’t help but smile when he kisses your neck. Eventually, Jungkook pulls himself out – you move to cup yourself, but he’s already there, his hand slipped between you.
Lazily, Jungkook drags his fingers through the mess, mingling your slick with his in slow strokes. When he exhales in satisfaction, you can’t keep your nipples from hardening.
Noticing this, Jungkook chuckles. “You like that?” he murmurs, continuing to play with your pussy. “Like the feel of my cum inside you?”
Wordless, you move your hips against his hand. Other hand traveling up your torso, Jungkook tugs a nipple, and you suck in a breath.
“If you keep doing that,” you whisper, “you’ll make me come again.”
Jungkook pauses. “Want me to?” he asks lowly. “I’d love to eat you out like this.”
On instinct, your lips part and you meet his gaze in the window. Jungkook grins and, before you can respond, he’s guiding you onto your back.
“Is that a yes?” he teases.
“Yeah,” you breathe, staring up at him.
“Shit, Y/N,” Jungkook mutters, staring at your messy sex. “You’re unbelievable.”
Although cock has gone mostly soft, it twitches at the sight. When you spread your thighs wider, Jungkook groans and lowers himself to the sheets.
He starts off slow, trailing his fingers up and down your oversensitive sex. When his touch starts to feel good, Jungkook grips your thigh to open wider.
“Don’t move,” he murmurs, and bends forward.
The first sweep of his tongue makes you sigh. Jungkook eases you into it, avoiding sensitive places, working your body until you writhe beneath him. When he finally takes your clit into his mouth and sucks, you arch clean off the bed. Lowering your hands to his hair, you guide Jungkook with strands wrapped around your fingers.
Growling, Jungkook moves one hand to your thigh to keep you pinned in place. His dark hair is a halo across your skin while he eats his cum from your pussy. Pushing your hips higher, you move in a circle to get him where you want.
Panting, Jungkook looks up. “You taste so good,” he murmurs. “Next time, I’m keeping my cum inside you. Want to pull up your panties and let everyone know that you’re mine.”
You stare at him, shocked and aroused by the concept. It’s something that’s never really intrigued you but now, with him, the thought is appealing.
“And I’m yours,” Jungkook adds, softer.
Before you can melt too much at this statement, he lowers his head and sucks your clit. Groaning aloud, you grab his hair and barely hold on. Finger tracing your entrance, Jungkook strokes and teases while you grind on his face. When he pushes his finger inside, the glide is made even easier by his cum inside you.
“Oh – fuck,” you gasp. “That feels so fucking good, Jungkook.”
“Does it?” Lifting his head, he curls his finger. “You like being this filthy, baby? Like having me eat my own cum from this perfect pussy?”
“Y-es.”
“Good,” he pants. “Because same.”
When you glance down, you nearly come on the spot. Jungkook’s hips are lifted, allowing him access to palm his cock while he eats you out. Stunned, you watch his ass tense while he grinds into his hand. A brief flash of his fingers through legs shows him cupping his balls, giving them a soft tug, and you nearly combust.
“Jungkook,” you groan. “Are you hard yet?”
“Nearly there, princess.”
“Want you inside me,” you say. “Now.”
Immediately, Jungkook pulls back to sit on his heels. Staring intently at your body, he strokes his half-hardened cock.
“Alright,” he said, his voice rough. “Touch yourself. Play with my cum inside you – that’ll get me so fucking hard.”
Spreading your thighs, you trail your fingers up and down your sex. Spreading yourself further, you give Jungkook the view he craves. When you sink a finger inside, he groans in approval and thumbs over his cock.
“Want you,” you say, watching him harden. “Want to feel you so deep in this pussy. Want you to fill me up with your cum and keep it there. Flip me over and fuck me so hard, I can’t walk tomorrow.”
Jungkook grunts, giving himself a final stroke before gripping your thigh to push towards your chest. Thrusting forward, he fills you in one stroke and you both groan in tandem.
“Fuck.” Jungkook stares, watching the last of his cum drip from your pussy. “You’re so goddamn tight, Y/N. Even tighter than before.”
“Feel… feel so full,” you say, breathless.
Jungkook’s gaze sparks as he slowly pulls out. “That’s it,” he breathes, pushing back in. “Gonna fuck all my cum right out of you. Fill you up a second time – you want that?”
“Yes,” you manage. “Please.”
“Then that’s what you’ll get,” he says, fucking you in rough thrusts which drive you up on the bed. “Gotta treat this pussy right.”
“You do,” you groan, face buried in his neck.
Jungkook’s hips are relentless, thrusting into you hard and making you tremble. Clinging to his back, you feel his steady thrusts bring you fast to the edge. You’re so close to breaking when Jungkook abruptly pulls out.
“Jungkook?” you say, dazed. “What are you –”
“Like this,” he says, shifting you to lay on your side. Grasping your knee, Jungkook lifts your thigh, pressing his hips to yours from behind.
Repositioning himself, Jungkook pushes back in. You gasp at the loss of control, everything feeling so wet and tight in the position. Releasing your knee, Jungkook gently pushes you forward to fuck you from behind.
“Jungkook,” you groan, pushing backwards.
“Yeah, princess?”
Your heart skips a beat. “I need… more.”
Sliding his arm beneath your knee again, Jungkook lifts your leg to open your body. The position allows him to get even deeper and, a groan slipping past, your eyes flutter shut.
“Keep your knee up,” Jungkook demands, and releases.
Hand sliding higher, he cups your breast to stroke over a nipple. Teasing, he trails lower to stop above your sex. When you whimper, he gives in and strokes in slow circles. Watching him touch you in the window reflection is an added rush.
“That’s it,” Jungkook murmurs, thrusting harder. “So fucking gorgeous. Ready to come so easily on my cock.”
“For you,” you moan. “Always for you, Jungkook.”
He growls, teeth scraping your neck as he draws his hand away and regrasps your leg. Pulling this higher, he tugs you against him to fuck even harder. Your entire body shudders, on the verge of release.
“Touch yourself,” Jungkook gasps. “I’m about to come.”
You obey, fingers slipping over your clit, lost in the feeling of him deep inside you. Already close to the edge, it doesn’t take long before you tighten around him. Pleasure breaks through you in a hard, quick orgasm which leaves you shattered. Jungkook comes soon after, moving inside you until the last of his cum trickles out.
He stays as long as he can but eventually, Jungkook pulls out. Grabbing a tissue, he returns to clean you and, once done, drops back on the mattress.
“That was…” Jungkook stares at the ceiling. “Amazing.”
Turning over, you loosely drape your arm over his chest. For once in your life, you don’t feel the urge to dissect what just happened. Gently, Jungkook lowers his head to brush a kiss to your temple.
“Yeah,” you exhale.
“I should probably clean up,” he says after a pause. “Want to use my bathroom? I can use the one in the living room.”
“Okay.”
Reluctantly, you pull back to place your feet on the floor. Staring out at the skyline, a thought suddenly occurs to you.
“Am I sleeping in here?” you ask, glancing over your shoulder.
Jungkook hovers, one foot on the ground. “Uh… I assumed so, yeah? Unless you want to stay upstairs?”
“No, no,” you hasten. “I want to stay here.”
“Oh, okay.” His shoulders relax. “Good.”
Jungkook’s grin makes you smile and, after retrieving your bag, you rush to get ready. Rather aggressively, you scrub your face – each second apart feels like wasted time. Once finished, you stare at your pajamas and then shake your head.
Heading to the door, you push it open a crack. Jungkook stands beside his dresser, plugging in his phone to charge. Despite what he said, he’s dressed in a new pair of boxers and not in the nude.
