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runningfrom2am · 7 months

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leveling the playing field

summary: you didn't meet the requirements for the plinth prize, only to find out that you're not just missing out on that- you're missing out on the opportunity of a lifetime. your friend wants to help, because maybe you can help each other.

pairing: coriolanus snow x fem!reader

wc: 2.5k

tags/warnings: capitol brat!reader, maybe slightly ooc coryo, idk i tried my best. do they love each other or hate each other? who knows. anyway no warnings for you guys today besides maybe this is boring lol

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a/n: young coryo has me in a death grip rn guys this could be a problem-

next part

Fists clenched at your sides, you storm up to the front of the hall, staring intently at the Dean. You knew your odds were better pleading with Dr. Gaul, but that was a task far from your mind. "Miss Y/L/N, I don't have time for your petty complaints at the moment." He dismisses you before you even reach an appropriate distance to start your discussion.

"I was waiting for this." Festus chuckles, commenting on how none of the chosen mentors had a chance to process anything or even speak before you were stomping down the centre aisle, between all their seats, and up towards the podium where Dean Highbottom now stood.

Coriolanus found his gaze following you, despite his better judgment telling him to focus on the subject- scratch that, problem, at hand: his assignment of the mentorship of Lucy Gray Baird. She was fiery, that's for sure, and upon first impressions, she reminded him of you.

"You think I couldn't handle it, is that it?" You almost shout, discarding all formality in favour of getting answers.

"You knew the qualifications, Miss Y/L/N." The Dean sighs.

"I got one B over a year ago! God, hold a grudge much? You're miserable!" People are staring now, noticeably, but you don't care. You're used to getting what you want, and the one time you don't, it comes back to bite you in the ass over a year later.

"Then you should have done better. Drop this or I'll demerit you." He states in response, clearly hardly caring. You huff, face red as you storm off again, making a point of slamming the door open so hard it hits the wall with a bang.

Coriolanus never understood fully why the Dean let you parade around with this attitude directed at him, but never so much as lifted a finger to punish you. If he had made a scene like that, he would have been expelled on the spot. "I should go after her." He turns to look at Sejanus as he's getting up, quickly gathering himself to follow after you. He had little interest in staying anyway.

"I'll go." Coriolanus stands, placing his hand on Sejanus' chest to stop him. "You stay. I'll sort her out."

"Coriolanus Snow, off to sedate his girlfriend again." Arachne teases as he walks off, leaving Sejanus to defend his name in his stead. He'd much prefer talking you down to uselessly explaining to the other kids in your class that the two of you were nothing more than friends. It was a wasteful endeavour. You were just the only one who's presence he could stand in a social capacity.

You made it outside, pacing the large front steps of the academy, fighting the urge to rip off your skirt and burn it right there. Along with the rest of the building.

"Y/N." You pause when you hear the door close behind someone, looking up to see your friend.

"Coryo." You reply, continuing with your fruitless crusade at this point.

"What happened to not caring about the prize?" He asks, stepping down so he's level with you on the staircase, getting in your path so you can no longer pace.

"I don't care about the prize." You grumble, crossing your arms over your chest. "It's not about that."

"I doubt that." Coriolanus raises an eyebrow at you. You had told him at length you didn't care about the prize when you found out you weren't even in the running, because your parents could pay your tuition anyway. He envied your privilege, but he had never envied you.

"No, it's not." You insist. "I got one less than stellar grade one time and now I'm missing out on this opportunity- effectively throwing away any shot I have at Gamemaker."

"That's dramatic." Your friend replies. "I think you're better off than me."

You scoff. "Oh, boo hoo, Coriolanus Snow. I'd take Lucy Gray in a second."

"Just because she can cause a scene doesn't mean she'll last a minute in the games." He replies.

"Duh, it's not about winning. It's about the experience, it's about-"

"Being on TV?" He asks, and despite his serious expression you know it's a joke.

"Even you know I'm not that shallow. I'm not Arachne." You can't help but smile. He does too, for just a second. "And frankly, I'm offended at the insinuation."

"Then enlighten me, Y/N Y/L/N." Coriolanus prompts, and suddenly your demeanor changes in a way he would deem hardly noticeable if he hadn't known you for years.

You sigh, dropping your tense shoulders. "My father will be up in arms when he finds out." You answer, voice in a whisper despite being alone out here. "I'm an embarrassment to my family name."

"That's impossible." He shakes his head quickly. "You're their pride and joy. A gem of the Capitol."

"Ah, but for how long?" You reply, poking his chest. "Until the oldest Y/L/N child doesn't get a mentorship? Until my brother does in three years and I am an irrelevant face in the University halls and he is winning the Plinth prize?" The small smile on your face fades as you look down, thinking over the consequences for the first time.

"Perhaps, but one day that will come back to bite anyone who doubted you when you're the new head Gamemaker. I'll be sure of it." He nods, and your smile returns.

"Coriolanus Snow, future President of Panem, I salute you." You giggle, raising your hand in a salute. You had heard his cousin say that to him once, two or three years ago by now, and you were not prepared to let it go. You can tell it was something he believed, despite the misshapen buttons on his dress shirt and the weight he'd steadily lost over all the years you'd known him. Who were you to deny him his ambitions? Everyone else was fooled, so you would act as though you were as well. The same way he had habitually ignored the bruises on your arms and under your makeup the day after you brought home that B grade last year.

He just nods in response, jokingly tugging at his vest in pride.

"I hate to tell you that I will have to decline your generous offer." You say, and he looks confused. "I don't need your charity. I'll make it so you'd be a fool not to hire me, Mister President."

You sit down on the stairs, looking out at the city. He joins you a moment later, dusting off the ground beneath him before letting his clothes touch the surface.

"So, how are you feeling?" You ask, sick now of talking about yourself.

"Honestly, not great." Coriolanus answers. "She'll be first down, and I'll be out. We're about at odds with each other, I have no shot at the prize now."

"I don't know, Coryo." You smile a little, bumping his shoulder with your own as you try to reassure him. "Lucy Gray has a or two fight in her. I can tell."

"She reminds me of you, a little bit."

"Is that a bad thing?" You chuckle.

"No." He shakes his head. "You never back down from a fight. Even if you should."

You laugh, turning a little to hide the burning in your cheeks. "I suppose I could see the resemblance. I'm no stranger to telling someone to kiss my ass."

"That's true." He nods, smiling but not quite laughing. You're not sure you could remember seeing him laugh, not since Felix fell down the stairs in the lecture hall a few years ago and screamed like a girl. "Maybe you could help me."

"Help you? How?" You ask, brow furrowed as you look over at him. Whatever it is you'll agree. He knows too much about you for you to deny him anyway, and it's not like you really had anything to lose. If you couldn't have the Plinth prize, you'd want it to go to Coriolanus.

"With Lucy Gray. I don't even know where to start, what to think, what to do." He explains.

"Well..." You think about it for a second. "If you want her to listen to you in any capacity, she'll have to trust you. So be nice. And maybe convince her to sing again. People were talking, that's what you want. It's the best you can do."

He nods, sitting up straighter. "Thank you, Y/N. I have to go." Before you can respond, he's gone back into the building behind you. You sigh, calmer now, despite dreading the prospective task of having to go home and face your father.

"Mister Snow, to what do I owe the pleasure?" Dr. Gaul asks, readjusting her gloves without looking up at the boy as she throws what he assumes to be some kind of food into a blacked-out tank in front of him.

"I'd like Y/N Y/L/N to be my partner in the mentorship," Coriolanus states, making her pause.

"Why?" She asks simply, resuming her task.

"I believe she would be an asset for Lucy Gray."

"They do have a similar... spark. Don't they?" Dr. Gaul nods a little bit to herself. "But what makes you think that this wouldn't be an unfair advantage?"

"It wouldn't be an advantage. More like an experiment." He answers, effectively piquing the doctor's interest. "We can observe the benefits and faults of two mentors versus one, moving into the next games, and the effect of choosing based on compatibility, rather than random, careless selection."

Dr. Gaul hums, wiping off her leather gloves with a cloth as she thinks it over. "And this would have nothing to do with your relationship and sympathies towards Miss Y/L/N, correct?"

"No." He shakes his head. "Miss Y/L/N certainly doesn't get any sympathy from me." It's not a lie, at least he doesn't perceive it to be. You would be an asset to his cause, to his deliverance of the prize, and likely the most pleasant person to work with, ironically.

"I will think about it." Dr. Gaul states. "But the prize will not be awarded to her in any capacity, you must understand."

Maybe he does feel bad for you. He's entitled to that prize, no doubt, but it's hard to picture a world where you wouldn't be the runner-up; even if that is his reality. "I understand." He nods, before turning to leave.

"Oh, and Mister Snow." Dr. Gaul draws his attention once more, causing him to stop and look back at her. "Don't let her charm you."

"Y/N!" You look up from your textbook toward the door, knowing your brother will be opening it any second after he calls you. Surely enough, he does. "Coriolanus Snow is here. He wants to speak with you."

"Can you show him up to the library?" You ask, quickly wiping your reddened eyes.

"He's there with dad already." Your brother tells you and you sniff, nodding a little bit. "Thank you. Tell them I'll be right there."

You quickly throw on a sweater, double-checking in the mirror that you don't look like you were just crying before leaving. Besides a little bit of redness around your eyes and blotchiness on your chest covered by the sweater, you should be okay.

"Well, thank you for extending your influence on my daughter's behalf. I owe you a great deal." You hear your dad speaking from down the hall as you get closer. "Though, I wouldn't fault you if you changed your mind. I understand she will be a burden on you."

"No, sir. It would be an honour to work with her." You hear Coryo say as you step into the door frame.

You knock gently on the open door, alerting them both of your presence. "Y/N." Your father says, nodding toward your friend. "Coriolanus has pulled some strings to try and help you maintain what's left of your reputation."

You sniff and nod, looking over at Coryo as he stands across from your dad in your library, posture perfect like a soldier standing at attention. His professionalism will always impress you, it never falters in the presence of others. "Thank you." You make an effort to smile at him, which he politely and uncomfortably returns. "Could you give us a moment?" You request, returning your attention to your dad.

He nods and shakes Coryo's hand before bumping into you as he exits the room, pausing before leaning down to whisper to you.

Coriolanus watches, your eyes widening for just a moment while your dad speaks to you and then you nod, thanking him quietly before he leaves. You stand there awkwardly staring at each other for a second while you listen to his footsteps descend the stairs, and then hear the door to his study close. As soon as it does, you're quickly walking up to your friend and throwing your arms around his waist, your head leaning into his chest.

He freezes for a second before hugging you back. "Thank you, Coryo." You whisper. "I won't let you down."

"Are you okay?" He asks, resisting the urge to just rest his chin on the top of your head and pull you closer. It's been ages since he's been hugged like this, and though it's meant more as a comfort to you, it's consolatory to him as well.

You nod, snapping out of it and quickly pulling away, taking a respectful step back. "Yeah, yes. Sorry." You clear your throat, quickly readjusting your sweater.

"Don't be." He shakes his head quickly, brows still furrowed as he looks you over. He doesn't know what you came home to, but he has a strong theory as to what the cause of your tear-stained cheeks could be, and it certainly wasn't an empty fridge like his.

You stare at each other for another moment before you look away. "Uh, so, you spoke to the Dean?"

"No, he despises me." He answers. "Dr. Gaul was more sympathetic to the cause."

"Dr. Gaul and 'sympathetic' have never been used in the same sentence before." You tease.

"Well, she likes us for some reason."

"Thank god." You chuckle, slightly shaking your head.

"But... seriously, are you okay?" He asks again, this time blatantly looking you over. While embarrassing, it does feel nice to see that someone cares, that someone noticed. The remnants of pity behind his eyes makes you almost ill.

"Fine." You nod in confirmation. "Would you like something to eat?" You offer, leveling the playing field.

taglist: @keziahcore, @kitscutie

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#coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus snow #coriolanus x reader #coryo snow #tbosas #ballad of songbirds and snakes #tbosas x reader #tbosas fic #the hunger games #thg #thg fanfiction #thg fanfic

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hoonvrs · 6 months

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SECOND BUTTON — n. riki

PAIRING riki × gnr

GENRE fluff, confessions, coming of age

WARNING none

W. COUNT 0.5k

S. NOTES happy bday to my baby <//3 cant believe he’s growing up

finishing high school is a bittersweet feeling.

realising that you’ll never be in the same school as all your friends anymore, that you won’t be seeing them five times a week when everyone moves on with their lives attending different colleges. safe to say it isn’t the happiest day in your eyes.

halls filled with students crying and hugging, some with markers in their hands as they write their goodbye messages on each other's t-shirts, their own covered in colourful messages.

everyone roaming the buildings one last time as a high school student before they leave to officially enter their adult stages. thankfully exams were over so the weight on your shoulders had lifted slightly, making sure to cherish the last few moments you had in this stage of life.

“guess what? i heard that kei is going to give hana his second button,” your friend gossiped, filling the whole group with gasps.

“poor guy, she’s definitely going to reject him.”

every year there would always be a select group of boys handing their crushes the second button of their uniform, a common confession practice at the end of high school year. there’s something sweet about it, giving the person you like the button closest to your heart instead of outright saying it.

it feels youthful, too shy to speak but brave enough to do something so bold in front of the whole school.

so after witnessing keis rejection live, your friends decided to go out to eat not being able to handle the second-hand embarrassment from their classmate. you didn’t make it too far out the school gates before someone called your name.

“yn!”

turning around to see someone running towards you, nishimura riki. everyone knew of riki for his dance skills always shown through the multiple stages and events he holds yearly, and maybe you’d spoken to him a few times but nothing enough to be considered friends.

you can hear your friends mumbling behind you as you walk towards him meeting him halfway, “hi riki, what’s up?”

there’s no denying riki is cute. from the mole adorning his face and his pouty lips, anyone could see he was blessed with looks alongside talent.

“erm—“ you could see him nervously fiddling as he reached for something from his pocket, “i just wanted to give you this.”

in his hands was a single gold button engraved with your school's cherry blossom design. you look up, scanning his uniform to see all his buttons intact except one.

the empty space where his second button once was stared back at you, as riki was starting to feel his adrenaline wear down and embarrassment start to crawl up his body when he noticed your friends a few feet away giggling and talking amongst themselves.

