#White Night in Manila

[bunnywritesjunk]

My King

Series summary: Your parents signed you up for an Alpha Omega Match company when you were eighteen. It took years for them to find your match, but you meet the giant austrian man. Will he be a good partner?

Chapter summary: You get a call from your mother regarding your match. You are nervous to meet them, but they turn out to be a pleasant surprise.

Pairing: König x Fem Reader

Warnings: A/B/O dynamics (Never use this abbreviation without the slashes it is an indigenous slur) 18+ MDNI (no others for this chapter)

Word count: 4.1k (damn thats a lot for me)

Genre: Mostly Fluff a little angst here and there.

A/n: Yo Yo Yo whatup. New fic dropping. This one is black/poc coded but anyone can read. I haven't seen any poc coded cod fics just yet (if you know any send them my way). If you do not like Omegaverse fics please do not read. Also I tried making a cute little mood board, i think it sucks but I tried my best. Konig art credit. (I couldn't find the art credit for the girl). König and reader are neurospicy. I got inspired to do an Apex Alpha König from @ghostlythunderbird go give them some love please. Also this is kinda what I imagine him looking like.

Next Chapter

Chapter One:

His back ached as he climbed the few steps to his door. The passage back to his home was uncomfortable. All König wanted to do with collapse on his bed. The duplex he resided in was decent, the little old woman who rented it to him was very sweet. König had a hard time getting anyone to rent to him. His status as an Apex alpha was concerning for most people. They believed him to be violent and inconsiderate. His landlord is an omega that lives with her alpha mate. König managed to convince her. She thought he was sweet and kind. He opened the foyer door that lead to both apartments. He glanced at the mailbox, wondering if he should wait until morning. Begrudgingly, he took out the small mailbox key and fiddled the metal box open. He grabbed the plethora of mail and closed the box gently. The box was filled up quite a bit as he had not been home in a couple of weeks. 

Heading up the stairs he filed through the mail. Most were junk coupons and magazines, some were credit card sign-up letters. One envelope caught his eye. It had no company name just a large white manila envelope addressed to him. He opened his door and stepped inside placing the mail and his belongings on his couch. He ripped open the envelope and took out a thin book. It had the circular logo of the AOMO, the Alpha Omega Match organization. 

König started at the cover his heartbeat sped up the longer he thought about it. He signed up for the program after a particularly hard mission he had in KorTac. He left and joined the 141 and decided he wanted an omega. A lot of the men in the 141 had partners they could come home to. König wanted that. Most people were too afraid to be in a committed relationship with him. König often settled for one-night stands with betas but it left him feeling empty. He opened the packet to the first page.

'Congratulations!' The first word read. His heart beat harder the more he read. 

'We have found you a match!' König's heart felt like it was going to pound out of his chest. 

'In the plastic wrap, we've provided a fresh scent sample from your potential match. If you like the scent of your match, please send us a scent sample from you as soon as possible.' 

König gripped the packet and leaned over the table, putting his weight on the table. He took a deep breath, he felt a mix of fear and excitement. When he signed up he was not hopeful for a match. He assumed his situation was too complicated for them. He flipped through the packet before reading the rest searching for the scent sample. A plastic bag fell out onto the table. It was sealed and had a verification sticker assuring its authenticity. König picked up the bag carefully. It had a square of white fabric inside it. He took his hood off before opening the bag gingerly. The scent instantly made his knees weak. This Omega had a warm and spicy scent. Coconut and sugary vanilla with hints of sandalwood. König stuffed his nose into the bag inhaling the deep rich smell of this Omega. 

König sealed the scent sample wanting to savor it. He opened the packet back up to the first page. It said once he mailed his scent sample and was approved by his match, they would arrange a meeting with him and his match. There was more information about this Omega and their family along with the reasoning for them picking them. They informed him that this omega was a twenty-six-year-old female. Her father is also an Apex Alpha, he is retired American military. They did not provide a picture of any matches because they wanted the connection to be based on instinct rather than looks. Her mother is an Omega that works as a teacher. There is not much else about the Omega but, König is hopeful. He reads the instructions to send his scent sample. They provided a kit with a form envelope, a small square of fabric, and a plastic bag, almost identical to the one he received from his match. 

'Wash your hands, and rinse any dirt off of your scent glands.'

'Then remove the fabric from the plastic.'

'Rub the fabric on your clean scent glands for 20-25 minutes.'

'Seal the fabric thoroughly in the bag provided .'

He shed his vest and protective gear, the last thing he wanted was for her to smell dust and gunpowder on him. König tried to quell his excitement as he followed the directions. Rushing to his bathroom and then back to his dining room. The fabric square was slightly smaller than his palm. He cupped the crook of his neck, sandwiching the fabric between his hand and his neck. He rubbed gently filling it with his scent. He read the rest of the packet as he rubbed. The rest was mostly semantics about the company and its policies. He combed it a few more times trying to memorize every piece of information about his Omega. 

König smiled gently, he shouldn't think of her as his yet. She smelled so good, too good for him. He smelled the cloth every once in a while to ensure his scent was potent enough. When he was done he placed it in the bag and sealed it. He filled out the form and packed the pre-paid envelope neatly. He grabbed his keys and left his apartment to go to the mail drop-off on the corner of the block. He needed to send it today, he wouldn't be able to sleep if he didn't. He walked back to his apartment having long forgotten about his back pain. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You looked at the list on your phone pushing your shopping cart. Buying the week's groceries had fallen to you this time as your mother was dealing with state testing for her students and your dad was on a hunting trip. You maneuvered the isles expertly collecting the items on your list. As well as some extra sweet snacks you like to indulge in much to our mother's chagrin. You were about to put a pack of Oreos in the cart when your mom called.

“Hello?” You answered but all you can hear was excited screeching. You held the phone away from your ear until she quieted down. 

“He accepted you!!!” She screamed. 

“What? Mom, you're too loud.” 

“The match company! The match they picked liked your scent.” She giggled. 

You were slightly stunned. Your parents signed you up for the AOMO when you were eighteen. You weren't that on board with it but you let them. You know they only want the best for you. You kept sending scent samples every year but they never got back to you about anything. Now, six years later they show up with a match for you. 

“I just got the call, they're sending a scent sample for you right now it's gonna get here in a few days.” 

“Wow...” That was all you managed to say. 

“Now I know this wasn't your ideal way to meet someone, but just please be open-minded sweetheart.” 

You sighed. “I will. I'm finishing up at the grocery and I'll head home.”

“Alright, I'm gonna be home soon too, bye sweetie.” 

You hung up the phone and stood in the aisle. You placed the pack of Oreos in the cart and moved to get the rest of the items before checking out. 

When you arrived home your mother was there waiting. She squealed and hugged you before helping you take the grocery bags inside. 

“I am so excited for you! I have heard so many good things about the AOMO. I bet whoever they picked is gonna be great.”

“Let's hope.” You say. 

The next few days went by quickly. You dove into writing your next few chapters to take your mind off of the match. The sequel to your best-selling fantasy novel was underway. Your days consisted of writing, planning, engaging with fans, and talking to your editor. You typed out the outline for the next few chapters when you heard a knock. 

“Come in.” You said. 

Your mother walked in holding a large envelope. “Guess what came today?” She said excitedly. 

 Your heart thumped with anxiety. She placed the envelope on your desk.

“I’ll leave you to it, let me know if you like them.” She sauntered out of the room happily. 

You picked up the envelope and opened it pulling out a packet of information. You flipped to the first page. 

‘Congratulations!’ It read. 

‘The match we have chosen for you wants to meet you. Once you contact us with your acceptance of their scent, we will arrange for them to meet you and your family with the chaperone of one AOMO agents to facilitate. The two of you will go on a date and get to know each other before deciding whether to move forward. If you do not accept the scent, we will put you back in our database to be matched with someone else.’ 

In the middle of the pages, there was a plastic bag with a white cloth in it. You picked it up and sighed. You doubted you would like the scent. Most alphas were off-putting to you, either way too strong of a scent of they smelled like dishwater. You opened the bag casually and took a whiff. Your inner Omega preened at the musk that erupted from the bag. 

“Oh my…” You inhaled deeply. 

This Alpha…smelled good? He smelled like chocolate and dark roast espresso. There were some hints of fresh baked bread and cinnamon. You caught yourself before you got lost in his scent. You sealed the bag up and took a breath. Maybe, this would be a good experience for you. You scanned through the rest of the information looking over what little they provide about this Alpha. He is a male Alpha, non-American but they did not specify what country. The only other thing they said about him was that his demeanor was shy and that he is military. The instructions said to call the number if you wanted to meet him. You reached for your phone a little too eagerly and dialed the number. A woman’s voice answered.

“Hi, you’ve reached the Alpha Omega Match organization how may I help you?”

“Hi, um I got an Alpha’s scent in the mail, and I want to meet him.” You said awkwardly.

“What’s your name and date of birth?” You told her, nervously. 

“Please hold while I transfer you.” 

The light piano hold music came on, you fidgeted with your sleeve. 

“This is Kara, how may I help you?”

“Oh hi, I got an Alpha’s scent in the mail and I would like to meet him.”

“Alright, let me get your file from reception she’s sending it right now…Ah got it. Oooh ok great I am your agent that will be facilitating this meeting. Your parents will want to meet him yes?”

“Definitely.”

“Ok so, what we will do is you and your parents will meet me at a public space of your choice then. I will bring you to meet the Alpha first, then your parents. We like to keep parent meetings brief as they tend to try and challenge the Alpha. I will have you know, this Alpha is an Apex like your dad. That is one of the reasons we chose you as his match, you have experience with an Apex. Will you be comfortable with all that?”

“Yeah, that’s fine.” Your head was reeling from all this information. Great, I see you guys are in New York City which is one of my favorite places to visit. Do you have anywhere in mind to meet?” 

“Um, we could do the Highline, there’s food, and it's pretty.” 

“Oh, that’s a great idea let me write it down here. How does September ninth at noon sound to you? A weekday so there are not too many people.” 

Your heart jumped, that’s in two days.

“Uh, sure.” 

“Alright, I will send you a follow-up email regarding our plans all you need to do is confirm. Your match will be notified, and his flight will be booked as soon as we receive confirmation. Do you have any other questions?” 

“No not at the moment.” 

“Ok, don’t hesitate to reach out if you have any concerns. I will see you in a few days.” 

“Bye.” 

You put your phone on your desk and walked out of your room. Your mother was standing a few feet away from your door. When she noticed you, her face lit up.

“So? How was the scent? Are you meeting them?” 

You smiled and nodded “Yup, in two days.” 

She squealed and captured you in a bone-crushing hug.

“I can’t wait! Let’s go tell your father!” She practically ran down the hall. 

You walked to your living room where your otherwise stoic-looking dad was watching TV. 

“Tell us about them, sweetheart.” Your mother said. Your dad turned the volume on the TV down and looked at you expectantly.

“Well, I don’t know much but, I know he’s not American and that he might be shy…He smells good.” 

“That’s important, I hope you wouldn’t pick someone who smells like shit.” Your dad chimed in. 

“He’s also military, and an Apex.” You added quickly. 

Your mother gasped quietly, and your father raised his eyebrows.

“Now that’s intriguing.” Your mom said smiling.

“You already booked a meeting with him?” Your dad asked. You nodded. 

“You should’ve asked me first.” He pinched his nose bridge in annoyance. 

“Well, he’s my match and I wanted to meet him.”

“Apex Alphas are dangerous. I would know.”

“Oh, please honey it’ll be fine.” Your mother ridiculed him.

“It’s my choice, Dad. You guys are the ones who signed up, I finally got a match, so I want to see it through. If it doesn’t work out, then I’ll call it off.”

Your father growled lowly. “Fine.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Your mother insisted to dress you in a cutesy outfit, so you let her have her moment. She dressed you in a dark floral dress that hugged your curves just right. She added dainty jewelry along with your protective collar. You didn’t usually wear it but again, she insisted. She did your hair half up half down. Your dad was waiting by the front door with your mom’s purse in hand. 

The train ride there was silent, your mother looked utterly content while your father was peeved about this whole situation. You arrived at the station and walked to the Highline. You got a text from Kara telling you what she looked like and where she was. She was wearing a dark blue pencil skirt and a white blouse. She stood up as you and your family approached. You stuck your hand out to shake hers.

“Nice to meet you guys, come sit.” She said motioning to the bench she was on. 

Your father stayed standing while you and your mother took a seat next to her. 

“So, there are some things I want to go over with you all and then I’ll talk to you privately and do the official meeting ok?”

“He’s here?” You said in an almost panicked tone.

Kara chuckled. “He is here but I left him to wait somewhere out of sight for now.”

She continued. “His name is König, he was born in Austria. When we did his psyche and personality evaluations, we found that he has neurodivergent tendencies, like you. Our matches with people that have a similar way of communicating have gone well.”

“Wait, neurodivergent?” Your mom chimed in. 

“Yes, your daughter did show signs of some behavioral abnormalities, but she is high functioning.”

“I told you that Mom.” You say giving her a deadpan look. Your mother looked down and gave a small ‘hmm’. Kara continued. 

“He does struggle with social anxiety so please be patient with him. Other than that, he currently lives in Amsterdam, if you choose to go forward that is where you will live.”

Your dad finally spoke “Is Amsterdam safe for people like us?” He asked with a raised eyebrow. 

“Oh yes, Amsterdam has many people from different places and backgrounds. It is one of the most popular immigration and tourist countries, don’t worry.”

“Alright, how about you come with me, and we’ll get your meeting started.”

Kara led you away, you turned and did a small wave to your parents your mom smiled back at you warmly. 

“So, I will be in contact with you the whole time. If you want to go just say the word, I am never going to be more than a couple minutes away. Honestly, I don’t think you’ll have any issues with him.” 

She led you to a restaurant below the high line, it had indoor and outdoor seating. There were a lot of people laughing and drinking. Your heartbeat sped up as you scanned the crowd. The scent of food entered your nose. Everyone’s scent in the dining area mixed into an indescribable concoction. Among the borderline overwhelming smells, you got a hint of something familiar, espresso. 

You scanned the large room trying to pinpoint where it was coming from or if you were just imagining it. I dark figure near the corner of the room caught your eye. He looked way too large for the chair he was sitting in. He was looking down at his hands, dirty blonde hair covered his forehead. He was wearing a black cloth mask along with a form-fitting black shirt. As soon as you walked in he raised his head. You looked away pretending you weren't staring at him. Kara led you straight to his table.

“This is König.” She gestured to him. 

He stood up to shake your hand still keeping himself hunched at the waist to appear smaller. You shook his hand and smiled as you introduced yourself. He nodded and said a small 'hmm' to acknowledge you. 

“Alright, I'll be near. Have fun.” Kara left swiftly.

You sat down in the chair across from him as he did the same. A wave of anxiety came as you did, not knowing how to break the ice with him. You picked up the menu and scanned it.

“Did you order yet?” You ask.

“No, I was waiting for you.”

“Well thank you, what looks good?” 

“The Steak frites look pretty good.” He glued his menu.

“I'm excited for dessert, they have chocolate cheesecake.”

He chuckled and it made your stomach flip.

“You like sweets?” He asked.

“Very much.” You smile at him. 

The waitress came over and asked if you wanted any drinks. König looked at you, waiting for you to order first. 

“I'll try the elderberry gin and tonic.” You said.

 Konig was about to order when the table next to us erupted in loud laughter. He jumped slightly before answering the waitress. 

“I'll get the house Lager.” He said. 

The waitress left to grab the drinks. The adjacent table was still very loud. The group of friends hollering and screaming obviously day drunk. Konig had his head slightly turned away from them in an attempt to lessen the noise. It was subtle but you could tell. You reached into your bag and brought out a pair of foldable headphones. You turned on the noise cancellation and gave them to him. He looked slightly confused. 

“Put them on.” You encourage him. 

When he did the noise muffled and the restaurant was much quieter. You could see the tension in his shoulders ease by the second. His scent sweetened

“Is that better? Can you hear me ok?” 

König swears he could've kissed you right then and there, but he settles on a nod. 

“Thank you, Leibe.” 

“No problem.”

The waitress came by with the drinks and asked if the two of you are ready to order entrees. You ordered the fish and König ordered the Steak. While you waited, you two had a pleasant small talk about his flight and how he is enjoying his visit. He hesitated to take off his mask at first so you focused on your menu to give him the space to be comfortable with you. You glanced up and took in his face. He was beautiful, he had scars on his face that added ruggedness to his chiseled features. König noticed your scent amplify as you gazed at him. His inner alpha pushed him to be closer, to know more about you.

“So, you're in the military?” 

He nods. “I work for a military contractor. Do you work?”

“Sort of, I'm an author so I work from home.”

“That is nice, are you published?” König was secretly very happy he'd get to have you at home all day. 

“Yes, I am. I'm working on my sequel right now. Do you like to read? Or, do you read in German?” 

He chuckled. “I have not had much time to read lately, but I will now.”

“Well, you have to buy my book of course.” You giggled. 

König nearly fell off his chair at the sound. This Omega was everything he wanted. He prayed to whatever god was up there that you felt something with him. By the time the food came you both fell into a comfortable rhythm. He asked about your childhood and hobbies. It was a change of pace, most Alphas are very self-centered, but he is putting effort into getting to know you. The food came out and you both ate. He offered bites of his food for you to try which you happily returned the favor. By the time you finished your food, you hadn't noticed how much time has gone by. Kara texted you to check-in. 

'Hey, so I saw things were going well so I let you guys talk for an hour and a half but, your parents are getting antsy. Are you guys ready to see your parents?' 

“Oh, Kara is asking if we're ready to see my parents.” 

König fiddled with his fork. “I'm ready.” 

He paid the bill and you both left the restaurant. You took in the full size of the Alpha you matched with. He was no less than a giant. He held the door for you but stopped before he walked through. 

“I forgot something, I'll be back.” He walked back into the restaurant. 

Kara walked up to you. “How did it go?” 

“I...really like him...”

“I know, that feeling is scary. I think you guys are a wonderful match.”

König came out holding a small to-go box. He handed it to you, you could tell he was smiling under his mask. 

“What's this?”

Inside the box was a slice of chocolate cheesecake and a fork.

“We forgot to order dessert.” 

You were stunned, you didn't think there could be Alphas that were so thoughtful. Your inner Omega soared, this Alpha was courting you so well. 

“Thank you, König, that's really sweet.” 

“Ah, here they are.” Kara said. 

Your parents walked up to the three of you. Your mother had a surprised but happy look on her face. Your father kept his deadpan face from earlier, not a good sign. 

“Wow, sweetheart you caught a big one!” Your mom chuckled. 

“Parents, this is König.” Kara said. 

Your mother introduced herself and your father as he stood there sizing up the taller Apex. 

“Alright, let's keep things brief parents do you have any questions for König?”

“Well, as long as she likes him I don't.” Your mother said. 

“Can you protect her?” Your dad asked putting some venom behind his words. 

“I would never let anything happen to her sir. You have my word.” König answered without hesitation. 

Your dad nodded and looked at you. “You like him?”

“...Yeah I do.” 

“Alright then, that's all that matters.” 

“Well, I think it's safe to say that the match is made. I will contact you for the next steps. Parents, let's let them say goodbye.” Kara led your parents away.

You turned to König. “Thank you for meeting with me, I had a really good time.” You saw a faint blush at the top of his mask. 

“I also had a good time, liebe.” 

“What does that mean?”

“Ah...it means love.” 

“Oh well...” You motioned for him to come bend down close to you.

When he got close enough you pecked his cheek. 

“I'll see you soon, love.” 

[souliebird]

[[and then i met you || ch.1]]

Series: Daredevil || Pairing: Matt Murdock x Fem!Reader || Rating: Explicit

Summary: A one-night stand years ago gave you a daughter and you are now able to put a name to her father – Matthew Murdock. Everything is about to change again as you navigate trying to integrate your life with that of the handsome and charming blind lawyer’s.

a/n: Reader is an extremely anxious person. That’s the note.

words: 5.6k

You hope Matthew Michael Murdock is a good man. 

You tried to research him online, but you didn't find anything that could sway you one way or another.

The news articles say he's some sort of local hero - not only for being a lawyer who does a lot of pro-bono work but for saving a man from being hit by a truck when he was a kid. They all give his tragic backstory before praising him and his law partner for helping the underprivileged and going after some big shot corrupt businessman - twice. The comments are mostly from people he's helped, singing about how Nelson and Murdock saved them in their times of crisis. 

You want to trust them, but you can't.

The news also claimed Hitler was Person of the Year and deserved praise, too, and you know how that turned out. Not that you think a blind lawyer from Hell's Kitchen can be compared to a genocidal leader, but your mental point to yourself still stands. 

You know nothing about Matthew Murdock except he's blind, he's a lawyer, and his dick changed your life. 

You doubt he even remembers you - a one-night stand from years ago, before his name even started appearing in the news again, and to be fair, you didn't remember him at first, either. Not until four months later when you went in to get your anxiety medication adjusted and the doctor made you take a routine pregnancy test. Then you remembered the handsome blind lawyer who flirted with you at a friend's holiday party you had gone to. You could remember the silly conversation you had about white elephant, that he had the most charming smile, and he could do things with his tongue that made you moan just thinking about, but you could not remember his name. 

You had tried to find him, you really did, but your energy and attention was quickly needed elsewhere and the search for your daughter's father lost steam.

Until you saw him on the television while at the local diner, giving an interview with his law partner. 

That was yesterday and now you are standing outside the door of his firm, trying to work up the courage to go in. 

There's too many scenarios in your head, all of them bad- he's not going to want anything to do with you and your daughter, which you can deal with, or maybe, just maybe, he'll try to take her away from you. He's a lawyer and you work in billing for a transportation company. There's no doubt who the courts would choose and it wouldn't be you. 

The thought makes you want to turn and run but you know your daughter deserves the chance to know her father - and he deserves to know she exists. It's his choice, once he knows, if he wants to be in her life or not, not yours. 

It scares you so much it's not your choice. 

You scrub at your face, trying to work up the courage to actually open the door in front of you when it does just that. 

A kind looking woman with strawberry blonde hair is standing in the doorway and you recognize her from the firm's website - Karen Page. She's the third partner in the firm and you didn't really look into her in your hunt for information. 