Pointedly, you clear your throat, and he turns.
Seeing you half in, half out of his bathroom, Jungkook lifts a brow. “Yes?”
Innocently, you blink. “Can I borrow a t-shirt?”
Shifting his weight, Jungkook crosses both arms. Again, this makes his biceps pop, and you narrow your gaze. His hotness infuriates you, amongst other feelings.
“Are you going to return any of my other clothing?” Jungkook asks drily. “Because I seem to be missing several other items.”
Eyes wide, you ask, “Are you sure it was me? Maybe your dry cleaner misplaced things.”
“Or I’ve loaned you several things you’ve yet to give back.”
“What can I say?” Grin wide, you shrug. “You smell good. That t-shirt I borrowed is my new favorite nightdress.”
Hearing this, his eyes go hazy with want. Silent, Jungkook turns around to walk towards his dresser. Withdrawing a large, cotton t-shirt, he turns around.
“You can have this,” Jungkook says, “on the condition my other items be returned.”
“Well, sure,” you say, accepting his t-shirt through the door. “Your other clothes don’t smell like you anymore. We’ll need a rotation.”
Faux annoyance vanishing, Jungkook leans down to press a kiss to your lips. “I don’t care,” he murmurs, pulling back. “Keep it. Keep all my shirts. I’ll walk around naked.”
“That would cause some serious traffic problems,” you say, slightly dazed.
Jungkook just grins, gesturing with one finger for you to turn around. Retreating to his bathroom, you slip his t-shirt overhead as you shut the door. Adding a fresh pair of underwear, you zip your bag shut and exit.
Jungkook is already in bed, his covers pulled back and waiting.
“Does Dante always sleep like that?” he asks when you climb inside.
“Like what?”
“You know.” Pulling a face, he mimics your sleeping dog. “On his back, with his tongue out.”
You can’t help but laugh. “That’s his natural state, I’ll have you know. How rude of you to judge him.”
“No judgment! I was scared I broke him.”
Grinning, you slide beneath his sheets. Draping your arm over Jungkook’s waist, you turn your head to rest on his chest. Gently, your fingers trail through the smattering of hair which leads to his boxers.
Frowning, you think about the last time you slept in the same bed. While that night at your apartment was wonderful, the morning after was less so and unthinkingly, your arm tightens. Staring at the ink on his chest, you trace Jungkook’s tattoos with your gaze and remind yourself how different things are.
“That night meant something to me,” he says quietly.
Startled, you look up. “What night?”
Jungkook exhales. “When I stayed at your place. When we slept together, and I… well, it had been a long time since I stayed at someone else’s place. Actually, ever.”
“Oh.”
“Yeah.” He pauses. “I panicked. I woke up and saw you and… I knew this was special.” Jungkook’s gaze intensifies, needing you to understand. “I’d been feeling things for a while, but that was the day I woke up and… I just knew. But you didn’t want more than sex, and there I was, breaking the rules. I was terrified you’d wake up, look at me, and know. So, I left.”
“Jungkook…” you murmur, putting the pieces together.
He exhales. “It was stupid, but there it is. I’m sorry.”
“So, that day… you left because you felt too much?”
“Yeah. I tried to be casual about it in my text, but I think I may have overcompensated.”
Your lips twitch. “I’ll say.”
“I didn’t mean to hurt you.” His gaze softens. “I’m sorry if I did.”
“That makes two of us. But Jungkook… you already apologized for what happened before – so did I. This is a fresh start.”
“A fresh start, mm?” He fights back a yawn. “Sounds nice.”
“Mm.” You return your head to his chest. “Consider this a blank slate.”
Rather than relax, Jungkook tightens beneath you. Uncertain, you lift your head and find him staring at the ceiling. His brow furrows, deep in thought and you wait for him to speak whatever’s on his mind.
“I just… I should tell you more.” He swallows, and you watch his throat work. “About my childhood. About my family, and why I… why I am the way I am.”
“You don’t have to tell me right now,” you say, sensing how difficult this is. “I want to know more – I do. I want to know everything about you, Jungkook. It doesn’t have to be tonight, though. I’m not going anywhere.”
Grateful, Jungkook turns his head to look at you. Grasping your hand in his, he lifts them both to press a kiss to your fingers.
“Tomorrow,” he murmurs, lowering them to his chest. “I just… I want tonight to be about the two of us. No one else.”
You nod because you understand. It’s difficult to let people in; even the ones you want to know more about. Guilt steals through you though, knowing what you already do.
“You should know, though…” You hesitate. “Yoongi mentioned your childhood to me. He didn’t give specifics, but he gave a general idea.”
Jungkook merely chuckles. “I know,” he says softly. “And like I said, I’m not angry. Yoongi was right. I tend to let people think the worst of me – and rather than prove them right, I push them away. It’s something I’m working on in therapy.”
“Therapy, huh?” you murmur. “That’s great, Jungkook.”
“Been seeing them on and off. It’s a lot of change, taking over Jeon Energy. I thought it’d be good to talk through it all.”
“That’s really good,” you agree. “I’ve been thinking of doing the same.”
Jungkook simply nods and accepts this. After all, trauma never really disappears. It just becomes easier to deal with, something to live with and to know how to respond to.
“Anyways.” Jungkook swallows. “I wanted to tell you I’m trying. I want this. I want you. And I want to be better for me, too.”
Heart swelling against your ribcage, you press even closer.
“I want you, too, Jungkook,” you whisper. “It’s hard for me to trust, but I trust you. Completely.”
Cupping your chin in one hand, Jungkook lifts you to him for a kiss. When he pulls away, he rests his forehead against yours.
“You know the room you stayed in?” he murmurs.
Brow furrowing, you nod. “Yeah?”
Releasing your chin, Jungkook’s gaze shifts towards the door.
“I made that room for my mom,” he admits. “It was the type of space she liked, a style she would have picked. When she died…” He hesitates. “I was scared I’d lose that warmth in my life. That I’d turn into my father, obsessed with the family business. I think I did for a while,” he confesses, glancing down. “But now…”
Trailing off, Jungkook doesn’t finish his sentence, and you don’t make him. Taking his hand, you lower your head to his chest again. Jungkook’s arm tightens, pulling you closer, and your thigh ends up draped over his.
“You could never be like your dad,” you murmur against his skin. “Granted, I don’t know him well, but I know you, Jungkook. You helped me without asking for anything in return. You changed Jeon Energy from the inside and maybe that took a while, but it’s the kind of change that lasts. You’re the best person I know,” you add, your voice dropping. “If I need to spend the rest of my life reminding you, I’ll do it.”
Gently, Jungkook tilts your chin upward with his thumb. Your gazes meet, and you’re struck by the sudden realization that this man is yours.
Just as you’re his.
“Likewise, princess,” he murmurs and kisses you.
Author's Note: Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed :) This is the last chapter in this series. I will be writing an epilogue, but it will take place after this story. I do not have a tag list, so please do not ask to be added or ask about updates. My writing progress can be found in my updates schedule, linked in both my header and FAQ!
[Series Master List]
© kpopfanfictrash, 2022. Do not copy or repost without permission.
#bangtanarmynet#jungkook fanfic#jungkook smut#bts fanfic#bts smut#jungkook series#jungkook au#bts series#bts au#jungkook fanfiction#bts fanfiction
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"an ode to tendou's hands"
Pairing: tendou x fem!reader
Genre: fluff, slight nsfw
Summary: you want to be normal about your boyfriend, but how can you when he's flaunting his hands everywhere
WC: 2,138
Warnings: references to you gushing, reader’s got enough hair to stick a hand in lol, reader wears a sundress
A/N: dipping my toes further and further into nsfw so that maybe someday my ass will write some full-blown nsfw for y'all -Luna
When you hear people gush about their partners, they often talk about how kind they are when they bring them their favorite candy bar or buy their favorite smoothie "just because." Maybe how caring they are as they tuck them in when they're sick or detangle their hair for them in the shower. It’s always the little things that they do for them that matter the most.