“you don’t have to take it. actually, this is stupid. i’m—“

before he could finish his sentence, you grabbed the button before his hands could close around it, clasping your own around the metal and pulling it closer to your own heart, “thank you riki, i'll text you?”

under different circumstances, you would’ve been worried how red the boy had gotten in the face as he aggressively nodded his head before running back the way he came.

maybe this next step is sweeter than expected.

perm taglist @mesopret @whoschr @haknom @shinsou-rii @redm4ri @lacimolela @llama-lyna @boyfhee @lazysmushi @flwoie @kocokookie @kyexvly @seongclb @dammit-jjk @flwrshee @produmads @teddywonss @aleiouvre @dneltrise @aleiouvre @nyxvrse @yohanabanana @whois-alexis @tinyegg @sserafimez @satsuri3su @yuemvi @chirokookie @idk-tbh777 @s00buwu @ynsvnte @isawritesss

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kazutora-kurokawa · 10 days

Note

i saw your headcanons about Bonten!Mochi x Younger!Reader so i was wonder can you do older!izana (idk maybe he didn't die and join boten😭?) X younger!reader? sfw and nsfw please?

Bonten!Izana x Younger!Reader

♡ SFW + NSFW, fem reader, fluff, exhibitionism, public sex, spanking, Izana is 30/reader is 22, drinking, soft!Izana but also jealous!Izana, au where Zana survived and formed Bonten with Mikey ♡

note: I love my baby Zana 🩷 gotta write for Tora (my other baby) soon

❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀

SFW

🎴 Buys you anything and everything you want, spoils you rotten like a sugar daddy

🎴 Always offering to help you get dressed, whether it's zipping up your dress or slipping your shoes on your feet

🎴 No one in Bonten knows about you except for Mikey and Kakucho, he jokes and says that you're his little secret wife but he's actually just jealous at the thought of any other members talking to you

🎴 The age gap isn't that noticable because he damn well doesn't look like he's 30

🎴 Gets jealous easily and makes impulsive decisions

🎴 He doesn't drink often, but when he does he gets really emotional and you have to comfort him and hold him all night (only time he'll let you be the big spoon lol)

NSFW

🎴 Punishes you whenever you do something he considers wrong, usually talking to other men without his permission

🎴 Bends you over his knee and spanks you, makes you count the spanks too

"How many was that darling? If you can't remember then I'll just start over."

🎴 Loves fucking you in public, he doesn't care about the risks and only does it to claim you further

"I really didn't like the way that guy was looking at you, maybe I should bend you over the table and let him know who you belong to~"

❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀

Taglist

@arlerts-angel @i-literally-cant-with-this @trevengersprincess @giugiette @katkusuo @happy-trenchcoated-impala @drunkcheesecake @darkstarlight82 @reiners-milkbiddies @manji-hoe

#tokyo revengers headcanons #tokyo revengers x reader #tokyo revengers smut #tokyo revengers fluff #izana x reader #izana fluff #izana smut #my man my man my man #my maannnnn 😫😮‍💨#age gap!

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jeonqkooks · 8 months

Text

our beloved summer | jjk (7.5) (m.)

You made a vow to hate Jeon Jungkook ever since he packed up and left you without a single explanation, but when he shows up at your door after years of radio silence, it turns out that maybe your resolve isn’t as strong as you thought.

pairing: producer!jungkook x songwriter!reader rating: 18+ (minors dni) genres/warnings: exes au, fluff, Angst, smut; THE REASON™️, crying because obviously there's gonna be crying, mentions of hobi leaving :(, cursing, uhm she hits him; kissing (well, of course 😂), br*ast play, t*tty s*cking, oral s*x (f. receiving), f*ngering, unprotected s*x, r*ding, cr*ampie, uhm idk i think that's it word count: 6.9k (poetic, i know) note (1): holy fucking shit i am literally shaking like a chihuahua as i'm writing this a/n. what the hell it's finally here. we've been waiting for this for almost a year and a half. TREMENDOUS thanks to Jo @daechwitatamic, Ari @wintaerbaer, and Jazz @jeonwiixard for beta-ing this for me and for reassuring me that it's not a load of crap (probably) and especially Jo for telling me if i back out she'll come kick me. frick! gaaaah. okay i'm gonna let you read or i'll go out of my mind

series masterpost / playlist ; moodboards ; taglist

as always, i’d appreciate any thoughts or comments you may have, and please drop a like and/or reblog if you enjoy reading ♡

I want you to smile, to feel like enough 'Cause you deserve yellow and lions and love I hope you come back when you're doing well Forgive me for being the worst of myself

New Recording 28 - Chelsea Cutler

The second the door is closed, his mouth is on yours again.

His hand on your waist, yours in his hair, it’s similar to how it was mere minutes ago, just the urgency has increased tenfold. You want his suit off as much as you want your dress on the floor.

Jungkook detaches from your lips to let you breathe as he cages you between his body and the door, but it’s not like you can focus very well on breathing when he starts kissing down your neck, sucking bruises into your skin. His hands travel south, one palm curving around your hips to grope your ass, the other settling on the back of your thigh to lift it up, opening your legs wider so he could better slot in between them. With your leg lifted, it makes the slit in your dress ride up, exposing your core to the cool air of the room. You can feel his growing bulge pressed against you, right over your panties.

You whimper his name when he sucks on the sweet spot on your neck, his hips grinding against you slowly.

“Yeah?” You can hear the smirk in that one simple word and the honey that drips from his voice. “What is it?”

“Want you…”

“I’m right here,” Jungkook says. His slender fingers rub you over the pink lace that you’re wearing underneath your dress, teasing your opening through the fabric for a few beats before he pushes your panties aside. “Fuck, you’re so wet.”

His breath is hot on your neck. He presses his lips against your skin absentmindedly, the tip of his index circling you but not pushing inside just yet.

“Tell me you want me too,” you pant, your arm hooking around his neck to hold him close.

“I want you.”

Truth.

You pull him in for another bruising kiss before you blindly push him further into the room, your hands roaming the broad expanse of his clothed chest. He stops when the back of his knees hit the bed.

“Hey.” Jungkook breaks away from the kiss to look at you. “Are you sure?”

If Jimin knew what you’re doing right now, he’d say that you have zero self preservation instincts.

He’d be right, though. If you had any self preservation instincts, you wouldn’t be doing this.

Your stupid, battered heart has only ever wanted him.

“I’m sure,” comes your immediate reply. It’s desperate, but you don’t have it in yourself to even care. “I’m sure. I want this. Please.”

“You were drinking.”

“I’m not drunk. I promise.”

Maybe it’d be better if you were drunk. Then you could at least blame this lapse of judgment on a pathetic state of inebriation and not on your stupid self who’s always weak for him.

He stares at you for a minute, searching for any sign of your willingness being driven by alcohol. He seems relieved when he finds none, and it isn’t until then that he shrugs off his jacket, before helping you take off his dress shirt and trousers.

You haven’t seen him like this in so long.

Every defined line on his body, accentuating every detail that you could spend hours running your fingers over.

He looks different but at the same time, not really. A tad more muscular, but still the same lean frame. Hard chest and abs on full display for you. God, your fingers are fucking twitching with the need to touch him.

Once he’s been stripped down to his boxers, he leans down to kiss you before you stop him with a hand on his chest. The lone tiger lily on his arm catches your attention.

Your fingers reach out to trace the black ink on his body, the lines delicate, your touch feather light. You’re suddenly curious. When did he get it? You can’t remember if you two ever talked about getting tattoos.

“What does it mean?” you ask. It strikes you with the realization that this is just one of the thousands of things that you missed, a reminder of your lost time.

“Please love me,” he says, bringing his hands up to cup your face. He looks at you, just for a few seconds, before clarifying, “It means ‘Please love me,’” then kissing you again.

Jungkook clumsily and blindly searches for the dress’ zipper on your back, giving it a few impatient tugs until it finally starts gliding down your body. Your lips never part from one another as the dress falls to the floor, pooling at your feet. But once you step out of it, he does pull back to look at you from head to toe. His eyes fall to your chest, clad in a lacy pink bra that matches your panties. The look he gives you is the same one that he did when he saw you in your dress earlier today. But there’s something else in his eyes - realization, pride, perhaps a question too.

His hands are back on your body instantly, throwing you onto the bed, crawling over you like a predator. He discards your bra with ease, flinging it to the floor with the rest of your clothes. You shiver when the chilly air meets your bare chest, but the sensation quickly goes away when he takes your breast into his warm mouth. You let out a delighted sigh, arching your back to push yourself further into him as his tongue flicks over your stiff nipple. One of his hands comes up to squeeze your other breast to make sure that it isn’t neglected, rolling your pebbled bud between his thumb and forefinger. He switches to sucking your other tit after a while, then pawing at the one he just had in his mouth.

“Jungkook,” you whine his name when he makes out with your tits for too long, because there’s somewhere else that desperately requires his immediate attention. “Need you…”

He releases your nipple with a wet pop, and he looks pleased with himself when he sees that they’re thoroughly glistening with his spit. “Sorry,” he says with a chuckle. “Didn’t mean to keep you waiting.” He starts making his way down your body, kissing every inch of your skin that’s on display for him, before you put a hand on his shoulder when his face gets close to your thighs.

“What are you doing?”

He looks up at you as his fingers ghost over the fabric of your panties. “Can I?”

You lick your lips, contemplating whether or not you have the patience to wait for him. But alas, you decide, “Okay.”

Jungkook makes quick work of sliding your underwear down your legs and letting it join the pile on the floor. Even in the dim light, he can see just how wet you are, practically glittering with arousal, looking so utterly inviting that it makes his mouth water. All of this, just for him.

He doesn’t waste another second, diving right into you to lick a stripe up your dripping folds. Swiftly burying two fingers into your heat, he doesn’t stop until he’s knuckles deep. Your lips part in a silent but delighted moan. You forgot how good he used to make you feel. Your fingers could never feel as good as his, not thick enough to stretch yourself open and not long enough to reach deep inside of you.

“Fuck,” you drawl, your eyes fluttering shut when the tip of his tongue meets your throbbing clit, teasing it until you’re practically grinding against his face. You thread a hand into his hair, gripping his dark locks until he’s groaning, sending blissful vibrations all throughout your body. The figure 8’s that his tongue draws on your clit sets you alight, sends you into a whole other dimension completely as pleasure courses through your veins.

“So good,” he mumbles. To you? To himself? You can’t tell, but that doesn’t really matter. “Still so good.”

You hear it, just how soaked you are, as he begins thrusting his digits in and out of you. He strokes your walls delicately with each press of his fingers, scissoring you open for what you know is to come.

His tongue dips into your entrance then, teases your dripping hole as you pant heavily,

Your legs close in on his head as the orgasm nears, but he keeps your thighs apart, firmly holding them open as he makes you unravel.

This is fucking unreal - Jungkook with his whole face tucked between your legs, desperate to make you come with his talented mouth. You never would have anticipated this when you woke up this morning.

No, just a while ago you were crying by yourself down at the beach. Now you’re crying out his name as he smothers himself in you.

Once he starts curling them inside of you, it’s embarrassing how fast you come. You clench hard around his fingers as the orgasm washes over you, dripping down his fingers and he uses the added wetness to carry you through the high.

“Jungkook…” you whimper, sounding completely fucked out even though it’s only just beginning. After a while, the heightened pleasure fades into the background, and he presses soft kisses against your inner thigh.

He crawls his way up your body until he’s facing you again. You watch his fingers and the way they’re coated in your juices, wondering what he’ll do with them next. Jungkook languidly smears the wetness all over your lips like he’s carefully painting them, only to kiss you afterward. When you moan against him, he takes the opportunity to slip his tongue into your mouth. Your hand finds its way into his boxers then, wrapping your fingers around his hardened length, pumping him in your fist until he’s shallowly rutting against you.

The kiss gets broken when he suddenly pulls away, realization dawning on him. “Shit,” he exclaims. “I don’t have a condom.”

“Oh.” You blink at him, then you both just look at each other for a while. This isn’t a problem with no solution, even if the solution is a disastrous one in hindsight. You just want him, so badly that you can’t think of anything else.

He waits for you, doesn’t dare say anything else until you do.

Yet again, the opportunity presents itself for you to stop.

But you’ve already gone this far, and though it’s damn near impossible, you want him even more than you did before.

“Are you clean?” you ask.

It’s evident that he’s surprised by the way his eyes widen, and his silence that follows for the next half a minute. “Yeah,” he tells you.

“Okay. Then we don’t need a condom.”

He says your name once, his fingers brushing your hair away from your face sweetly. You always did like your name best when it used to fall from his lips so softly. “Are you sure?” he asks.

“I’m sure. I promise.”

Jungkook sucks in a breath, like he’s steadying himself, before he rids himself of the remaining piece of clothing on his body, then settles between your legs again. This time, his cock rests directly on your bare pussy. The anticipation makes it harder for you to breathe, makes you squeeze your thighs around his waist to not let him leave.

“How long has it been?”

Your answer is vague. “Too long,” you say. You don’t want to tell him that there’s been no one else since him, but you have a feeling that he understands it anyway. You think that he’d be pleased with your answer, that maybe it would boost his ego in a way, but there’s only a certain sadness that settles in his eyes.

“Okay.” Regardless, he pushes past the sudden gloom that befalls his features, blinking away the disheartenment swimming in his irises, to align himself with your entrance. He rubs his cock against your pussy to coat you in his precum, even though you yourself are certainly more than wet enough for him to slide home easily. “Ready?”

“Yes,” you confirm, bracing your hands on his shoulders as he eases the tip into you, making the both of you moan at the contact. You feel him, all of him.

For a second, you wonder if he has ever forgone protection with anyone else, or if it’s only ever been just you.

Jungkook takes one of your hands off his shoulder to lay it flat on the bed next to your head, lacing your fingers together, giving your hand a slight squeeze. “Breathe. You can do it.”

“Give me a minute.”

“We’ve got time,” he says, his voice smooth like velvet.

“Can you kiss me?” you ask, almost like you’re shy even though he’s balls deep inside of you.

He chuckles lightly, so endeared by you and your silly question.

His lips meet yours sweetly, like doing so would help make the stretch less painful. Maybe it does, at least a little bit.

You can feel his cock throbbing inside of you, and he’s probably trying so hard to hold back, but he keeps kissing you nonetheless.

“You can move,” you say after a while.

“I’ll go slow, okay?”

“Okay.”

He rears his hips back, slowly, then thrusts forward again. You whimper from the slight burn, but it’s nothing you can’t handle. His movements are gentle for the next couple of minutes or so, and it isn’t until you start opening up more that he sets a steadier pace. Even when he starts to fuck you faster, one of his hands is still on your hips, rubbing your skin soothingly.