She offers you a smile before speaking, "You look like you're debating coming in." You shrug, unsure what to say because that is exactly what you were doing but don't want to admit it. She looks you over without it feeling judgmental before focusing on the manila envelope in your hand. She steps back slightly and gestures for you to come into the office. "You made it this far. Whatever it is, we'll do our best to help you."

The sentiment is so kind and you know she means well, thinking you are a potential client, but it just causes your throat to get even tighter. 

It has been you and your daughter for so long, is this really the right path to take? 

You hug your file to your chest and take a hesitant step forward. Then another and another until you are in the office. It's not big or fancy and you didn't expect it to be. There's a little waiting area in front of the reception desk, with another desk shoved against a wall, and on either side of the room, doors leading to what you suspect are the private offices. 

Karen goes around to the back of the reception desk and picks up a clipboard holding some paperwork and offers it out to you.

You take it and stare down at it, unsure if you would fill it out or not. When you look back up, Karen is still smiling at you and you don't want to come off as a problem, so you take a seat in the waiting area and start filling out the requested information. As you write out your address, it finally occurs to you that you have no idea how to have the conversation you need to have.

Do you ease into it or drop it on him like a bomb? You had only ever thought about finding him and never about what you would say when you did.

You should have taken more time to plan this out. You're such an idiot - you just jumped right into running towards him like you might lose track of him if you took so much as a second to think. You know his name now, who he is, you can take time to get things sorted out properly.

Would it be weird to leave in the middle of filling out paperwork you shouldn't even be bothering with?

Probably not, but you're already here. There is no point in running. 

This is for your daughter, not you. You have to keep telling yourself that.

You don't fill out the information asking about your 'case'. It honestly makes you panic a bit if you start thinking about it all in a legal sense - you know nothing about law and the man you're meeting with graduated at the top of his class from a top law school. Your hand is shaking as you add your signature to the bottom of the page and date it. Reviewing everything takes just a moment, since there's barely anything written to begin with, and your eyes drift up to the logo at the top of the page.

Nelson, Murdock, and Page.

You trace it with your finger.

Matthew Murdock has to be a good man. This firm helps people and he wouldn't be here if he didn't want to help people. He graduated top of his class; he could work anywhere he wanted to. The papers said he is good, too - they win most of their cases. 

Unless it's all a weird front to hide something like money laundering. 

But if they were money launders wouldn't they have enough money to afford an air conditioner? 

"All done?" 

Karen is in front of you, smiling politely. You are surprised by her appearance, but you don't feel pressured. It's like she's checking in so that she can break you out of your thoughts and you appreciate that. You nod and hand her the clipboard. She takes it, giving it a once over.

"Foggy will be out in just a minute."

Your head jerks up at that.

"No, I need to see Mr. Murdock."

You can tell Karen is surprised by that and her eyes narrow just a fraction. She searches your face, then she looks towards the door on the left. 

You turn your head to follow her gaze. 

"Matt!" Karen calls out.

A few moments pass before the door opens and you feel like you're going to throw up. 

The cameras don't do him justice. 

Matthew Murdock is gorgeous. He was handsome before and somehow, he just got hotter. He's a little taller than you, still as lean as you remember, and looking crisp in a gray suit - like some model walked off the catwalk and into a sweltering office. His hair is shorter than you remember it being. You have the distinct memory of being able to grab onto it, but it's too cropped to do that now.

But the thing that catches your attention the most is that in person and in the light, you can see Matthew's hair has an auburn tint to it.

Just like Minnie's. 

The realization shakes your entire world. 

This man is the father of your child. He's real. He's no longer a concept of a person, who you knew nothing about, who just existed somewhere in the world. 

You have to look away before you start to cry. You don't know where this surge of emotion is coming from - it feels like this wave of relief. This question you have always had finally has an answer. 

You tell yourself to take a breath, you know getting overly emotional isn't going to help anything. It might actually make things worse and spiraling into a meltdown is not a good first impression.

You can see Karen in your peripheral vision, and you look up to her, trying to regain your focus.

It's Matthew who speaks first, "Yes, Karen?"

"We have a walk-in who is hoping she can speak with you." 

You introduce yourself, standing up as you do. You know he is blind, so you don't offer your hand. Instead you clutch your folder to your chest. 

He doesn't seem to remember your name. He turns towards you and gives a polite smile. "It's nice to meet you, I'm Matthew Murdock, but you seem to know that. I have some time right now, please come in. Karen, can you grab us some water before you join us?"

"Yeah, sure," Karen says as she turns to do just that. 

Your throat gets tight again. 

You don't want to have this conversation with someone else there. It's already going to be hard enough. You'll definitely start crying if Karen is in the room. You cannot deal with two people's reactions. The mere thought of you having to do that is making you sweat. 

Matthew's voice breaks you out of your panic. "If that is okay?"

You rush out your response, "I would prefer to speak alone, please." You're too panicked to feel embarrassment. 

Karen doesn't seem phased by this. She is still grabbing a couple of bottles of water from the fridge and offering one out to you. You take it. 

"Not a problem, let me know if you need anything."

"Thanks, Kare. Please, come this way," Matthew motions for you to follow him into the office. 

This is it.

Once you go through that door, you aren't leaving that room without telling Matthew Murdock he is a father. 

You surprise yourself by not hesitating and just charging forward into the office. 

This isn't about you or your fears. 

This is for Minnie. 

You keep your gaze forward because you can't bring yourself to look at him. If you stop and look at him before you tell him why you are here, you will just start over analyzing everything once again. You silently beg to whatever gods will listen that everything will be okay, and this man won't destroy you. 

He doesn't look like he is going to break your heart. 

But you know that looks mean nothing when it comes to pain. 

He closes the door behind you with an audible click and the weight of the moment starts to come down on your shoulders.

You take the seat in front of the desk quickly, worried your nerves might catch up with you, placing the water on the ground beside you with your purse when you sit. Matthew doesn't rush, he walks to his desk with an air of quiet confidence and if you were a client, it would be comforting, but you aren't and all it does is remind you why you fell into bed with him. 

"What brings you in today, Miss..?" He trails off, prompting you to say your name again. As he reaches his desk you watch as he trails his fingers along the edge, using it as a guide, before moving his hand to brush over the back of his seat before sitting in it. 

You chew your bottom lip, wishing you had taken a second to actually plan what you would say instead of jumping in. As far as you know, there isn't a step-by-step guide on how to tell a one-night stand that he's the father of your child - not that you actually looked into that in your desperate research the night before. 

Matthew doesn't push as you gather your thoughts. He moves some paperwork away from the center of his desk, then folds his hands there, waiting. You keep your gaze on his hands, needing something to focus your eyes on while you force the truth out.

"I saw your interview last night," you say, deciding to start there, as it seems the most relatable.

Matthew's brows knit together and he tilts his head to the side and you are one again reminded of Minnie. It's a gesture she does often, tilting her little head left and right as she tries to understand something. It always reminded you of a dog and now you wonder if it's not a learned behavior, but genetic. 

His lips turn down into a frown and his head stays cocked as he asks, "Do you have information about the Lynch case?"

Heat rushes to your cheeks - of course that would be the question to ask after bringing up the interview. The whole piece was about a specific case they were working on and how it would affect Hell's Kitchen and you hadn't paid any attention to what was said - not after you realized who was on the screen. 

You shake your head, resisting the urge to look away and you curl your fingers tighter around the manila folder in your lap. "No, I'm sorry. I saw you and…recognized you."

He straightens up and his demeanor shifts to something less…friendly. It's minute but your messed-up brain screams at you about body language - his shoulders have squared up and you can see where he's clenching his back teeth. You quickly continue on, wanting to get through with your explanation before your anxiety makes you clam up.

"We met nearly five years ago," your voice is firm and factual and you're proud of yourself for that, "at a holiday party." 

The words leave your mouth and you know he knows. Every part of him seems to go still - even his breathing seems to stop. The crease between his brow smoothes out, like he's gone from squinting to wide eyes behind his dark glasses. Your heart is pounding in your ears and your throat is getting stiff, but your voice remains steady as you push the words out.

"I think you are the father of my child."

All the color seems to leave Matthew's face and he looks nearly as gray as his suit. The reaction makes your stomach turn. He looks like he is going to throw up. 

You bite into your lip, waiting for Matthew to do or say something. All you can do is mentally chant to yourself: he's a good man, he won't take her away.

You know it's probably just seconds, but it feels like hours pass before Matthew moves.

He leans slowly back in his chair, reaching up with one hand to rub at his mouth. 

"Are you sure?"

He doesn't sound upset, at least to your ears. His words are cautious - tentative - and it makes your heart go tight in your chest. You don't know if it's fear or hope or everything crashing into you at once now that he knows.

You force out a nod before you remember that the man in front of you is blind. You find your voice and words creep out.

"I'm pretty sure," you start. Your eyes drop away from his hands back down to your lap and you have to lick at your lips to wet them before continuing, "I didn't go out much after that party, I got so busy with work. I didn't…find out until the first trimester was over. By then, I couldn't remember your name. My friends who I went to the party with didn't know you either. I tried to Google you with what information I had, but 'blind lawyer' just got me a lot of disability lawyers." You take a shaky breath, "I understand if you want a paternity test."

You know Matthew is probably taking everything in, but now that you've started talking, it's like you've lifted the dam on your anxiety. You squeeze the file in your lap - just because you hadn't known how you were going to tell Matthew the truth did not mean you hadn't extensively thought about the consequences. Words start to spill out of you.

"I also understand if you don't want anything to do with us, I get it's a big shock. I'm not looking for anything from you." Matthew drops his hand to the desk and if you didn't know better, it would look like he was staring at you. "I just wanted you to know and I thought it would be good for her to know you, but if you don't want that, I get it. All I ask is you fill out some paperwork, medical history mostly so I know if there's anything I need to look out for. I printed it out for you, it's all in braille." 

You get up just enough so that you can place the manila envelope on the desk, then sit back down. Your throat is getting so tight and stiff you feel like you're struggling to breathe. 

Matthew runs his hand over his desk until he can feel the envelope. His fingers move along the edge and you stare at them, like they are going to be the one to reveal what Matthew is thinking instead of his mouth. He finds the lip but doesn't open, instead flattening his palm against it.

"...her?"

His voice is so quiet you barely hear it. You lift your head to finally look at him and your heart skips a beat.

Matthew looks so soft. The corners of his lips twitch a few times before a smile slowly spreads across his face. 

And you know.

You know without a doubt he is your daughter's father. They have the exact same smile. You can't help but to grin as well. 

This is good, isn't it? He looks Happy. 

"I have a daughter.."

"Winifred.. Winifred Love," you offer. Matthew lifts his head and tilts it towards you, brow wrinkling slightly.

"Love…?" He asks, no judgment in his voice, only curiosity. 

You close your eyes in a bit of embarrassment, as you always do during the story, "I meant to put Grace, but I was out of it. I even put a big heart next to it on the paperwork." You aren't ashamed of the story and you love your daughter's name, but it's always a 'oops I was high' moment, even if it was done with the purest intention. 

If possible, Matthew's smile gets even bigger. 

"Winifred Love," he says, his voice dropping back down to the barely there whisper. 

"She goes by Minnie. Like, um.. Like Minnie Mouse," you say. That gets an amused yet fond chuckle. You find yourself relaxing at the noise - like some of the pressure squeezing on your lungs has been lifted and you can finally breathe. 

He repeats her nickname and you feel your lips start to turn up. 

"How old..?" His voice cracks with emotion and Matthew has to clear his throat before continuing, "how old is she?"

"Three and a half," you answer quickly, "her birthday is a few months away." You bite your lip then hesitantly add, "She wants to go to the zoo. It's all she talks about."

"Yeah?" Matthew prompts. His smile is so so soft and it makes your stomach turn in this pleasant way. However, you were expecting him to act, this is not it. In your heart, you think the best you were going for was acceptance, but this seems much more than that. There is a stinging in the corner of your eyes and you have to take your own steadying breath continuing on.

"Yeah, um.. She…likes maps right now. I got her a map to the zoo and she's got the whole day planned." Which is very much true - your coffee table has been the home of a makeshift zoo diorama for a little over a week now and the itinerary has changed about twenty times. 

 Matthew ducks his head and nods a little, taking all the information in. You squeeze your fingers in your lap, needing a way to release the nerves still buzzing inside you. 

A few moments pass before Matthew clears his throat again, "What else does she like..?"

The question makes you chuckle just a little bit, only because gushing about your daughter is something you're very good at. Since you work at home, it is just the two of you ninety percent of the time, you don't get to coo over her very often.

"She loves arts and crafts - anything she can get her little hands on. Right now she loves pipe cleaners and paper, things she can bend and fold, you know? I set her next to me while working and she'll just fold paper into little shapes. Not origami or anything, just abstract things, she doesn't plan it. She always wants to help, too, whatever I'm doing. Cooking and cleaning. She is the best helper for grocery shopping." You pause, looking over Matthew's smile for a moment before continuing on, tears starting to gather in your eyes.

 "She looks just like you," you admit, fondness clear in your voice because it is so so true. Now that you are properly looking at him, Minnie looks just like Matthew, and telling him that makes him light up even more. "You've got the same smile. The same hair. Hers is a little more red, but it's definitely from you."

You watch Matthew lick at his lips and you want to know what is going on in his head. You think everything is going well, even if you are on the verge of crying. They are tears of relief - relief you weren't told to fuck off or to go get your own lawyer. You don't fully know if Matthew Murdock is a good man, but you're over the first hurdle and the prospects are looking good. 

Matthew leans back into his chair, inhaling deeply, as if centering himself, then asks, "Why now? Why find me now?"

"Like I said, I couldn't find you, I didn't know anything about you, really, except what you looked like and you were a lawyer. I did try, I really did, but…" you trail off with a shrug, "I had a newborn."

Matthew seems to accept that answer - it is the truth after all - and continues on, "But you saw the interview... Last night?"

You nod, "I was picking up some dinner and they were playing the news at the diner. I saw it and looked you up and now…now you know."

"Now I know…" Matthew repeats slowly, his smile dropping a little and you wonder if is hitting him in different waves, like it did you - the realization he is a father. You know it is an intense roller coaster and you are not going to try to guide his ride, especially after just kind of dropping it on him. 

He taps the manila folder in front of him, the crease returning to his brow, "What is this?"

Your cheeks get hot again and you turn your gaze away from him and back to your lap, "Requests for family medical history and information about how to establish paternity, if that's what you want."

"It is," Matthew rushes out. Your head jerks up and his expression looks serious, "I want that. I want to be in her life."

He sounds so sure of himself that it makes your head spin a little. You built up in your mind he either wouldn't want anything to do with you and Minnie or he was going to try to take her away - you hadn't really considered the obvious option that Matthew would just want to be involved. At least, that is what you are hoping he is implying. 

"I won't abandon my daughter," the conviction in his voice startles you, but it also makes your heart twist but in a good way because in that moment, you believe him. "And I won't abandon you. I used to question if I had the right to bring a child into my life, but this isn't a hypothetical anymore…. And I can't.." he trails off and leans back into his chair, rubbing at his mouth again. You don't press, you have no right to when you've come out of the blue and changed his entire world. He takes off his glasses and pinches the bridge of his nose. "I can't step away now that I know she is out there." 

You quickly shake your head at his words, "You don't need to rush into anything, I mean it, I don't want anything from you but for you to have the chance to know her. We can go slow, she's still little, you know? She can't handle a big change. Start small?"

You're more worried about how he is feeling versus what you are. You have at least prepared yourself to have a reaction - he thought he would be having a normal work day and you've given him a lot to process in the last five minutes. 

"We can go at your pace, Matthew."

He drops his hand from his face, a smile coming back to his face, "You can call me Matt."

You repeat your preferred name, then apologize, "I'm sorry for coming out of nowhere. I didn't want to lose track of you again, but I could have scheduled an appointment."

Matt shakes his head a little, "No, I get it." His hand goes back to the envelope, like touching it is grounding him like squeezing your fingers is grounding you. "I'm glad you came…I'm glad…thank you. Thank you for telling me." 

Part of you wants to reach across the desk and squeeze his hand, to give him comfort and let him know everything will be okay, but you don't dare. He's still a stranger, despite everything. You decide pushing past the emotional to the practical might be the best approach for now. You need to get your anxiety to settle now that you know your world isn't going to end and the best thing for that, in your mind, is getting an action plan. 

"I don't know what the steps are for doing this," you start, trying to think up ideas as you talk, "but I think maybe we could…get together again and plan things out? Give you time to adjust to the idea and let you think about how you want to move forward?"

Matt nods along with your words, "That sounds like a good idea." 

You bend down to grab your phone out of your purse, "I put my contact information in the packet, but could I get yours?" 

He waits until you are ready, then gives you his personal number then the office number. You do the quick song and dance of calling his phone, so that he has your number and you wait patiently as he adds you as a contact. Hearing the voice commands to navigate a phone is new to you and once he is done putting in your information, you let your curiosity get the better of you.

"Do you prefer texting or phone calls?"

"Phone calls would be preferable," Matt says as he sets his phone on his desk, having held it up to speak clearly into it, "I have text to speech but it's not always the easiest for texting." 

You nod in understanding, "Got it." You squirm in your seat, unsure of what comes next, so you say the very first thing that comes to mind. "You can call anytime. I work from home so you don't have to worry about interrupting anything…like I'm doing with you."

He hums, then asks, "What does Minnie do during the day?" 

"She stays with me, mostly. There's a daycare down the block she goes to if I need someone to watch her. That's where she is now."

That makes Matt frown just slightly and part of you panics that he disapproves. "Is it just the two of you…?"

"Yes." 

You say it with confidence. You've worked hard to get where you are alone and despite all you've been through, you are proud of that. "My parents passed when I was in college and I don't have any siblings. We've managed to do pretty well on our own. It's not the biggest, but we have a little place in Chelsea."

The little frown stays and you don't know what it means - you hope it's over you not having a big support system and not something else. Matt looks like he is going to respond but a knock at the door cuts him off. You jump at the noise, having totally forgotten there were other people in the office. 

Matt looks slightly annoyed when he calls out, "Yes?"

The door opens and the final partner for the law firm is there. "Pardon the intrusion," he says to you with a nod before addressing Matt, "They've got that guy from last week at the 15th. He's asking for us specifically."

Matt openly scowls before running a hand over his face, "Okay. Give me a few minutes."

Foggy nods before stepping back out and closing the door.

"I'm sorry," Matt says sheepishly.

You cut him off before he can say more, standing as you do, "Please don't be, I really did just barge in on you at work. I can call you later? Or you can call me?" 

Matt gets up as well, starting to come around the desk, "I can call you." He hesitates just a second, then ducks his chin, that little smile reappearing and your heart does that funny flip again. "Maybe we can get lunch?"

You smile back, "I would like that. We can start planning." You bite your bottom lip, then add, "I can bring Minnie…?"

Matt's entire face lights up and the awkwardness of trying to end your talk evaporates. "I would like that. A lot." He motions to his desk, "I'll work on getting that back to you. I want to…I want to do this right." 

"I do, too." 

It feels like a promise. You want to believe Matt - that he wants this and won't disappear at the first minor inconvenience. You've read so many horror stories about bad parents and you don't want any of that for Minnie. 

You grab your purse and the water Karen gave you, then finally give Matt a proper look over. 

You enjoyed your night together with him. Not only had he been a phenomenal lover, but he had made you smile and laugh. You weren't nearly as anxious then as you are now, but you had been rather nervous being flirted with by a handsome lawyer and he had made you feel at ease. Bringing him home with you had been an easy choice. 

He must sense you smiling somehow, maybe you giggled or something, but his smile, which had started to fall, brightens back up.

"Can I ask you something before you go?" 

You nod to his question, catch yourself and reply, "Of course."

"Can you tell me what she looks like?"

Guilt courses through you and biting your lip turns painful, "I'm so sorry, of course. Um, I included pictures in the packet with descriptions but, of course." His face drops into something a little nervous so you launch into the description of your daughter, emphasizing how they have the same smile because you can’t get over that. You can't help yourself and start describing some of the pictures you included.

"She has this big noise canceling headband so she can sleep comfortably - she doesn't like loud noises - but because she is three, she refuses to wear it unless it's cute. So we crochet little sleeves for it. One of the pictures is her asleep on our couch, face down, because that's how she sleeps, wearing her favorite sleeve. It's Spider-Man the-"

There's a quick series of taps on the door before it opens again.

"Buddy, we gotta go."

You start to apologize, but Matt speaks over you, his voice a little firm as his expression drops, "I'll be right there, Foggy."

A silent conversation seems to go through them, as Foggy raises his eyebrows at Matt and Matt does the same right back. Foggy steps out of the office, closing the door behind him. 

"Let me walk you out?" Matt asks, motioning to the door.

"Thank you." 

You let him open the door and you follow him into the reception office. Foggy is looking at his phone while waiting by Karen's desk as she finishes packing her laptop. You cross the room in silence as Matt leads you from the office. Once you are in the hallway, he speaks to you in a soft voice.

"Can I call you tonight?"

"Yes, please." 

"Does eight work?"

"That's perfect." 

"I'll talk to you then."

You force yourself to be the one to turn away and start walking towards the stairs. As you get to them, you pull your bottom lip between your teeth to try to suppress your smile.

Maybe the papers are right and Matthew Murdock is a good man. 

You really hope he's a good father too.

[ebodebo]

Tough As Nails—Cowboy Like Me

thinking about cowboy!simon riley… | part four |

<- previous

The beginning of August usually brings the peak of summer warmth, but unfortunately for you, it seems the end of July supplied the real heat—just not in the ways you had expected. 

Even all of two weeks after your encounter with Sam, you seethed. Harsh anger and heat spread through your being, boding for a tiny little catalyst to ignite your flame. And you weren't the only one feeling the feverish heat.

To say that Simon was angry would be a gross understatement. A storm has been brewing inside him ever since he pulled up to that shitty dive-bar, seeing you sitting on the dirty curb, smudged mascara dripping down your plump cheek, tainting your beautiful face, eyes blood-shot and swollen. Your voice strained and cracked as you said his name, questioning if it was really him. 