The few times they bring up their appearance, it's always the common stuff. Their hair is so fluffy and smooth, maybe their eyes are piercing, yet soft only for them. You hear them describe how their arms are so built that it makes them drool. Or they—and you’re specifically talking about your friend Eri—describe their significant other’s thigh muscles with such strange detail and precision that you’re left floating in a space between understanding and deep worry.
But even their odd infatuations with their partner's features never compare to yours, because even when Eri gets going on her weird tangents about her boyfriend’s thighs and how she’d like for them to crush her skull like a watermelon, your other friends nod and laugh along. You’ve tested your answer on a crowd before and all you got was the loudest silence you’ve ever heard followed by someone too many moments later saying, “what?” They just didn’t get it.
You've always been embarrassed to share your real answer with your closest friends, not because they’d make you feel like a freak (derogatory), but because they’ll make you feel like a weirdo (affectionate). And while Eri can take the casual ribbing, you’re not so sure you have a thick enough skin to be able to last a quarter as long as she has. So you've settled with picking something a little more normal, like gushing about how, although your boyfriend Tendou is lean, he’s much stronger than he looks.
They don't have to know that the real answer has you gushing elsewhere, though.
Tendou’s hands.
Two palms. Ten fingers—two of which are thumbs. Fourteen knuckles.
They’re long. They’re slender. They reach places you can never reach with your own, like the bottom of the Pringles can.
Unlike a boyfriend’s thighs or abs, hands aren’t hidden in everyday life behind some piece of fabric. They’re constantly touching you or things around you which makes it nearly impossible to keep your focus. In previous relationships, or even in everyday life, a person’s hands didn’t catch your attention as they do now. But when you started dating Tendou, it was like a sleeper agent activated.
The first time you took notice of his hands was at the end of your second date, after he walked you home. You both lingered in front of your apartment door, not quite ready to say goodbye to one another. He decided to take a risk, using his hand to brush some hair behind your ear—although, you’re pretty sure it wasn’t out of place to begin with—then letting his fingers trail down your jaw, sending shivers down your spine. His hand then came back up to cup your cheek, and it dawned on you that, with the way his hand stretched, he could palm your whole head like a volleyball based on length alone.
Then he sealed the deal by leaning down, his lips hovering just a hair over yours, and whispering, “Do you mind if I kiss you?”
What always amazes you when you replay that moment in your mind is you hardly remember the kiss itself, but what you do remember is what it felt like to have his hand slip into your hair and grasp it at the roots in his excitement. How his other hand slid around your waist to pull you against his chest, fingers playing with the edge of your crop top and barely brushing against your bare skin. You had goosebumps from head to toe, leaving you with no choice but to lean on him to keep yourself upright. You were smitten from that day forward and would do anything to get him to touch you again like he did that day.
You're about 98% sure that Tendou has never noticed your infatuation—not once—because you're just that smooth. Like a fucking ninja. There's no other word to describe your actions besides subtle.
Except, if you asked Tendou, you're not even close. In fact, in his eyes, you're about as subtle as a gun.
Tendou lets you think you are because he enjoys seeing your poor attempts at hiding your obsession. The truth is he's noticed every single time your eyes drift from his face to his flailing hands as he tells you a story then snap back to his face once you feel like you've been distracted for too long. Or, when you decide to keep him company while he's testing new chocolate recipes and techniques in the kitchen, and, instead of ooh-ing and aah-ing as he pipes an intricate design on a truffle, you're more occupied with staring at his mouth as he licks the smeared chocolate on his fingertips.
God forbid he offers you a taste of chocolate he swipes from the edge of a bowl with his pointer finger—then he's the one who has to control himself when he notices your eyes gently flutter as you lick it off, the tip of your tongue flicking his fingertip.
He doesn't really understand it, and initially, he took your distracted gaze as disinterest. He was afraid he was boring you when he was going off on tangents or when he suggested you sit by as a taste tester in the kitchen. But he soon caught on when he noticed that your eyes weren’t glazed over in boredom and staring forward with no focus at all. He could see them following his hands like a hawk, taking in every bend, twitch, or grasp. And while he did notice them glaze over occasionally, he had a feeling it wasn’t because you were bored.
Tendou's been trying to find the right time to bring it up. He doesn't want you to think he's making fun of you or that you should be ashamed of your little fixation. Since he’s first noticed, he’s been trying to hint to you that he knows; brushing an imaginary eyelash off of your cheek, cupping your face whenever he gets the chance, trailing his fingers up your arm whenever he peers over your shoulder to look at what you're cooking.
He’s not sure if it’s working or if it's had the opposite effect, but he has been enjoying watching you squirm in the meantime.
Then it all culminates one weekend in August.
He suggests taking a trip to Barcelona after a colleague of his recommended a little chocolate shop there that he’s been dying to try. With about an 8-hour drive from where you live, you suggest you make it a little vacation, taking off that Friday and Monday to properly enjoy it all.
The trip starts off as all of your trips do. Tendou decides to drive so you play DJ, quizzing him on certain songs and annoying him with others. You feed him some snacks so he can keep an eye on the road, purposefully playing "here comes the airplane" until he bites your fingertip like an overzealous toddler.
It dies off about 2 hours into the trip after you get back in the car from a short gas station trip. You play a more relaxed playlist, filled with instrumentals and some ballads. The only chatter from both of you is when either of you comments on the view. Otherwise, it's a comfortable silence, leaning your head on the window and watching the trees and other cars fly by.
Your peace is disturbed when you feel Tendou’s hand slide onto your knee, giving what’s supposed to be a comforting squeeze, but feels more like a jolt to your system. Unintentionally, you jump in your seat, trying to play it off like you’re shifting to be more comfortable, but he notices.
“You okay, baby?” Tendou asks, with a smirk you don’t see because you can’t meet his eyes. Let’s see you try to get yourself out of this one.
“Yeah, uh, your hands were just cold.”
“Oops. My bad, honey.” He squeezes your knee again as he says it, and you can only hope he doesn’t notice that you tense up. “They’ll get warm soon enough, I’m sure.”
You shoot him a quick smile, before turning to look out the passenger window, hoping that he doesn’t notice how nervous you actually are. You’re tempted to start bouncing your leg, but you can’t risk him asking any more questions.
Eventually, you relax enough to rest your hand over his, stroking the back of his hand with your thumb. You’re so lost in thought that you don’t realize that your hand started acting on its own, tracing the veins on the back of his hand and over the pronounced knuckles of his fingers.
Tendou, of course, notices immediately. “So you like my hands, huh?”
You freeze. This isn’t how you wanted him to find out, you think as you pull your hand towards your chest like it touched an open flame. If there was ever a perfect time for the ground to suddenly open up so it can swallow you whole, this would be it. In fact, you contemplate opening the car door and tucking and rolling onto the highway just to get yourself out of this situation.
Your diabolical red-headed boyfriend glances over at you a few times during your prolonged silence, before clearing his throat and saying, “I’ve known about your… thing for ages, you know.”
Your panic shoots out of you all at once. “You knew?! When? How!? I’m so lowkey about it!”