“Fuck,” Jungkook grunts out, followed by a sigh of your name as he pumps into your cunt, every ridge and vein of his cock dragging deliciously in and out of your walls. “You feel so good.”

He gazes down at you as he moves, and there’s just something so intimate about it that it makes you want to cry again.

You know what it’s like to have him fuck you, and this isn’t it.

No, this is something else entirely.

I love you, you think. I love you so fucking much.

“Missed you.” His words come out hushed, caught in half a moan, half a whimper. “Missed you so fucking much.”

“Did you think about me?”

“Always,” he says, without even missing a beat.

“No,” you clarify. “When you were sleeping with other people, did you think about me?”

“I only thought about you.” His hips stutter as he tells you this, like he’s confessing to something that he shouldn’t. “I couldn’t stop thinking about you.”

You never admitted this to anyone, not even Taehyung even though he probably sensed it, but you used to feel like you could be physically sick just looking at the photos on his feed every time you’d lurk on a drunken night. They were never flashy, just subtle enough for you to know that there was someone. It made you nauseous, because the place next to him was always supposed to be yours.

You just stare at him, not knowing how to process this bit of information. Sure, it’s an ego boost. There’s some pride in knowing that you were the one on his mind even if you weren’t together.

He’s so utterly gorgeous like this that you can’t form a single coherent thought, too lost in the way his eyes bore into yours and in the blossoming warmth that spreads all over your chest from hearing his words.

How did he manage to get even more beautiful? Sculpted by the gods. The standard for all men.

“What is it?” he asks when you stare at him for too long.

“I…” You blink away the daze. “I wanna be on top.”

“Okay.”

Jungkook slips out of you just long enough to get seated with his back against the headboard and pull you into his lap. You hover over him, letting his tip rub against your dripping hole for a moment before you sink onto him. You tip your head back and sigh as you envelope him fully again, the only difference is that you can feel him so much deeper like this.

He grabs your ass with both hands, kneading your skin as he helps you ride him. The sounds that you make together are downright obscene, bouncing off the walls, ringing in your ears.

“Harder,” you tell him shakily. “Don’t wanna hurt you.”

“I want it to hurt,” you say, holding onto him like you’re bracing for impact, because you know he’ll give you what you want. “Make it hurt.”

Jungkook sighs once, then digs his heels into the mattress to steady himself before his hips go wild, thrusting into you with such force that it nearly has you sobbing, your head falling onto his shoulder. It makes you burn with pleasure, like a star before it becomes a supernova. When the tension starts building quickly, you can’t help but slam your hips down harder to meet his thrusts, to chase that high.

You press your lips against his skin, any spot you could find - his jaw, his neck, his shoulder. “Tell me you love me.”

The words are ready on the tip of his tongue, like he’s been waiting for an opportunity to say it. He doesn’t miss a single beat as he tells you, “I love you.”

“Mean it.”

“I do mean it. I love you.”

Truth.

For some sick and twisted reason, his words send you crashing over the edge, falling into that abyss of pleasure that you’ve been searching for. You say his name, over and over again, like you’re making up for all the years that he wasn’t around to hear it.

Your walls convulse wildly around him as you cry out, your toes curling, your thighs shaking. He holds you close, thrusting into you through your orgasm until you’re dizzy, like you could actually pass out from the overwhelming bliss.

“I’m close,” he tells you in a raspy voice.

You catch your breath long enough to say, “Come for me.”

“Where do you want it?”

“Inside,” you say without much thought. If you were in a clearer state of mind, you would know that it’s reckless and stupid. You’re not on birth control, and if anything were to happen, you would have no one to blame but yourself.

But you aren’t in a clear state of mind, and maybe this is even more dangerous than if you were fueled by alcohol. At least you can sober up from alcohol.

You just want him so badly that rationality seems like a luxury you can’t afford right now.

“Y/N,” he whispers shakily, though there’s a warning edge to his voice that you understand.

“I want you to come inside me. I want it. I want it so bad. Please.”

Jungkook groans at your answer.

He doesn’t ask you to look at him, instead choosing to hide his face against your neck where you feel something wet glide down your skin as he grips your hips. It’s followed by a sniffle, and hands that hold onto you like you’re a lifeline.

He’s crying, and that breaks your fucking heart.

You don’t know what to do. Part of you wants to tilt his chin up to look at you, because it feels strange without his tender gaze on you, but you decide against it even though the tips of your fingers tingle with the need to do so.

Your walls clench with purpose, squeezing around him, trying to help you get there. It’s not that long before you hear your name falling from his lips in a choked out moan, so needy and beautiful and makes you nostalgic. He empties himself inside of you, making you shudder from the sudden warmth that he paints along your walls.

You stay in the same position for a few more minutes until your chest is no longer heaving with exhaustion and euphoria. He gently pulls you off his lap to lay you down on the bed, pressing an apologetic kiss against your bare shoulder when you wince from the oversensitivity, from any kind of movement at all.

When he moves to throw on his boxers and goes to stand up, you reach for him. “Where are you going?” You instantly feel pathetic for asking.

He pauses, then squeezes your hand as that sadness from before makes an appearance in his eyes again. “I’m just going to the bathroom,” he tells you, his voice quiet.

The relief on your face must be visible. “Okay,” you say. Rationally, you know he probably wouldn’t fuck you and leave you the second the deed is done. But again, rationality is a luxury at the moment.

Jungkook returns a couple of minutes later with a warm cloth, and dabs it between your legs to clean you up. You grimace when he touches you there, evidently sore already from the activities you just engaged in.

“Sorry,” he’s quick to say, though it isn’t really his fault. Or maybe it is his fault. You’re not sure if that even matters.

When he’s done, he gets under the covers with you. “Come here,” he says, then shuffles your body closer to his until he’s holding you with his hands on your bare waist. He leans down to kiss you, and you let him. God, you feel like you’re fucking melting.

It’s different from the kiss down at the beach, and it’s different from the needy ones you shared in the past hour. It’s soft and slow and easy, like there’s nothing for you to worry your pretty little head about.

Jungkook breaks away eventually, and rests his forehead against yours then. One of his hands on your waist slides up to your ribs, until his thumb could brush the underside of your breast. The touch is gentle, sweet, completely innocent.

“You’re so beautiful,” he whispers. He means everything he tells you. “You’re perfect.”

You even blush, like you’re a stupid lovesick teenager. “Tell me,” you say.

“Anything.”

You reckon it’s self-indulgent at this point. You’re only asking to feel better about your place in his life, or rather, the place that used to be yours.

“Tell me you can’t live without me.”

He nudges his nose against yours. No hesitation. “I can’t live without you.”

Truth. You know it’s the truth.

Nonetheless… “Liar.” Your tone is soft. There’s no bite at all. You touch his face, trying to commit to memory every detail, how his soft skin feels under your touch as if it’s the last time you’ll ever get to see him like this. Maybe it is. You never got to have a last time with him, never got to know that it was ending before it already ended. You’re not thinking about the morning because you don’t want to, but the seed of anxiety is there in your belly. Your fingers trace his jawline as you say, “You lived without me. You were doing fine without me.”

His lips ghost over your cheek. “It wasn’t much of a life,” he says. “I couldn’t bear it without you.”

The thing is, you know that he’s being honest. And it should make you feel good that you affected him as much as he affected you.

But then… it keeps leading you back to that question. The question that you thought you could go the rest of your life without knowing the answer to. But for that to be possible, you needed him to stay gone, stay out of your world forever.

He shouldn’t be here, tangled up in the sheets with you and kissing you like his life depends on it.

He shouldn’t tell you that he misses you, that he loves you. Shouldn’t tell you to please, love him too.

It’s contradictory, isn’t it? You needed to never see him again if you stood a chance of moving on with your life. You needed it and yet, all you wanted was to have him back by your side.

The tattoo catches your attention again. It feels like it’s laughing at you, mocking you.

You clench your teeth once, your eyes beginning to turn glassy. Jungkook sees it, and he’s quick to break up your train of thought. He presses his mouth to yours, shushing you with a deep kiss that makes your head spin, despite it all.

“Don’t think about it,” he mumbles against your lips, so desperate to get you to stop. As if he can sense where this could lead.

“How could I not? I don’t know who you are anymore.”

“You know me.” He holds onto your wrist, to keep your hand on his face before you can pull it away. “I’m still the same.”

“No, you’re not,” you say quietly, absentmindedly.

“Yes,” he insists. “Yes, I am.”

Maybe that’s true. Maybe you do see the person you used to know. But you only ever see him in glimpses and it always leaves you with a terrible, nauseous feeling afterward.

He doesn’t understand how much it hurts you to catch glimpses of the boy you used to love - the boy you still love - only to realize that maybe that isn’t the person he wants to be anymore. It feels like he keeps trying to kill that version of himself, like he despises the person who meant the world to you.

Are you gone forever?

Come back quietly.

“How old are you?” you ask after a moment.

The question makes him pause, his soft features twisting in confusion. He leans back a bit, so his eyes could focus on your face better.

“What?”

“How old are you?” you repeat.

It takes him another while to answer as he tries to see where you’re going with this. But when his search comes up empty, he just answers, “29.”

"I don't know who you are at 29. The last time I knew you was 24. No. You hadn't even turned 24 yet. Where was 25? 26? 27? 28? It’s unfair that you still know who I am when I don't know who you are. I feel like I never aged a day past 24. You carried on living but I'm still here."

His eyes well up once again, but this time, you can see it. The first tear spills over, lands somewhere on your collarbone. This is what you used to want, right? To see him hurting, just like how you were hurting? Well, be careful what you wish for.

No part of you feels victorious that you’re making him cry, that the score is finally being settled, because none of this undoes all of the shit you had to go through. If anything, it makes you feel even worse, like you’re still losing.

“I never moved on from us. I couldn’t move on from you,” he says, voice cracking toward the end. Your heart is doing the same thing in your chest, but you’re glad that he can’t see it. “I swear I miss you every day. I wanted you with me every day. You have no idea how much I wanted to come back to you.”

Jungkook looks so dejected, like a reflection of you these past few years. You recognize that look in his eyes. You know that sadness all too well. He was in as much pain as you were.

He loved you when he left you. He still loves you even after all this time.

You inhale shakily. For the first time, you feel infinitely selfish for only focusing on your own misery without even stopping to give him the benefit of the doubt, to consider the possibility that maybe letting you go wasn’t something he wanted. Maybe he isn’t the antagonist that you spent years making him out to be.

There’s more to it, and you need to know.

“Then why did you leave me?”

Graduation was just shy of a month ago, and two weeks before that was Hoseok’s flight when he left you all behind.

You and Jungkook, along with Taehyung and Jimin had gone to see him off at the airport. Of course you did, you were his best of friends after all. The goodbye was full of jokes accompanied by sniffles, and tears that overflowed without permission because you all agreed that you would hold yourself together for Hoseok. Jimin was probably the one who cried the most, even though inside, you were equally sad to see your friend leave.

A part of your life was ending, and that in and of itself was depressing enough already, but you thought at least the whole group would still be together and start the next chapter by each other’s side.

Nonetheless, it wasn’t the end of the world. All of you could still make it work, even if it wasn’t the most ideal of situations. You promised to keep in touch, promised to message the group chat every day and have video calls every weekend. You were still kids, and kids tend to be optimistic like that.

What none of you could see coming was how everything would fall apart in a matter of mere weeks.

Jungkook thinks that decades from now, when he’s old and gray and helpless, he still won’t be able to forget that day.

He should’ve been more concerned when your mother contacted him out of nowhere, asking him to meet with her, asking him not to let you know where he was going.

He’d shown up half an hour early to the cafe where they were supposed to meet, just because he didn’t want to risk being late and have your mother disapprove of him even more. Not once had she expressed anything other than disdain toward your relationship, but you’d always told him it didn’t matter, that you were the only person who could decide what to do with your life, not anyone else, let alone your mother. He always believed you back then, even if deep down, he still wanted her to see that he was enough for you. Her unattainable approval still mattered to him.

Jungkook spent thirty whole minutes running on nothing but anxiety and caffeine. That was probably his first mistake, ordering a cup of coffee which only made him more nervous than he already was.

When your mother arrived, it barely took her any time at all to get right into what she came here to say. She hadn’t even bothered with a drink.

Was that how it was always going to end? Should he have seen it coming from the beginning? Was he the only one who thought it would be you and him all the way until the very end?

Maybe he was more of a hopeless romantic than he thought.

It was the way she had called him a phase that she hoped you’d grow out of. That she had let you keep this relationship for long enough, but now that you’d graduated - now that you’d be starting a life for yourself - she couldn’t sit back and watch you throw it all away for a boy who could never give you what you deserved.

It was the way she told him she didn’t want history to repeat itself. How she didn’t want to subject you to the same fate that she and your father had to suffer through. How she had left your dad because in the end, he wasn’t enough for her and you, even though you were a child and you deserved to grow up with a father and with love.

She said the same thing would happen to you and Jungkook, because you were meant for greater things and he was not meant to deserve you. She made it clear that he would always hold you back, that he would never amount to even a fraction of what you should receive in life.

“If you love her, you would let her go.”

Cliché, right? Like the kind of stuff you only ever see in movies? Well, movies have to take inspiration from somewhere.

He thought about his own mother then, and about how people could have such different ways of showing love. He believed that your mother loved you, and he still believes that. She wouldn’t have gone through the trouble of seeing him if she didn’t care about you. She wanted the best for you, and that wasn’t him.

She didn’t have to tell him to keep it a secret from you, because he wouldn’t have told you regardless. He was well aware of how strained your relationship with your mother was, and letting you know would only drive it closer to the edge. She knew he wouldn’t tell you. He loved you, and that was the one thing that she could count on.

Just sitting there in that café, Jungkook felt like all of the air had been sucked out of the room, even though he was surrounded by the other patrons and their lively laughter as they chatted away. The pitiful way that your mother kept looking at him forced him to learn what it was like to feel truly worthless.

The pity in her eyes only intensified when he couldn’t even say a single word in response, couldn’t think of anything to defend himself.

Silence meant agreement, and that was what he chose. Jungkook - the naive boy that he was - stopped believing in you. He’d believed her instead.

He was just a kid, what else was he supposed to do?

She was your own flesh and blood, and he knew nothing could ever replace that. He would rather let you hate him, resent him for the rest of your life, than let you lose your family.

That day, he lied to you for the first time ever, saying he couldn’t come over because he was tired. The sunflowers he bought for you just hours prior ended up dying on his windowsill.