The real nail on the coffin was what you had confessed to him in his truck. Sam had insinuated you were a slut. Simon's muscles tightened, and his jaw clenched every time he remembered what that deprived asshole told you. The only reason he didn't flip the truck around and speed back to that dive-bar, grab Sam's sorry-ass out of the seat he sit in, and slam him into the wall, was because you had pleaded he didn't.

He was gracious to you by respecting your wishes, but this ordeal festered in him too much to leave it untouched. Simon was a God-damn machine with no impulse control. A loose-canon. And this canon was ready to blow right through that city-slicking prick's front-fucking-door. 

Which was preciously what he did.

Simon threw himself inside his truck at about eleven at night, a Manila folder tucked gently away in his jacket, not even bothering to strap on his safety belt as he drove to that bastard's house. Simon hoped, prayed, that Sam was asleep so that he could be the one to jerk him out of his peaceful slumber and make him wonder if he was in a nightmare. 

He halted as his truck brushed against the curb in front of his house, turning off his engine and stepping out of the truck. He scoffed as he took in the sight of the house. It was huge, no, enormous. Creamy, muted blue paint coated the paneled front and sides of the house, and a classic picket white fence encased the backyard. 

Two white Range Rovers and a white Porche sat in the driveway, along with two golf carts sequestered to the right side of the house. Simon noticed the Porsche's shit parking job and dirt-covered windows and noted it was Sam's car, just for future reference. 

After his observations, he casually strolled up to the front door, pressing a little bell encased in a palm leaf cover. It didn't take long for Simon to hear the soft pad of feet descending down what he assumed was a staircase. 

The door swung open to reveal a disheveled Sam; clearly, he was asleep. Simon smiled internally. Sam's eyes looked like saucers when he realized it was Simon. His face paled like he had seen a ghost or something.

"What the fuck are you doing here?" Sam spit, perplexed at Simon's presence.

"Came to chat," Simon says cooly. "Preferably outside."

"Fuck no." Sam gnarls. "You need to leave my property."

"Ah." Simon tuts as he reaches into his jacket to grab the nicely tucked-away Manila folder. He carefully opens it and reads the first couple of lines. 

"Ryan Jennings worked for Capitol Guild Investment Firm before it was found he had embezzled a million—"

"Hey, hey. Where the hell did you get that?" Sam quickly supplied, stepping away from the door to try and snatch the folder from Simon's grasp. Simon jerked away from him, holding his finger up as he continued reading. 

"—dollars from the firm's clientele, though no legal action was taken, Jennings was to return all assets, estimating one million dollars, and issue his resignation promptly." Simon neatly closed the folder, eyeing Sam.

"So, as I said," Simon began. "Let's talk outside." Sam sighed deeply before turning to close the door gently.

"I have my resources." Simon casually says, stepping into the grass on the front lawn, with Sam following suit.

"So, what, what do you want? Money?" Sam timidly asks, running his hands through his hair.

Simon lets out a gruff laugh. "Money? You think I want money?" 

"You don't?" Sam questions, unable to believe a man like Simon could be doing this for more than monetary gain.

"You don't talk to her. Ever." Simon roughly says as a sly smirk spreads across Sam's face.

"Is it that good?" Sam smugly asks, placing his hands in his sweatpants pockets.

"The fuck you talkin' about?" Simon cocks his head, narrowing his eyes at Sam. 

Sam shrugs. "Her pussy."

Without warning, Simon lunged forward, his fist aiming straight at Sam's jaw. An immediate stinging pain spread that radiated through his face and head, making him falter back. Blood seeped out of his mouth, and a faint ringing noise could be heard in his ear. But, he quickly gained momentum, his own fist coiling like a spring.

He unexpectedly connected his punch to Simon's face head-on with a swift, decisive motion. Busting his bottom lip, with blood seeping down his chin and jaw. Simon quickly spit out some extra blood onto the grass before grabbing Sam by his shirt. 

"I know guys like you." Simon roughly says, his own blood and spit spurting onto Sam's face. "Pretentious little bastards who only think about themselves." 

He gripped his shirt tighter, making him slightly hover above the grass. "I bet you'd blow yourself if you could." He grits out, forcefully throwing him onto the ground.

"Stay the fuck away from her." Simon wipes his lips with the back of his hand as he turns to go to his truck.

"You know I'm not like that anymore," Sam speaks, making Simon roll his eyes. Simon turns to face Sam, who is still on the ground.

"You can change your name. Run from the city with your tail between your legs, but nothin' can change the greedy fuckin' animal you are." 

With that, Simon turned away and went straight for his truck, leaving Sam to sulk with the ants.

On the drive back to the ranch, Simon regretted not doing more to Sam, but Sam had a worse punishment than Simon releasing his venom on him: living the rest of his life as a nobody with his legacy cloaked in disgrace. 

Simon pulled up in front of his house, hissing as the cold air brushed against his busted lip, as he stepped out of his truck. He pulled open his front door to meet you sitting on the couch in the living room. 

"You haven't been answering your phone." You somberly say from your position on the couch, not noticing his busted lip and bruised face because it was dim where he stood.

"I know." He ducked his head, not moving closer to you, not wanting you to see him so clearly in the light.

"Come here." You pat the cushion next to you, tilting your head as he turns to go to the kitchen instead. You stand, following him to the kitchen, observing him as he fills a glass full of water at the sink, his back to you.

"You should be asleep," He gruffly says, taking a sip of the water, swirling it in his mouth to remove some of the coppery taste, and spitting it into the sink.

"Don't change the subject." You scowl, moving closer to him, bringing your hand to touch his own gently.

"Why won't you look at me?" He takes another sip of water, this time swallowing it.

"Cowboy?" You softly urge, your fingers gently brushing his forearm. He takes a deep sigh, though his lip quirks at your nickname.

"Please look at me." There is a pleading note in your voice. He takes a longer sip of the water, swallowing, before slowly turning to face you. Your eyes widen as you observe the purple bruises covering various parts of his face, his busted lips caked in dry blood, and the blood dripping down his chin and jaw pooling onto his shirt.

"What happened?" You quietly question, raising your hand to brush your fingers along his lip delicately.

"Ah, just some shit." He vaguely says. You narrow your eyes at him, but you see it in his eyes. He was tired. Worn-out. It could wait until tomorrow, you thought.

"Okay. I won't push tonight, but tomorrow, we will talk about it." You affirm, giving his arm a soft squeeze. He nods as you grab his hand, lacing your fingers and dragging him into the bathroom.

"In the meantime, let's get you cleaned up."

You made him sit on the toilet seat as you reached under the sink to grab an emergency kit. You opened the kit and grabbed some alcohol and some gauze. 

"Si, you need stitches." You say, observing a muscle of his lip sticking out.

"You can do it." He assures, looking up at you. 

"Last time I checked, I don't have a medical degree." You laugh out.

"It's easy. Just need some dental floss and a needle." He reaches into the kit and grabs a needle, bending it into an arc, and a pack of dental floss. "Learned it in the military."

"You were in the military?" You question washing your hands before taking the needle and cleaning it with some alcohol to sterilize it. 

"Course I was." You smiled down at him as you wiped his lip with some alcohol.

"How long?" You ask, throwing away the cotton pad.

"Long time." He vaguely answers with a slight smile.

"You're always so vague." You roll your eyes as you step between his legs, bringing your hand up to grip under his chin, tilting it up slightly. He brought his hands to rest on the sides of your thighs, lightly massaging the fat.

You hold the sides of his lips together, carefully suturing the skin back together. You had no idea what you were doing, but Simon didn't say anything, so you assumed you were doing alright. 

Simon flinched as the needle pierced his skin, coming in and out of his lip. His eyes fell shut as you worked, occasionally twitching, his hands still kneading your thighs. 

Once you finished, you cleaned up the area, put away the kit, and threw away the needle. 

"Forgot somethin.'" Simon huffed, still sitting on the toilet seat. You raised your brow, giving him a curious look.

"What?" You question, leaning against the counter facing him, your hands on your hips.

He pressed his pointer fingers to his lip, slightly puckering them. You brought your hand up to cover your mouth as you let out a laugh, walking over to him and pressing a sweet kiss to the corner of his mouth.

"I could use some more." His lips form a smirk, just beckoning you.

"Ya, I bet you could."

a/n: idk why i include an authors note bc i literally don’t say anything interesting

reblogs & comments are encouraged!

[thetriumphantpanda]

the gift that keeps giving | marcus pike

Summary | Isn't it just your luck to get the office hottie as your secret santa this year?

Pairing | Marcus Pike x F!Reader

Word Count | 1.4K

Warnings | Just... Marcus Pike being Marcus Pike, some flirting and general office banter and a steamy kiss but nothing explicit!

Authors Note | To my Cheese & Crackers. My Darling Friend. I hope this makes your festive season that little bit lighter. I hope you love this because I love you, to the moon and back and beyond. Thank you for making 2023 that little bit easier. Happy Christmas @undercoverpena 🧡

“That’s looking a little worse for wear.” Marcus, stood at your desk, waiting for his report, finger pointed at the very much dead succulent on your desk.

You look up from your desk, fingers still flitting across the keyboard as you race to finish the notes he’d asked for.

“It’s looking dead, Marcus.”

“I was trying not to rub it in,” He shrugs, running a finger over one of the branches, a look of remorse on his face when he snaps off and lands on the white of the desk, “But yeah, that’s very much dead.”

“Frank deserved it.” You shrug, eyes never leaving your screen.

“Frank?”

“Yes, Frank,” You nod your head towards the succulent, “You’re meant to name plants, makes you more attached to them, more likely to care properly for them,” Another shrug of your shoulders, “Now look at him, showing me up as a bad mother.”

Marcus can’t help but chuckle a little, “You’ll have to get yourself another.”

“If I can’t keep a succulent alive,” You sigh, fingers slowing ever-so-slightly on the keyboard, “There isn’t much hope for anything else.”

“I believe in you.” He offers.

You stare at him through your lashes, a look that warns him that he needs to be quiet, “You know, the longer you stand there distracting me, the longer it’ll take me to type these notes up?”

“I always thought you thrived on pressure?” He teases, reminding you of a conversation a few months ago where you’d admitted that the best work you produce is always to a time crunch.

“Marcus, respectfully,” You finally look up at him properly, “You need to leave me alone, if you go and sit down in your office and leave me to it, this report will be on your desk in the next twenty minutes.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“You’re late.” Your voice is monotone as Marcus hurries out of the elevator.

“I know.” He’s stressed, twenty minutes late to his debrief meeting.

“I told you last night what time you needed to be here.”

He runs a hand over his face, taking the manila file from your hand, flicking through it to make sure he knows what the fuck is going on right now.

“I’ve just moved.”

You sigh, shake your head, but keep up his pace as you race through the office, “What’s that got to do with you being late?”

“The fridge magnet,” He offers, as if you’ll know exactly what he’s talking about, “I lost it when I moved.”

“Am I supposed to make the link myself?”

He stops at his desk, blindly opening drawers, rooting through papers to try and find something, “I used it to pin important things on the fridge, like when I need to be in to speak to the big boss.”

You shake your head, trailing behind him again as he starts walking again, “You can get a damn fridge magnet on every street corner, Marcus.”

“I know,” He says, a little breathless, as he finally comes to the meeting room door, “I’ll get around to it eventually, promise.”

There’s a small gift bag sitting on your desk when you come back from the Christmas lunch. There are an array of other gift bags and small wrapped presents on everyone’s desk. You sigh, flopping into your chair. Someone from the finance team is already passing around glasses of something fizzy, work clearly done for the day. Someone is hooking their phone up to the a speaker. You look left and right, making sure that no-one is looking, before you pull open the top of the back and peer in.

You can’t quite believe it, reaching your hand inside to grasp the pot, pulling it out. A scoff leaves your mouth, a small cactus sitting in a pot that’s been painted like a Christmas jumper. You shake your head, a laugh escaping as you drag a finger over the little spines, like you always do when trying to choose a new plant. You push the bag out of the way, setting the small plant down on your desk, right where Frank had been before.

You use your fingers to turn it around, setting it perfectly in place, when those familiar legs come into view, perfectly pressed trousers right in your eyeline, but it isn’t the legs you’re really looking at, although you do sometimes, it’s his fingers, pressing a fridge magnet onto your desk, sliding it across to you, a magnet that is now so familiar to you, having stood in that damn gift shop for almost thirty minutes try to choose the right one. One with a watercolour painting splashed across it, one that you know he likes, never shutting about what the colours mean and how it makes him feel.

“Oh my god,” You feign surprise, “Does this mean you’ll be on time from now on?”

“It looks like,” He’s got a smile on his mouth when you look at him, “Also means you’ll be able to get off my case.”

You smile back at him, “I’m pretty sure I’m the only reason you still have a job after your timekeeping this past month,” You tease, “But sure, if you want me off your case that bad, I’ll leave you alone.”

His attention moves from the magnet to the cactus already having pride of place on your desk. He picks it up, annoying you slightly as you’d just got it in the right position for you, “What are you going to name it?”

You raise your eyebrow, a knowing look in your eye, “It’s your gift, Marcus, you should name it.”

Marcus drops his head, a snort of a laugh breathing from his nostrils, “That obvious, huh?”

“About as obvious as this.” You bring your fingers to the fridge magnet.

You hold his eyes, watching as he thinks for a second, before he offers his name, “Vincent.”

There’s an actual laugh that drops from your mouth now, “You’re so predictable, Pike,” You shake your head, “Of course it would be an artist.”

He shifts from foot to foot a little, “You know,” His hand comes nervously to the back of his neck, “If it wasn’t for the damn $5 cap, I’d have gotten us a gift certificate to this restaurant downtown that I like.”

You breath catches in your throat slightly, because there’s no way, there’s no way that means what it means, “Us?”

“Yeah, I mean, if you’d like it of course,” His nervous hand running up and down the side of his neck, “I don’t need a secret santa to take you out.”

You shake your head a little, bite your bottom lip, “It’s funny, because if it hadn’t been for the $5 dollar cap, I would have got us tickets to the new exhibition at the gallery.”

Your words sink in, him realising you want him just as much as he wants you, outside of this office and the professional relationship you have.

“And what if dinner came with a kiss?”

“What if the exhibition came with one too?”

He’s taking hold of your wrist, dragging you from your chair, back out of the office and down towards the privacy of the alcove near the elevator. Your back, pressed against the wall, Marcus’ hands on your waist as his mouth finally slants over your own. It’s exactly how you’d imagined it for all these months, soft but sure, warm hands seeping through the layers of your clothes. And he tastes exactly as you thought he would, slightly sweet, considering his sweet tooth, and you can taste the beer he drank at lunch. It’s intoxicating. You slip your hands under the shoulders of his suit jacket, gripping the broadness of him as he pulls away.

“Gotta keep your hands to yourself,” He whispers against your mouth, “If you don’t we’re gonna be sat with HR in the morning.”

You bite your lip, leaning towards him a little to press your lips gently to his own, “Don’t threaten me with a good time, agent.”

He looks at you, fire in his eyes, “Go and get your things,” It’s a strict order, that floats straight to settle in your tummy, “I’m sure I can get us in for dinner somewhere.”

“Yes, sir.”

[goldenseresinretriever]

False Confidence: Chapter 7

Pairing: Javy “Coyote” Machado x Reader

Part of the San Diego Dogfighters universe

Summary: The Athletic named Javy Machado the fifth sluttiest player in the NHL last year. He’s a known playboy who leaves every game with a different girl. As far as he’s concerned he’s living the dream, playing his dream job with the dream lifestyle. Unfortunately his friends and bosses don’t agree. At 33, they think it’s time for him to settle down. You’re a kindergarten teacher at an esteemed private school. You don't expect much when you finally accept your colleague’s invitation to attend her husband’s hockey game but when you accidentally get separated in the post-game rush, you find yourself in a compromising situation with the last person you’d ever expected to meet. When his PR rep suggests a mutually beneficial agreement, your hands are tied. How long will you have to keep up the act? And how long will you be able to?

Chapter CW: 18+ ONLY, swearing, angst, fluff, fake relationship, mentions of death, suggestive language, anxiety, school system inaccuracies, hockey inaccuracies etc. There will be individual chapter warnings. No use of Y/N.

Word Count: 3.8k

A/N: This one’s kind of quick but it is what it is

Previous Chapter // Series Masterlist // Next Chapter

When you wake up on Wednesday, the shame and anxiety that clawed your heart to sleep last night have melted into simmering anger that licks into white-hot fury as the day goes on. Last night when you’d left the bar, you’d felt so stupid. Stupid for believing that Javy respected you enough to be loyal to your agreement even if he didn’t have to be loyal to you. That’s the thing, the women didn’t bother you. You’d known what you were getting into the second Javy shoved his tongue down your throat the day you met. That and when you’d made it clear that you had no intention of warming his bed, you’d acknowledged that someone else probably would be. You’d just hoped he would respect you enough to have a little discretion. Zam was right, the bar was full of people with phones, cameras, and social media that would have eaten photos of Javy and those girls right up.

This time when you pull into the parking garage at Hard Deck Arena, your hands don’t shake as you hold back the urge to slam your car door as your flats slap against the concrete floors and the sound echoes through the space. You wrench the door to the arena open and trust your feet as they guide you to the door marked with the pink plaque. You knock on the door and thankfully a voice from inside calls out for you to enter. You barely wait for the door to shut before the words are out of your mouth. “I want out.” Zam looks up from her computer, pink lips parting slightly in surprise, though whether that’s due to your unexpected visit or what you’ve just said, you’re unsure. When she doesn’t answer, you enunciate the words again. “I. Want. Out. I’m done with the contract.” That seems to burst whatever bubble she’s trapped in.

“Roadie…” She says and you shake your head.

“No Zam, I’m done. I mean it.” Her lips purse into a thin line and she nods slowly. “Is there something I need to sign or anything? I can’t exactly afford a lawyer right now but I can try and figure out something if I have to.” You’re running out of steam now that Zam’s confirmed that you can get out of the contract. Relief washes cool through your veins, soothing the anger that’s been powering you all day.

“No, no, nothing like that. It’s not like you’re on our payroll or anything. The contract was more of a formality for the legal team in case things went sideways for any particular reason. “Consider it done unless you want to rip the physical copy up for closure.”

You’re surprised when you nod. “Yeah, I think I would actually,” she smiles faintly at that as she nods and gets up to root around in a file cabinet. She pulls a familiar sheet of paper out of a pink manila folder before she hands it over to you. You take a long look at the contract, unable to stop your eyes from wandering to the bottom of the page and tracing your and Javy’s signatures. This is for the best. You grip the top of the paper and rip. The sound seems to echo in the quiet of the room. That is, until the door swings open without warning and Javy walks into Zam’s office unannounced.

“Zam have you heard from-“ he blinks, surprised, as he takes in the sight of you, blinking back at him wide-eyed. “…Roadie.” You’ve moved to tear the contract smaller and you break the silence with the sound before you’re attempting to make it past Javy to the door of Zam’s office. Javy sticks an arm out to grab the door that’s still in the process of swinging closed behind him, effectively barring your path. “Hey Roadie, I’ve been trying to reach you all day.” You blocked his number last night once you got home. Originally you’d planned for it to be temporary while you gathered your thoughts. Now you doubt it’s a decision that will ever be undone.

You suppress the urge to roll your eyes and school your features, pressing the torn pieces of the contract into his chest which he has the sense to grab with his free hand while you duck under his arm, making your escape. You don’t look back as you call out to him. “Goodbye, Javy.”

***

Javy leans on the doorbell with a force that he should be concerned about, but he can’t find himself to care. The sound of a chorus of barks makes him slump with relief until the door swings open and it’s not who he’s looking for. Bugs is standing in the doorway, arms crossed across her chest as Pudding and Taz squirm from where they're sitting behind her legs, no doubt commanded to remain there by their mother. Her brow is furrowed and she’s glaring at him. While Javy’s been on the other side of Zam’s wrath, he’s had yet to cross his best friend’s girlfriend and somehow her wrath is scarier than his PR rep’s. He swallows, hard.

“Bugs,” he acknowledges and her brow furrows deeper but she doesn’t say a word. “Listen, is Jake here?” He asks, scratching the back of his neck, the tension making him uncomfortable. She hums in a way that gives him nothing before stepping back from the doorway and jerking her chin towards the living room, a silent invitation for him to come in.

He steps into the house and Bugs directs the dogs to move for him before she leads them off to where he assumes she’s planning to keep them while he and Jake talk. Javy’s surprised to find the living room is empty when he gets there, however, and just as he’s about to turn around and search for either of the house’s inhabitants, Bug’s voice startles him. “Sit down, Javy.” The firmness of her tone doesn’t leave room for argument so he sits down on the couch, awkwardly. She stands across from him. “Javy, four months ago you were asking me not to hurt Jake and now I feel like we’ve reversed roles here.” Her anger melts and Javy gets a look at the tired woman behind her anger. “What you did was cruel, Javy. I don’t know why you did it, and maybe I don’t deserve to know, but she does, Javy. She deserves closure even if she can’t have your respect.”

The sound of the front door breaks the silence followed by the sound of Jake’s voice. “Bunny, I’m home, are you here?”

“In the living room, babe, we’ve got company.”

Jake appears in the living room a few moments later, hair pushed back and damp with sweat. He looks like he’s just gotten back from a run. “Javy,” he says and Javy nods to acknowledge his best friend. Jake looks between Javy and Bugs before he tilts his head towards the back door. “Come for a walk with me?” He asks and Javy nods again, wordlessly before he stands and leads the way to the back door.

Jake doesn’t say anything until they’ve made it halfway down the beach behind the house. “So, Javy what are you doing here?” He asks like he doesn’t already know.

“Look, man, I…” Javy trails off, letting his eyes follow the water as it laps up against their bare feet. “I fucked up. I know that.” Jake shakes his head.

“You didn’t just fuck up, Javy,” Jake says, and Javy flinches at the bitterness in Jake’s voice. “You made a promise to Roadie. You signed a damn contract, and then not only did you embarrass her, but you did it at an event YOU invited her to. What the actual FUCK, man? What did that sweet girl ever do to deserve that?” He shakes his head. “Hell, Javy I signed off on this, I let this happen, and you went and did something not only extremely rude but it was cruel. And I know no matter what happened between the two of you, she didn’t deserve that, Javy. Not from anyone, and certainly not from you.”