“Well, you don’t exactly make it subtle,” he chuckles. “How else would you be able to explain why you either jump out of your skin or completely shut down whenever I touch you? Or when I can't even make eye contact with you during our conversations because you're so focused on my hands?"
"...Trauma and social awkwardness?"
Tendou shoots you an incredulous look before returning his eyes to the road. “First of all, if it was trauma, we probably would’ve talked about it during the years we’ve been together. Second, you? Socially awkward with me? You’re the one who has no problem pooping while I’m showering, so there’s no way.”
Your mouth opens and shuts repeatedly, failing to produce a good enough excuse. Instead, you turn your head far enough that you can’t see him from the corner of your eye anymore, but you sure can hear him cackle because of his effect on you.
You still refuse to make eye contact when you feel his hand trail up your thigh, barely making it to the hem of your dress before making his way back down to your knees, his fingers leaving trails of heat in its wake.
“What do you like about them, hm?” His fingers trail back up, playing with the hem of your dress and inching it higher. “Is it how long my fingers are? How gentle they are when they caress the skin of your thigh? Probably giving you goosebumps, huh?”
And they absolutely are, along with a shudder up your spine with how low his voice has dropped.
“Or maybe how talented they are, like when they curl just right?” His hand finally dips under the fabric, brushing his pinky against the edge of your panties. "Oooh, no safety shorts today? How risque! What are you preparing for, honey?"
"Nothing, I just—”, you take in a shakey breath as you feel his pinky play with the edge of the lace,”—didn't want to sweat with the extra layer."
"That's what the AC is for, honey. Are ya sure there's no other reason?"
"No. I mean, yes, or—wait. Fuck." Your head feels like it’s full of cotton, your mouth too dry to speak. Your eyes are unable to focus on anything at the moment, the leg he’s not touching restlessly bouncing. You glance over at the time displayed on your phone that’s mounted to the dashboard and calculate that you’ve got about 4 hours left before you reach your destination, and that’s when you realize that you can’t wait until you reach your hotel.
You need him. Now.
“Can you— Over there— Just—” You stumble over your words, unable to form a coherent sentence as you point frantically over to the side of the highway.
“You want me to pull over onto the shoulder?” He says smugly, not even sparing you a glance.
“God, yes, please.”
He steers the car abruptly to the right, and you’re in his lap before he can even properly put the car in park, hands all over each other.
Written by: Luna
you've got an @; we've got a taglist~
#tendou x reader#tendou satori x reader#haikyuu x reader#tendou fluff#tendou smut#hq x reader#tendou x you#tendou x y/n#haikyuu x you#haikyuu fluff#haikyuu smut#our writing#luna writes
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𝚞𝚗𝚍𝚎𝚛 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚛𝚜
when ellie wanted to go on a walk and you confessed your feelings for her (female reader, fluff)
author's note: this fanfiction was written in may 2023, so way before the current events in palestine. i apologise if posting this is inappropriate. please, boycott and donate to palestine if you can
"so, there is this theory. the universe is essentially cyclical, its destined to end and start again the exact same way. this means history has followed the same path since the dawn of time, humans have suffered and will suffer since we are meant to live the same life over and over an infinite amount of times. however, this also means we have been lived this exact moment and infinite amount of time. we are destined meet in every life, every single one of them" you said, enfolding yourself in ellie's jacket.
it was march. spring was slowly coming and the evening air was still quite cold, enough for ellie to lay her jacket on your shoulders the moment you started complaining about the temperature. there was a party in jackson and you didn’t care enough to ask what the reason to celebrate was. you just wanted to be there if ellie was there. you came earlier than everyone else, watching the door waiting to her to walk through the entrance. you saw her after a good fifteen minutes sat at your table and in a few moments she was sitting in front of you. when the music became too loud she asked if you wanted to keep talking outside.
"basically we are cursed" and she giggled. you were walking right outside the pub, trying to get away from the crowd and stay alone for a while. ellie started to talk about the universe before, about some theories she read on a book she found during one of her patrols. good heavens, you could listen to her ramblings for hours. you hoped that fun fact could impress her, at least a little bit. you could smell her on her jacket, so you squeeze its hems and ellie seemed to notice.
"so meeting me was a curse?" you jokingly asked and that was enough to make the other girl blush. you could feel her nervousness. it was dark already and the street light created a good atmosphere, everything made her face look ever prettier. you couldn’t wait for the summer to come, it would have accentuate her freckles and she would have her iconic half-bun hairstyle.
"absolutely fucking not! i mean... its probably one of the few things i want to experence again. like reading my favourite chapter for the first time again" she clumsily tried to explain, moving her hands a little bit to emphasize the concept. hoping it would make it make sense. for a moment you thought she could physically hear your heartbeat for how hard it was. you had a crush on ellie for quite a while and multiple times you found yourself doing whatever you could to spend more time with her. you even considered joining the patrol training. "how did we started talking about this?"
"well, we started talking about your comic serie, then about the universe and you got a little passionate about the topic. and i shared this amazing theory. i read a few articles in the library the other day, i thought you might find it interesting." you started, looking away to the street. you were to embarassed to actually look at her in the eyes and you could really feel the blood reaching your cheeks, so you decided to focus on a random point in the other direction. "i wanted to impress you. sometimes you start your ramblings and i find myself unable to reply, so i started looking for something to say. that's how i found the most depressing theory ever"
for a good moment you could only hear your own steps on the cobblestone and the confused background noise. ellie just stopped for a moment whike hearing your explaination, her eyes looking into the nothingness in front of her and her mind just internally replaying everything you have said. you stopped after a few steps, turning around just to see ellie lost for a second. before you could ask if everything was okay, she started talking. "wow... i mean, this somehow makes the idea less depressing"
"honestly? i would go through everything just to meet you again and i'm glad the thought of you doing the same isnt that depressing anymore" you replied smiling. in a few seconds ellie was right beside you like before and you just kept walking in silence. a little bit closer this time. the only sounds that filled the silence were your steps and some background voices you didn’t bother to listen. nobody could bother your personal heaven. and if the universe had to be destroyed and recreated to make you live it again, so be it.
"just to be clear, meeting you was the best thing that happened to me so far" you specified, still holding the hems of her jacket between your fingers to keep it on your shoulders. you had the courage to look at her and smile, waiting for a reaction. it was getting late, you were out of the town centre at this point and your two glasses of liquor at the bar made you braver than you would have thought. it was late, the stars were shining right above the two of you and there was no one around you. even the street light were fewer.
you walked a little faster, just a few steps and turned around to face the other girl. ellie had a perplexed expression on her face as she stopped. you slightly leaned forward, towards her. it was difficukt to describe how loud your heartbeat was in that instant and you could physically feel the change of the atmosphere, it was more tense and sentimental. you closed your eyes and took all the courage you had. you couldn’t go back anyway. "if the universe has to collapse to make each other meet again then good. if we had met each other in every universe, in every timeline,... i wouldn’t want to meet anyone else"
saying ellie was startled would be an understatement. little did you know she was hoplessly trying to hide her crush on you or how fast her heart was beating when she had the opportinuty to give you her jacket. you didn’t know about the times she looked at you from afar or how she talked about you to her friends when they were alone or about the many times she wrote about you in her journal. and now there she was, looking at you with wide eyes and not a single word on her mouth as you were essentially confessing your feelings for her.
you waited for her answer for a few moments. you tilted your head and watched her unsure of how you should behave, biting your own lips for the nervousness. you were almost sure you fucked up your friendships at this point. "oh, fuck" she started. her mind was crushing for a hot minute, not really processing what you said. you could see redness speading across her cheeks and over her freckles, decorating her face. "no, its just that... shit"
"too cheesy?" you asked with a slightly embarassed face. at this point you couldn’t really care anymore about whatever feeling of nervousness you have felt during the time you had a crush on her. crush that, at this point, was quite too obvious. it was the perfect moment, the perfect background to have either a romantic confession or your heart broken. it was worth it regardless.