He wouldn’t see you again for a few more days, then for months afterward.

July was supposed to represent a blossoming summer, but all he could remember was the dreadful promise of a winter that would inevitably come.

You call his name when he takes too long to answer. “Tell me.”

“I love you,” he merely says. His hand brushes your cheek.

You frown, despite the way the three words make your chest tingle.

“I love you,” he says it again, trying to ease the furrow between your brows.

“That’s not what I asked.”

“I’m sorry.”

His voice is soft, barely even audible, but it’s this gentleness that makes his words ricochet, ringing in your ears loudly like a gun going off in the quiet of your room.

Again with the apologies.

Fuck this.

It’s hard to take it to heart when you don’t even know what he’s apologizing for.

You gave Jungkook the chance to explain himself, but if he doesn’t take it, then that’s not on you. There isn’t much else that you can do.

You swallow hard, then shove him off of you so you could get out of the bed. Your legs instantly tremble as you attempt to stand, but you soldier on as you put on your bra and underwear, then grab your dress from where it lays abandoned on the floor. You’re shaking, but it’s difficult to determine if it’s because you’re angry, or cold without his warmth nearby.

He’s quick to his feet too, rushing toward you before you could leave.

“Don’t touch me,” you hiss when he reaches for your arm. He doesn’t listen, because when has Jeon Jungkook ever fucking listened?

“Y/N, wait-”

“Wait for what?! I asked you a simple question and you can’t even answer me.”

He runs a hand over his face frustratedly, clearly torn over something. He holds your angered gaze, but the way he looks at you is much milder, gentler even if it’s equally frustrated. “I’m trying to protect you.”

You don’t know if it’s the wrong answer or not. You just know that in this moment, it irritates you to no end.

“Oh my god,” you gasp mockingly. “Someone is trying to kill me.”

“What?”

“Someone is trying to kill me. Someone is waiting outside that door right now, waiting for me to come out so they can kill me. Holy fucking shit, I’m about to be assassinated.”

“Y/N, I’m serious.”

There’s that burning sensation behind your eyes again. “And you think I’m not? What do you mean you’re trying to protect me? Protect me from what? Do you think this is a fucking k-drama? Jesus Christ,” you scoff harshly. “What do you want from me? What the actual fuck do you want?”

Jungkook aims for you again, and in an attempt to ward him off, your swinging fist inadvertently collides with his chest. The dress falls to the floor again, laying next to your feet, that useless piece of fabric.

It probably doesn’t do much damage to him, but he’s a bit startled regardless. So are you, if you’re being honest. But you do it again, and surprisingly, he lets you.

“You coward.” You shove hard at his chest, making him stumble backward. “You unbelievable asshole. You fucked me, you said you loved me, and you still can’t tell me why you left me.”

He allows you to push him until his back is pressed against the wall. And even then, you don’t relent. Your fists continue beating against his chest as you start sobbing, spilling ‘I hate you’s in between so many expletives it could make his grandmother faint.

He might bruise in the morning.

You hope he bruises in the morning.

The least Jungkook could do is bruise for you.

You want him to curse him out for so many things - for loving you, for leaving you, for not even having the balls to tell you why he broke your heart. For coming back to remind you that you still love him. For proving that he still has you in the palm of his hands, and every twitch of his finger can make you feel like the walls are crumbling down on you.

But even as you tell him how much you hate him, you’re still thinking: Come back. I don’t want to keep losing you. Come back to me.

Because he’s the only person who can hurt you like this. When you think about him, it used to make you so depressed that you could hardly function. There’s no other way to put it to make it sound less pathetic. That’s just how it is.

You shouldn’t have agreed to this weekend, shouldn’t have been nice to him, shouldn’t have let him convince you not to think about it. You shouldn’t have opened the door for him in the first place, because there was always a part of you that knew he could get under your skin so easily just like that.

This wasn’t your second chance at holding onto him. It wasn’t a do-over. It was a re-enactment.

The years haven’t made you wiser, that much is clear.

You don’t know how long this goes on for, but at some point, you begin to wear yourself out. Your movements start to slow and the energy to violently sob leaves your body until you’re nearly collapsing. Jungkook catches you when you don’t have the strength to hold yourself up anymore. Why are you always so fucking helpless?

“You just…” Your voice gets caught at the end of a sob. This is rock bottom all over again. “You make me so sad.”

You grasp his arm weakly, feeling like your own lungs are failing you. You can’t breathe. It’s too much, too infinitely humiliating. He’s doing this to you again, and this time you have to shoulder most of the blame, because you are the one that enabled your own heartbreak for the second time.

You’re still crying, and you hate that this is the first time he’s ever seen you cry like this.

“I’m trying to protect you,” he says firmly, looking at you like he’s trying so hard not to break down alongside you. “Please, I’m so sorry.” The words come out as a whisper now. You can feel the tremble in his voice and the shake of his hands where they hold you. His big bambi eyes - the usual home of constellations - now house tears that threaten to spill onto his supple cheeks. “Please. What can I do to make you believe me?”

It’s those stupid fucking eyes. It’s your stupid fucking self.

“You need to tell me.” Your tears keep on falling no matter how much he tries to wipe them away. “I can’t take it anymore.”

“It’ll make things worse,” he tells you, his voice cracking as he does. He sounds like he means it, and maybe he does believe that whatever he’s hiding from you will only hurt you more. It almost has you caving, but you can’t do this a second time. You’re exhausted, both physically and emotionally. In the morning, you’ll think about how this is all so dramatic, the way you’re acting right now. The most k-drama-esque thing that has ever happened to you. But in the moment, you just feel like someone plunged a knife in your chest, and they keep twisting it, twisting and twisting,...

In the end, you decide that it’s a risk you’ll have to take, because nothing can be more painful than the absolute hell he’s putting you through. He’ll never understand how utterly excruciating it is to experience this kind of heartbreak.

“If you don’t tell me now, I won’t be able to survive you again.”

up next...

our beloved summer (08) ⏤ aka the JK centric chapter

702 notes · View notes

sourcherryandsprinkles · 11 months

Note

Can I please request a Jeremiah x reader smut where it’s both of their first times! Smut but also cute and fluffy! Thank you ♥️

This is my first time writing for Jeremiah, please be nice. While I like him in the show - I am not team Jeremiah though -, I find him difficult to write about, so idk if I'll keep him on my list...

my taglists are here + you can send requests here at any time

—

When it comes to losing your virginity, you've always wanted to wait for the right moment to do it. Maybe it was watching rom-coms and reading hundreds of romances that implanted this vision in your mind, or maybe it was just you wanting to make that big moment perfect, knowing you could never re-do it if you jinxed it…or worse, regret it.

‘’I have not,’’ Belly confessed quietly, shaking her head. ‘’Cam and I went on our third date. It’s way too early.’’ She picked at a loose thread on her shorts, not exactly comfortable talking about sex but feeling comfortable enough to talk about it with you. ‘’Have you and Jere..?’’

‘’No,’’ you said, excluding the other things you and Jeremiah had done that weren’t full-on penetrative sex. ‘’But we are thinking about it.’’

Belly’s attention snapped up. ‘’Oh?’’

You nodded, a light flush tinted your cheeks.

‘’Are you nervous?’’

You nodded again.

So many things could go wrong even if you make sure everything is perfect. You also heard some girls say it hurt the first time and that they bled, which scared you a little.

Belly grabbed your hand, pulling you from your thoughts. ‘’I may not know anything about sex, but what I know is that it’s Jeremiah. He loves you. There’s nothing to be nervous about,’’ she assured you.

A few weeks later, the day finally came.

Your mom was out at her book club meeting and your dad was at the country club, leaving the house to yourself for a few hours. Taking advantage of their absence, you texted Jeremiah to come over…and to bring the condoms.

It was bold and definitely had him grinning on his couch at home before making up an excuse to ditch Steven at video games and shower and get ready for the big event.

While Jeremiah was getting ready, you did the same. You put on matching bra and underwear, gave your hair an extra brush and spritzed yourself with Jeremiah’s favorite perfume of yours, lit some candles for ambiance although it was burning hot outside. You made sure everything was perfect.

Except it wasn’t perfect.

Right when Jeremiah unhooked your bra, his phone started blaring loudly and wouldn't stop. After the fifth ring, Jeremiah answered and left, needing to pick up his mother at the country club. He said he could come back after, but the moment was already ruined.

By some miracle, you were presented another perfect opportunity a few days later.

Susannah was out with Belly and Laurel for a debutante dress fitting, Conrad was at the beach surfing, and Steven was with Shayla.

You and Jeremiah were having a swim in his pool to cool down from the sun. Summer was beautiful, but the heat was too much sometimes. Thankfully, Jeremiah had a nice pool, which you loved to take advantage of. As always, playful splashing turned into kissing and soon enough, you were making out.

You moved things upstairs to Jeremiah’s room for more privacy, and also because didn’t want your first time to be in a pool or on the Fisher’ back porch.

‘’Careful!’’ Jeremiah reminded as the two of you hurried upstairs, leaving water all over the floors despite being wrapped in a towel. ‘’The floors are slippery when we—’’

You caught his arm in time before he could slip and fall, sending the two of you in a fit of laughter. The fun was interrupted when he backed you against the wall and kissed you in the hallway. You melted against him and let your towel drop.

Jeremiah brought you to his bed, not caring about the wet patched your wet baiting suits would leave behind. It's not like you were going to keep them on for very long.

Hands were all over each other's body, exploring and grabbing while you were kissing with desire. You undid the ties of your bikini, chucking it on the floor, then moved to your bottoms. Your whole body was on fire under Jeremiah's touch — you needed it all off.

You reached for Jeremiah's shorts, helping him out because it was harder to take off when wet...and horny, but that's when Steven decided to walk in like he owned the place, catching sight of Jeremiah's bare ass.

For the rest of the summer, you weren't able to find a good moment. Jeremiah was either working at the country club's pool, or someone was home. You could have snuck to an empty bedroom at a party, but a stranger's bedroom was nothing romantic for a first time.

You were starting to get impatient so, one night he was supposed to drive you home, you made him pull over and stop the car. It was dumb and had high risks of getting caught, but you didn't care.

‘’Are you sure?'' Jeremiah asked, seeing you pull your dress over your head. ''We don’t have to if you don’t.’’

You shook your head, looking right into his beautiful blue eyes. ‘’You’re my best friend, Jere. I want it to be you. I want it to be now.’’

—

All and more taglist: @spiokybirdstarfish @kenqki @liidiaaag @hawkegfs @gillybear17 @areaderinlove @acornacreacure @black-rose-29 @fudge13 @cece05 @rosie-cameron @Caxddce @laylasbunbunny @gemofthenight @beautyb1ade @hi-bored-as-fcuk-rn @lovelyy-moonlight @mellabella101 @vxnity713 @marzipaanz @bisexualgirlsblog @queenofslytherin889 @thatbxtchesblog @softb-tterfly @ethanlandrycanbreakmyheart @xyzstar @graceberman3 @Heartsforneteyamsully @aerangi @hallecarey1

TSITP taglist: @msmarvelknight @maritaleane @dingus0401 @idontknowwhatimdoing777

#jeremiah fisher #jeremiah fisher x reader #jeremiah fisher imagine #the summer i turned pretty imagine #the summer i turned pretty

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wonustars · 7 months

Text

𝘚𝘦𝘶𝘯𝘨𝘤𝘩𝘦𝘰𝘭 ’𝘴 𝘓𝘦𝘵𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘴 (𝘵𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘦𝘳)

“𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘪𝘯𝘥 𝘸𝘩𝘪𝘴𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘴, 𝘢𝘭𝘸𝘢𝘺𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘬 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘴𝘦 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘥𝘴. 𝘪’𝘭𝘭 𝘵𝘳𝘢𝘷𝘦𝘭 𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘦𝘯𝘥 𝘰𝘧 𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳, 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘣𝘦 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘺𝘰𝘶” - 𝘮𝘢𝘪𝘬𝘦𝘦’𝘴 𝘭𝘦𝘵𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘴 𝘣𝘺 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘩𝘶𝘴𝘩

story inspirtation came from this poll pairing: c.sc x reader word count: estimated ~10k+ (this teaser: 983 words)

genre: friends to friends with benefits to lovers, slowburn, angst, fluff, smut (mdni)

summary: You and Seungcheol have been friends ever since you were kids. Growing up as neighbours, experiencing all the horrific adolescent moments in high school, and now going to the same University together. Even though you’ve denied it many times to your friends, part of you has always had feelings for him, not that you would ever say it out loud. He is the one person you can trust with anything and everything. So what happens when he propositions the idea of becoming friends with benefits? (the plot maybe change a little while i’m continuing to write but the overall theme will stay the same <;3)

tags: bestfriend!seungcheol, nonidol!au, university!au, female!reader, mutual pining, slow burn so painful you'll feel it in your toes, they are one year apart, SLIGHT like extremely miniscule wonwoo x reader (for the angst mwahahaha), seungcheol is a jealous jealous man, they're both idiots, jeonghan is a menace as always, seungcheol has a lot of pride, so does the reader, (i'll add more once its finished lol)

warnings/smut: this will be added on in the full post.

taglist: open! send an ask, dm, or comment to be tagged for when i post the full fic.

notes: long time no post everyone.... a LOT of people voted for an s.coups story on my poll so i'm here to deliver mwahahahaha...ALSO im so proud of the banner i made like udek i love how it looks hehhehe, i spent a good hour or so on it T-T ! i really have an urge to write a longer story, so idk when i'll be finished because it may take me a while to finish so sorry in advance. I just started writing and I was playing Mikee's Letters by Just Hush during it and so i thought id incorperate the song into the story, but barely lol (its a tagalog song so sorry if the translation is a lil rough my tagalog is not the most accurate). this story is SOOOOOO self indulgnet that it should be criminal lol BUT im really excited to write this and im really excited to share it with everyone,,, but first i actually got to finish it hehe. talk to u soon, mwah <3!

As long as you could remember you and Seungcheol have been attached to the hip. Even though he was a year older than you, you couldn’t remember the last time you spent a day without him. You’ve been in each others lives ever since then, starting all the way from the young, bright age of 5, when you and your family moved into the small, humble house across his. Although your parents weren’t very well off, Cheol was. It was an odd thing that you two were neighbours because his house was much more grand, and nicer kept than yours. This didn’t really bother you growing up though, he always made you feel like an equal.