“I know I just…”

“You just WHAT, Javy?!” Jake snaps finally and Javy looks up, surprised. Jake’s genuinely upset with him. “I’ve kept my mouth shut for years man, because no matter what you were doing at least it was mutually understood between you and whatever girl you were fooling around with that it wasn’t serious. No one was getting hurt so I kept my damn mouth shut and let it happen. I thought one day you’d wake up from whatever daydream it is you’re stuck in and decide to grow up even if you didn’t want to settle down because I respect that if that’s not something you want. And then Roadie got involved and I thought maybe it was the start of something new and maybe she’d be the catalyst that got you to change and not only did you not change but someone actually got hurt this time, Javy.”

“Don’t pretend that you understand,” Javy grits out, fists tightening next to him.

“Understand what, Javy? What is there to understand? I’ve been begging you to explain it for years and you refuse to-”

“Because you wouldn’t get it!” Javy snaps, turning on Jake. “And don’t you dare pretend to understand because you don’t!”

“Why, why wouldn’t I-”

“BECAUSE YOU LEFT!” Javy snaps and Jake has the good sense to look surprised. “You left Arizona and you never once thought about how that affected everyone else, about how that affected me!” His chest is heaving as the anvil that’s been sitting on it for years lifts. “And I didn’t hate you for it, I really tried not to. You had a chance to be close to home and you took it and I couldn’t be mad, I really couldn’t. You were amazing and you were destined for greatness and maybe it was childish of me, but I always thought we’d be great together.” He shakes his head, trying to ignore the sting of tears threatening to push their way to the surface. “And then, after I’d finally made peace with it, you got hurt, left Dallas, and came to San Diego, knowing I would be there, and you didn’t even bother to give me a heads up. You were my brother, Jake, I always considered you one. But somewhere along the way, you reminded me that I’m not, not really.”

Jake has the good sense to look embarrassed. “Okay, Javy, I fucked up, and I’m sorry. I didn’t realize me going to Dallas meant so much to you. And I know I’ve already apologized for what happened when I came here and I know I can’t do anything to make up for what I did, but I’m going to work every single day to try and make up for that.” He shakes his head. “But why does Roadie have to pay for my mistakes?” He asks and Javy feels his chest squeeze uncomfortably.

“I never knew my dad,” Javy whispers and he hates how quiet his voice sounds. “You know that.” He swallows, hard. “And my uncle passed when we were in college. The two most important men in my life were gone before I even turned 20. And then you left too. Everyone was leaving and I didn’t know how to cope with it. I didn’t want to be alone. I hated the way it made me feel and I didn’t want to feel that way anymore. I didn’t want to be alone, but I also didn’t ever want to be the reason someone felt the way I did.” He shrugs, lightly. “So I made sure that couldn’t happen.”

“By keeping things casual.” Jake finishes and Javy nods. “The problem is, someone actually got hurt this time.” Javy sighs deeply.

“Yeah, someone actually got hurt this time.”

“If you don’t want to hurt anyone, why did you do it?” Jake asks, but all the malicious ferocity from earlier has left his voice.

Javy shakes his head. “It was supposed to be fake, you know? It wasn’t supposed to be real, but damn it, it started feeling real. Or at least as real as I can remember anything feeling. I didn’t think, I invited her to karaoke without really thinking about it, and then the moment I had a moment to actually think about it, I panicked. Then those girls were there and it was just so easy to slip into old patterns so I did it without thinking.” He takes a shaky breath. “I didn’t mean to hurt her.” He hates how weak his voice sounds. “And I don’t know how to make it right.”

“Do you want to?” Jake asks, finally looking at Javy and Javy forces himself to meet the other man’s eyes.

“More than anything.” He pauses for a long moment. “She told Zam she wanted out of the contract. She ripped it up and threw it in my face.”

Jake lets out a chuckle, “good for her.” Javy finds himself matching the smile.

“Honestly, yeah,” he lets his mind drift for a second before his smile widens. “You know, she threw Josie Fitch’s expensive-ass shoes off the edge of the freeway?” Jake barks out a laugh and Javy chuckles in response.

“Did she really?” Javy nods.

“I think that’s the moment I fell in love with her,” Jake’s mouth drops open slightly before he attempts to school his features but Javy catches it. “If you ever tell anyone I said that, I’ll use your spare key and murder you in the dead of night.” Jake mimes zipping his lips before throwing the invisible key into the ocean.

“So what are you going to do to get her back?” Jake asks and Javy smiles to himself.

“I think I have a plan.”

***

It’s been two weeks since you ended the contract. Two weeks since you’ve been to Hard Deck Arena, and two weeks since you last saw Javy. For the most part, your life has gone back to the way it was. Well, except that everyone still thinks you’re dating Javy, not that you’ve done anything to correct them. In your defense, the conversations have never been directed to you so much as at you as you walk into the teachers’ lounge too quickly for the conversation to die before your arrival, or some people simply feeling shameless enough to quiet their voices in your presence.

Today, however, you don’t have time to worry about the whispers as you struggle to accommodate the horde of adults crowding into your classroom that’s never felt small until this exact moment. You try to push down the feeling of embarrassment that’s been plaguing you all morning. In your rush this morning, you’d opted for a cheerful top and jeans for comfort and ease but now, surrounded by suits and smart-looking dresses that make your classroom smell faintly of starch, you feel severely under-dressed. Both students and parents alike are buzzing with excitement as you try and finalize a lineup that allows for the busier parents to get back to their jobs as soon as possible when a knock at your door makes you look up.

Your heart stops in surprise as you see the faces on the other side of the glass. You wave the unexpected visitors in before you can stop yourself and suddenly your room is even more full as two hockey players make their way into the room. Javy gives you a rueful smile while Jake is full-on grinning as he waves at the kids who are gaping at the players. Jake’s simply dressed in his jersey over jeans but Javy’s fully suited up except for his skates that he’s holding in one hand while the other is carrying an equipment bag.

“Mr. Machado!” One of the kids calls out and you push past a group of parents currently snapping photos of the players.

“Jake, Javy,” you shake your head as you try to wrap your head around the situation. “What are you doing here?”

Javy shrugs. “You asked if I would come to Career Day. I know you the deal is over but since I got dinner and lunch, I thought I owed you at least this. And if not for you, then for the kids.” He adds on quickly and you nod before you can stop yourself. Just because you’ve gotten a little braver in the last month doesn’t mean you’re ready to have a fight with your ex-fake-boyfriend in front of your entire class and their parents.

“Okay, okay. Um, just have a seat over there,” you motion over to where the other parents are gathered. “Oh!” You remember as they’re walking past you. Both boys turn to you. “Are you good with going last or do you need to get back to work?” Your brain is screaming at the idea of having to reorder the schedule, especially when a mom in a pantsuit who’s scheduled to go first is currently glaring daggers at the back of your head for the holdup. Jake shakes his head.

“We’ll go whenever you’re ready for us.” You give him an appreciative look and mouth a thank you at them as you head back to the front of the room.

***

An hour later, the last busy parent has just escaped your classroom after waving hurriedly back at their kid and you let your shoulders slump slightly in relief. Of course, there are a few parents remaining that have taken the day off to be here and they’re chatting amongst themselves. You motion over to Jake and Javy who’ve honestly been holding the attention of your class the entire time. As much as the other parents had tried to sway them, their tiny minds were in awe of the bright jerseys and Javy’s equipment.

The boys make their way to the front of the classroom and the class cheers. “Hey guys, it’s nice to see you all again!” Javy greets them and a chorus rises across the classroom.

“Hi, Mr. Machado!” Jake mimes grabbing his chest in response and they all giggle as he introduces himself and enjoys his own hello. You watch on fondly as the boys explain what they do for a living, Jake using Javy as a mannequin to explain the different parts of hockey gear.

Then they move on to the bag Javy brought and then the boys are handing around hockey pucks, one for each one of your students. They’re emblazoned with the Dogfighters’ logo and you watch as your students turn them over in their tiny hands, eyes wide in awe. Your heart aches at the kindness and thoughtfulness of the gift. These kids will remember this moment forever. Javy and Jake are holding up hockey sticks and showing off how to hit a puck with the stick.

Once the demonstration is over, Javy and Jake patiently field questions from the kids and while Jake’s explaining why they can’t wear their skates in the classroom, Javy turns to look at you and you feel your face heat as you’re caught staring. You give him a tiny wave and the corner of his mouth quirks upward and he gives you a tiny wave back. He turns back in time to answer a question from another one of your students.

By the time the bell rings for lunch, your students are still on a roll peppering the boys with questions and you have to corral them into a line and out the door. When you get back from dropping them off, you thank the parents that are left and see them out before you turn to your surprise visitors, crossing your arms across your chest as you regard them warily, the unease creeping into your mind now that you’re alone with them. “Thanks for having us today, Roadie!” Jake says goodnaturedly, as he collects the equipment they brought with them. He turns to Javy, “You should get changed.” Javy nods and gives you a nod before he heads towards the door.

“Oh! If you want, the staff bathrooms are a lot more private. Here I’ll get you my key-” You reach for your neck, rummaging through the keys on your lanyard as a knock sounds and you turn to see Josie leaning against the doorframe.

“Hey boys, I thought I heard familiar voices in here.” She says as she takes in Jake and Javy. You continue to fumble with your keys as speak up. “They came by for career day.”

“Did they now?” Josie says, a thoughtful look in her eye as she regards you a little too cooly and you abandon your key struggle.

“Actually, I should probably walk you down there myself.” You gesture for Javy to follow you, and you try to ignore the knowing look that Josie gives you as you pass her and she steps into your classroom. Once you’re out of earshot you turn to Javy to kill the silence of the hallway. “Thanks for coming today, I can tell it meant a lot to the kids. They’re going to remember today for the rest of their lives, and the pucks were such thoughtful gifts.”

“We actually wanted to bring shirts, but I wasn’t sure what everyone’s sizes were and Josie could only really just get us a head count.” Your heart squeezes slightly at the thought that Javy had reached out to Josie to ask for her help. “I was thinking, and Jake said we could talk to the front office about it, but maybe we could arrange for the kids to come to the arena for a field trip? They could hit some pucks and maybe watch practice? It could be fun.” Your heart squeezes tighter.

“I think they’d like that a lot. I can talk to our front office too and see what I can do on my end.” You say, giving him a tight smile as you reach the staff bathroom. You unlock the door and hold it open for him and you have a sudden thought. “Are you going to need any help with… any of it?” Javy chuckles and shakes his head.

“Don’t worry, Meep, I do this every day, I’ve got it, but thanks for asking.” You take your lanyard off and hand it to him, trying to ignore the fact that he’s still using that name.

“Here, so you don’t have to worry about rushing because I’m waiting. Just lock up when you’re done.” You show him which key as you place the lanyard in his outstretched hand.

“Hey, Meep?” He calls out as you turn to go and you look back at him. “Do you always worry about other people like that?” You tilt your head to the side slightly, surprised by his question.

“Yes, why?”

“It’s nothing,” he says and then he pauses before he speaks up again as you’re about to walk away again. “Isn’t it hard? Worrying about everyone all the time?” You feel your cheeks heat as you shrug in a way that probably looks more like a grimace.

“I’m used to it.” You say simply before you walk back to your classroom.

A/N: I know that this one leaves off on a bit of a cliff hanger but it was a lot to try to jam into one chapter.

[hastyprovocateur]

Coaches Don't Play

(Coach! Abby x Soccer mom! Reader)

Summary- reader is a single mom determined to keep her act right for the sake of her son, but when his new, crushingly gorgeous coach enters the frame, she might have to ask herself some hard questions.

Word count- 12k

Cw- fluff, sexual content (ripping clothes, tribbing), mature themes (guilt, separation, divorce, single-parent struggles, mentions of domestic violence, sexual harassment, puritanism, homophobia, all-boys Christian school)

Reader desc- reader is a mom and has a name+surname, named son/ is not heavy on physical description)

Pickup at Noon

“The person you're calling is currently unavailable. Please leave a message after the tone." Still radio silence on the coach’s end. You clicked your phone shut, tossing it into your lap as you white-knuckled the steering wheel. The light took an eternity to turn green. The school office line was already busy. A school zone sign stuck out like an accusatory finger as you drove out finally. The minimal outline of the mother and child, hand-in-hand, appeared to mock you; what with your relationship with your only son on the rocks.

How did I forget… how did I forget… you chanted under your breath as a by-passer yelled at you for cutting him before. It was elevator music at this point. Whether it’ll compound with the verbal lashing at the office from Bill, your boss, making after-school pickup an n circle of hell, you’d find out at night. When the day crushed your temples; threatened to split your skull open like a clam. It was all this, going on grave-ward.

You pulled into the school parking in your messy Civic. The passenger seat sat piled with manilas, cigarette boxes, and empty coffee to-go’s. A wrapped sub sandwich remained half-eaten from a couple mornings back. Running breakfast situation. You shoved whatever you could in the glove box, throwing the rest in the back before grabbing your handbag. Your panty hose shifted as you got out the car. Itchy seam on soft skin.

Throwing a frustrated glance around the parking lot, you adjusted yourself, lint-picking your pencil skirt for insurance. Tilting the cracked side-view mirror up, you wiped the lipstick overlining the bow of your lip, scraped the smudge of mascara below an eye, smoothed a loose lock down the side of your face.

Zion City had a spare handful of private elementary schools offering football, your son’s sport of choice. His father’s, more like. Things used to be different. There was a 5-year plan. House with a picket fence. In sickness and health. Us and ours. A silver lining.

Now you looked at pieces of it on the floor, asking if there was anything at all. Yes, he was protective… he loved you. He wanted all of you. And he did until there was very little of you left. It started with slamming doors, screaming at night. A slap. It can’t be true. You’d pray like a stuck record, beg to wake up with your eyes open. But you didn’t until one morning as you faced a mirror. Gash in cheek. Staring down blood in the sink.

The preppy, Saints-associated, all-boys private school was very much for European wonder. Pointed arches, ribbed vault ceilings, and glass stained windows supplying the hefty tuition fee. Fielding the entire cost of your son’s education tempted you every day to transfer him. You wanted to pick up the shambles, cut losses, and move across state. But your heart couldn’t bear to crush him with more changes than you’d already dealt him.

He needed his friends, the old house, neighbors they’d grown with. The skewed swing you put together one day in the spring. Besides… the school fields were immaculate in all their green splendor. You had to admit as you ran across the side of the building, down to the back. Heels clicking on concrete, you arrived a perfect mess at the stairs leading into the third block. “I’m so sorry I got late… I had this work… thing” words go amiss from your tongue as you see your son sitting with a blonde stranger, watching her flip a quarter.

He laughed, the dimples sinking into his chubby cheeks after Lord knew how long. She had him enthralled, her tall frame lay sprawled back on the stairs, elbows propping her up as she smoothly danced the coin over her fingers, hiding it in her palm. Her conversation came easy, long ponytail punctuating her animated facial expressions. You shifted on your heels, legs squirming ever so slightly.

“Dylan, honey…” you called out, hand outstretched, waving to get his attention. She noticed you first, beaming brightly at you in the late noon sun, straightening up with respectful poise. Pocketing the quarter. You noticed her broad shoulders, filling out her inky jacket all too well. “Think your mom’s here, bud” she slapped her thighs veiled in sweatpants, yellow whistle jostling in the middle of her chest. His face fell at the mention of you, betraying your already broken heart, but you concealed it.

“Hey, churro pop!” You tried to greet him, but he acted like you hadn't, numbly getting to his feet, putting his backpack on. All traces of joy from seconds ago were now dissolved. The young woman gauged the switch in energy, eyes flitting between mother and son. “I’m Anderson… the new Coach” she interjected, cordially extending a hand. It dwarfed yours, calloused fingers shrouding your hand before giving it a firm shake.

It made your dainty gold wristwatch tinkle from the motion. You stared up at her blue eyes, the spattering of freckles on the bridge of her nose, high cheekbones. Youth spelled evident on her plump, pink lips. You felt a hitch in your throat as you ran a conscious hand up your blouse, closing the topmost button you’d carelessly left open all day. Your brain wracked.

“Oh” it clicked “That’s why Coach Carlson wasn’t... picking up… I tried to get through” You ran out of breath immediately. Strain hid below your tongue, sat like weight on your chest. Deflating you. You lowered your eyes, letting your exhaustion have its moment. “Yeah, it’s been a couple weeks” the young coach informed you, idly punching her open palm with the other fist “He moved to St George. To his daughter's”

Dylan bristled before you even spoke. “Baby, you never told me” You brought it up gently, except it landed like an axe. Maybe he did? You thought as his eyes deadened; face overcast with a shadow. He shook his head, storming towards the car, leaving you stranded with the new coach. You watched his little figure turn the corner and remember the skip in his step when he first started school. Head bobbing and his backpack swinging behind him.

The accusatory fingers returned. They weren’t in your face, but they filled your skull, fighting out your chest.

“He’s… mad at me” you muttered

“He’s just 9”

You gravely turned to the young woman “I missed his game.” “No, you didn’t” she shook her head, assuring sincerely “It was just practice round. Interschool got postponed by 2 weeks.” That simmered a quickly flooding guilt inside you, defusing something about to blow up. You exhaled in relief, spluttering as you wrung your hands “I promise I-I never miss his big matches. Rarely weekend practice. I do reach school on time. Just when, sometimes I rush in from work. I always leave a message for Carlson, then call Dylan from the office to make sure he’s-”

“Hey” Anderson’s eyes softened as she touched your arm, dragging the back of her knuckles down to your elbow “It’s okay” she assured you. Your shoulders dropped at the physical contact, melting the pent-up tension stiffening them like resin. You glanced at her hand and back up at her, brows scrunching above your doe eyes. A sudden proximity, forlorn depths in your gaze. Anderson dropped her hand upon realising, pocketing it as you rubbed your arms consciously. “I don’t mind staying back for a bit… Mrs Hendricks” her voice trickled slow. Deep.

“Angela” you managed a small smile, adjusting the handle on your purse as you shift your weight on one heel, part of your conscious focused on your son. “I’m…” “Divorced?” the new coach affirmed, seemingly aware of the family dynamics. “Separated. In the process of… divorce” you gave a brusque nod, pause weighing the air. With pretenses aside, you brought up your biggest concern “Is he okay?”. The coach drew a long breath, calm despite the choppy domestic matter she faced “Dylan’s our star goalie. A straight A student” she shrugged, smiling to comfort “He’s just struggling the way any child would.” “It’s… not just that” your whisper carried dead weight, grief.

“Mrs-” Anderson raised a finger to her lips to correct herself “Angela, I might be too young to understand marriage and children but I do see that you’re a great mom. I’m sure you’re trying your best.” You pursed your lip, lest you burst out into tears. Her voice touched a part too deep and wounded. You managed a grateful nod, pressing the back of your hand to your throat to push the lump down “I should… get back” you turned to leave, ankles struggling to hold up in your heels.

“Hey” she called after you, jogging to catch up and placing an innocuous hand on your back, causing a shift so mild, you barely felt it. “Why don’t you save my number?” she suggested, a touch of pink in her cheeks “I can keep you posted about important dates. For pickup or if you’d like to talk about Dylan.” “Oh” you blinked nervously, fumbling for your phone “sure’ you handed it out, flipping it open for her.

Anderson pored over the screen with focus as she fed her number in, handing it back “Put that in as Abigail. No! Just Abby.” “Abby” you echoed as you save the contact, hanging back ever so slightly to let your arm touch graze against hers. It felt like you were milking the moment, having felt nothing all this while only to come to feel something so strong. “Also” the coach bowed her head close, passing on a secret “I could be wrong but I think I accidentally unhooked your bra just now.” You swiftly averted your eyes, feeling up your back and realizing that the ends had indeed, come apart, leaving your breasts unsupported.

“Fuck” you cursed softly. Though Abby bit her lip apologetically, she barely masked the satisfaction. “I’ll… fix it later” you felt blood rush to your face, beating a hasty retreat. “Take care, Angie!” Abby called after you. A hand in pocket, other throwing the whistle around her neck triumphantly.

Later that evening

You double-checked the latch on your bedroom door, standing before your vanity mirror in your lace gown. It had been ages since it meant anything at all. To adorn yourself in the sheer silk and be slowly unraveled. It had been ages since you’d been touched tenderly, explored, and laid open like pages of a book, fingers running along every line. All that remained was a wretched mass left behind from a loveless marriage. You gulped as you pushed the strap down to expose your breasts.

They’d lost their former perkiness, sitting heavy and low. Milky blue veins and pale stretch marks ran around them like cracks of thunder. You cupped them gently, trying to remember what it felt like with your eyes closed. In sudden colorful musing, you imagined them being replaced by the young coach’s rough, warm hands. Running up your ribs and cupping you. The size of them perfect for her large palms. Tracing them gently as your nipples edged into her touch.

The stairs creaked as Dylan headed down to the kitchen, and you snapped out of it. You pressed the heel of your hand to your reddened face, and the mirror reflected your shame as you threw a robe over the gown, securing the cord tight.

Dinner across the four-seater was gravely somber. You served yourself a scarce portion of the pasta salad after doling heaps for Dylan, watching him spoon some into his mouth before moving to have some yourself. “Good?” you asked softly as he dug in with more spoonfuls, and he shrugged “It’s how it always is.” You fought the immediate woe upon seeing his disinterest. It was a losing battle. “Must be always good, then” you laughed a hollow laugh. Only for him to exhale, followed by an equally nonchalant “whatever.”

Painstaking silence ensued, and you struggled to push each morsel down your throat. A sip of water lubricated your words. “Your new coach is quite cute” you remarked after doing the mental gymnastics to bring up something he liked. “Yeah… she’s cool” Dylan responded after a while. “She said your interschool is in a couple weeks” you scratched the cheap synthetic tablecloth “Are you nervous?”.

“Don’t act like you know soccer” he snapped. Your jaw dropped with a sharp exhale, and you tried to cover it with a nervous laugh “What?” you grazed your chest “I… know soccer. I take you to all your games, we practiced when you were a baby, I was cheering on you when you won last season!”. He turned sour “Not like dad used to do” “Well, he’s not here now, is he!” you snapped back, regretting the moment it left your lips.