"its the right amount of cheesy" she replied, hiding her mouth behind her hand. ellie never thought anyone would ever think of a space-themed love confession, especially she never thought the prettiest girl in town would confess her feelings for her with a space-themed love confession. "its the perfect amount of cheesy, actually" she commented quietly. she sighed.
you didn’t move a centimetre the moment she walked into your direction, so painfully aware of every step she took. of her perfume and how much you wanted to disapoear in the crook of her neck to snell it properly. of how warm her hand was when she reached for your cheeks. and under the stars, you kissed.
#ellie x reader#ellie williams x reader#ellie williams#tlou#tlou2#tlou x reader#ellie x fem reader#ellie williams x female reader#tlou2 ellie
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You know what would be fun? If having a Persona leaked into the rest of your life. Well, maybe not for the users, but it would be fun for us.
In Persona 2, Reiji Kido and Kenta Yokouchi are both door-to-door salesmen who work for the same company, but Kenta is successful where Reiji is not. Kenta’s Persona Mara induces greed in customers, while Reiji’s Persona Mot induces fear.
Imagine if we saw that elsewhere. Like, what if having a Persona made you fluent in the language they’d know? (And you didn’t lose it if you got an Ultimate Persona?)
Since all the starting Personas in Persona 3 are Greek, SEES uses Ancient Greek to pass messages during the day. Sometimes at the dorm, they wind up chatting and don’t realize that they switched to Greek; this happens a few times when Ryoji is over.
Ryuji realizes that English class is suddenly a lot easier with Captain Kidd. He understands everything the teacher says! Except his teacher has no idea how to grade his essays, which appear to have been written on Talk Like A Pirate Day.
Not just language things, too. There’s some inconvenient stuff as well.
One fine spring day, Sae asks Makoto why she hasn’t cooked meat in weeks, and Makoto can’t answer. It’s only after she checks the calendar that she realizes that it’s Lent, when meat is traditionally forbidden.
It turns out that Makoto’s been subconsciously following rules laid down by the Church, because of Johanna. She doesn’t get the rules that interfere with her own set of morals, such as anything involving the subjugation of women, nor ones that are unavoidable, such as not wearing mixed fabrics, but she does wind up following the rest. When she goes grocery shopping, she doesn’t think, “I will not cook meat,” she thinks, “fish would be good for dinner.”
Yusuke can’t stand hot baths anymore, because Goemon was executed by being boiled alive. Luckily, he’s not bothered by cold anymore.
Tatsuya and Katsuya wake up at dawn every morning because of Apollo and Helios, which is good for early shifts, but they also tend to start fading after sunset. Maya, on the other hand, now has a seemingly erratic sleep schedule because the moon rises and sets at different times.
Baofu is always late because like Odysseus, something always stalls him.
Some of the Phantom Thieves, and also Jun and Junpei, keep finding their hands in other peoples’ pockets because their Personas were pickpockets. Or they don’t notice at all and find stuff in their bags that they don’t remember buying. Yusuke finds that he keeps giving money to beggars, but it’s always money that he doesn’t remember stealing, since Goemon gave back to the poor.
But there’s fun stuff, too.
Futaba now knows dark magic. She almost makes a prototype Demon Summoning Program, but gets bored halfway through and stops. It is implied that this was divine intervention; the Nahobino is seem outside her window, sighing in relief.
Junpei starts brewing potions as energy drinks and sleep aids, since Hermes Trismegistus is an alchemist.
Jun subconsciously bends time around himself, so he’s never late, never has to wait long, and he always gets his homework and paperwork done much faster. However, he knows that his bosses usually measure work done by time spent, so he’s figured out how to work around that.
One day, the modeling company asks Ann to show off her special talent, and since ‘whip techniques’ gets vetoed, she blurts out that she sings. The manager expects some cute pop music, and is startled when she starts bellowing Italian opera.
#persona#persona 2#persona 3#persona 5#p2#p3#p5#akira kurusu#jun kurosu#tatsuya suou#junpei iori#makoto nijima
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Can I get some fluffy fluff with the 'how you met scenario'? If you're comfortable with it from Johnny's POV. (What was he feeling first time he saw you type-o-thing) Much love!
You got it, babe. And much love to you as well, sweet anon. 💛
Soap MacTavish was lost. Completely, utterly, lost.
Drop him into a battlefield of gun touting chaos with a buried objective, and he’d feel right at home.
But here, within these soft painted walls and staring at an assortment of cards that mirrored the bookshelves of the most prestigious ivy league universities, his compass is all but useless.
He had lost count at how many elegant pamphlets he had thumbed through in the last twenty minutes. Delicate and featherlike designs wrapped around sentimental sonnets that would normally pull at his war torn heartstrings.
Yet not today. That void within him was leaching out from the depths of its caged enclosure of his chest, forbidding him to feel anything. The painful ache that ate away at him following an unsuccessful mission, fueled by a silent rage that blazed like the embers of a long forgotten fire.
Soap pursed his lips, forming a light scowl between the everpresent stubble on his chin and upper lip that flowed seamlessly over the curve of his jaw to mold with his defined hairline.
He carefully replaced the card in his hand to its allotted receptacle with a frustrated sigh, letting his eyes scan over the vast array of cards once more. His usually bright sea blue eyes dimmed underneath a heavy brow and lids that indicated his desperate need for a good night's sleep.
Nevertheless, determination would have to win out over his current emotional numbness and overwhelming fatigue. He had to find a card, for his own sake. He’d never hear the end of it.
“Y’know, it helps if you look at something else for a while.”
Soap swiveled his head with a sudden jolt. The interjection of a soft voice pulling him out of his daze, letting his mind focus on the figure who had somehow appeared so abruptly next to him.
"Wha'?" He replied. Voice muffled and subdued with only the slightest tremble of disbelief. His mind still drowning in unrelenting fatigue and silently berating himself for giving anyone the chance to get the upper hand on him.
"When I can't find the right one, I'll go look at something else for a while," she continued with a comforting tone. Pointing to an aisle further into the store. "I usually go into the produce aisle. Don't know why that always works."
Soap wanted to oblige and pull his eyes away, but he wouldn't dare miss the gentle smile curling into her lips. Her eyes soft, warm, and inviting. Like the first warm sun on the dawn of spring, and just the slightest hint of a blush creeping into the flesh of her cheeks.
"Aye. I think I'll do that." He managed after a few more stolen moments.
"But I got'a ask ya one question."
"Okay." She mused, an inquisitive look swirling in her eyes.
Soap shifted on his heels ever so slowly and took a step forward, closing the gap and pulling the air into his lungs.
"What's your name, lass?"
Drabbles Masterlist
#soap squad™️#asked and answered#anon asks#this was from a while ago#sorry it took so long#soft!soap#first meeting#soap x you#soap x reader#johnny mactavish x you#johnny mactavish x reader#johnny soap mactavish#john soap mactavish#soap mactavish#john mactavish#cod fanfic#soap cod#call of duty
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The Outlaws (outlaw!Joel Miller x f!reader) - Chapter 3
Moth's Masterlist - follow @mothandpidgeon-updates an turn on notifications so stay updated with my fics!