Seungcheol has been with you through it all, the petty fights in middle school to the pains of adolescence in high school. He’s seen you at your worst, like the time you tripped and fell trying to impress a cute guy at school, which resulted in a nose bleed. You were so embarrassed but at the end of the day Cheol was there to help you clean your bloody nose and pick you back up. A true night and shining armor, which was practically his brand. He was the one to patch up your heart, breakup after breakup. Always your shoulder to lean on when you’re feeling down, and especially when you’re happy.

A man and bestfriend like Choi Seungcheol didn’t come around very often, and you took notice of that since you were young. You cherish every moment you have and will have with him. He is a true gentleman with a heart of gold. He’s handsome, smart, rich and caring. Every single box on your list is ticked off when it comes to him. Yet, you know that no matter how hard you love him, you will only ever be his bestfriend. The girl he sees as practically his younger sister. The bittersweet feeling of being so close to him tugs your heart till its torn. It took you a long time to accept that all you’ll ever be is his bestfriend, and even now, you’re still trying to accept this fact.

...

Seungcheol has always seen himself as your best friend. The man that will be there for you when you have no one else to turn to. He has never seen you as more than his best friend, his y/n. He is a man who never second-guesses himself, always keeping a strong-willed sense of mind. Every time one of his friends asked him if he had feelings for you, he would simply answer no; and that you were like a younger sister to him.

That first year was lonely for him, he didn’t really know anyone and all his classes kept him away from socializing. The only thing that seemed to have stayed constant was you. You face-timed him at least once a week before he went to bed, never forgetting to remind him how much you missed him, and how much you cared for him. In the simplest words, you were his rock for that first year.

Seungcheol was never warned about how lonely and jarring your first year could be. The change in place, people, and most importantly the change in the fact that you weren’t there experiencing it beside him. He was never one to believe clichè sayings, but he finally understood what the saying “distance makes the heart grow fonder” really felt like. He had gotten so overwhelmed from the loneliness he even began to write you letters, ones he would never actually send out, as cheesy as it sounds. But knowing that he was addressing them to you brought him some type of solace in that first year.

A year later you came to study at the same university, and he was elated, to say the least. Finally, he had thought to himself. The one person he hadn’t been able to see, smell, or touch for a year was finally going to be in his proximity.

Unlike Cheol, you were only able to go to this school through bursaries and scholarships, your parents simply just couldn’t afford to send you to school in a different city otherwise. It reminded you how lucky Seungcheol was to receive support from his parents, getting and going to school was nothing he had to ever think twice about. You knew you could’ve stayed with your family, and gone to school closer to your house, but with Cheol away, it just wasn’t the same. Nothing had felt the same since he left. But this didn’t matter to you the moment you felt his arms wrap around you again.

You stood there in the airport all alone, eyes searching for a head of freshly dyed blond hair. The moment you heard his voice call your name, you knew you were finally home.

“Y/n!” An excited, deep voice calls out for you.

You whip your head around to see him. The man you hadn’t seen in so long, the man you were so desperately in love with. Your best friend.

“Cheol!” A squeal escapes your lips, you run to him. He pulls you into a tight hug, wrapping his large hands around your smaller frame. Swinging you around like crazy, a laugh bubbles up from your throat.

“I’ve missed you so much y/n.” Cheol exasperates as he hugs you tighter, leaving a kiss on the top of your head.

“I’ve missed you too Cheol…” You whisper into his chest, breathing in his expensive cologne, not caring that you are in public; staying there to embrace him for a weirdly long period of time. “Never leave for that long again.”

#seventeen x reader #seventeen smut #seungcheol x reader #seungcheol smut #scoups smut #scoups #seungcheol #choi seungcheol #seventeen fanfic #seventeen fluff #seungcheol fluff #scoups fluff #scoups angst #seungcheol angst #seventeen angst #wonustars ✧ ﾟ. {works}#wonustars ✧.* {fics: seungcheol’s letters}

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velocesainz · 6 months

Note

Hii I saw you asked for ideas, it might sound weird but maybe a max x reader story about him falling in love with reader when hes with Kelly still and them breaking up and choosing reader? Idk fluff,smut whatever i would be interested no matter what😌

Sounds quite interesting, hope you enjoy!

F1 masterlist | Main masterlist | Taglist

We're meant to be

(MV33)

Summary: Max and y/n are co-workers and good friends. Max develops feelings for her while he is dating Kelly. What happens when Kelly finds out about Max's feelings?

Warnings: none, fluffy

Pairing: Max x driver!fem!reader

Third person POV:

Ever since y/n joined Red Bull racing, there had never been a single moment of sadness.

Y/n was loved by one and all. She was an icon in so many people's eyes.

Her and Max were the greatest duo the paddock had ever seen. Winning races upon races, most with a 1-2 finish with both alternating top position.

They were an odd pairing for sure. Fiery rage paired up with calm and collectedness? Unheard of.

Max POV:

I was walking around the paddock when I bumped into y/n who was holding a massive camera in her hands and interviewing people around her.

"Oh hey Max! Are you excited for today's race? Who do you think will win?" She asked me in her most 'formal' voice.

I chuckled and responded "I am quite excited for today's race, Belgium is like my second home. I would say I will win today but something tells me otherwise" I added that last line since she was looking at me as if she was going to murder me if I didn't say she would win.

"Thanks Max! Catch you later" was all she said before she skipped away happily.

God she's so beautiful. She's kind. It gives me butterflies.

Wait...

Am I...

In love?

I've never felt this with anyone, not even Kelly. I mean she's nice and all but I don't think she's the one for me.

How will I break the news to her? I'll have to figure out.

Kelly POV:

I was looking around for Max when I saw him talking to y/n, who was interviewing him by the looks of it.

After she left he kept staring at her and started blushing. Was he in love with her?

It wouldn't be very unlikely. He hasn't really been very affectionate lately and he's been spending more time with either her or Penelope.

I feel like he's falling out of love with me.

How can he recklessly fall in love like that? I'm his girlfriend!

I have to get him to stop interacting with y/n, otherwise I'll lose him. I need him for the money, I can't lose him at any cost.

Y/n POV:

I felt Max staring at me as I left or maybe i was imagining things. I am so madly in love with him I might be delusional, but he loves someone else.

I sigh and continue interviewing people as I was told by Martin Brundle who was trying to make a fun behind the scenes episode for sky sports.

Timeskip:

I got out of the car and stood proudly on top of my car, my 5th race win this season and I was officially in the lead in the drivers championship.

After podium celebrations I was making my way to my driver's room to relax for a bit before interviews when I heard some yelling coming from Max's room.

Being the curious person I was, I eavesdropped.

Max POV:

I was relaxing in my room after a decent race, P2 was a pretty good result.

Suddenly the door slammed open revealing my angry girlfriend, oh god this was going to be hell.

"Stop talking to y/n from this instant on." She said curtly.

"Who are you to tell me who I can talk to and who I can't huh?" I snapped back

"IM YOUR FUCKING GIRLFRIEND. WHO IS LOOKING OUT FOR YOU! I SEE THE WAY YOU LOOK AT HER-" she screamed.

"WELL JUST BECAUSE YOU'RE MY GIRLFRIEND DOES NOT MEAN THAT YOU GET TO CONTROL MY LIFE! AND YEA MAYBE I LIKE Y/N SO WHAT?" I yelled. This girl is getting on my nerves.

"SEE YOU ADMIT IT YOURSELF! YOU LIKE HER! EVEN WHEN YOU HAVE A GIRLFRIEND! HOW SHAMELESS CAN YOU BE?" She continued

"You know what? I'm done. Done with this relationship. You've never been supportive ever. It's as if you're with me for my money and that it. So kindly get the fuck out, gold digger" I was so happy to get all the feelings against her off my chest.

She looked at me in disbelief and walked out.

Y/n walked in right after Kelly left. Did she hear the argument?

"Are you alright Max? That argument sounded intense" she asked with concern showing in her eyes

"Yeah. I'm alright. Did you..uhm hear what we argued about?" I questioned

"Uhm...yea" she replied shyly

God I loved this woman so much

I walked up to her and kissed her.

The world seemed to fade away. I had the woman of my dreams in my arms I was never going to let her go.

#f1 x reader #f1 #max verstappen x reader #max verstappen #max verstappen angst #max verstappen fluff #formula 1

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archangeldyke-all · 6 months

Note

idk why but i feel like sev has a mommy kink in the sense of like...calling her sub mommy. i just imagine reader like comes home from a stressful day at work and sev is just doting and rubbing on them like "lemme take care of you, mommy, i got you..."

and then later when she's balls deep in you with her strap and she's got that FUCKING VOICE in your ear like "yeah? feels good? talk to me, mommy, tell me more about your day so i can make it better" ahshajshjamsnmnasbhnnggggg im foaming at the mouth and biting at the bars of my enclosure rn~

ANON ANPasdjfs;ljANPN I'asdl;kf;ajsd fqpwoijefpoiqhwer; ofijq;lkdsjf;lsqkdjf ANON.

do you have an IQ of a million maybe? becaue i think you mihgt. holy shit. holy shit. holy shit. you've unlocked something in me and i'll never be the same...

men and minors dni

it starts as a joke! or at least, that's what you think.

a few months into your relationship, sevika starts teasingly calling you 'mommy.'

it starts casually.

she'll show up at your door to pick you up for a date and whistle as she takes in your outfit. "damn, mommy, you look good enough to eat." she'll say. you just roll your eyes and kiss her hello.

or sometimes when she's annoying you and you're pouting at her, fishing for an apology, she'll grin at you and swoop in to kiss you. "'m sorry, mommy." she whispers against your lips. "you're just so cute when you're angry."

the first time it slips out in the bedroom, sevika's got you face down, ass up, pounding into you with loud, sticky, wet, smacks, as you moan into the mattress beneath you.

"'y take me so fuckin' well, honey, you're fucking dripping. shit, mommy, 's it feel good?" she grunts.

there's a moment of awkward silence where sevika's thrusts stutter as her mind catches up to her mouth and your breath leaves your lungs, but then you whine so sweetly and so prettily that sevika mentally puts 'mommy' at the top of her pet name list, right underneath 'baby' and 'honey.'

you know you're in for the dicking of your life when sevika starts sweetly calling you mommy.

she usually reserves it for when you need some extra loving, when she's trying to take care of you.

if you wake up with a stuffy nose and sore throat, sevika's cooing at you as she hand feeds you soup.

"lemme take care of you, mommy." she whispers. "all you gotta do is lay there and look pretty, i'll take care of everything else." she says as she puts the bowl down on the night stand and starts kissing down your body. "i heard orgasms help clear the sinuses, or something." she mumbles as she helps you out of your jammies.

she'll fuck you until you pass out, and when you wake up, she'll feed you more soup and tea and medicine, before fucking you back to sleep again.

or if you're having a rough week at work, sevika will draw you a bath and let you relax while she pours you a big glass of wine. she sits on the toilet and watches you soak, listening to you bitch about your boss.

"'m sorry." you grunt out at one point. "i'm being a spiteful bitch."

sevika chuckles and presses a kiss to your head.

"you're a saint. i'd have killed him by now if he was my boss. plus, i like seeing you all worked up and angry, mommy. kinda gets me goin'." she says with a cheeky smile.

an hour later, she's got you in a mating press, shoving her tongue down her throat when she's not busy talking to you.

"there you go, mommy, imma fuck all the stress outta you. you're so fuckin' perfect. so good." she grunts.

you whimper underneath her.

"yeah? 's feel good?" she asks with a grin. you gasp and nod, your nails scratching your nails down her back as you start to spasm beneath her. she leans down to peck your lips before speaking in your ear, her raspy, sexy voice practically a growl as she speaks, "cum on this cock, mommy. 's all yours."

you do.

(and then you do again, when she flips you over to fuck you doggy, and then one more time when she cleans up her mess with her mouth.)

taglist!

@lesbeaniegreenie @fyeahnix @sapphicsgirl @half-of-a-gay @ellabslut @thesevi0lentdelights @sexysapphicshopowner @shimtarofstupidity

#i had to cut myself off there because it's my bedtime. but. i will be thinking about this for the rest of my life.#sevika #sevika imagine #sevika arcane #sevika x reader #sevika x you #soft sevika #sevika smut

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peachy-wolfhard · 8 months

Text

Dating Leo II

a/n: I wanted to add more after I posted part one so here it is Bone Apple Teeth, I love leo sm so its LONG

Let me know if you would like to be on my tmnt taglist!

Warnings: swearing, grandchildren mention (splinter is gonna splinter), illness mention, insomnia, mentions of slapping leos bald head

Word count: 738 -woof

Insomnia gang

This turtle physically cannot sleep

When you don't spend the night he is CONSTANTLY texting you everything that comes to mind

“y/n…why is pizza a circle?” “idk lee can i come over :3” “yeth pls HURRY IM DYING HERE WITHOUT U”

Lying in his bed, cuddling, matching eyemasks ON, fan ON

Even with all of that, nothing works

The nights that the both of you are actually able to sleep he has a grasp on you

Holds you so close to him all the time, you guys are joined at the hip

Everyone besides Mikey and Splinter thinks you guys are gross

“You can't even say their names apart now it's ALWAYS Leo and y/n. You can't separate them they will DIE without each other”

“Calm down Mikey please you're scaring Shelldon”

Splinter is…well Splinter. He stays in your guys' relationship, with how dramatic you guys are he doesn't need his soaps

He loves to show you baby pictures of the boys esp the ones of Leo

((cough cough he definitely mentions grandchildren like the old man he is))

Bites all the time like anytime anywhere

Making breakfast peacefully listening to music- CHOMP

Getting ready for work- CHOMP

Dr. Delicate Touch has to intervene

Play fights with you in slow-motion

(slow motion voice) “yyy/nnn iiiimm goooinggg tooo kick your aaaasssss”

(also slow motion voice) “im gooonnnaaa kick yours firrrst”

HAND! HOLDING!

Initially, it started as a way to keep Leo from running off when exploring places, but then it turned into a regular thing

“My love, light of my life, future spouse eHEM!”

“What Leo”

“WHERE’S YOUR HAND I AM GOING TO DIE WITHOUT YOUR HAND IN MINE!! I ALREADY FEEL WEAK PLEASE I AM SUFFERING”

Absolute drama queen and don't get me started when he’s sick

Picture those old paintings of the sick children in bed, he’s that but dialed up to eleven

All he wants is cuddles and daytime television and don't you DARE come in between him and his Maury

Giving him medicine is surprisingly easy maybe it’s because he’s so out of it or maybe he’s just in love he’d let you do anything to him

But if you’re ever sick he does the exact same for you

If you fight medicine (just like me fr) he’s NOT afraid to use those ninja moves to get you to take your meds

Loves it when you read to him no matter what you are reading

Manga? Sign him up! Horror book? Let's get spooky! Sad book? I'll get the tissues! He just loves to hear your voice especially if you do different voices for the characters but not overly comedic voices, he’s here for the story!