He stared at you, steeling his gaze as his soul turned away from you. He quietly got up, abandoning the half-eaten plate of food before leaving the room. “Dylan!” you call after him “Honey! I didn’t-”. It didn’t seem to matter. You couldn’t bring his father back for him, and he’d never let you forget that that he left. You could move wherever and so would the sinkhole he left in the house. One no amount of love can fill. You bit your tongue to distract yourself from the welling tears in your eyes, pushing your plate away.

Bedtime

Before bed, you checked your phone. It was chalked with the usual messages. Work, network service company info, local businesses, and scammers trying their luck. You’d long stopped receiving follow-up messages from fellow moms. Friends had faded in the process of tearing apart from your husband. He’d been the life of the party, rousing gatherings and infusing them with slapstick jokes. Always the funny guy. Which made you the shadowy outcast, the bad cop, the one to blame when things went awry.

Hence, why Abby’s message made your chest stiffen slightly. Butterflies tickled your ribs as you looked it over and over. She’d just sent herself a “<3” from your phone, perhaps making sure she saved your number as well. It doesn’t mean anything; you told yourself. As you moved to shut your phone, it burst into the sparkly digital ringtone you’d set ages ago. “Abby” it read on the caller id.

You clicked accept in a daze, realizing with the static-y blare of air on the other end that she was genuinely talking to you. “Hey, Angie!” her voice hit better than bourbon, running down your spine. “Good evening, coach…” you reply in wisps of words, breath irregular “Sorry… Abby”

“Is now a bad time? I know it’s late…”

“No, it’s alright”

“Cool” she bought a deep pause, seeming unsure of what to say next “… I just wanted to ask if… you and Dylan are doing okay.” You bit your lip, well-versed with standard answers “Yeah! He ate his dinner. Took care of his laundry. He’s doing his homework before bed” you counted off your imaginary fingers, hoping it was convincing enough.

“And you?” Abby furthered, taking you by surprise.

“Me?”

“What about you? How’re you?”

“I’m…” you fiddled with the hem of your nightie, fingering a hole in the lace “okay.” “Angie” Abby uttered, the faint sound of a TV in the back, match commentary in progression. You heard her suck air into her lungs for courage “You can talk to me, you know.” You pressed your thighs close, the tenor in her voice more penetrative to the senses than anything. It was scary how eager she had you over a phone call, fighting thoughts of how you’d be if she was close.

“There’s nothing to say. I really am… okay” you assured her despite the ever-present urge to unburden your whole heart “I’m sorry if I had you worry” you laughed for effect.

Abby chuckled in reply, clicking her tongue. Tough crowd, you heard her mutter under her breath. She cleared her throat “Can I see you in my office? Tomorrow?” she asked. You pressed a hand to your warm forehead, feeling yourself flush “Y-yeah… I suppose I can” you stammered nervously, to which Abby promised “Don’t worry, I just want to help.”

Next Day at the school office

You consciously bounced a knee in your cold chair, watching a handful of parents milling around the main office. You wondered what they’d been called in for. Failing calc? Smoking on campus? Jerking off into the teacher’s pigeonhole? You knew for a fact that some of them deserved it. The leather strap of your shoe dug in your ankle, compelling you to adjust the little gold buckle. A pair of white sneakers came to a halt near you, familiar ones. You peered up at the new coach. She smiled down at you, holding a hand out for you to hold. Her eyes inconspicuously flit towards your cleavage, and you blushed, sliding a hand up your chest. “Need help with that?” she asked softly, kneeling by your undone heel strap.

“No… it’s okay” you discouraged her but she gently moved your hand aside, feeding the leather into the buckle and securing it. “I’m quite handy with silly kid’s shoes, I’ll have you know” she tilted her head; hand wrapped around the underside of your shoe. “Women’s heels too?” you chuckled, shrouding the shiver from the way her hand grazed your ankle, how she knelt before you. Abby shrugged, smiling “New notch on my belt.” You headed through to the sports department. The trainer’s office was located on the opposite side of the building facing the field. “Like they didn’t know where it was going to be” Abby joked as she held the office door open for you, the metal plate outside still reading “Carlson.”

You looked at the partly disordered space, a fresh box of trophies and certificates in one, everything smelt like rubber. There stood a photo frame boasting of a grainy photo of a little girl with a braid, hoisted on the shoulders of a man. Dad and daughter. “They don’t pay me much, if you’re wondering” Abby joked, and you turned to her, smiling “They make me pay a lot.” “Well, thanks to you… I don’t have to share” she boasted, shaking her head.

The photograph lingered at your periphery, but you let the questions go for the meantime. “Thank you for meeting with me…” you said, a tone more serious, as she pulled a chair away from her desk for you, watching you settle down in it. “Me?” Abby frowned, leaning back against the side of the table, not too far from you “I should be thanking you. I know your work can be hard to get away from”

“It’s okay. I do need to get more involved. I barely attend PTA meetings” You confessed, eliciting a concerned nod of acknowledgment from Abby, “Those… are quite the spectacle”

“Parents can be passionate” you shrugged

“There was a petition to make the campus segway friendly”

“I… wasn’t part of that” you stifled a laugh

“Lucky you” Abby crossed her arms, her slight movements drawing your eye to her zipper glinting halfway down her chest, urging you to drag it all the way down. See what’s hiding beneath. You shook your head, placing your palms face down on your lap “Hey… I… really hope Dylan isn’t misbehaving or giving you a hard time”

Keeping it to the point there, Angie.

“Not at all!” coach denied swiftly, making you wonder what the issue was “He’s giving his all to practice and school. Which is why I was concerned… he seems stressed.”

“Oh…” your gaze fell to your lap as Abby craned her neck low, inquisitive. “Has he said something at home? Anything about the upcoming competition?”.

You fiddled with the hem of your skirt, stretching the pause out till it hurt your chest “Soccer season was always w-when… his dad would be home the most. At all his matches. They’d go on little hikes, drives, eat at his favorite diner, he’d buy him anything he asked for” you stretched your lips in a twisted smile “The house would be full.” Abby knit her brows, inching close to gently touch your shoulder as you fought the urge to start bawling. “He just misses his dad” her warm fingers slid down your back, almost breaking the dam holding it all back “a-and I don’t know what to do.”

Abby wordlessly pulled you against her front, your hands shakily wrapping around her waist as you steadied your breath. A tear still squeezed through, quickly bleeding into her jacket. “It’s okay” Abby rubbed your back, lightly combing your hair “You weren’t supposed to be doing it alone. It's not fair.”

You clutched your fingers deeper into her back, cinching at her shape through the loose athletic wear. Her fingers tickled the back of your neck, compelling you to pull away, peering up at her face. With your sweet lips rosied and wide eyes misty. Abby’s breath visibly hitched, chest falling still as she brought her hand towards your face, resting a thumb on your cheek, brushing your bottom lip. “No” you uttered breathlessly, curling into the chair.

Abby flew back into her desk, fingers digging into the wooden edge, visibly shaken as she drew jagged breaths. You covered your face in shame, breath hot against your palms “I’m so sorry.” “No, please” Abby brushed the air “You don’t have to apologize for anything.” “I’m sorry I…” you compose yourself, chin pinned to your shoulder “I can’t. I don’t want to give you the wrong impression and I don’t know why I just did that-”

“Hey, hey” Abby gathered your shaking hands as your guts twisted into knots “Hey… Nothing happened…” she asserted; blue eyes wide with her words firm “Nothing happened.”

You screwed your eyes close as you felt her hands shield yours, the weight of the emotion crushing your senses. “Yeah…” you collected yourself “you’re right” you consciously slip your hands out of her grip, clutching the arms of your chair “Nothing happened.”

Abby stared at the ground, idly punching her palm and letting the clock ticking on the wall swallow the whole incident. You strengthened your resolve, nodding “I’ll try and make things right with Dylan… I was planning on attending his weekend practice, anyway” you shrugged “I can fit in some stuff.”

“Sounds good” Abby remarked “don’t worry too much. I’ll do what I can from my side” she added. You raised your wrist to glance at the dial on your wristwatch. The metallic tinkle drew the young coach’s attention “Yeah… I need to head out to the field for PE class as well.”

You rose out of the chair, shuffling towards the door and reaching for the door knob, trying to maneuver it open. Abby came up behind, putting her hand over yours around the knob and holding it. Her breath ran warm down your neck. “By the way” a baited second passed “Coach Carlson didn’t move to his daughter’s.”

“What?” you whispered, clutching your purse as you turned to look at her. Abby licked her bottom lip, chuckle scratchy “They caught him with the guy who tends to the fields” she leaned closer “Utility closet down the corridor. Kicked him out the same day. Hired me three days later. Grateful as I was… I wonder” Abby steeled her eyes, hesitant yet bold as she grazed your wrist “If he regretted it…”

Morning of weekend practice

The car door shielded you from glances of the general passerby, soccer moms mostly. Also, from the cigarette between your fingers, cherry glowing bright as you sucked the smoke deep into your chest. The back of your throat tasted like cinnamon. You dug your fingers into your neck, lightly swinging as you sat on your haunches, delicately balanced on your high heels.

You’d battled for that half-day, leaving the temp in blaze amid ignored voice messages. You were determined to stay through weekend practice. An early drive home would be nice so you could spend some time together. Make a stop at the diner Dylan liked, ward off the bad luck with greasy food.

The inseam of your panty hose began irritating your skin again. “Cheap… fucking… shit” you forced a hand up your skirt, trying to relieve the itch.

“Hey, Angie” you heard from the sky above and nearly toppled to the side, throwing your elbow up to defend yourself from the unknown. “Coach!” you looked up to find Abby standing behind the door with her crossed arms propped on the window, smirking down at you. You quickly hid the hand holding the cigarette, moving to crush it under the point of your heel.

“No, save it…” Abby rounded the open car door, sliding down the side of the car to join you on the ground, big frame folding onto itself “Unless now’s a bad time” she whispered, holding two fingers out.

You released a chuckle, passing your cigarette to her, back of your fingers grazing hers in doing so “It’s never a bad time to sit and do nothing” you shrugged with a simple smile. “That’s the dream, isn’t it?” she watched your face keenly as she took a drag, blue smoke pouring from her lips. “I can’t imagine someone as healthy as you smoking” you mused and she raised a brow, staring at the ground “I usually don’t”

“Don’t let me ruin you”

“Too late”

You quietly plucked the cigarette from her fingers, your scarlet painted nails lightly scraping her hand. Her eyes connected with yours beyond a mere look. Deep and curious. “Why not the bleachers?” she inquired, and you bit your lip, flicking loose ash “I was hiding, I guess” you confessed.

“Me too” Abby chimed in exhaustion, casting a furtive glance back at the field. A flurry of moms monopolized the bleachers with folding tables decked out with food stuff for their beloved sons as they took a break from practice. Helicoptering and rallying what with the competition round the corner.

“You first” she shuddered in the shoulders before turning back to face you. “Let’s just say… a single mom on the verge of divorce doesn’t fare well in these shindigs.” “I can imagine” Abby raised a brow, and you nodded slowly “They’re always praying that he comes back. So my family can be whole. The way God intended."

Abby let the words linger, the bitterness in it evident, the false comfort. “Well…” she bit back a smile “I hope he falls off the edge of Earth.” That brought some warmth to your soul, eliciting a surprisingly loud laugh from your mouth "Not you being a flat-earther."

"I'm not" Abby's smile faded and you laughed harder "Flat-earther" you repeated for emphasis.

"That's not funny" Abby protested with dead eyes and you lost it. You bumped into her arm for buttress as you teeter once again, feeling the smooth ripple of her bicep beneath the sleeve of her jacket. It gave you another unwanted flash of how her bare arms would feel like as they wrap around your breasts. You squeezed your eyes shut “Why are you hiding?” you redirected your focus quickly.

“Well,” Abby reached back to smooth her ponytail “It’s a lot of pressure to begin with. The Dean is really keen on bringing the trophy this season even though I just joined and it doesn’t help that Carlson left most of the team is disorder. Plus… the moms can be…” she dragged out the silence, and you piqued with curiosity “Spit it out.”

“I know they mean well…” she fiddled with the cigarette, thumbing the ruby print left by your lipstick “But they can be really touchy.” You knit your brows with empathy “Tell me about it. I once got told off for a chicken casserole I cooked wrong. “No…” Abby blushed; legs splayed open as her knee poked into your thigh “Touchy as in… they touch me… a lot.”

You dropped your jaw, scandalized “What?”

“Yeah” she scrunched her nose in embarrassment “They call me round the clock, telling me to take their sons off the bench, asking about what to feed them, talking about troubles at home. They stand too close…” she shook her head. You widened your eyes, nail tips digging into your bottom lip. “Put their hands all over” Abby whispered, holding the cigarette out at your stunned face.

You shook yourself out of it, drawing the dregs from the dying cigarette before you finally managed a thought “That sounds like hell" you blew a raspberry "It's like they've never seen a buff woman”

“You think I’m buff?” Abby watched you fumble with words as you crushed the cigarette on the tarmac, dusting idle ash from your leather heels “I’m just stating the obvious.” Her blue eyes mellowed, scoping your evident blush. Seeking you out. For more.

“Tell me what you think” she leaned close.

“I thought you don’t like moms talking at you”

“Other moms, no”

“Well,” you shrugged lightly, scraping together your feelings “… We were raised on verses, tender mercies, and blind faith. Many bought into it. I did. I thought it would work for me the way it did for them. But now I look at how my life turned out, and then I look at you. You’re about the age I was when I got married, by yourself, doing what you like, the way you want… makes me question everything” you gathered your knees, resting your chin on top.

Abby playfully nudged her shoulders into yours, “You make me question everything too” she whispered “I used to think people who marry and have kids are insane. After my dad... I didn't want to take care of anyone for a long time. And it was good. Being free... having no one depend on me all the time. Though the empty house hurt sometimes” she gripped her bicep, considering deeply “But I see you with Dylan... and wonder what I'm missing out on”

“You’re not missing out on marriage” you tutted, biting the inside of your cheek

“Not even with the right person?” Abby tilted her face at you, curious pout catching you off-guard.

“Maybe... it's hard to believe”

“Just because something didn't work out once doesn't mean it never will.”

You blinked, switching your gaze to the vast field, breeze blowing loose curls across your cheek. You wondered for an inane second if she saw your heart leaping up in your chest. Unable to contain the spike of hope she gave you. “That’s the sweetest thing anyone’s ever said to me” you confessed.

“What?” Abby’s voice pitched “I don’t believe that.”

“I’m being serious!”

“You're a gorgeous woman. People should be telling you sweet things all the time”

“You think I'm gorgeous?”

“You don't?”

“Dunno” you shrug “Hard to tell when everyone is mad at me.”

“Not everyone”

You gulped, feeling Abby’s unwavering support setting fire to a part of you, reviving more bits and pieces of you against your will. Hope wasn’t a good thing to have in this tandem. The breeze swept your hair again as you turned to face her with some words of discouragement, catching your eye. “Ow” you winced softly, hand fluttering up to push them back, struggling as your eye burned a little.

“Hold on” Abby loosely wound her fingers into the feisty lock. “There” she smiled, tucking them securely behind your ear. Your brows peaked in that same old dance, like you were staring at the sun but it was just your son’s painstakingly gorgeous soccer coach

“Abby” you mumbled thinly as the warmth of her fingertips made you limp, cheek burying into her palm. She ran a thumb over to smooth a stray strand, grazing the raised bump on your cheekbone.

“Fuck” she uttered softly, eyes darkening as she switched between the scar and your eyes filled with fear. She knew before you said a word. “Angie…” her nostrils flared, lips pursing to contain her tongue. “No” you reach for her hand, holding it against your cheek as if to beg “Let me forget.”

Abby inched forward, gingerly leaning in to eclipse your faces. She hesitated, waiting for you to pull back but when you didn’t, she gently kissed your cheek, soft lips lingering over your skin. Her cool, smoky breath tickled you and you flinched, pulling back to peer into her blue eyes.

“Coach!” a distressed call erupted from somewhere in the distance and Abby jerked back. It was code soccer mom. Abby shot up, dusting her sweatpants as she sauntered over to the frazzled mother looking for her, briefly turning back to smile at you. “We need another table for the hors d'oeuvre, the extra broke and the boys-” she continued to explain as Abby soothed her “Let’s find another table for the hors d'oeuvre, Debra.”

She headed back to the field as you sat hidden behind your car door, stubborn smile pasted on your lips.

Towards the end of practice

“9, forward, forward, faster!” Abby yelled, wildly gesticulating to make it more coherent to the boys “4, free yourself! Goalie, watch the forward! Remember what I showed you!” She looked sexy when riled, golden muscles beaming in the sun, flexing through her fitted dri-fit tee after her jacket came off her back and sat tied around her lean hips. She was quick on her heels, eyes flitting over every single player. Sharp, barking instructions as her ponytail bounced behind her.

The mothers seemed to collectively sigh with every aggressive instruction. You fanned yourself with an expired Target voucher, wondering if they were imagining all the stuff they never got to hear in the bedroom.

As Dylan deflected another shot with a jump split, Abby sustained her whistle, signaling the end of the match as the boys slowed down to a canter in place. They bumped into each other, chirping about their respective goals amid rowdy back slaps and cheers. Soon they began looking around for their moms. You watched Dylan dully plod from the netted goal, unstrapping his protective gloves. “That’s my big guard!” you squealed, unable to help yourself.

Abby looked back, smirking lightly as the other moms shot unpleasant looks at you. You pursed your lips nervously, hunching down in your seat so you became less visible. Dylan acknowledged you with a quick nod, his face lighting up the second he saw his coach with a fist extended towards him. He bumped her back, laughing as she ruffled his head before hoisting him on top of her shoulders. Dylan beamed as Abby brought him over on her back as the other players rushed out with them. All running to their mothers.

Dylan seemed all too comfortable on there, hands gripping Abby’s shoulders as the mothers swarmed her, voicing various concerns as each grabbed her own flesh of the womb. Abby swung her head between the crowd, trying to hear everyone out. You remain seated in your plastic chair, watching the spectacle as it unfolded. Their voices soon became one united cacophony, the boys padded at her sides while the mothers clutched at her arms, shoulders, spouting question after question about every miniscule detail about the competition. The coral and bubblegum manicures dug into her arms and you bit your lip, mind wandering to forbidden places. A pang of jealousy perhaps. Because the way you touched her would be so much more dangerous than when they did.

Half an hour passed and the young coach had found no respite, they badgered her over the devilled egg halfway into her mouth. An attack no amount of soccer training could have prepared her to defend. You hadn’t taken too deep a breath either, swilling a glass of warm lemonade as two women interrogated you about your husband’s whereabouts, puzzled how you managed the bills alone, took care of the house and tuition fees. Bet nobody was asking your ex such questions. His friends are probably badgering him to sleep around again. You told some half-truths, intercepting a stray Dylan trying to shimmy past you as you braced to slither away from the gathering. The second they turned, you chanced upon glorious getaway, only that… Abby appeared so sapped and cute, trying her best to be attentive.

“Coach Anderson!” you called out to her over the din on the bleachers. She snapped up, attentive as a canine to your voice as you beckoned her. She excused herself from the hound, jogging up to where you were standing.

“Hey” you pulled her close, watching the moms break out in urgent whispers “Don’t act like it but… I was taking Dylan to his favourite diner and I was wondering if you’d like to join.” Dylan peered up at your faces, about to emote in excitement before you clapped a hand around his mouth, feeling him argue with your fingers. “Did you turn water into wine in your last life?” Abby asked gravely, quickly slipping a hand up your back as she ushered you out of the enclosure.

“A thankyou would suffice” you chuckled at her pallid stone-face

“It most certainly would not” Abby hissed

At the diner

You felt the bile rise in your throat as you nudged at the vinegary lettuce on your plate. Abby noticed, picking some off and munching on it. Meanwhile, Dylan had ketchupped both his hands, shoving his side of bacon and hash browns into his mouth.

“You alright?” Abby asked as you lightly rubbed your temple. “Did you really have to sit in the same booth as me?” you asked under your breath as Abby lifted a brow, corner of her lip twitching “Am I too close?” she shifted in place, spread thighs nudging into your crossed legs. “Don’t play…” you warned her with a stern glance “I’m doing this for my son.” “Coaches don’t play, Angela” she stole another chunk of lettuce from your plate, chewing with a smug grin.

Dylan had been talking nonstop about new goalkeeping techniques he had perfected at practice. Obviously, he was elated at the prospect of hanging out with his favourite person, more so now that she was sitting across him. It smarted a bit to watch it not be you but you just wanted to see him happy. Even if you weren’t the reason.

“Who taught you soccer?” he piped excitedly and you turned to Abby, watching her face fall ever so slightly despite the big smile. “I had the greatest coach” she simply said “the best ever.” “Will he come see us play??” Dylan hopped excitedly in his seat and Abby chuckled “Of course, he’d love to.”

You contemplated heavily before inching your hand to the side to comfort Abby under the table with a gentle hand over her knee. She kept her composure, quickly sliding her hand over yours. The callouses on her palm felt scratchy on the back of your knuckles, dwarfing your hand. You wondered if she lifted. Of course, she did. You weren’t the avid gym goer but you could pick those who were out of a lineup.

“Mom” Dylan gestured to the bathroom and you nodded, watching him slide out of the seater and bound down the diner, leaving the two of you alone. “Was it your dad?” you asked gently and Abby frowned, nodding.

“There was… this photo… on your desk”

“Right”

“I didn’t mean to pry”

“You didn’t pry” Abby managed a small smile “It’s me… I still don’t know how to talk about him” her voice broke despite the forced steadiness. You began to draw your hand back, feeling it linger on her knee for too long and Abby snatched it back, placing it right back on her knee. You threw a cautious glance around the diner, worried if you might have undue company. Perhaps a pair of eyes from the locale. You turned to her, welcoming her into embrace.

Abby gladly fell into you, arms catching on your shirt in a hurry to wrap them around you. “It’s alright…” you cradled her head, lips pressing into her hair head as she nestled into the crook of your neck. Abby tightened her grip on you, causing you to exhale sharply as you clung to her back. Her chest rose and fell shallow, breath quickened with her eyes closed. “Abby” you warn her as she slid her hand up your spine “I need this” she begged.