SERIES MASTERLIST
pairing: Outlaw!Joel Miller x f!reader
rating: E (18+ MDNI)
wc: 3.2k
summary: Wanted for murder with a bounty on your head, your only hope of escaping the Pinkerton detectives is an outlaw named Joel Miller and his sidekick Ellie. But Joel has other plans for you.
tags: old west au, enemies to lovers, grumpy Joel, handcuffed together, only one bed, riding a horse together, one mention of pee, hand touching, strip tease I guess, Tommy and Maria, morally grey characters, reader has backstory, moth never uses y/n
authors note: Been holding onto this chapter since I haven't finished the next one but I really want to share this with you! Thank you @ezrasbirdie for beta and helping me untangle this mess and being the wind beneath my wings.
There are six links in the chain that separate you from Joel Miller. You count them over and over again. As you lay awake by the dying campfire. When he rattles them just after dawn to rouse you from the sleep you’d finally fallen into. While you drink the rancid coffee he boils over the fire.
You imagine them leaving an imprint on Joel’s tanned neck. Red, purple, bruising his skin as you use it to choke him to death.
You spend the morning following him to and fro as he and Ellie pack up camp.
“You know how to whistle?” Ellie asks you.
She’s been sticking her forefinger and thumb between her lips trying to get a sound out of them.
“Afraid not,” you tell her.
“You’re with me,” Joel says. He stands beside his horse, hand on his hip.
“I have to wear this damn bracelet the whole way?” you ask.
He nods.
“Do you think I’m crazy enough I’d jump off a horse?” you ask.
His eyes rake up and down your body and you try to ignore the heat that flashes across your skin. “Yep.”
Once he’s in the saddle, he hauls you up behind him. Not like you have much choice.
“You go for my gun and—“
“I know, I know,” you tell him.
You have ample opportunity to study the outlaw, at least the back side of him, as you ride behind him. He’s broad and sits tall in the saddle like he was born for it. You watch his shoulders under the fabric of his shirt, tempted to smooth your palms over them. With your wrists connected, you’ve got to keep your hands at his middle. His narrow hips roll with the movements of the animal beneath him, and you grip onto his shirt imagining how powerful it would feel to take him from behind.
He barely acknowledges you. There are a couple of times when you rest your cheek against his back just because you know it’ll annoy him. It works. He looks over his shoulder at you and you can hear the grumble vibrate through his body.
The three of you ride all day, stopping only twice to stretch your legs. Both times, Joel helps you down with his hands on your waist. You shouldn’t enjoy it as much as you do but his hands are big and his eyes dart away from yours. He stops touching you as quick as he can, as if you’re a hot kettle that might burn his fingers.
Your amusement is short lived as you have to suffer the indignity of squatting behind a bush with your arm outstretched towards fucking Joel Miller while you take a piss.
It’s dusk when you reach your destination— an old two-story roadhouse with a sign that reads The Dusty Boot. There’s nothing else around but a barn, an outhouse, and open country. Seems like an ideal place to keep a hideout.
Joel hands you down from the saddle again but before you head inside, he rounds on you.
“Now listen here, missy,” he says. “When we go in there, you keep that trap shut. No talking about bounties or the like. Not a peep out of you. Understand?” Joel asks you.
You twist your pinched fingers in front of your lips as if you’re locking your mouth the same as your wrist is locked in that cuff. It’s a command you have absolutely no intention of following.
By the frown on his face, it seems he knows that.
“And you let me do the talking,” he tells Ellie.
“Maria’s got a stick up her ass,” she laughs.
“Ellie,” Joel scolds.
“You said it yourself!” she says.
Joel sighs and trudges forward, dragging you along with him.
The inside of the Boot is cozy and rustic. There’s a large parlor with a number of tables, the paneled walls are decorated with antlers and horse shoes. After a full day bouncing on horseback, you’d love to sit your ass down in one of the winged back chairs in front of the fireplace. Most importantly for your new companions, the place is empty. If there are other guests, they’re up in their rooms.
At one end of the room, a man in an apron with a rag thrown over his shoulder stands behind a modest bar.
“Hey, brother!” he calls, a smile lighting his face.
You can see a resemblance between the two men– the same dark eyes and tan complexion, though Joel’s has been kissed by the sun.
“Tommy?” you whisper to Ellie.
She nods.
Tommy’s as slim as Joel is broad and he looks a bit younger. If Joel ever bothered to smile maybe he’d lose a few years off his face, too.
“Been a while, stranger,” he says. “How’s it going, kid? Still giving him hell?”
“We need a place to lay low for a bit,” Joel says, cutting the pleasantries.
You’re not sure if Tommy’s disappointed that this isn’t a social call but he nods and says, “Yeah, alright. You gonna introduce me to your lady friend?”
Joel bristles at the suggestion that you might be anything other than his prisoner. You give a smile and lift your fingers to your brow as if to tip your hat. As you do, the chain rattles obnoxiously and Joel glares at you.
“What the hell, Joel!” Tommy’s jovial expression has transformed to a look of horror.
“She’s got a bounty on her. I’m taking her to Jackson,” Joel explains.
“Maria ain’t gonna be happy about that,” Tommy says.
“Isn’t going be happy about what?”
A lean woman has appeared at the top of the stairs. She stands tall, shoulders back with a cool air. Her simple, grey dress is neat and spotless just like, you note, the room around you.
Joel quickly takes his hat off. He nudges Ellie to do the same. He’s tense and you can’t tell if he resents this woman or he’s afraid of her. Maybe a little of both.
You like her.
She sighs heavily as she descends the steps.
“Tommy, please tell me I’m seeing things because it looks to me like your brother has a woman shackled to himself in my parlor,” she says.
“You ain’t,” Tommy replies. He sounds just as exasperated.
Maria sizes you up with a look that’s half pity, half disdain. She’s a beautiful woman. Deep brown skin and sharp, appraising eyes. You can only imagine what she thinks of you. A night sleeping in the dirt can’t have done you any favors and certainly neither did a day bouncing around on horseback.
“How’d she get that bruise, Joel?” Maria asks.
You stroke the spot on your face gently as though it really hurts. In truth, you’ve pretty much forgotten that it’s there.
“She came by it on her own,” Joel says.
“That true, darlin’?” Tommy asks you, his voice full of concern.
Joel’s face contorts in what you can only describe as disgust that his brother would think him capable of such a thing.
You give a noncommittal shrug.
“That’s courtesy of the Pinkerton man she was with before we picked her up. Joel gave him what for,” Ellie explains.
Tommy nods.
“We’re just wanting a couple nights to keep our heads down. Ain’t nothing we ain’t asked for before,” Joel says.
“That’s fine. If you unlock her,” Maria says.
“She’s a murderer. You want me to let her loose around your nice customers?” Joel asks.
“I’ve already got three criminals in here. What’s one more?” she says.
“Come on, Joel. Let her be,” Tommy says. “She ain’t gonna give you the slip. Are you, darlin’?”
“Well, if given the opportunity—“ you admit.
“Joel, take that damn cuff off her. And you,” Maria turns on you, “give him your word you won’t try to run while you’re under this roof. Or so help me god I will throw all three of you out.”
“The hell did I do?” Ellie asks.
You’re beginning to understand why you sensed fear on Joel. For a second there, you’re more afraid of enduring her wrath than you are facing the executioner.
“Yes, ma’am,” you say almost involuntarily.
“Shake on it,” Tommy suggests.
You extend your hand to Joel with a saccharine smile. Tommy’s obviously gone soft since he left the gang if he believes somebody like you would be beholden to a handshake promise. It’s sweetly naive.
Joel’s thinking the same thing. You can see it all over his face. He grinds his molars.
“You do what I say when I say it,” he insists.
“Sure thing, boss,” you say.