Falls asleep listening to your voice with his head on your lap 99% of the time

Going to the Hidden City for date nights and getting up to absolute mischief

(having to then call Raph to come get you guys because you pissed someone off and just kicked their butt)

Speaking of the Hidden City! During their break in the Hidden City (when everyone gets arrested) you join Leo at the spa

After he gets kicked out he BEGS you to go to the creepy spa across the street with him

“Sorry sweetheart I too am in DIRE need of some relaxation plus it’s not often I’m in an exclusive club”

The moment he shows up with that gorgeous hair you’re suspicious

Texts you a selfie of his new hair with the creepy ass background

“Whatcha think? Even more handsome than normal? ;)” “go back to being bald i miss slapping ur bald head :(“

Anyway when he starts “sleepwalking” your immediate reaction is “Maybe it's the wig” but quickly forget all about it due to relaxation

“Um… yyyy/nnnn could you please help me out with one teeny tiny situation…? Please?”

Now you and Leo are on the case!

“Ooo lala finally some privacy ;)”

“Don't touch me until you’re bald AND we figure this out”

“Pwetty pwease? JUST ONE!”

“Fine, ONE kiss”

After the evil hair reveal and fighting with your boyfriend’s hair he's finally bald again

Leo explains the massage guy’s deal but it falls on deaf ears

“Hey, who’s that guy?” “He'sthe non-member we kicked out earlier!”

“I bet he and that human are the thieves. Call the cops”

After a quick stay in jail, you’re now peacefully back home

#rottmnt x reader #rottmnt leo x reader #tmnt x reader #rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles x reader #rise leo #rise leo x reader #rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #leo x reader #masterlist

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runningfrom2am · 6 months

Text

leveling the playing field VI

pairing: coriolanus snow x fem!reader

wc: 3.6k (she's long today DAMN)

tags/warnings: capitol brat!reader, maybe slightly ooc coryo, idk i tried my best. do they love each other or hate each other? who knows (we do, kind of). implications and discussion of abuse, so read with caution!! also a little bit of swearing

masterlists // nav // requests

join my taglist here

next part

a/n: omg it finally happened?? i couldn't resist anymore i had to :,)

anyway i wanted to pop in for a rare note and say thank you so so much to everyone reading this!! it means so much to me that people are enjoying this as much as i am enjoying writing it :)

so if you are and you wouldn't mind,, please reblog or leave your thoughts in the replies! it really helps me out so that way it can reach more people, and also it really helps motivate me to actually keep writing it bc i'll be reminded people want me to :).

thank you for reading this long ass authors note! and thanks for making it this far in the fic!!

i promise it's not over yet ;) we've still got a long way to go! so hopefully i'll see y'all soon when the next part comes out !

xoxo, raye

You walked back to the academy, still too high on adrenaline to even consider sleeping at that point. By the time Coryo made it back in, it was nearly eight am. You totally understand him wanting to get a bit of extra sleep, considering the night you just had- but who knows how long he was with Dr. Gaul.

Other mentors had started to arrive before he did, and almost everyone made it clear they didn't want to speak with you. You didn't have the energy to chat anyway, you didn't want to. You're endlessly relieved when Coryo arrives, notifying you of his presence with a hand on your shoulder. You jump at this, regardless of his effort to not scare you.

The chair scrapes across the floor and you feel everyone's eyes on you at the dramatic reaction. To him, it really wasn't shocking.

"Sorry- I'm sorry." You chuckle, quickly getting up to give him his spot back.

"Have you slept?" He asks, making no effort to reclaim the desk, noticing how your hands are shaking as you motion for him to sit.

You aren't sure what the safer answer is. Yes, I slept while I was supposed to be watching over Lucy Gray? Or no, I'm still running on the two hours I got a couple of days ago? Neither is very promising, so you decide to just be honest.

"No, uh, I've been watching for Lucy Gray." You point to the screen, unable to control the trembling of your hand as you do. "I couldn't sleep if I wanted to, so I just decided to start drinking coffee a few hours ago. Might as well commit." You explain, trying to force positivity into your tone and a smile on your face.

Coryo eyes you warily. "You should go home. Get some rest."

"No! No, I'm fine." You insist. "I'm not missing it."

"Go home and sleep." He says again, sternly this time. You tend to listen to him when he's commanding so he clung to that approach, but the look in your eyes immediately makes him regret it.

You look down, then back to your seat on the bench. You take a shaky breath before locking eyes with the blonde again. You're full of impulses that contradict each other. To listen to him, to snap and tell him not to speak to you like that, or to storm out and never come back. Realistically, he is under a ridiculous amount of stress. You can't blame him for being a little commandeering. After all, it's what he is meant to do. It's what he's been raised for. "I told you. I can't."

Realization dawns on him and he stares at you for a second, eyes widening. "Right." He nods slightly, shrugging off his coat and holding it out to you. "Just go lay down on the bench." He accentuates his point by shaking the jacket.

You smile, taking it gratefully. "Thank you, Coryo."

"'Course." He nods, finally moving to sit down once you walk away. You settle down on the bench and curl up, your head resting on his bunched-up uniform jacket like it's a pillow. You're not sure you've ever been so comfortable, and you're asleep within a minute.

Coriolanus wonders if his coat will smell like raspberries when you return it.

"What's he doing?" You hear Coryo's accusatory voice before you even open your eyes. As you try and shift, adjusting to the sounds of everyone around you, you come back to reality. No wonder your neck is sore as soon as you sit up, sore from your wooden bed, with no time to really wake up before you're hit with the realization of what's happening on the screen.

"I-I don't know!" Lysistrata says, assumingly replying to him.

You're squinting at the lights as you adjust, the figures of Lucy Gray and Jessup becoming clear as he chases her in her rainbow dress out of the tunnel and across the floor, booking it toward a pile of debris that would allow her to climb up into the stands.

"What's happening?" You ask pointlessly, standing now that you see Coryo is as well.

Lysistrata looks at you, shrugging helplessly as she stands next to Coryo.

"Hey! You promised me that if I-" You start, pacing toward the girl with determination, anger burning up in your chest and in your eyes.

"Y/N/N, wait-" Coriolanus holds his hand out to stop you, effectively his attack dog, from getting any closer. From telling her off for blowing your deal. He squints closer at the screen, not saying a word, just leaving you in a limbo- unsure what to do.

As the camera zooms in on the tribute, his theory is confirmed. Jessup has a white foam surrounding his mouth, and Coryo looks at you knowingly. Had Lucy Gray poisoned him? Surely not, he was her only ally. It was too early to take him out, but maybe she didn't think that through, maybe-

"Rabies." You say, hardly above a whisper, eyes locked back on the screen now as well. "That's why the medications didn't help."

Coriolanus is relieved by this explanation, it makes so much more sense. But only knowing what's wrong doesn't help Lucy Gray, Jessup is still fully feral, chasing her up in the stands on wobbly legs as she makes her way to what is left of a concession stand.

"If she can just stay away, he won't last long in this state." Lysistrata says, looking on with sadness in her eyes. "Poor Jessup..."

"Coryo." You say, ignoring her sympathies, seeing Coryo's mind running miles a minute trying to figure out what to do. "Do you remember those posters in the war? When the rabies breakout happened?" You ask, holding onto his arm, giving him a light shake to snap him out of it. "They said that-"

You don't get to finish before he's reaching for the comunicuff. Water, of course.

"Wait." Lysistrata stops him, grabbing the arm that was reaching for the screen.

"Don't touch him! Jessup's going to die anyway! All we can do is try to keep him away- you just said that!" You fire off at her.

"I know, Y/N." She lets him go, holding her hands out defensively. "Let me do it. He's my tribute, after all."

"Lyssie... You don't have to do that." Coriolanus tells her, and you feel guilty for snapping on her like that. She was just trying to help.

"If Jessup can't win, I want it to be Lucy Gray. That's what he would want, too." She explains, stepping back to her desk, tapping away at the screen and sending in water bottles on faulty drones that are more likely to knock the tributes out and smash the bottle than successfully deliver it to their hand.

Thankfully, this is what you want. You watch quietly as Jessup is bombarded with drones programmed to seek out his features, and Lucy Gray drops behind some of the seats to avoid any flying glass or stray drones. He swings helplessly at them with a board he picked up somewhere along the chase, and you glance at Lyssie for only a second, which is long enough to pick up on the fact that she's crying. God, that's probably your fault.

He trips and falls off the stands, bones audibly cracking on impact. Everyone in the room is silent as Lucy Gray reemerges, climbing down to be at his side.

"God, please don't let him die alone..." Lysistrata whispers, hardly audible even to Coriolanus, who's stood right next to her.

"She won't." He whispers back. "It's not her style."

You swallow, drowning in your own guilt while Lucy Gray is talking to the dying boy, stroking his hair and telling him to go to sleep until his eyes lose all sense of life, chest halting. She closes his eyes gently, which cues the buzzer announcing his death.

"Lyssie..." You stop her as she stands to leave, her eyes glassy. "I'm sorry, I didn't know what you were doing."

She laughs slightly, more tears spilling from her eyes. "Y/N. I know you, okay? I get it. Don't apologize if you don't mean it." Until she finished speaking, you didn't realize her laughs were bitter. "You can't keep taking out your anger issues on everyone else. I'm sick of it, everyone is sick of it- sick of you." She says, not giving you the chance to defend yourself before she's gone. You did mean it, but it's not like she'd ever believe that. You had done this to yourself.

You straighten your shoulders, turning to face the screen again. "Lysistrata will come around." Coryo says, sensing the tension radiating off your skin like a heater.

You just slightly shake your head. "Maybe I... Maybe I should go home. Just for a bit." You say, but it comes out more as a question.

"You should stay." He states, offhandedly sending some food in for Lucy Gray before turning to face you fully. He could guess why you don't want to go home, whether or not you were explicitly told to not return until the games were done, though, he doesn't know. Either way, for him, it wasn't worth the risk.

"Actually, yeah, you're right." You sniff. "I'm just having a moment. I'll be fine." You force a smile, blinking rapidly to push back those stubborn tears that wanted to spill.

"No, no that's not what I meant. I just meant..." Coryo trails off.

"It's okay." You smile and nod. "Can I just get some air, then? I'll be back in a few minutes."

"Please. Don't rush on my account." He nods. "But don't stray too far."

"Yes sir, Mister President." You joke, giving him a lazy salute before heading for the door.

You had been gone for a while, far too long for Coriolanus's comfort. Lucy Gray retreated into the tunnels after receiving the food he sent and seeing Reaper come back into the clearing. Now, with Lucky rambling on about the weather again, he felt like he would snap.

He double-checks once more that Lucy Gray is, in fact, still hiding, before he gets up to go after you.

It doesn't take Coryo long to find you, due to him tracking down the sound of crying in the hall. No doubt in his mind it was you, but he'd never seen you cry before.

You stop at the sound of footsteps, frantically wiping your eyes and nose on your sleeve as you make an effort to stand. By then, he's in front of you.

"Don't get up." He says, crouching down in front of you. He doesn't know what to say, he doesn't know exactly why you're crying, or how to help. He wishes he did, he would do just about anything. "What do you need?"

You shake your head, forcing a smile and trying to stand anyway. Coryo stops you with a hand on your shoulder. "I-I don't.." You start, but as soon as you speak the tears start flowing again and you feel like you can't breathe.

"It's okay. Hey, you're okay." He says, pulling you into his arms, effectively onto his lap as he sits back. One thing he knows that works with you is a hug- it's all he can do while he thinks over what could be the root of your problem, or was it just that Lysistrata's comment pushed you over the edge? You were overtired, overworked, and this easily could have been the last straw.

Through your tears, you try to tell him that you're fine, but you just stutter and spit and you know you're a mess- a mortification to your family.

"I'm not sick of you, Y/N." Coryo says, rubbing your back. Feeling your hair between his fingers and trying not to tangle it or pull it by mistake. "I could never get sick of you."

It surprises him when you laugh. Of all things, a laugh. It was just so you.

His statement was more of a confession to himself than to you, and when you pull back he's scared. Was it not about that? Was he way off base, or incredibly unhelpful and somehow offended you?

You sniff, wiping your eyes again. "Thanks," You chuckle, shaking your head. "But you don't have to say that."

Coryo tilts his head, confusion knitted into his expression. "I do." He insists, able to look into your eyes now. "I have to tell you that because it's the truth."

You sigh, smiling slightly. Sadly. "You don't see it."

"See it? See what?"

You just shrug, making no attempts to move away. His hands on you, the feeling of him almost surrounding you is comforting. You want to live in it forever, but you know you can't. "Just... That I'm me, I guess." You say, voice cracking. "You're unflinching to it." You're abrasive sometimes, defensive, and some would call you an overall angry person. He doesn't see you that way, and you're not sure why. Today you were slapped in the face with the fact that your actions have consequences more serious than what your parents can make up for with money or unwritten agreements.

"What's wrong with being you?" He asks rhetorically, not giving you a chance for you to argue before he continues. "You did the right thing. They're jealous- that's all it is. None of them fight for what they want like you, they just sit around and wait for it to be handed to them on a silver platter, and you could too, but you're better than that. You're better than them. Stronger than them."

With his hands now moved up to your shoulders, he's shaking you gently, trying to get your mind to soak in what he's telling you. To believe it, because he knows he's right. The reason others avoid you is the very reason he is drawn to you- your ambition is unmatched, except, maybe, by his own.

"Do you understand, Y/N?" Coryo asks, pressing one hand to your cheek and staring deep into your eyes as if he could somehow look into your mind and grab hold of what Lysistrata said, replacing it with his vision of who you are. "You are perfect. They are fools."

Your smile had gone, ready to fight his point, but it returned by the time his rant was done, blush creeping its way across your cheeks and over your nose. "Perfect is a bit of a strong word." You speak softly. "Don't you think?"

"No. I don't." He shakes his head slightly, running his thumb across your cheek to wipe away a stray tear.

The air became thick with everything he said circulating in your head like a carousel. A relentless spinning cycle with Coryo's every word circling around itself and caging in your panic. The spinning seemed to slow after a moment, as if giving you a chance to catch your breath.