“We’re in public” you whispered only for her to groan back “You suggest we do this privately?” “No!”

Her warmth began seeping through the layers of clothes between you, getting to you and making an all too comfortable home at the back of your head. It was a hard thought to unthink, an even harder act to undo. Your eyes rolled back in your skull, fingers weakly pushing her arms down from your waist. Footsteps come bounding back from the distance and you barely tore yourself apart as Dylan hopped back in his side of the sofa. You self-consciously sorted your hair mussed on one side as Abby fought the flush in her face.

“Coach, you’re still eating” he laughed as Abby rubbed her neck nervously “Yeah bud, can’t get enough of it.”

“You’ve had enough” you weakly snapped at her, pulling your wallet out “Grab your bag, Dylan… we need to drop coach off at her house before we go home.”

That evening

You lightly knocked on the door, turning your ear against it. “Yeah, mom” Dylan acknowledged back and you cracked it open to find him hunched over his study desk. Upon a closer look, you found him scribbling defense formations on his notepad, tearing them out and scribbling more.

“Honey…” you stared at the papers “Come on… bed now” you rub his shoulder. He paused, hovering his pencil inches from the paper before dropping it. Trudging over to the bed, he plopped and laid down. “Good” you smiled, pulling his comforter over him. “You happy about today?” you sat yourself at the edge of the bed, patting him gently.

“Yeah” he said simply, rather numbly “Practice went well… I’m trying to perfect my technique.” You bit your lip, choosing your words carefully “Sweetie… you know you don’t have to be perfect, right?” you adjust the collar of his night suit “The only reason we put you in soccer was… so you’d have fun.”

“Hm” he stared vacantly at the wall, you words were already out his other ear. “I liked hanging out with coach today” he said out of nowhere and you turned your head to look at him. “I’m sure she feels the same” you smiled after some moments as he looked at you, a bit crestfallen “You won’t take her out of my life too… will you?” he asked.

“W-what?” you felt gut punched “I don’t… I mean, why would I…?” your voice broke while you fought to pull yourself together with a shaky hand in the air.

Dylan frowned; lips downturned “You didn’t seem too happy to hang out with her today… like how you were with dad” he clutched the comforter tighter “I think you’ll make her go away too.”

“Baby, I…” you wanted to speak but the ache of your heart breaking overwhelmed you, your chest hurting “I would never do that” you got up, making a hasty exit while your face was still dry. I would never you repeated to yourself as you shut your bedroom door behind you.

There wasn’t much you could do beside softly sobbing into your hands, hunched over as if wanting to disappear within yourself. Your cell phone erupted, the chippy caller tune distracting you. It was the coach.

“Hey, Angie” she said as you clicked accept, labored breathing into the receiver, realizing that you were in no position to speak yet “Hey…?” she repeated and you began to speak, words getting immediately swallowed by the lump in your throat. You slowly blew through your teeth, forcing yourself to act right.

“Are you okay? What happened?” Abby inquired with more urgency and you cleared your throat, finally catching your breath “Hey” you blurted “I’m okay… Dylan’s okay.” Abby paused, not knowing what to say “Are you sure?”

“Yeah... yeah” you breathed, nodding to yourself. Self soothing. “Are you okay??” you asked, realizing that you hadn’t checked on her or asked why she called.

“Yes! It's all good” Abby responded, her voice deeper… softer. “I know I’m calling late again but I wanted to…” she hesitated, making you clutch the phone tighter “I wanted to say sorry” she finally uttered “I realized I was being really pushy and I guess… I need to manage myself.”

You massaged your temples, mind wracked as Dylan’s words linger in your mind “It’s okay…” you exhale “I don’t mind you being a part of my son’s life… I’m seeing him act like himself after a long time.”

“And you?” Abby let the question hang in the air like a guillotine as you struggled to find answers.

“I’d like if we stay friends… for my son’s sake” you enunciated each word carefully lest the truth slip out “Nothing more”

“I see” Abby processed it, her tone dulling significantly “If that’s how you want it.”

“Please don’t take it the wrong way…” you trailed, fiddling with the lace trim on your robe “I'm in no place to reject you. You’re so young and energetic… you could find anyone your age. They'd be lucky to have you!”

“You’d think it would be easy but it's not” Abby confessed quietly, the static behind her voice hanging over the silence “The girls I’ve grown up with are all puritan and now teaching P.E at a Mormon private school. I can’t risk it…”

You gulped heavily, all too familiar with the situation “I get it” you replied shakily “My ex-husband’s fighting me for custody… telling family and friends that I’m this sleazy drunk throwing myself at strange men. I can’t seem to start over hard as I try.”

More silence ensued, punctuated by Abby’s frustrated sigh “We can start over”

“Abby…”

“I want you”

“No!” you discouraged her sternly, holding back all the feelings you didn’t trust. “You’ll find a girl. Younger, wiser… braver” you said cautiously, not wanting to entangle her in your fucked up world “I just know it.”

“And you?” she asked, calling your bluff.

“I’ll… be doing what I do" you laughed bleakly “I barely have to time to think between court visits, office, pickup, weekend practice and making casserole the right way” declaring hesitantly: “I’ll be fine.”

“Just say it, Angie…” Abby urged through gritted teeth “Tell me to fuck off so I’ll actually listen” she cursed in exasperation, anger thinly masking the despondency.

“Fuck off…” you replied firmly as you heard her draw a weighted breath, like she could burst out in a flutter of honest words but instead the line went dead.

I want you too… you mumbled to the nothingness.

At office

Abby’s words from last night haunted you, like a shadowy devil on your shoulder as you sat at your work desk. With how much time you’d spend in the same spot, doing the same things, you wondered if you’d truly forgotten about moving on. Because when she brought it up… it sounded alien. Absurd.

This life was all you'd known but what would things even look like outside of this. You could imagine Abby doting on Dylan, fussing over his games, engrossing him with coin tricks. You pictured them sharing a meal at the table, laughing. Like a family. You even fantasized about pleasing her when alone, crying and writhing in her arms… trusting her… loving her.

“Shh!” the sound punctured your thoughts and you turned around to catch your colleagues gossiping. They quickly hid their faces.

Just like that, you were back.

“Hello, this is Angie from Accounting. How can I help you?” you took a call, pinning the receiver to your ear with a shoulder, fingers flying over the keyboard as you sorted the invoices. “Bill?” you craned your neck to look outside your cubicle “He’s preoccupied, I believe” you lied, watching him stuff oatmeal cookies in his face in the breakroom. “Sure, I’ll pass it on to him" you clicked the telephone back, rearranging the reports on your desk as Bill strode up, brushing crumbs off his beard.

“It’s Nessie, she said you didn’t re about their company ad sizing in classified” you explained, and he rolled his eyes “How many times have I told her…

“Just talk to her”

“No, you talk to her”

“I’m just an accountant”

“Angela… please”

“God” you grimaced, staring at the growing pile of paperwork on your desk, tabs of spreadsheets open on your computer “Fine, but just this once.” “Cool” Bill dismissed it immediately. Your cell phone rang in the middle of work, it was from the school nurse’s office.

A shot of ice ran up your back, stiffening your body “Mrs. Hendricks? mother of Dylan Hendricks of 4C?” the nurse barked down the phone. “This is her” you replied shakily. “Your son hyperventilated and lost consciousness during soccer practice. The coach has handled the situation but we’re mandated to inform you.” “What?” you sobbed into the phone as the nurse cleared her throat “Ma’am… don’t pani-” you shut your phone as you swung your purse up your shoulder, getting up to leave.

You bumped into Bill on your way out.

“Hendricks” he grabbed your arm “Where are you off to? It’s not pick up yet.”

“Dylan fainted during practice; I need to get him right now” you tried to push past him but he forced you back, blocking your way in the hall

“He just fainted. You have bigger tasks at hand here. Is this how you’re planning on working here?” he hissed.

“Bill, you’re hurting me” you tried to pull your arm back as he looked around in annoyance from any attention you might be drawing.

“You’ve exhausted your monthly leaves and I just assigned you some important work even though we all know how you…” he snarled, unable to say it.

“Mighty kind of you” you spat back “To assign me work you’re supposed to do in the first place. Maybe you'd have more time if you weren't gossiping about me in office all the time.” Unnerved, he just glared down at you as you steeled yourself.

“You’re either letting go of me right now… or I’m going to leave you a bloody mess. Unlike yours, my son needs me and I’m not letting your sorry ass get in my way” you thinned your lips in a scowl, baring teeth. That seemed to do the trick as Bill unhooked his hand from your arm.

You stepped on the pedal, weaving and rushing through familiar streets as best you could. Abby had tried your number several times since you rushed from office, leaving a message saying “Dylan’s okay. We’re at my house. Please, don’t worry.” How can I not?? you screeched around a car moving out of park as it nearly slammed into you.

Your baby boy had burned himself out, trying to do Lord knows what and you saw all the signs. You had tried getting to him but you failed each time. You're a failed wife. And now a failed mother. The accusatory screams echoed around in your head till they became one united blare, bursting at your temples. You parked up Abby’s drive-through, rushing out the car and up the front door, banging it down.

At Abby's home

Abby opened the latch, her eyes hollowed, and her ponytail loose. You pushed past her “Where is he?” you threw a glance around the staid living room, lace doily on the television and a leather sofa. Old fashioned like it was stuck in time. “Where is he??” you raised your voice in urgency. Trophies and certificates sat on special shelves, jersey’s framed on the wall in clear glass, a tin of pre-workout pile, dumbbells stood along the wall by size. MCAT prep books sat in a heavy stack on the table.

“Shh… he’s sleeping upstairs” Abby called after as you hurried up the stairs, opening the first room on the right to find him safely bundled in a baby blue blanket. His face peeked out from under it and he looked the most peaceful you’d ever seen him. You began to step inside but Abby held you back with a gentle arm around the waist “Please.”

Your face twisted with contempt, bounding back down the stairs and into the living room before turning around to face her “Why’d you bring him here?” you pointed upstairs in upset, voice terribly shaky. “Angie…” Abby tried to placate you, reaching for your outstretched arm “He couldn’t defend a goal and panicked really hard. He needed to breathe... he needed rest.”

“And you brought him here?” you pulled out of her reach to which Abby deadened her eyes “I took care of my dad till the day he died… I can trust myself to take care of him." “And me? I should trust you too?” you pitched your voice, watching her face fall. “Why are you doing this?” Abby asked, hurt and confused.

“What? Worrying about some stranger taking my son home??”

“I’m no stranger”

“Sorry, my bad. You’re basically Dylan’s dad now. I should just fall to my knees and worship you. Since you’re saving our broken fucking family! My fucking savior” you spat each word out with more vitriol than the last, eyes stinging painfully.

Abby seemed equally disturbed, slowly shaking her head as she blinked fast “Angie… I understand you’re in pain.”

“You understand my pain?” you chuckled, nearly choking from how badly your throat was trying to close “Y-you understand how my stomach hurts from all the knots? Or how much my s-son hates me? That my family wouldn’t take me back? Or how I’m not allowed at church anymore?” Abby lowered her eyes, lips pressed to hide their quiver as she let you unravel.

“Maybe you’ll understand how the other moms say I have std’s… how my colleagues hit on me saying I’m s-spoiled goods, or maybe how my in-laws tear me apart at every court visit” you practically lunged at her, grabbing the front of her t-shirt, “Do you understand that all I wanted was to be LOVED and I BROKE my bones trying to love him in hopes he’d love me back… and HE NEVER DID.” Tears squeezed out your eyes, pouring down your cheeks.

Abby enveloped you in her arms as you broke down entirely, body going limp from the relief of spitting out all the agony coiled deep inside you. Unburdened. At long last. You screwed your eyes shut painfully as you felt her tighten her grip around your waist, hand cradling the back of your head, stroking gently.

You felt her chest rise irregularly; her breath jagged from your words. The front of her t-shirt turned dark from your bleeding mascara. You relaxed your fingers over her chest, peering up at her forlorn face. “Are you mad at me?” Abby asked softly and you shook your head, tears dripping down your cheek “No… I’m scared” you sobbed and she brought her hand to your cheek, pressing a thumb to your lips.

“We’re safe… it’s just us” Abby whispered close to your forehead, the blue in her eyes growing deeper with all the love she had for you. You tensed, raising your lips to meet hers. You pecked her ever so gently. A tender apology. Abby’s hands ached from sheer restraint, tugging you back in for a deeper kiss. You tilted your face, whimpering as she forced your lips open with her tongue. Soft and wet as it slipped deep. Past the hesitation of doing wrong, you gave in entirely. Your hands dragged up her chest, hooking around her neck as you kissed her back, leaving her lips red with lipstick smears to match the flush on her cheeks. Before long, Abby had hoisted you on her hips, hands cupping your butt as you nuzzled into her neck. Your heels clattered to the floor. The scent of her sweat made you squirm around her even more.

You fell back on the couch. Her on top, pinning you down. You dropped your gaze down her front and she chuckled ever so softly. Voice low. With a quick yank, she pulled her t-shirt off her chest, stretching them over her broad shoulders. You bit your lip, staring at the veins throbbing along her waist, the deep v-cut leading inside her shorts. Your lids grew heavy with passion, running your nails up her smooth abs and cupping her silky breasts.

“I wanted to do this the day I met you” Abby groaned, fingers fussing with your first few shirt buttons, ripping the rest off as you gasped from the shock. “God” she nestled into your ample cleavage, inhaling your perfume as she kissed the tops of your breasts.

You wound your fingers into her ponytail, throwing your head back as she lowered the lace cups covering you, rubbing your nipples. Making them more sensitive. “Abby…” you mumbled into her hair as she began to tug and suck on them. You gripped her bare back with a hand, slipping the other low to push her shorts down, exposing the elastic of her underwear… the sight of her happy trail and lean hips left you panting in place.

Her back muscles rippled below your fingers, nails digging into her soft skin. Abby tugged your shirt off, leaving it draped on the couch arm as she ran her tongue down to your navel, slowly pushing your skirt past your hips. “Let me take them of-” she desperately tore your pantyhose mid-sentence, eyes affixed on the milky patch staining the narrow strip of fabric covering your pussy.

“I’m sick” you whined, covering your face as Abby slipped a thumb inside your crotch, slowly rubbing along your sticky folds, dipping ever so slightly into your entrance. It oozed on her thumb. She smiled at the way you closed around her. Teasing you. “I’m sick too” she raised her soaked thumb to her lips, dragging it across her tongue “I think we’re just right for each other.”

She took your hands away from your face, pinning them above your head “I wanted to ruin you in my office that day” she confessed, stroking the lace trim of your bra, caressing you with your eyes. “I wanted to straddle you in the booth at that diner” you admitted breathily, digging your thighs into her sides as she chuckled.

Abby’s voice trickled beneath your skin as you pushed her shorts down, slipping a hand below to cup her groin, the other squeezing her butt. Her pussy was plump and warm. Dripping wet. You slid over her slippery lips, her swollen clit. You giggled, watching her lose composure as you rubbed a circle around it, feeling it throb even harder.

“I want to feel it” you bucked your hips eagerly, back arched as she snuck out of her shorts and underwear. You hungrily stared at what the happy trail had been leading down to, offset by her massive, perfectly built thighs. You fell limp, legs open for her use as she pulled your panties aside, drawing out wet strings from your sopping pussy. You cried out softly as she ripped them at the seams, leaving you exposed. Dragging you forward, she raised your leg up on her shoulder, edging herself into you.

The skin on skin made you delirious, throbbing and snaking as she pulled you even closer. She held you in place with her hand on your ankle. Unable to inch away from where you eclipsed, rubbing and griding earnestly, the sounds getting louder. Wetter. You gripped her forearm, nails raking her skin, feeling the steady rhythm of your hips rocking, her abs dully slapping your inner thigh.

You bit your tongue lest you screamed from the pleasure. Sex had always been such a chore to you that you’d began associating it with work. But the friction of your folds and how perfectly you fit together made you rethink everything. Made you float. Made you wonder if you could ever stop once you started. The way her body pressed into yours at all the right places. How her muscles flexed and rippled against you. How needy her face looked; lips swollen and her eyes watery.

"Fuck” you cursed softly; hips raised to meet hers as the pressure on your clit made you shake uncontrollably. You reached below to place a palm on her hip, thumb pressing onto her clit. “Angie…” Abby’s hips grew more demanding, grinding down harder, squirting until you were sticky. Your breasts bounced pathetically as you fucked senseless, eyes rolling back into your head, lashes fluttering.

Your climax came hard and slow, bursting into an involuntary spasm which you let overwhelm you, quivering and squirting in place. She followed suit, holding you firm as she came, chasing it with more strong thrusts onto you, eliciting incoherent sounds of pleasure from your lips. Abby groaned, a sound rooted deep in her belly, chest rising and falling deeper. She collapsed on top of you, heaving.

You were already burning, but something about the weighted heat healed you. Let you know for sure that you weren’t alone. That you were being touched, heard, paid attention to. You couldn't be close enough to her, if only you could nestle inside her. Abby slipped her arms underneath you, head resting on your chest as you both cooled down. The ceiling felt blurry for the longest time, yellow lit from the standing lamp in the corner.

Her voice seemed to fix the ringing in your ear “I can hear your heart” Abby mumbled, the movement of her lips tickling your breast. “I can feel yours” you smiled, tracing down her shoulder blades. Abby wriggled up, level with you as she simply gazed down. “What?” you asked gently, looking into both her eyes, dilated with love.

“Promise me you won’t regret this…” she whispered, idle hand on your cheek. Wrought with innocent longing despite all the lust. “Promise me… you won’t regret us” she kissed the corner of your lips, wiping a loose eyelash. “M-mom!” Dylan shakily called from upstairs.

“Baby!” you shot up, frazzled as you look down. Ripped clothes leaving your tits sticking out, nethers exposed. Red-faced and desperate. Shame washed over you with the effect of cold water to the face, realizing how you’d been fucking around with your son’s soccer coach when you should’ve been paying attention to him. You shimmied your skirt down, grabbing your shirt from the couch and throwing it on.

Abby got herself in order too, straightening her t-shirt, slipping on her shorts “Hold on.” “No” you insisted, doing the buttons on your shirt that still remaining, tucking the shirt inside your skirt “You stay away.” You scrunched your face in regret, tucking your loose hair up as you hurried up the stairs and into the bedroom.

Dylan sat up, looking disoriented and tired. “Sweetie” you sidle up on the bedside, pulling him into a hug “You’re, okay?”. He meekly nodded into your chest, mumbling a soft sorry. “It’s alright, baby…” you cuddle him “I’m just happy you’re safe.”

Abby hurried down behind you as made your way to the front door, holding Dylan in your arms. “Angie, wait” she tried to talk as she unlatched the front door, joining you down by the car “I’m really grateful for your help… but I need to take him home.” Abby helped open the door to the backseat, heartbroken as she watched you set Dylan down with the blanket curled on end to let him rest his head.

You shut the door turning to her “Abby, I…” you drop your words, uncomfortably crossing your arms as her face fell “You regret it” she affirmed with a quick nod of her head. “It’s not like that” you threw a glance back at Dylan, he was groggy again. “No, I get it" Abby looked defeated, deflating in exhale before she fetched a folded piece of paper from her pocket “Just wanted to give you this.” You took it quietly, biting your lip.

“She’s a child therapist… specializing in children of divorce” she stared at the road behind you, unable to meet your eyes. “Take care of him… Take care, Angie.” You caught skin from where you’d bit your lip. A sharp pain. “Thankyou” you stared at her just a second longer, reluctantly turning and getting into the driver’s seat. Abby didn’t stay back, no wave goodbye even as you kept looking in the sideview mirror. You didn’t deserve one.

Later at night

You lightly kicked open Dylan’s door, lugging in a big, steaming bowl on a wooden tray. “Big, chunky chicken noodles for my big boy” you sang, carefully setting it on his lap “Be careful, love.” Dylan smiled guiltily, accepting dinner. Too easily. “You didn’t have to, mom” he fiddled with the tray handle. “Who else will I do it for?” you shrugged, dipping the soup spoon in and bringing it to your lips to blow it cool.

“Open sesame” you fed him the first bite, raising your brows inquisitively. He gulped it down, nodding “It’s the best” he nodded “you’re the best.” You did a double take, shocked “Really?” you asked in disbelief. Dylan nodded, wiping his lips with the back of his sleeve. He paused, contemplating.

“Sorry, mom” he repeated what he said after he’d woken up at Abby’s home. “What for…?” your hand hovered midair, spoon caught between your fingers. “Coach… she talked me down when I panicked on the field today” he confessed and you lost focus, staring down at your lap. “She told me to think of you” Dylan went on “Said that you love me the most, that you’re always thinking of me… protecting me. That you're the strongest person she knows.”

Your face crumpled and you tried to hide them but the tears snuck past “I know things have changed in a way they weren’t supposed to… I haven’t done my best, baby” you tried to keep your voice level, coherent “I know your miss dad… a lot.”

“I do but I miss you more, mom” Dylan reached for your hand, “I was being mean with you because you’d changed… and I didn't know what to do.” “It’s okay, baby” you held his little hand back, turning your face to him as you smiled despite "Sometimes, we're mean when we don't understand our feelings." Dylan smiled sadly but it still felt like hope. Like all the frost had finally melted. Warm and full again. Safe and sound.

At bedtime

After doing the dishes, you headed back to your bedroom to change for the night. You slipped into satin, brushing your hair in the mirror. In the reflection, your phone sat heavy on the nightstand, like a dancing pointer. You tied your hair in a knot, walking up to it and picking it up before you could let a thought interrupt.

You called her, getting rejected immediately. The screen went red and you gulped painfully, knowing you’d fucked up. You decided to message her, punching in “Will wait for u at school reception at 8 tom… would like to talk” you sent it and thankfully it went through.

You stared at the screen, waiting for something to happen, feeling stupid after a while. A knock came at the door, and you slid your phone under the pillow. Dylan peeked inside, pillow in hand “Can I sleep here tonight?” he mumbled and you beamed, patting the side on the bed next to you.