He shakes your hand.
Joel watches your every move.
He’s been wanting to get Tommy aside to talk but he doesn’t dare to take his eyes off you. You’re unleashed and eager to run and he’s not willing to lose his bounty just because his sister-in-law is so sanctimonious.
“Hey, Tommy. Why did the cowboy go to the doctor?” Ellie asks.
Evening has descended on the Boot. A stage coach pulls in for the night. Its two passengers take their supper at the bar while their driver warms his hands at the hearth. Ellie and Joel sit across from you in the corner, bowls of hot stew on the table. Hers is empty before Joel’s even managed to bring his spoon to his lips.
Joel notices things about you. He wishes he would stop noticing how attractive you are.
Your eyes are sharp and fast. He can tell you’re making note of anything and everything that might help you escape. You massage at your wrist which is now naked with delicate fingers. You lick your lips jealously when Tommy sets a whiskey down in front of his brother.
You don’t have good table manners. The way you stab at potatoes is particularly violent. You probably wish those tines were going into his eyeball.
“How come?” Tommy asks. He wipes his hands with his bar rag, eyes twinkling with delight.
“He was feeling a little hoarse!” Ellie cackles.
Joel shakes his head. The kid is a handful but she’s grown on him. Her puns have not.
He looks up to find you smirking. Not because you find the joke funny. No, you’re laughing at Joel.
He reaches across the table and puts his hand around yours. He shouldn’t touch you again, not since he shook your hand and felt the softness of your skin on his. He spent all day with you practically pressed against his back, getting hints of lavender each time he turned his head in your direction. Such a sweet scent for somebody like you. It’s been a long time since he felt the weight of a woman on him. His body doesn’t know that you’re as dangerous as a mountain lion and slippery as an eel. It just cares that you’re pretty and you’re closer than you ought to be. And it wants more of that.
Your muscles tense around the horn handle of your fork. Joel unwraps your fingers from the utensil, focusing on the task at hand not the feel of you under his fingertips or the wide eyed stare you give him. His heart is beating double time when he replaces your pointed fork with a spoon.
Your shoulders soften when he releases you. You remind yourself to sit up straight.
“Enough jokes,” Joel tells Ellie.
“He ain’t no fun,” Tommy laughs.
You continue to keep your big eyes on Joel as you finish your stew.
“That was good eating Miss Maria,” you say when she clears bowls from the table. “I don’t rightly remember the last time I had a proper meal.”
You’re a fool if you think you’ve got an ally in Maria. Just because she got you unlocked doesn’t mean she thinks you’re anything better than trash. Her daddy was a justice of the peace and she’s never taken kindly to criminals either. It still vexed him that she’d fallen for Tommy but then again she blamed Joel for all of his brother’s failings.
“I know a thing or two about cooking. I’d be happy to lend a hand,” you tell her.
Joel lets out a sharp laugh. Your voice is sweeter than Joel’s heard and you're laying it on thick buttering Maria up.
“What’s funny about that?” you demand.
“You don’t know a thing about cooking but I’m sure you’d like to get a knife in your hand,” Joel says.
“As a matter of fact, I do know how to cook. More than cowboy beans,” you spit.
“I appreciate the offer. It'd be nice to get a hand in the kitchen for once,” Maria says probably just to get a rise out of him.
“That’s too bad. I ain’t letting you out of my sight,” he says.
He stands, stretching out the sore muscles in his lower back.
“Got the front room for ya,” Tommy says. “I’m guessing you’re not looking to sleep in the common room.” He glances towards the other guests.
Joel and Ellie have stayed amongst the strangers in the big room on the second floor when the rest of the private accommodations are taken. With you ready to bolt, though, it’s not an option.
“I want my own room. Take it out of my share,” Ellie tells Joel when he gives her a stern look. “I’m sick of listening to you snore.”
“That’s a wonderful idea,” Maria says.
Despite her contempt for their criminal lifestyle, Maria dotes on Ellie. Like she’s leaving a saucer of milk out for a feral cat, hoping one day it’ll come inside to lay by the fire. “Tommy’ll set that up for you.”
“I’ll bunk with the kid,” you say.
“Nice try,” Joel says.
“Ain’t this cozy,” you say.
You’ve stepped into the room you’ll be sharing with Joel.
Cozy’s one way of putting it. There’s barely enough space to open the door without hitting the iron framed bed. Beside that is a night stand with a porcelain wash basin, a chair, and a window. There’s about two paces of open floor in either direction. It’s hardly big enough for the both of you.
But that works to Joel’s advantage. He doesn’t want you going far.
As soon as the door shuts behind him, he clamps the handcuff around your wrist once again.
“Come on now,” you whine. “What about our truce?”
“That’s for Maria’s benefit. And she ain’t here,” Joel says.
You’re well beyond arguing and rolling your eyes.
“Well you can’t expect me to sleep in these dirty clothes again. Can you at least give me my arm for a minute so I can get out of ‘em?” you ask.
Joel’s eyes travel over you and he swirls his tongue over his teeth. It’s not a difficult decision for him. If you want to undress and lay in bed in your underthings, he’s not going to stop you. He unlocks the cuff and moseys over to lean against the door. You’re not going to run out of there.
“You going to stand there and watch?” you ask, fingers pausing at the buttons on the top of your bodice.
Joel presses his shoulders against the door, making himself comfortable.
“How do I know you ain’t got a weapon in them petticoats?” he asks.
“If there was, you’d already be dead,” you say.
He lets out a chuckle.
“Suit yourself,” you say.
A cool smile comes over your features. You continue undoing the buttons as you turn towards him so he can see you straight on. Slowly, you reveal what’s underneath– the lines of your corset, a sweet ribbon at the top of your chemise, and an expanse of decolletage. You slide the bodice off of your shoulders and toss it onto the floor, then continue on to your skirts.
“That brother of yours is handsome,” you tell him. One skirt falls away. “Did he leave you for that woman or she come after that?”
Joel doesn’t answer. You don’t seem to care.
“She don’t like you,” you tease.
You square him with defiant eyes, inviting him to look, daring him to stay in control. More flesh is revealed. Your blue corset presses the swell of your breasts above the chemise and you bend forward to give him a little show. Ripe, soft. He salivates.
Joel tries not to enjoy himself too much. He shouldn’t. And not just because this could easily turn into a trap.
“She don’t like you neither,” he says.
You shrug.
He could have you any which way he wanted with just the promise of letting you go. He wouldn’t even have to do it. Just say the word and you’d get on your knees for him. It doesn’t feel right, though, taking advantage of somebody so desperate. So he just watches, trying to keep his features indifferent as each piece of frilly fabric hits the floorboards. He hooks his thumb into his gun belt, hoping that it might obscure the growing strain in his dungarees.
By the time you’re undoing the metal fasteners at the front of your corset, he’s biting down on the inside of his cheek. He tastes blood when there’s nothing more separating him from your body than a gauzy chemise and cotton drawers.
You go to the wash basin and splash water on your face and neck. Some droplets fall and make your chemise cling to your damp skin.Y ou moan happily, refreshed. The noise is obviously exaggerated but it still makes Joel ache.
You linger like that for a moment, lazily swaying your bare shoulders. Finally, you step towards Joel, crowding him against the door. The space between the two of you is hot and his breath shallows. He can see the outline of your peaked nipples beneath the flimsy material. The thought passes his mind again, how easy it would be to toss you back onto the mattress and help himself to all of you.
You raise your hand to him and for a moment, he’s forgotten what’s going on here. The sly grin on your lips tells him that you’re well aware of the effect your nearly naked body is having on him. He swallows and slips the cuff around you again. His knuckles graze the inside of your wrist as he locks it. Delicate, warm skin.