Seemingly, in your experience with him, compliments were few and far between. To others, anyway. Not that you were keeping track, but if receiving compliments from Coriolanus Snow was a race you would be winning by a mile, and that's exactly what it felt like every time.

He tilts your chin up again, the same way he had just a couple of days ago in the arena, drawing your eyes back to his. It takes every ounce of his focus to keep his hand from shaking.

Truth be told, the desperate honesty in his eyes was enough to convince you he was right. You are better than them, smarter than them, stronger than them. If Lysistrata and your other classmates chose to hate you for that, that was because of fear. You'd be lying if you tried to say it didn't make you feel better, even powerful. Coriolanus thought it was right, so how could it not be?

You smile, nodding slightly within his grasp. "You're right, aren't you?"

"Always." He validates your entire thought process just like that.

You can't help it anymore. The power of his words push you past the brink, leaning forward to meet his lips with your own. Coryo pulls you forward with his firm and gentle hold on your cheek, meeting you half way. And as he kisses you, heart pounding out of his chest, you both feel fucking invincible.

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#tbosas #tbosas fic #tbosas x reader #coriolanus x you #coryo snow #coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus x reader #coriolanus snow #thg #thg fanfic #thg fanfiction #thg series #the hunger games

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maybank-archives · 9 months

Note

Hii, could I request jj x reader where she’s been feeling kinda lonely and jj’s worried? just pure comfort please

lonely - jj maybank

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warning: angsty? fluff? soft!jj maybank?

word count: 0.7k

author’s notes: i'm guessing y'all reaaaaally are into soft jj! 4 in a row! i tried my best to make every each one of this different but idk.

masterlist | join the taglist | kinktober!!!!

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Ding!

My phone lit up once more, marking the fourth notification from the same sender, my boyfriend, JJ.

I knew that would happen the moment I declined another invitation to go out with everyone.

With a sigh, I unlocked my phone and tapped on his message. "Hey, babe, why don't you want to come? It's gonna be cool!" I hesitated, then began typing my reply, "I just need some quiet time tonight, J."

Moments later, another message popped up from JJ, "Got it, is everything okay?" I stared at the screen, contemplating. After a couple minutes, I wrote back, "I promise, everything's okay. I just need some me-time. We'll hang out soon, I promise." As I set my phone aside, the feeling of emptiness has settled in my chest.

There’s no way to explain the place I found myself. Despite my life being pretty much fun and full of adventure, I feel lost, disconnected, and overwhelmingly lonely even though I’m most of my time surrounded by people. It was as if a million of uncertainty popped into my mind every five seconds.

I crawled into my bed, aware that my sleep wouldn’t come any time soon, just like every other night, when my thoughts and paranoias kept me awake for hours. This heavy feeling in my chest didn’t make things any easier either.

I decided to go to the kitchen, a snack might help, right? Nope, I tried that the other night Maybe. My hands reach for the cookies on the back of the cabinet when I hear a knock on the door. My heart skipped a beat as I went kind of scared to answer it, I opened it just to find JJ standing right in front of me.

He looked at me with concern in his eyes and a determined expression on his face. "Hey," he said, stepping inside without waiting for an invitation. "What can I say? I can’t leave my girl alone."

My heart was still beating fast when I hugged him tightly. He held my face planting a kiss on my lip. “I’ve been noticing how you’re distant lately and I’m here at your service, If you feel like talking, sure, we can talk. And if you don't, that's cool too. I'll just hang out with you, no pressure.”

I felt a lump form in my throat as tears welled up in my eyes. I have been keeping my feelings bottled up, not wanting to burden JJ with my problems. But seeing him now, the concern in his eyes, made me realize just how honest I can be with him, even though I can’t tell what’s wrong.

“I didn’t mean to worry you,” I mumbled.

“I know, I know, I’m here to keep you company.”

I buried my face in his chest, finally letting the tears flow freely. "I've been feeling so lost, J,” I confessed. "I don’t know what’s going on, I don’t know if it’s anxiety or…." I can’t finish my sentence without sobbing.

JJ held me tighter. "It’s okay, I’m here now," he said softly. "We'll figure this out together, just like we always do," he added.

“I-I really didn’t want to worry you, Jay.”

“Hey, you need to know that I’m here, you don’t have to go through this alone,” he said “You were there for me always, it’s no different now.”

I nodded, "Thank you for being here, J," I whispered, wiping away my tears.

He gave me a warm smile and pressed a gentle kiss to my lips. "Always, Y/N. Now, how about we get some rest? I'll stay with you tonight, no more loneliness, okay?"

I nodded again, feeling a sense of comfort wash over me. We walked to the bedroom together, and as we settled into bed, JJ pulled me close, wrapping his arms around me protectively.

We lay there in silence for a while, my mind started to calm down. I snuggled closer to JJ, as he gently rubbed my hair. For the first time in a couple weeks, the exhaustion and the emotional breakdown caught with me and I just fell asleep into JJ’s arms, there was no reason to feel alone with his presence.

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#obx #outerbanks #jj maybank #jj obx #outer banks #rudy pankow #jj mayback x reader #jj maybank x you #soft!jj maybank #jj maybank obx #jj maybank outer banks #jj maybank fluff #comfort jj maybank #boyfriend!jj maybank #jj maybank headcanon

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lewkwoodnco · 6 months

Text

tis the damn season - Lockwood x Reader

A/N: estranged best friends to lovers trope my beloved!!! 😍 AHHH this is one of my fav fics I've written in a while. Poem below is Golden Boy by Cecil Miller, and the Spanish line is taken from a streetcar named desire by tennessee (idk how 2 spell) williams! this might be less proofread than normal + includes a few of my pre-infection hallucinations? lottt of angst, wc 5.1k!!

P.S. I think I'll be doing a part 2 to buy me presents! but not until a little later ahah and also the 12 days of fics are totally going to spill over hahah

TAGLIST | MASTERLIST

Lockwood stares out the kitchen window. Both inside and outside, there is a bleak stillness in the air that sinks in his bones like a plague. It's too cold and too early in the morning for anyone to be properly out and about. But the season always messed up his sleep schedule more than usual, and now that they had taken a break from their cases for the holidays, there was nothing to occupy his treacherous mind, and its return to taut requirings of Christmases past.

Slowly, the other residents of Portland Row start to stir. George grumbles about their spluttering heating system and having to plod through the snow to get the mail, and Lucy promptly falls asleep in the cup of tea she's just brewed for herself. They were all exhausted, and rightfully so, given that the holidays was prime time for people to start looking into properly clearing out ghosts to keep their homes warm and cheery.

He slips out just as George's complaints about the heater start ramping up, and his mind is so scattered that he forgets to put his coat on. It's a little more brisk than what was completely tolerable, strictly speaking, but it was only just for a minute. When he reaches the mailbox, he runs into Mr. and Mrs. L/N, old family friends who had helped him more than he deserved over the years. They made some polite conversation while he rifled through the bills and letters.

"Oh, Anthony, we wanted to invite you over to tea sometime this week. Y/N's home for the holidays."

His hand slips and an envelope slices his finger open. It was bound to happen, given his glum and careless mood, and it takes every ounce of self-restraint to suppress his cry of pain in front of them.

"Home...as in here? London?"

Ever since she had left for boarding school, there would always be some talk of her dropping by for Christmas every year. But the plans would never be fully solid, or some other pre-existing commitment would prevent her from making the trip. He was suddenly feeling oddly claustrophobic. He glanced up and down the street, as if expecting her to be hiding in some bushes.

Mrs. L/N seemed to pick up on his distraction, and her brow furrowed with concern.

"Of course London. Where's your coat, dearie? Aren't you feeling chilly?"

"...yes. Now that you mention it...perhaps it's best I head back inside."

He gave a stiff sort of wave and walked back, mind reeling. Eight years. Eight years since he last saw her. What the hell was he supposed to do if he saw her now? How was he supposed to feel?

Luckily, he doesn't get much time to panic because as soon as he walks in, he narrowly dodges a wrench being lobbed at his head. Apparently, eleven freezing days with improper heating was more than what George could bear. It's usually a rather quick fix, but maybe the comparatively more extreme frost this year had corrupted the system beyond Lockwood's capabilities, because two hours later he was still no closer to getting it fixed.

Some time later, there's a knock on the door. He yells for someone to get the door, but he's buried too deeply in the house for anyone to hear him. Grumbling, he dusts himself off and walks to the door himself, head buzzing with frustration. He's so preoccupied with what more he could possibly do to get the heating working again that he doesn't think to check the peephole first. So when he opens the door, he gets the wind knocked out of him.

"Anthony."

It was her; rosy-cheeked yet looking effortlessly warm. Her facial features had lengthened and rearranged themselves as compared to when he last saw her, but there was still something expensive to the twist of her mouth and the crinkles near her eyes.

"It's been so long."

Even her voice was rich, like honey. Now that she was standing in front of him, the stitch in his chest from the morning seemed much more familiar. It had been some seasonally grievious paste that had coated his lungs and stoppered his mouth that made him feel eerily weightless if he dwelled on it too much.

He didn't know what to do. Exchange pleasantries, or skip to the part where he slams the door in her face? Before he could decide, he hears some shuffling behind him, and almost instinctively opens the door wider.

"Y/N. These are my associates. George Karim, Lucy Carlyle...Y/N L/N."

"Right. Lockwood and Co., was it?"

The four of them glance at each other, exchanging fleeting smiles for a good half-minute, before George has the sense to usher everyone inside for a cup of tea.

The kettle's already on, and George hands out the cups of tea waring mittens, his glasses barely visible behind the scarf mummifying the lower half of his head. If she notices the cold in the house, she doesn't comment on it.

They make some polite small talk. She's pleasantly amiable and a perfectly gracious guest, and talks about her Christmas dinner plans. Lockwood is disinterested and surly and wants to talk about his fragmented sense of self. At one point, his responses start to become so clipped that he earns a poorly concealed kick from Lucy, accompanied by a stern look. Luckily, it doesn't seem as if she's noticed. She was looking at the white blanket of snow over their garden carefully, as if dismissing their presence.

"Your garden looks beautiful. I'd love to have a look around."

George and Lockwood exchanged a look. It was freezing outside, and the harsh temperatures were clearly not worth braving for the little of the flowerbeds they could see. George opened his mouth to tell her as much, in his own snide way, but he hesitated. Lockwood felt his heart sink.

The thing was, she had had a magnetic effect on most people ever since they were kids, a quality that made it difficult for any grown adult to refuse her or for any child to oppose her. It was the same reason why she was sitting in his house, drinking out of his teacups, eating his share of biscuits (George and Lucy had clearly conspired as soon as they picked up on her staying for tea). But he had been sure that if there was anyone who could pull away from this siren call of hers, it would be George. The very boy who was meaningfully looking at him, trying to express some uncommunicable panic.

"Er...Lockwood?"

And so, he ended up taking her out for a brief and awkwardly quiet stroll in their garden once she was done with her tea. They meandered through the garden path stiltedly, and every snow-dusted weed and sapling seemed to astound her. Still, she divided her attention sufficiently to continue the ocnversation.

"Homeowner and agency head at fifteen. Impressive."

"Thank you."

"I bet you're the media's darling."

He shrugs.

She turns to him, eyes generously pooling with faux concern.

"It can't have been easy."

It wasn't easy, not that she would know anything about it. He wants to be spiteful towards her, lash out at her. God knows she deserved it. But something holds him back.

"So...that was George. And Luce."

She jerked her head back in acknowledgement, but he could see the slight smile playing at her lips as she did so. He had forgotten how terribly exasperating she could be.

"What?"

She shook her head, but that only made her smile grow wider, and so she finally relented. There's a vulpine twist to her lips that Lockwood has no patience for. "Nothing. I'm sure they're lovely people, of course. But if I wanted to know who you were hanging with while I was gone, I would have asked you."

He shrugged. "I wanted to share a bit of my life now. They're just about all of it."

She hums pleasantly, stopping short in front of one of the flower beds. She bends down and picks up a freshly fallen violet, its deep indigo harsh and unrelenting against the fresh, pure snow, against the season of vacancy and death. She holds it up in front of Lockwood.

"Viola Odarata. Symbolises humility. Flores; flores para los muertos. Flores."

A part of him wants to sneer at her in painful irony. How arrogant of her to think she could waltz back into his life as she pleased.

"That what they teach you in your boarding school? Useless facts about violets?"

She shivers, even though the air is completely still with no breeze, and her lips part. Too late, he realises he's gone too far. Her smile slips a fraction, and she takes on an air that makes him feel obliged to apologise. He resists it, and for a moment he sees something flash in her eyes, but it's gone before he can place it.

"Forgive me, but you don't seem terribly happy."

"The Problem's raging worse than ever. Happy things don't come by easy these days."

"...I suppose. It wouldn't -" For the first time, Lockwood thinks she might be feeling nervous. Her humanity, manufactured or otherwise, draws him in despite himself. "It wouldn't have anything to do with me...would it?"

He takes in her carefully manicured appearance, her intentionally pieced together life made up of the dreams she worked towards and achieved. And all he had was a house that was more of a burden than a blessing on some days and this inchoate dread over a Problem whose end was nowhere in sight. But he doesn't know how to express this resentment, this jealousy.

"I'm alright if you're alright."

Sad, dispirited eyes look into each other, searching for the fulfilment they're sure the other has found. She speaks in a tight voice.

"It's okay with the both of us, then."

She suddenly reaches out, and gently holds his finger with the papercut with a firm but comforting pressure. His first instinct is to pull his hand back, but he doesn't, and as the long seconds pass, he feels increasingly vulnerable. The cut was no longer bleeding, and was even well on its way to healing over just fine, but it was irritated from where he had relentlessly picked at it.

"Looks fresh."

She traces the cut with her other hand, violet folded in her palm, with a feather-light touch. The surreality of the moment - of her standing inches from her, her breath tickling his fingertips, her warmth spreading through him - catches up to him and makes his breath hitch. It was unbearably intimate and made him feel like the exposed, raw wound he had been nursing for the eight years she had been gone. And how like her to return with pockets full of unfounded promise to stitch the tears in his skin.

And just as quickly, she lets go of his hand and steps back, and Lockwood feels as though cold air has been forced into his airways. She tucks the violet behind her ear, and drifts back inside. The tilt of her joints is so familiar that it stirs something in him. Something long gone, something he was gripping like a fist.