You snuggled in, covering you both in your comforter like old times. The scent of his hair and the back of his neck took you in like an embrace, reminiscent of when it all felt so new. Cradling your new baby, the night you brought him home. Nothing had changed. The thought of the young couch sat at the back of your mind, and you stared at the wall. Thinking.

Next day at school

The concrete flooring amplified your anxious heel clicks, drawing dirty looks from the couple other parents sitting on the plastic seaters. You made a quick oops face, stilling yourself. The container on your lap was beginning to leave an imprint. The felt bag you’d brought along had fallen into your side again.

It had been 20 minutes past 8, and it was starting to look like you’d be running late for work again. Not that Bill was going to take it up with you. You zoned out on a blur before realizing it was the coach walking towards you. You nearly leapt out of your seat before remembering the contents of the Tupperware.

“I’m so happy you came” you smiled at her gladly, slowly getting to your feet. “How can I help you, Mrs. Hendricks” Abby remained stone-faced, oddly formal. “I was hoping to talk to you” you glanced at the container in your arms and the felt bag on the chair behind “… in your office.” Abby sighed, body angling away from you. With her hands in her pockets, she turned on her heels “Follow me.”

It made for a silent stroll across the poorly blueprinted building to the sports’ department. Abby walked several steps ahead, unlike last time. Her ponytail was limp, slump in her walk, keys jangled in her pocket. It reminded you of Dylan angry-marching whenever he was in a funk. Abby unlocked her office door, holding it open for you as you ambled inside.

While still amenable, she wasn’t as warm as before. Understandably so. You entered her office, aware you had to do better if you were going to halfway fix things. You set the stuff you’d brought on an available corner of her desk, reaching for the photo frame. You gently stroked the glass case, smiling at the tiny, grainy girl. White jersey clad. She had blonde pigtails, big grin on her face. The grass stains must’ve been hell to remove you chuckled to yourself.

Abby clicked the door shut, hands in pocket as she turned around, awkwardly pillared in the corner. “I talked to Dylan and we called the therapist whose number you gave me” you tried to initiate chat “She said she’d be glad to see him Sundays and… he’s willing to give her a try.” “That’s promising” Abby bit the inside of her mouth, cautiously approaching her desk.

“I got your blankie back!” you beamed, placing a hand on the carry bag “I wanted to wash it but it smelt so much like you, I didn’t have the heart to” you looked up at her “so I just lint rolled it.”

Abby wordlessly tugged at her blanket. Fuzzy from wear, spattered with stars and rockets from her childhood. You tapped the ridges of your wristwatch to drown the silence, dropping your gaze upon realizing you were losing focus on the bumpy bridge of her nose. “I made you some chicken noodle soup” you said softly, pushing the box into view “Not that canned stuff! This is my grandma’s recipe I made from scratch” you threw a glance around the office. “You have a hotcase? I can just leave it there… have it warm by lunch.”

“Angie, you didn’t have to” Abby finally uttered and your hand flew to your chin, covering your neck so she wouldn’t see you gulp painfully. “I’m sorry if I’m doing too much” you apologized softly, facing in the opposite direction from her. Abby sighed, “It’s not that. I’m not mad at you after… what happened. You don’t have to make it up to me” she whispered. “I understand if you don’t want to complicate things over a relationship. With how things are for you, it’s beyond understandable. Just… be honest” she dug a nail under the Tupperware lid, toying with the rubber.

“Okay” you stepped closer to her, steeling your voice with as much brazen as you had in you. Honest. “Last night was the most alive I’d ever felt” you confessed, feeling the immediate burn in your cheeks from confrontation but you soldiered on. Abby exhaled ever so slightly, like she’d constricted her chest too long.

You lightly pressed your arm against hers, feeling her shiver despite the jacket “I wasn’t expecting to… not this strongly at least… to develop feelings for someone” you felt yourself losing breath “I’ve been a wife and mom for so long, I forgot how it felt like to be a lover… to be loved.” Abby blew out her cheeks as she tried to look at you, blanching quick “Love’s not enough, is it?” her voice broke, sliding her hands over the edge of her desk, gripping it.

“It’s not… my marriage taught me that if nothing else” you shook your head “But what I felt with you… it wasn’t frivilous. It was pure and hopeful. It was beautiful. I didn’t know what to do with it so I abandoned it... I abandoned you. I shouldn't have.” you apologized earnestly. Abby’s breath grew labored as she visibly fought to compose herself.

“Hey” you gently pulled her before you by her sleeve, peering up into her eyes “I want this” you raised your hand, stroking her freckled cheek with the back of your fingers. Abby nuzzled into your touch, closing her eyes in relief. Lashes fluttering. Her hands returned to their familiar place on your waist as you cradled her neck, soothing the goosebumps on her skin.

“I want you” you mumbled into her chest as you felt her graze the small of your back, rubbing a soothing circle “And though I’m a single mom, with a 9-year-old. I work a boring desk job, have a messy Civic and an even messier ex. I don’t have much going for me-” “Stop that” Abby lightly scolded you. “But-” you kept your eyes low, tugging on her zipper, scraping the cool metal “Never put yourself down, you hear me?” Abby angled your chin up, pressing her forehead to yours.

“Yeah but…” you tried not to lose yourself entirely in her overtures, her lips pecking your nose, brow and cheek. She snuck across your cheekbone to your ear, tinkling your earring. “I need you to know what you’re getting into” you insisted. Abby whispered against your temple “What makes you think I don’t know?” as you weakly tried to discourage her, more for your own sake than hers “Abby…” you stifled a moan.

“And I’ll have you know…” she firmly propped you on her desk, hand curling around your bare thighs “I wouldn’t have it any other way”. She noticed something, looking down at your legs.

“I told them I hit myself with a cabinet door” you sheepishly explained, lifting your leg to show off the deep red handprint on your ankle. Abby smiled, folding her sleeve up to reveal the devilish nail scrapes on her arm “Haven’t been able to take my jacket off all day” she informed you gravely, sending a rosy blush over your cheeks.

“We’ll have to invest in quite the parka, then…” you pouted; eyes filled with faux guilt “because it will happen again” a sudden smug grin curled up on your lips. Abby’s jaw dropped, grabbing you as she vigorously nuzzled into your neck amid your giggles “Someone’s going to be explaining several curling rod incidents soon.”

To be continued (?)

[elryuse]

yandere Minju?

Scared To Lose You

Yandere Minju (ILLIT) X Make Reader

Minju's POV

The screech of the microphone feedback jolted me back to reality. The roar of the crowd was a dull thrum in the background, a constant drone I barely registered. The spotlight hit me, a harsh glare highlighting every bead of sweat clinging to my skin. But tonight, none of it mattered. My gaze scanned the sea of faces, a relentless search for a single point of light amidst the screaming fans.

There. Second row, just left of the giant inflatable ILLIT mascot. A familiar figure, his worn light stick held aloft like a beacon. Sunshine_Y/N. His name, a secret whispered in the dead of night, a forbidden fruit I couldn't stop myself from craving.

It started innocently enough. A fleeting glance across the stage, his smile brighter than any spotlight. Then, another concert, another performance, and there he was again. Each time, he drew me in, his unwavering support a tiny pinprick of warmth in the icy grip of idol life.

One rainy afternoon, exhausted and drained, I found myself on a fancam binge. My finger scrolled, stopping on a comment - "Sunshine_Y/N." Curiosity, a dangerous thing for a guarded heart like mine, took over. I clicked.

Fan art, glowing reviews, messages gushing about ILLIT, mostly about me. A strange flutter started in my chest. Here, in the digital world, I wasn't just Minju, the cold lead dancer. I was someone he admired, someone who sparked his sunshine.

The obsession bloomed, a poisonous flower slowly wrapping its vines around me. Hours spent scrolling his social media became a nightly ritual. I memorized his birthday, his favorite color – sunflower yellow, just like his light stick – and even his dream of learning to dance like me.

The need to know more became a consuming fire. Shame battled with a strange pull, but I found myself spilling my secret to Jisoo, our manager. "There's this fan..." I trailed off, the words catching in my throat.

Jisoo raised an eyebrow, a knowing glint in her eyes. "A special fan?"

I flushed, heat creeping up my neck. "Just... A fan, okay?"

Jisoo smiled, a predator sizing up its prey. "Leave it to me, Minju."

Days later, a manila folder landed on my table. My heart hammered a frantic tattoo against my ribs as I opened it. It was Y/n's life, meticulously documented, a violation laid bare in black and white. Shame coiled in my gut, but the knowledge was intoxicating, a forbidden fruit I couldn't resist taking a bite of.

His address, his family details, even his favorite coffee shop – all there for me to consume. This was wrong, I knew it. But the thrill of knowing everything, of having him mapped out in my mind, was too powerful to ignore.

The weekend arrived, a heavy weight settling in my stomach. Armed with a disguise – a baseball cap pulled low and oversized sunglasses – I ventured out. The address led me to a small, unassuming apartment building. My pulse quickened, a frantic drum solo against my ribs.

He opened the door, blinking in surprise. "M-minju?" he stammered, disbelief coloring his voice.

I froze, caught red-handed. Shame and a twisted sense of elation warred within me. Here he was, the object of my unhealthy obsession, standing in his own doorway.

But instead of disgust, his face lit up with a mixture of awe and excitement. He ushered me inside, bombarding me with questions about ILLIT and our upcoming comeback. Flustered, I found myself answering, enjoying the way his eyes sparkled with every word.

The sun dipped below the horizon, casting long shadows across the room. I knew I had to leave. With a hasty goodbye, I fled back to the dorm, the image of Y/n seared into my brain.

He wasn't just a fan anymore. He was mine, a secret obsession I couldn't shake. And I, Minju, the cold, aloof idol, was hopelessly addicted to the sunshine he brought into my life. An addiction I knew, with a chilling certainty, would consume me whole.

The following days were a blur of practice sessions and promotional appearances. Every spare moment was spent replaying our encounter, dissecting every smile, every word he spoke. My obsession grew, a monstrous vine snaking its way around my heart.

One night, unable to sleep, I did the unthinkable. I used the information Jisoo had gathered to find his social media accounts beyond the one he used for fan interactions. It felt like a betrayal, a violation of the fragile trust we'd built. Yet, I couldn't stop myself.

His private accounts were a window into his soul – pictures with friends, family gatherings, even a video of him clumsily attempting a dance routine.

I watched the grainy video on repeat, a twisted pleasure blooming in my gut. Here he was, the one I held on a pedestal, stumbling through the choreography I knew with every fiber of my being. A strange sense of power surged through me. He admired me, wanted to be like me, yet he was so far out of reach.

Sleep finally claimed me, the image of his clumsy dance moves morphing into a dream where he danced flawlessly beside me, his eyes locked on mine with adoration.

The following weeks felt like an eternity. Practice sessions blurred into late-night rehearsals, my focus waning, my body exhausted. My only solace was the stolen moments I spent on his social media, a guilty pleasure I couldn't shake.

One evening, amidst the chaos of a pre-comeback photoshoot, my phone buzzed. An anonymous message, a single line of text: "Lookinh forward to your performance tonight. Sunshine_Y/N."

My breath hitched. It was him, using a burner phone? A thrill shot through me, a mixture of fear and excitement. He was following me, watching me from the shadows. This secret connection, this shared knowledge, felt like a forbidden bond.

That night, as ILLIT took the stage bathed in blinding lights, I searched the crowd with renewed fervor. My eyes scanned every face, a desperate yearning clawing at my chest. But he was nowhere to be seen.

Disappointment prickled at me, a bitter aftertaste to the roaring applause that greeted our performance. Back in the dorm, exhaustion tugged at me, yet sleep refused to come. All I could think about was that message, a confirmation of his obsession that mirrored mine.

The days leading up to our comeback single's release were a whirlwind of interviews, radio appearances, and photoshoots. The pressure mounted, the weight of expectations a constant burden. Yet, amidst the chaos, Y/n's silent presence became a flickering flame, a lifeline in the storm.

Then, the single dropped. The response was overwhelming, a positive wave of online feedback and soaring music chart positions. But the only validation I craved was his.

One morning, as I scrolled through a sea of comments on ILLIT's official page, I saw it. A message from Sunshine_Y/N, bold and glowing amidst the praise. "'Obsession' is a masterpiece. You're incredible, Minju."

Tears welled up in my eyes, a mixture of relief and something more possessive. He had seen it, had heard our song, and his praise echoed in my head like a love song.

The following days turned into weeks, then months. ILLIT's popularity skyrocketed, and so did my obsession with Y/n. Jisoo, bless her calculating heart, saw the shift in me and subtly started feeding my addiction. Pictures from events we attended, details on our schedules, anything that might pique his interest.

It wasn't enough. I craved more, a connection that went beyond stolen glances and cryptic messages. One night, after a particularly grueling promotional tour, I found myself breaking down in front of Jisoo.

"I can't take it anymore, Jisoo," I confessed, my voice thick with desperation. "I need to see him, to talk to him properly."

Jisoo, calm and collected despite my outburst, offered a solution. "There's a fan meeting scheduled next month. We can arrange a… private meeting beforehand."

A spark ignited in my eyes. A chance to meet him face-to-face, away from the screaming fans? It was a risk, a potential scandal, but the desire to be near him eclipsed any fear.

The following weeks were filled with nervous anticipation and meticulous planning. Jisoo orchestrated a secret room within the venue where the fan meeting was held, ensuring our encounter would remain discreet.

The day arrived, a storm of controlled chaos. ILLIT performed, interacted with fans, signed autographs – a machine running on autopilot. But all I could think about was the secret meeting waiting for me at the end.

Finally, the last fan left, and I found myself ushered into the waiting room. My heart hammered against my ribs as the door creaked open, revealing a nervous-looking Y/n.

He froze, his eyes widening in surprise. Then, a smile erupted on his face. "Minju? Is this really… you?"

I nodded, unable to form words. Here he was, the object of my obsessive desires, standing just a few feet away. The air crackled with a strange energy, a mix of nervousness and something darker.

The following hour flew by in a blur. We talked about music, about ILLIT, about his dreams – mundane topics that somehow felt profound in this clandestine setting. As the time drew to a close, a sense of panic clawed at me. I couldn't let him leave.

Panic constricted my throat as Jisoo poked her head in, a knowing smile playing on her lips. "Time's up, Minju. We have to get you back before anyone notices."

"No!" I blurted out, the word echoing in the sterile room. Both Y/n and Jisoo stared at me, surprise etched on their faces.

Shame burned in my cheeks, but a stronger urge, a possessive need, took hold. I couldn't let him disappear back into the faceless crowd, not after this. Not after the connection we'd forged, however twisted it might be.

Taking a deep breath, I stepped towards Y/n, my voice losing its usual icy composure. "Don't listen to her," I said, my gaze locking onto his. "We still got time."

Y/n shuffled back, his eyes darting between me and the closed door. A seed of fear bloomed in his usually sunny demeanor. "M-minju, what's going on?"

The mask of professionalism I usually wore slipped completely. "This," I declared, stepping closer, my voice barely above a whisper. "This is what's going on."

Before he could react, I reached out and locked the door, the satisfying click echoing in the silence. Y/n's breath hitched, his eyes widening in terror. A flicker of satisfaction sparked in me, a dark thrill at his fear.

"Minju, why are you doing this?" he stammered, his voice trembling.

"Because I can't lose you," I confessed, the words tumbling out in a torrent. "You may not know it, Sunshine_Y/N, but you're mine now. Your admiration, your support, it all belongs to me."

Tears welled up in his eyes, a stark contrast to the cold, chilling smile that crept onto my face. "But… but I don't understand. I'm just a fan."

"Just a fan?" I scoffed, the sound laced with cruel amusement. "Oh You're so much more than that, Y/n. You're my muse, my inspiration, the sunshine that cuts through the monotony of my life."

His fear morphed into a kind of pleading. "Minju, please. This is crazy. You don't even know me."

I leaned in close, my voice dropping to a seductive purr. "Oh, but I do, Y/n. I know everything. Your favorite color, your birthday, even your dream of dancing like me."

He stumbled back, his face draining of color. "W-wait.. H-how… how do you know that?"

A cruel laugh escaped my lips. "Let's just say I have my ways."

He looked around the room, a desperate hope flickering in his eyes. But the door remained locked, a symbol of the terrifying reality that had dawned on him.

"Don't worry, Y/n," I continued, my voice soft yet laced with a dangerous edge. "You'll get used to this. You'll learn to love me, just like I love you."

His voice, barely a whisper, shattered the twisted fantasy I'd built. "You… you don't love me, Minju. This is just an obsession."

A flicker of anger ignited within me, but I quickly schooled it. "Call it what you want, Y/n," I said, my voice back to its usual icy calm. "The point is, you're mine now. And there's nothing you, or anyone else, can do about it."

I watched, a predator savoring its prey, as the light extinguished from his eyes, replaced by a chilling realization. He was trapped, a prisoner in a gilded cage built by my twisted love, a love that had morphed into a terrifying obsession.

To Be Continued

[helplesslypurple77]

Day 11- Sakaguchi Ango/Reader with kinks Sitting Cowgirl/(Onsen)Bath Sex

Notes:this is almost entirely created out of horny daze from that one clip of dub Ango saying ‘you nasty man’ about Dazai and i just uhhhhh. You know, in the real world Ango would totally be my type. I love skinny nerds with glasses. But my fictional type is 100% more problematic. Also I turned Ango into a simp. Oops. 

His assistant loved skirts. She loved wearing little patterned secretary skirts with cute little blouses and her hair piled all across his shoulders and Ango wanted to throw himself out of the second story window his office was located on. He really didn't want to be one of those employers, the gross bosses who intentionally dropped stuff on the ground to stare down their assistants' shirts or had fantasies about them during working hours. But it was really hard. It also didn't help that you were intelligent and pretty and smiled at him kindly and brought him coffee on all nighters and he had the tiniest little crush on you. 

It had all started a few months ago, when Ango had finally been convinced to hire an assistant to deal with the workload he was drowning under. And he had hired you because you were intelligent and had an excellent resume, he would confess but also his jaw almost hit the floor the second you strutted into the room in your little red kitten heels, red flowy top and black skirt. You were drop dead gorgeous, and if he was being honest that was probably a huge part of the reason he hired you in the first place. But he was starting to regret it. It's not like you were incompetent, not far from it. You were extremely smart and kind and had been a great help to him over these last few months, it wasn't that. You were too perfect. You were smart and pretty and kind and he was a weak, sleep deprived man starved for affection who hadn't touched a woman in way too long and he maybe had a little crush on you. 

And ok, he thought as he caught himself daydreaming about your future wedding for the fifth time today, maybe it was a little more than a crush, maybe he was actually in love with you. Ok not maybe, he totally was. But could you really blame him? You looked lovely in the white(hence the wedding fantasies) blouse and blue skirt you had chosen for today, and it didn't help that it was low cut, showing Ango(and everyone else) the most teasing bit of delicious cleavage. And Ango hated the world because he had a meeting today and he knew all the similarly overworked and horny men would spend the entire time staring at His assistant, and then they would come over here all the time just to look at you and one of them would probably offer you a higher salary and steal you away right from under his nose—

“Mr Sakaguchi? I have the documents you wanted.” You're back from the front office and looking at him quizzically, a manila folder in your outstretched hand. Ango pushes up his glasses and gives you a sharp nod. “Wonderful, thank you.” He needs to get back to work and stop daydreaming or it's another sleepless night for him. “Please start the booking process for the company trip.” With a nod and a smile you turn, the sway of your hips horribly distracting as you make your way to your desk. Your desk is next to his, which is a really good thing because now if he stares at you it will be really obvious and his pride will help him focus on his work. 

But his work is boring and you are pretty and even though he has to actively turn his head he still catches himself staring at you. You look so pretty, typing away at your desk, occasionally catching your lip in your teeth distractingly. No, he has to focus on the documents, no matter how boring they are, he really, really doesn't want to stay overnight but maybe if he did you would stay too and then he would get even less work done. Anyway he can see it, he's screwed. He’s down bad and there's nothing he can do about it. 

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆

You really didn't even want to think about how you had ended up in this situation. Sharing a private Onsen and a room with your boss who you MAYBE, possibly, had a small miniscule crush on. You glared at the screen of your laptop dubiously, taking your anger and embarrassment out on the well worn keys of your old laptop. It was old, and a portion of the screen was completely black, but you loved the thing. And you didn't want to transfer all the data you had over here to a new laptop, that was more trouble than it was worth. 

And anyway, this situation was partly your fault. You had been dead tired when you booked this place. An Onsen was a classic choice for a work trip, and although this one was kind of expensive, only four people from your department could even make it. So low numbers ment less expenses, and also meant you could afford to splurge a little. So you booked two rooms, one for you and Akane, and another for your boss, Ango, and your coworker Jerry.

But anyway, you had thought you were going to share a room with your coworker, Akane, but she had decided to demand she share with her boyfriend, and you had jumped at the chance, thinking you would get a private room. But no, now you were sharing with your handsome boss. You really didn't understand why Akane was dating Jerry anyway. She was drop dead gorgeous, with long straight black hair and big, doll-like eyes. And Jerry was kind of, just average. But he was nice, you supposed, and that was just the way of the world. 

A knock sounded on the sliding door panel, and Ango peaked his head in. He sent you an apologetic little smile, pushing his glasses up his nose.

“It's time for dinner. We’re eating in Akane and Jerry’s room.” you closed your computer with a nod, standing up and following him out of the room and into the hall. It was silent, and the air hung with a strange awkward air. You coached, trying to make conversation. “I'm sorry this happened, Mr Sakaguchi.” You can't see his face from where you are, but he clears his throat. “It's alright, really.” You sigh silently to yourself. From his tone it sounds like he really doesn't want to share with you. It hurts, just a little. You ignore the panging in your chest and sigh. “I'm really sorry Sir, I would have liked to share with Akane, but she can be really convincing sometimes.” Ango’s shoulders stiffen, and he nods jerkally, with an awkward chuckle. “Yes, I suppose so.” And the both of you pad down the rest of the hall in awkward silence.

There is a large table set out in Akane and Jerry’s room, laden with delicious dishes. Your mouth waters, and you shove aside your hurt feelings for now and dig into the spread of delicious food before you. 