Pleased with yourself, you crawl onto the bed. Joel wills his cock to behave as he slips out of his boots and coat. He soaks his bandana in the wash basin and cools the back of his neck. Once he’s in his union suit, he sets his holster down on the floor beside his pillow and swings his legs into the bed. He locks himself to you and tucks the key next to his gun.
“Well ain’t this romantic,” you say from your spot against the wall. “Feels like my wedding night all over again.”
Joel stares at the ceiling. The bed’s a tight fit, his shoulders touch yours when he lays on his back. You’re leaned on your elbow smiling like the cat that ate the canary. He smells that lavender again.
He rolls onto his side, away from your leering. You laugh to yourself as he squeezes his eyes shut for a very long night.
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Chapter 4
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#outlaw!Joel Miller#joel miller#joel miller x f!reader#joel miller fic#pedro pascal#pedro pascal character#ellie williams#tommy miller#maria tlou#tlou
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Muichiro’s Mansion
Muichiro x Reader series
Muichiro has a change of heart, but is that a good thing?
Chapter 4
You waited around wondering if Muichiro would really decide for a third time about letting you be his Tsuguko. If Mitsuri was correct and he had a bad memory he might forget that he promised to consider it again. As time went on you were wondering if you should dare write to him again... or accept the real possibility that it was time to start eating your words and ask another Hashira.
Uzui you decided was out of the question now. Even if he accepted you after turning him down, being around his three wives who now have a vendetta against you sounded like pure hell.
Just as you were looking at a blank piece of paper contemplating on writing to Mitsuri or not, the crow with the long lashes flew through your window. You immediately recognized the crow now as Muichiros crow.
"I still don't like you." It said dropped a letter in front of you then swiftly flew away.
You tore up the letter quickly. You were shocked Muichiro even remembered to write you back at all.
"I have reconsidered.
Training starts at dawn tomorrow.
You may stay at my mansion while we train."
-Muichiro Tokito
You couldn't believe it, you read the short three sentences over and over again to make sure you weren't hallucinating. He really decided to train you. Not only that you'd be staying at his mansion while you trained. Suddenly it occurred to you, you had to pack. It was already starting to be night and you had to be up and over at the mansion at dawn. You quickly got up and began to pack your things. You stayed up most of the night packing although you didn't think you'd be able to sleep anyway. You couldn't believe it, finally all you've trained so hard for was happening.
You made your way over to his mansion which proved to be a longer journey then you realized. The Hashira's mansions were kept a distance away in case a demon ever located them.
When Muichiro's mansion finally came into view you could see him standing outside. Your heart sank. You were so busy with packing and the logistics of getting here you hadn't thought about what you would say to him...
"Good morning." He greeted you.
"Good morning master Tokito. Thank y-"
"That will not be necessary. Please put your things inside and we will begin right away."
Muichiro’s crow showed you the way to your room while taking condescending looks at you and ruffling its feathers along the way.
"You're not good enough, you know." It squawked.
"Thank you for the warm welcome." You retoured rolling your eyes.
"HMPH. Well, here is your room. Don't bother getting comfortable though. I'm sure Master Tokito will bore of you soon." She said then flew off.
Lovely you thought to yourself but brushed off the crow’s remarks refusing to let it dampen your mood. By the looks of it no one else stayed at this mansion. It was high up in the mountains where it was usually cloudy and the place had a lonesome melancholy vibe all through it. You started to wonder if Muichiro ever felt lonely up here with just his... wonderful crow to keep him company.
After you set your things down you came back out to the entry room where you found Muichiro waiting.
"We will train outside today. Just the basics. I want to see what you can do."
"Ok that sounds good. You'll have to thank your crow for giving me a lovely welcome." You said trying to lighten his serious mood. However, Muichiro did not respond. He turned to walk outside and you followed him wondering if he understood it was a joke or just didn't care. The walk out to the forest felt long and Mucihiro didn't say a word the whole time.
When he finally turned around you stopped and waited for instructions.
"Swing your sword." He said simply.
"Um at anything in particular or-"
"No. Just swing it. From left to right."
"Right, ok..." You said and followed his instructions.
"Several more times please." He said analyzing you with wide eyes. You did as instructed feeling awkward and uncomfortable. You wish there were some icebreakers before, this made you feel extremely nervous.
"You are awfully slow. We will work on that first." He muttered.
"Oh u-"
"Swing it up and down now please."
This continued for hours on end. Muichiro would give you a direction to swing your sword and then insult you in some way. While it didn't feel like it was on purpose it weighed heavy on your self-esteem. It felt like every movement you were doing was wrong to him. He never once said anything nice or gave any inflection of emotion in his voice.
Finally, when the sun was starting to set he decided to end training for the day.
"That is enough for today." He said simply raising his hand.
"Oh ok.. well how did I do?" You asked, wishing for some feedback or conversation after the very awkward day.
"You have a lot to work on." He said.
"Yes, I heard you say that before." You replied, starting to feel aggravated at his constant put downs.
"If you heard me before then there was no need to ask. Tomorrow, we start again at the same time." He said then walked off back to the mansion.
The next few days were more of the same. Muichiro did bring out a practice dummy to watch you strike but the comments were always the same, too slow, needs improvement, not enough force. To make it worse you could never read what the Hashira was feeling. His indifference to everything was starting to drive you mad. Did he regret saying yes to training you? Did he really think you needed so much improvement that you were hopeless? You started to cry feeling like you had made a big mistake wanting so hard to be his Tsuguko. This felt awful. You couldn't remember a time you felt so hopeless. You needed to get these emotions out somehow.
You took out a piece of paper and began to write to Mitsuri.
Mitsuri,
I feel like I made a huge mistake. I think Master Tokito hates me. He never has anything nice to say about my abilities and it feels like everything I do is wrong. I don't know what to do, I feel so worthless. I just needed to vent. I'm so sorry I'm sure you're very busy being a Hashira so don't feel the need to respond. I just needed to release this somehow.”
You sent your crow off with your letter and went to sleep feeling a bit better after getting that off your chest.
The next morning while you were getting ready for another training session you heard a knock at the door.
You came to the entryway to see Muichiro already opening the door.
"Hi!! Muichiro you're looking lovely as ever it's so good to see you! Mind if I come in?" Mitsuri said gleefully.
"Yes." Muichiro responded but Mitsuri was already walking inside.
"Oh good morning, how are you!" She exclaimed and ran over to hug you.
"Hi Mitsuri, what are you doing here?"
"Yes, please leave, we have a busy day planned." Muichiro explained.
"Oh don't be such a downer Muichior. Aren't you happy to see me? I got your Tsuguko's letter and I think you need my help."
"Thank you but no." Muichiro responded, still holding the door open for her to leave.
"Well too bad my friend is in trouble and needs help so I'm staying. I'm another Hashira so you have to respect me." She said sticking her tongue out.
"Very well. Accompany us to training." He gave in.
Did Mitsuri really come because of your letter? And did you hear that right, she considered you a friend? You hoped she wouldn't mention any of the things you said about Muichiro in the letter in front of him.
#demon slayer#kny x reader#kny x you#anime x reader#anime x y/n#demon slayer x reader#kimetsu muichiro#demon slayer muichiro#muichiro x y/n#muichiro x reader#muichiro tokito#kny muichiro#demon slayer x you#demon slayer x y/n#demon slayer hashira#mist hashira#kny hashira#hashira x reader#kimetsu no yaiba hashira#kimetsu no yaiba#Muichiro’s mansion
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