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When they return, Lockwood excuses himself to his room for a bit of air, ignoring how closely George is watching him. He sits on his bed and takes a deep breath. His nightstand has a few miniature picture frames on it, and in one of them the picture's been flipped around. It's a picture of him and her, taken a few months before she left. It's how he remembered her before seeing her today. Sometimes, when the urge grew too great, he would tilt the frame under his nightlight, and make out the barest outline of their figures looped together on the other side of photograph.

He didn't know what to make of her departure, all those years ago. One day, they were swinging on tyres in her parents' garden, and the next day, she wasn't at school. But as the years churned on, the string tying his heart to hers stretched and tore a slow and painful death from him, out of the cavity she left, and he never felt quite the same again. And as they continued to age, the wound became old news and scabbed over what was once raw and paralysing, but a part of him always wanted to know why she did it, to be angry with her for being so callous.

And now she was back, pulling him under by the ankles, ripping the gash open viciously.

He didn't know how exactly to deal with it, after years of thinking of her adjacently, daring only to keep her in his peripheral vision, where he was kept safe. Maybe it was all part of a larger problem; the twitch in his hand and his recurring nightmare.

He's ten years old again, at a train station he's never been to, and likely one that doesn't exist. It's hard to see just about any discerning features, except for the massive train peeking through the fog in front of him. He looks to the right, and sees her strong fingers wrapped around a railing, her standing in the door of the train. He can't be sure of much, but he's certain she's looking at him. He stretches the moment as long as it will last, because it's all downhill from there.

There's a terrible groaning sound, and the train reluctantly starts to chug along, steadily gathering speed. He walks alongside it, gradually picking up his own pace, until he's nearly sprinting. All the while, she watches him with amused eyes, secure in her place on the train. He's panting, choking on the fog, eyes streaming. But if he can just reach her scarf whipping in the wind, the train will stop, and she'll step out, cool and gleaming and impervious to the cloud of dust surrounding her and-

He wakes with a start. He knows how it ends.

She slips through his fingers every time.

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She stays for the rest of the day, and the four of them spend a cosy afternoon decorating their Christmas tree, carefully dodging the random mugs of hot chocolate littered across the room. While they were digging out the ornaments from the attic, she finds a box that he, evidently, had not tucked away deep enough.

"Remember these?" She holds up a flimsy, crumbling Santa Claus ornament made of construction paper. "We had so much fun making them."

He nods stiffly, subtly shifting the box towards a corner in the living room. It smarts his eyes to look at the hideous thing, as if its very sight was corrosive.

"Took me a while to find them, though. It must be a pain to dig them out every year."

He puts down the bauble he's hanging, and sighs. "I haven't...brought these out in a while."

Even her look of perplexity looks artificial. "Why not? Aren't there so many happy memories attached to these?" Her face falls ever so slightly. "Do memories of me not make you happy?"

Luckily, they're interrupted by Lucy placing a handful of miniature marshmallows into their hot chocolate. When she moves over to George, Lockwood wordlessly starts hanging their crafted ornaments, and she doesn't press him for an answer. When they're done, the tree looks a lot more crowded and chaotic than it normally does, similar to how Lockwood was feeling with her around. He looks at her, and isn't sure how he feels about the asymmetry of having her here.

Later, when she's about to leave, it starts snowing heavily, too heavily for her to walk home. So after a phone call with her parents, she decides to spend the night. Lockwood's in his bedroom when he hears a knock on his door. It's her, dressed in a spare set of Lucy's pajamas.

"I thought you'd be awake."

She wanted to know what he was doing, and what he was doing was wrapping some Christmas presents. Immediately, she obligingly offered to help, and she was too eager for him to outright refuse. Of course, he might have thought differently if he had known how abysmally little she knew about wrapping gifts. And so they stay up till the early hours of the morning, both of them trying equally hard to teach her the most basic of gift wrapping skills. As the night wore on, they got increasingly drunk on laughter over her heinously criminal attempts and Lockwood's limbs started to loosen up. At one point, he had given up entirely and placed his hands over hers, puppeteering the night's only decent gift wrapping while she smothered her laughter.

He doesn't remember much after that. When he next regains his consciousness, he's lying curled up next to her, with the late morning sun streaming through his windows. He watches her breathe, slow and steady, with a face so relaxed, amiable and familiar.

As her eyes start to flutter open, he panics and tries to look anywhere else, which isn't easy given how she's only inches away from him. They glance at each other, silently acknowledging their positions, and the silence hangs heavy in the air. He clears his throat awkwardly, trying to put as much space between them as he can with his arm wrapped under her. "When do you leave?"

She scrunches her forehead as she thinks. It's one of the few parts of her he instantly recognises and he gets caught off guard by a rush of affection, and a flash of an impulse to smooth out the wrinkles.

"Monday."

He pulls a face.

"We'd have the weekend together. Isn't that enough?"

They stay quiet, watching specks of dust float through the sunlight filtering through his partially drawn curtains. With how close they are to each other, they're not looking at each other's face, and it's unclear if she's asking him, or herself, or the dust they're watching. Was it enough?

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Later that evening, Lucy wants to take a walk along some of the emptier roads in the snow. She takes their trip as her cue to leave but Lucy insists she come along, so she does. The four of them had cycled as far as they could, and when they reached the too-slippery parts of the road, they had dismounted and left their bicycles in a corner. Lucy and George were wandering around a bit ahead of them, while they slowly shuffled through the snow. She had picked up some newspapers on their way there, and was looking through them as they walked, taking particular interest in the odd article on Lockwood & Co.

"You've certainly had your fair share of media coverage."

"Along with a decent helping of frenzied media sensationalism, I suppose."

"My apologies. I forgot I was talking to the Anthony J. Lockwood of Lockwood & Co. Now, is the arson bit complimentary, or would I have to pay extra?"

She was teasing him, and it was irritating. There was a reticent air about him and after some politely delicate probing, which he had been too preoccupied to entertain, she had resorted to amusing herself. Toying with him like a figurine, the way she did all those years ago.

"You wear your grief so beautifully, Lockwood. Like...like jewels between your teeth..."

She pauses, flipping through the newspapers interestedly with inky fingertips, which flickered like shadows next to the soft white snow.

"...and you have such a winning smile. Golden boy." She laughs, and the sound feels like icicles pressing into his skull. "Golden boy," she trills, "you were a bit of a child. The world was having its way with you. You tried to...er, something...golden boy!"

She smiles at him lazily, expectantly, as if anticipating some kind of applause. But Lockwood is in no mood for her childish whimsies.

"I'm fine. I don't have any grief."

She frowns exaggeratedly. "'Course you do."

"I don't."

She mumbles, turning back to her newspaper. "Fine, then. Not like I'm the one holding onto...some kind of...ache."

He digs the heels of his palms into his eyes. How could anyone be this self-aware and yet completely oblivious? The strain on his self-restraint peaks and he buckles within himself.

"Why are you here, Y/N?"

She looks away from the snow. "Lucy said it'd be nice out here."

"No. I mean why are you here, in London? Here, at Portland Row?"

Her lips are pressed together, and there's something guarded in her eyes.

"I just...wanted to see how you were doing."

"Liar."

The word drops from his tongue in such an aggrieved manner with such vehemence that it makes her choke.

"How could you say something like that?"

He scoffs. "Please, let's not pretend you weren't dying to leave at the first chance. Not that you had the decency to tell me-"

"-I was ten!-"

"- having me go through the humiliating process of finding out on my own-"

"What do you want me to say, Lockwood? I'm sorry I left? I'm sorry you were alone? I'm sorry I was too selfish to give a damn about you?"

"-and you'll come back, choking on your silver spoon only to leave again and again and again until you're all alone-"

"You never wrote!"

"I didn't think you'd want me to!"

"I didn't know what I wanted!"

"Then what do you want?"

"YOU, you idiot!"

He stares at her, speechless.

"I was ten. And I was so foolish. How could I have thought of anything but you?"

With that, the last of her rosy, polished, alluring boarding-school airs fell apart. He looks at her and sees his own anger and yearning reflected back at him; anger and yearning he's hardly ready to face. Despite all their efforts to get away from the other, to move on, something between them held fast. Or perhaps it was that they were hopelessly, irrevocably intertwined.

"Of all the roads I could have travelled, you are at the end of every single one of them. Every single one of them, except the road I did travel. I'm here, Lockwood, because I thought I might have...I might have chosen wrong."

"So you think you can just stroll back now that it's convenient for you? I didn't know if I'd ever see you again, do you realise that?"

"What do you want me to do, Lockwood? You keep pushing me away. I feel like part of a past you're forever trying to run away from. So fine! I'll leave, then. I'll go back to the sorry hole I crawled out of, back to friends I don't care about, back to dreaming of the only person who's ever truly cared about me. Is that what you want?"

She doesn't wait for a response, and turns around and walks away from him.

"Y/N, come back."

She silently picks her bicycle out of the snow, dusting it off.

"You can't cycle in this."

Still ignoring his words ringing through the dead winter silence, she steadies herself and cautiously swings a leg over her bicycle. Lockwood starts to walk towards her.

"You'll fall. You'll hurt yourself. Y/N. Y/N!"

But she's already off, gliding soundlessly like a ghost through frigid air on icy roads.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

He's already regretting his words by the time he reaches 35 Portland Row. When he first walks in, the house is so deathly quiet that he's convinced she's left. But her bicycle is thrown down in the garden and he knows she's too averse to the cold to walk home in the snow.

He walks slowly, his measure footsteps echoing on the wooden floors of the house, and he eventually finds her in the living room, sitting with her back to the door, staring at the drawn curtains. The fading evening glow spilling through the edges is streaked across her face and there's a soft crunching sound. As he comes closer, he sees the bowl of ice glinting in her lap, like fractured light, with her face as blank as a canvas.

"Have you gone completely mad? You'll fall sick."

She doesn't even flinch, as if she hadn't heard him. When she speaks, there's a dreamy quality to her typically strong and clear voice.

"I didn't want to come back. This city is nothing I want. I was always going to escape some day. And yet..." she trails off with glazed eyes, as if trying to look through some distant fog. "...and yet."

"You were right." The run back had left him mildly breathless, but was also exactly what he needed to get rid of the buzz in his head, giving way to some much-needed clarity. "About the...heartache. I was just sick of it. You're miles away. I love you in your sleep. I still reach the end of road alone. But I loved you all the while and...somehow that made the pain of leaving you worth it."

"I'm restless. I'm lost. I'm selfish." She swivels her head with an unnerving smoothness, grin wide and grotesque, ice glinting between her perfect teeth. "I'm so alone, Lockwood. Just like you said."

He doesn't know what to say. He walks towards her and picks up her bowl but her fingers close around his wrist like a vice. The gleam in her eye makes him want to pull his hand back. He's too old to play her games and lose.

"That's a bad habit."

"I'm a bad habit. One you can't seem to kick even after all these years: tell me, Anthony, why is that?"

"Y/N, stop. You'll spoil your teeth."

It only makes her grind her teeth even more tauntingly. It's an awful sound. "Good. Let them fall out, one by one. It's what I deserve. Maybe I'll finally learn my lesson."

Her grip on his sleeve lessens, but she doesn't let go. She grips the bowl with her other hand even tighter, as if suddenly terrified.

"Leave me be, Anthony. Leave me...to my vices...and violets and...violence."

He reads her face. He tries to figure her out, to read her like the open book she once was to him. When he doesn't leave, she shovels more ice into her mouth, uncomfortably clacking with her teeth, and continues.

"I was racing ahead...into some glorious sunset, towards some fantastic rainbow, at the end of which was some miraculous snowdrop and a wish to soothe my nomadic soul. I didn't have time for the boy with the sad eyes two streets down from me."

"I convinced myself that you resented my escape from the Problem. I was 15 with the bitter taste of lemongrass in my mouth and a stitch in my chest when I realised I spent all those years missing you. I couldn't run away from it, not truly. So I pretend. I pretend you don't hate me and I pretend I'm not an awful person and I pretend there's a chance you'd want me as much as I want you. I came home to tell you how terribly fond I was of you. It was only at your doorstep that I realised I had run out of places to hide."

"I don't have time for love. Nor the capacity for it. But I am tired of trying to outrun it."

She closed her eyes. Her voice was barely a croak. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you I was leaving. If I could...I'd wish away the past eight years of misery." She opened her eyes. "Some nights, I can pretend they never existed. But I can't wish your happiness into existence."

Lockwood somehow finds his voice. "I thought this was the life you wanted."

"It is Christmas, once again, and my heart is lonely as an island...once again. What part of this could I possibly want?"

He lets go of the bowl of ice and covers her limp, frozen hand with his own. She speaks in a low voice, barely stirring the dust in the room.

"I'll never forgive myself."

He sits down next to her, his feather-light lips pressed to her temple. She feels drained, and exhausted, as if the spirit that had driven her for so long was finally fatigued. Her breathing was uneven and her lungs felt lopsided. But what a blessing it was to finally fall in the one place she knew her landing would be soft.

"One day. One day, I'll..."

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

He pulls out a fresh violet from his coat, still damp from the morning dew.

"Call it even?"

She accepts the flower and gives him a sweet smile. He revels in this smallest of victories.

Their peaceful moment gets shattered by the deafening train horn, which unpleasantly reminds Lockwood of where they are.

She hesitates for a moment, but then extends her arm and holds his face. There's a troubled look on her face, like there's something indescribable she wished to communicate just at the tip of her tongue. But the compulsion passes, and she settles for a trembling brush of his cheekbone with her thumb.

"You're such a darling, Anthony. I don't care what any newspaper or lawsuit has to say about you. You'll always be a darling to me."

"Good, because soon enough you might just be the only one."

She grins, widely at first, but then it chips, and for once he can admit that the sight breaks his heart. She gives him a hug, and he holds her like she's one of the precious metals that adorn her jewellery.

"You'll come back, won't you?"

"Perhaps. See you another weekend."

When they break apart, she swiftly picks up her suitcase with white knuckles and marches to the carriage without looking back. The train horn blares for a final time. The doors shut, and the wheels groan to life. He searches for her face, and finds it, but the reflection of the train station lights hides her eyes. It's at this moment that a disconnected part of him realises he doesn't want to wait for another weekend. He wants her here, and he wants her now.

The train picks up speed, and Lockwood tries to match it. But he's not trying to run. He knows that won't work, it never does.

"Y/N!"

That gets the attention of most passengers, including her. This train accelerates much faster than in his dream, and he's got an awful stitch running down the side of his torso by now, but he's beyond caring at this point. When she sees that it's him yelling like a maniac, she presses her flushed face to the window, eyes wide with disbelief.

"Would you stay?"

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