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆

You're left alone in the room, for now at least. Ango had informed you that he was heading out to the store to grab a few things, and promptly left you to yourself. The hot spring water is a soft milky white, and the steam rising off the surface scatters as your toe skims the surface. Ripples mar the previously untouched water as you slowly make your way in. The pool is large, about five feet in diameter and rounded, with decorative rocks by the wooden bamboo fence. Little plants run along the fence, ferns and pretty white flowers. The ceiling is painted with a beautiful starry night scene, to give the illusion of outdoors, and fake candles hide in the plants.

The address sitting by, the one that faces the room is more modern, with a thin Rock Ledge and a small basket for your towel. The fluffy white towels were provided with the room, along with some complimentary Yukata and only one futon, because of course. You think all the way into the water letting the soothing warmth sink into your bones. The ledge you are sitting on is beneath the water allowing the milky warm water to almost completely cover your breasts. You sigh, and lean your head back, closing your eyes. 

What a long, tiring, day it had been. First the long drive up, and then this dress of your co-workers insisting they share a room, and just because they were dating. And then after all of that along awkward dinner with your boss while the two of you watched your co-workers cuddle and feed each other the entire time. And then they had ditched both of you to definitely fuck. Yeah, so much fun.

You sighed, trying to cheer yourself up. You were being a bit grumpy after Akane had ditched you for her boyfriend. You considered her a good work friend, and even though you knew she was trying to set you up with Ango, you were still a bit salty. But honestly, it wasn't even that bad. The Onsen was lovely, and the food was delicious. The water was warm and delicious and soothed your bones, and you couldn't help the hopeful feeling that rose in your stomach. Maybe, something will finally happen between you and Ango. Even if the relationship was kind of inappropriate and you didn't think he liked you like that. You sighed, breathing deeply. 

The sound of the sliding door pulled you out of your musings. “Akane, that you?” You called, she had said she would stop by later. “You better have a good apology ready, girl.”The Intruder coughed, a distinctly masculine sound and your eyes shot open. And of course, because the gods were laughing at you, there stood Ango. He coughs again, cheeks pink and eyes avoiding your own. “Not Akane. Sorry. Um, I'll just go.”  he sounds strangely flustered, an emotion you haven't seen him express that often. You can't help it, you give him a potentially flirty smile. “You should come in, sir. The waters really nice.” Ango coughs again, his face turning redder, and you watch as his eyes dart between your collarbones and your face. 

And you really shouldn't, you know you shouldn't, but a theory is forming. A dangerous, sexy, hopeful theory. A theory that maybe, your boss has as much of a crush on you as you do on him. But, your theory needs more data, and so you rise slightly from the water, putting on an innocent smile. “You should really come in sir, and anyway, I need to talk to you. Mei was informing me the other day about some potential data leaks.” You turn with a smile, showing just enough cleavage to be a tease, but enough to spare your dignity if he declines. 

The man himself is still standing by the doorway, probably weighing the pros and cons behind those glasses of his. He’s still wearing his work suit, although his jacket hangs on a coat rack near the door, and he’s rolled up his sleeves a little, exposing his delicate wrists and hands. His hands are pretty, long pale fingers, ribbed slightly with blue veins, the skin slightly transparent. You want those fingers inside of you. Ango lets out the sigh of a very tired man, and with a push of his glasses, gives you a small nod. “I'll join you then.” He says, disappearing behind the bathroom door with a small smile. 

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆

This is honestly a disaster for his sanity. Ango knows it's a terrible idea, but he took one look at your smile and heard the damning words ‘data leak’ and feared for his future. Both for embarrassing himself and losing more sleep. He can hear faint splashing as he disrobes, folding his clothes and wrapping a towel around his hips to hopefully spare his dignity, at least until he inevitably gets hard and has to drown himself out of mortification. 

He peaks around the door, and his eyes catch on your back, the bit he can see above the water anyway. All he can see is the top of your shoulders, and of course your neck, as you’ve drawn your hair up. And somehow, that's actually worse because you're obviously naked but he still doesn't get a proper view. It feels like a tease. He takes a deep breath, straightens his shoulders and walks towards the hot springs. He’s grateful that you keep your view on the fence as he removes the towel and quickly slips into the milky water, sitting as far away from you as he can without being obvious about it, which is about three feet. You open your eyes, shooting him a little smile. “It's nice isn't it?” You say, leaning towards him slightly. Ango watches as more and more of your clear skin is revealed, and yanks his eyes away from the top of your cleavage, meeting your eyes. “The water? Um, yes it's very nice.” 

He doesn't have his glasses on, and you make a dangerously sexy picture, what with the slight fuzziness maring the edge of his vision. The world behind you is blurry, and not of any importance. It's almost like a photograph, with you at the center. You seem to have gotten slightly closer, and Ango can pick out a mole on your collarbone. It naturally drags the eye to it, and that is definitely why he has a hard time yanking his eyes away from it. “So.” He says, clearing his throat. “You said something about Data leaks?” Is it his imagination or are you leaning closer. He can smell you now, that damn orange blossom perfume that taunts his dreams. 

You're definitely moving closer. “Yes, Mei informed me that some of the files from the classified cases have vanished.” Your smile is too seductive. He must be projecting. You continue. “I think it was files…oh i don't know, ill have to clarify with Mei.” 

Ango clears his throat, focusing his eyes somewhere over your left shoulder. “The classified cases? Potentially how bad are we talking.” He says. You clear your throat, drawing his eyes back to you. At least he can focus on your face. It's very pretty, but at least it does not create problems other than speeding up heart rate. 

“Um, I believe Mei said it was some files about the Hunting Dogs? Specifically Fukuchi.” You lean back against the side of the Onsen, closing your eyes. “I think it was investigative data pulled out of a port mafia exec? Strange little details and stuff like that.” 

The stuff your saying is very concerning, and usually Ango would be having a mini heart attack, but right now your naked and you're less than a foot away from him and all Ango can picture, instead of the sleepless nights he’ll be having soon, is you on top of him, bouncing up and down. You’d sound pretty, he knows it. It's one of his most recurring fantasies, you naked atop him, bouncing up and down and moaning his name. He had it the first time in the middle of a meeting, and he would have been more embarrassed but he knew for a fact that half the men in the room were fantasizing about you. It was still embarrassing though. 

You're so pretty, with your hair pulled up into a messy bun, a few strands falling out and brushing your neck, daring Ango to lay pretty kisses to it. You would look so pretty covered in hickeys, or dressed in pure white at the end of a wedding aisle. Because Ango is quite sure you're the one. You're pretty and smart and kind and so, so sexy and Ango wants to have babies with you. And maybe he’s a little far gone and this entire thing is kind of pathetic and sad but right now he can't bring himself to care because you're smiling at him and Ango is just a sad little man with a sad little crush. Or he can't really call it a crush anymore, can he. He’s quite plainly in love with you. 

“Ango? Are you listening?” Your saying. He looked up guiltily, because he wasn't listening. And now he just noticed you called his name, not his last name, not sir, and he loves it. Maybe a little too much. You sigh, and Ango watches in slow motion as you move closer still. The water ripples as you move, and Ango sees flashes of nipple below the milky surface. He almost chokes on his own spit. 

“Anyay, as I was saying. I think some of it…” You lean closer, and whisper in his ear. “Some of it was from Ace? About Demon Fyodor.” This is important stuff you're talking about, but then again you're also really close to him and you smell like orange blossoms and your boobs brush him under the water and Ango’s hard. He’s definitely hard and he can still feel your nipple brushing against his arm under the water and there's no way you dont feel it because how couldn't you. And now your shooting him fuck me eye’s and Ango knows you’re doing this on purpose. And all at once he feels a sense of relief and embarrassment at the same time and then, he feels your hand grip his wrist, and pull it, ever so slowly, to your chest. Your skin is soft, your nipple hard beneath his palm and as Ango’s hand comes in contact with it, his dick jumps under the water. 

“Um, Name? Wh-what are you doing?” He says, trying to get ahold of his voice. He fails. You're smirking at him, because even as he protests, his hand is still on your boob. 

“I really like you, Ango.” You say, moving closer until you're pressed as close as you can be, your shoulders touching. “I would like to go out with you, if you feel the same.” Ango cant breath, because he’s a simp and the woman he was just imagining in a wedding gown likes him too, and he needs to respond. “I like you too, I really do.” He says. “I was wondering if maybe you want to get coffee sometime? And maybe kiss me? Please kiss me.” 

“I'd love to get coffee. And kiss you too.” You're smiling, less sexily now and more just happily, and Ango’s smiling too, and now you're crawling onto his lap, and pressing your lips to his. And Ango’s dreamed of this, many different times but none of those fantasies can compare to the real thing. It's just a soft press of lips at first, a chaste, deep kiss. A kiss that tells of love and devotion, and less of carnal lust. And it's lovely, so wonderful and Ango’s heart is singing in his chest, and it's just all so wonderful. 

It feels heavenly, like kissing heaven, because you are heaven, and your boobs are pressing into his chest and he can feel his dick pressing against your stomach and he wants to just enjoy the kiss but the slight bit of pressure makes his kisses turn desperate, and now he’s gripping your head, trying to inhale ever bit of your being through your mouth. Your so pretty, so sexy, so attractive and smart and he really wants to fuck you, so bad. He presses his tongue against the seam of your mouth, asking, begging really for entrance. You grant it, and your tongues tangle together, a dance of devotion, now turning to carnal lust. A desire to know one another through your bodies, to feel each other's feelings, really, truly and deeply. 

You break away, panting against his mouth, and Ango feels you grind down, taking your pleasure against his legs. “God, I want you inside of me.” You pant against his mouth. Ango nods, begging you to have your way, pleading for your salvation. Your hands reach between the two of you, and Ango bites his lip as he feels your hands on his cock positioning it, and then he feels a hot pressure envelop the head. 

He bites back another moan, instead opting to watch you as you bite your lip, and slowly sink down the length of his cock, enveloping him in your tight, wet heat. It's so hot, everything is hot. From the onsen water surrounding him, to your body pressed against his, to your panted breaths by his ear as you collapse against him grinding your body slowly.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆

It's always the nerdy ones who are huge. You're panting against his neck, slowly grinding in circular motions. His dick scrapes against your walls deliciously, his little bitten back whimpers make your pussy clench around him. It's all so hot, so big, so steamy. You slowly rise, dropping down again, and repeat. He spares you deep, so deep. You whimper in his ear. 

“God Ango. god your fucking me so deep.” You moan in his ear, his hair tickling your skin. He lets out a bitten little grunt, hands anchored on your ass, helping your slow thrusts. “I've wanted this for so long.” Ango pants out, his voice all soft and raspy, delicious hands helping another thrust. “Used to stare at your ass in those skirts. Tried not to, I'm sorry.” He sounds so wrecked and pathetic it turns you on. And besides, the tough of straight laced Ango taking peeks at your ass thrilled you. 

“Aww, did you like those skirts?” You coo. He moans, his dick twitching inside of you. “I bet you peaked down my shirt too.” 

“I did, ‘m sorry. You were so pretty and so sexy and—” you shut him up with a kiss. His kisses are deep, full of devotion and lust, almost as if he’s trying to mold himself into you. His dick is wrecking your insides, each deep thrust giving you a dizzy shot of pleasure. And with each grind, your clit rubs against his pubic bone, driving you absolutely crazy. You can tell he feels the same, each painted grunt and moan in your ear is a dead giveaway. You're not much better though, and you kiss his neck, trying to muffle your moans. 

“Let me hear them.” Ango pants against you, hands gripping your ass in handfuls. “Wanna hear your pretty moans.” He sounds wrecked too, and you can't even bring yourself to be embarrassed anymore. You let your moans out, letting them echo around the space. It's all so steamy and intimate. 

You feel your orgasm building in your gut, and you pull your face away from his neck, meeting his eyes. You're looking down on him from here, and it's quite the sexy view. He’s pretty toned, especially because he spends all of his time in an office, but the most catching thing is his eyes. They're locked on your own, hazy and half lidded with lust, and swimming with so much love and devotion you almost cum right there. 

“Ango, ‘m close.” You catch his attention, whimpering the words, whispering them, inches from his lips. He nods. “Me to my darling.” He says. The pet's name is so sweet, so devoted. It hurts your soul, and at the same time warms you from the inside out. But it's the next thing that gets you. “I love you Name.” He whispers, staring so deep into your eyes you might cry. 

You cum with a cry, the pleasure shooting through your body, the pure devotion in his eyes making your heart soar even as your pussy clenches around his dick. “Oh god, I love you too, Ango.” The words are a moan as you grip him close to you, grinding your clit frantically down on his as you clench. You hear him hiss, and then his dick twitches inside you, ropes of hot cum staining your insides. He comes with a tiny little whimper, muffled against your boobs, and the sweetest little whisper of ‘i love you.’ you kiss the words back. You guys sit like that for a long while, pressing little I love you’s into each other's skin, and as his dick comes back to life, making love until the morning.

...

Endnotes: I don't know how Japanese work trips work. I used what I've seen in anime and manga as a basis, and ran with that. I've also never been to an onsen. And it shows.also, have you guys seen that one Ango illustration with the kimono and the book, like i literally cannot do this anymore. I’ll link it for you https://www.pinterest.com/pin/146859637833737986/ 

[andreafmn]

12 Days of Ficmas ❅ Day 1

Word Count: 4.8K Paring:  Stiles Stilinski x Fem!Reader Prompt @alloftheprompts: Character A and Character B broke up but now they meet at a Christmas party.

Summary: In unpredictable Beacon Hills, Stiles and (Y/N) being together was one of the only things that made sense. But sometimes the smallest of changes can create the biggest of chaos. And a simple college admission letter can do just that. Maybe all it takes is the right Christmas gift to make things better.

A/N: yup, that's right, I'm doing 12 Days of Ficmas again (even if I haven't finished Kinktober 🫣🫣 but I am nothing if not a masochist (and a slight procrastinator) But enjoy!! This story actually made me tear up, honestly. But it wouldn't be one of my stories if there wasn't an insane amount of angst 😅 Also, disclaimer, I have not seen the last two seasons of Teen Wolf or the movie so, sorry for any inconsistencies.

Next ->

“Let’s just get this over with,” (Y/N) sighed as she fixed the Santa hat on top of her head. “They don’t have to know yet.”

“Yeah,” Stiles grimaced. “It’s better to wait until after the holidays, I guess.”

It was the first time Stiles and (Y/N) had ever been terrified to enter Scott’s house and face all of their friends. Even worse, they had to pretend everything was fine between them. 

Since they were little, the pair had been inseparable. Being next-door neighbors allowed them to grow close at a rapid pace. It was in her that he found solace on the nights his mother’s illness would take the best of her mind. He would run over to her house and climb the lattice that ran all the way up to her room. 

And she wouldn’t ask questions. (Y/N) would simply let him in through her window and distract him until he eventually drifted off to sleep. She did not need any explanations or reasons to comfort Stiles. She simply knew he needed her, and so she was there for him. Because if there was anything she knew of, it was the pain of slowly losing a parent.

They shared a bond that no one could break. Even as Scott entered their duo and they became the perfect trio, Stiles and (Y/N) shared a connection like no other. So, it came as no surprise to anyone when they got together. Even after Stiles had continuously professed his love for Lydia. Even after (Y/N) and Boyd had a quick fling. Everyone knew that it would be the two of them at the end of the day. 

What no one expected was that one day, they wouldn’t be Stiles and (Y/N) anymore. Hell, not even they had seen it coming. 

Their downfall had begun the second week of December. For some reason, the couple had not spoken about what happened after high school. In their senior year, they were focusing on the present, leaving the future where it was. Because what they didn’t know couldn’t hurt them. 

(Y/N) had applied under early action to various colleges, thinking nothing of it. But there was one college that had been her dream since her father had passed, and that was her only early decision application. She had worked every day since to make sure she was at least close to being accepted. But it was never a sure thing. 

She had promised herself to put it in the back of her mind. Stressing over that envelope would only drive her into madness. As much as she wanted it to be true, she knew the reality of the situation. The chances she could ever get in, much less with a full ride, were slim to none. And hoping only made things worse.

Still, that hadn’t stopped her from applying; it hadn’t stopped her from wishing. 

“Honey,” her mother had said one afternoon after she got home from school. “Look what came in the mail.” 

In her hands, there was a white manila envelope with blue lettering that clearly read: University of Oxford. 

(Y/N) could have sworn she could feel her heart in her throat, beating at an unnatural pace and threatening to leap out of her body. She crossed the distance between her front door to the kitchen faster than she had ever done before, needing to feel the paper in her hands. Only seeing it was not proof enough that it was real. 

“I don’t think I can open it,” the girl worried. “What if it’s bad, mom?”

“You won’t know unless you see, my darling,” she smiled softly. “But no matter what, you will still be the most impressive young lady I have known. And any college would be lucky to have you.”

With trembling hands, she broke open the envelope and pulled out a beautiful and crisp piece of white paper. “Dear (Y/N) (Y/L/N),” she read before taking a steadying breath. “It is with greatest pleasure that we inform you that the Admissions Comittee has decided to offer you admission to Oxford University through our binding Early Decision (ED) option on a full scholarship.”

As (Y/N) read those words, tears spilled from her eyes, and the papers fell from her hands. Her mother wrapped her arms tightly around her, showering her with words of love and encouragement. It had been everything she had worked for. Something not even the supernaturals of the world could take from her. 

“You’re going to Oxford, baby girl,” her mother cooed. “I knew you could. Your dad would have been just as proud as I am.” 

That moment should have been the happiest in her life so far. But there was a dark cloud that lingered over her as she celebrated. She had not told anyone she was applying to a college so far away, much less the reason she would be doing so. Mostly because she was terrified she wouldn’t get in. But part of her knew it was because she was leaving all her friends behind, leaving Stiles behind. And that was the hardest part. 

For the rest of the week, as she celebrated internally, she hid the biggest news of her life from all of her friends and the boy she had deemed the love of her life. Anyone would have thought she was the one harboring a secret supernatural life with the way she was guarding her secret. And, maybe it shouldn’t have been something she kept to herself. Maybe they would have all been excited for her and understood the reason for the distance. But something deep in her stopped her every single time. 

If her friends had noticed there was anything different from her demeanor, they didn’t say a thing. In the midst of final exams and the Christmas holidays soon approaching, everyone seemed to be stuck in their own heads. So, if they were in their heads, they couldn’t know there was something happening in hers.  

But that Friday night, at the same hour Stiles would always sneak in, (Y/N) knew there was no way she could continue to hide her secret any longer. 

“Come on,” he chuckled as he jumped onto her bed, holding his arms open. “Tell me what’s going on with you.” 

“What do you mean?” she said, forcing a smile. “Why do you say that?”

“You know you can’t lie to me. I may not have super hearing, but I can tell, (Y/N).” 

“Yeah,” she chuckled softly. “You know me too well.” 

“Of course I do,” he smiled as he crossed the distance between them and caressed the softness of her cheek. “Now, please, tell me what’s wrong?” 

That was it. That was the moment that had changed them, the moment that had broken them. 

(Y/N) took a steadying breath and took his hands in hers, focusing on the veins on his hands rather than his worried eyes. “I got a letter last week,” she started with a sigh. “I told you about all the colleges I had applied to as early action.” 

“Of course, you bright mind, you,” he said. “Did you already start getting the acceptance letters?” 

“Uh, there’s another college I actually applied to. Early decision.”

“Like binding early decision?”

“Yeah, exactly,” she said, her voice trembling as she spoke. “I, uh, I applied to the University of Oxford. And I got in.”

Instead of embracing her, Stiles dropped her hands, taking a step away from her. “In England?” he asked as though he was offended. “Why would you wanna go that far?”

“It’s not about the distance,” she grimaced, finally meeting his hurt eyes. “It’s about what that school means. That’s where my dad went to school. That’s the place my parents met. That was the school that started my entire life, Stiles.” 

“So, why didn’t you tell me about it? If it was so damn important, why did you never mention it?” Stiles seethed, tears forming in the corners of his eyes. “You wanna start a new life, is that it? Follow in your parents’ footsteps and meet the love of your life there? Great, (Y/N). And you made sure you did it in a way you couldn’t back out.”

“Stiles, that’s not…”

“So, what? Were you gonna wait until graduation to tell me that you were moving halfway across the world to get away from us? From me?” the boy cried. “Or were you simply going to disappear and start a new life without telling anyone? But I guess that’s your thing now, huh? Keeping big shit like this until you can’t anymore.”

“That’s not fair, Stiles,” she frowned, hugging her arms tightly across her torso. “I didn’t want to get my hopes up, so I didn’t say anything. That doesn’t mean that I would have never told you about it. I’m not looking to escape. I’m looking to start my future.” 

“And it looks like you were starting it without me then,” he croaked. “What does that mean for us, (Y/N)? We ride it out until graduation, and then you leave for the rest of your life?” 

“I don’t… you wanna b-break up?” 

“It’s inevitable now, isn’t it?” Stiles said in a tone that broke her more than the words he was speaking. “You’re gonna be in England, and I’m gonna be god knows where. It’s better just to do it now.” 

That night was nothing like she had imagined it would be. She had hoped Stiles would have been excited for her and promised her everything would be alright. That somehow he would have the answers to how they could withstand so much distance because they had to make it. Out of everyone in their friend group, those two had to make it. 

Instead, it had taken a turn for the worse. One second, Stiles was standing before her with a smile on his face, and the next, he was leaving through her window with tears streaming down his face. What she had most been dreading was that scenario to play out, and a week before their friend’s holiday party, it had. They had gone through life-threatening and mind-boggling situations, but it was a college acceptance letter that broke them apart. 

The coming days (Y/N) spent buried in bed. Although she should have been celebrating one of her biggest achievements –other than saving lives and defeating many, many creatures– she had wasted more tears during that time than she had done the past years of her life. She was distraught and defeated, and she had no idea how she would make it through the last semester of high school, much less how she would have made it through a Christmas party. 

Somehow, they had arrived at Scott’s house at the same time, even after she had made sure she left twenty minutes after Stiles. The universe liked to play its mean tricks, but that one was almost unforgivable. 

“Let’s just try to stay out of each other’s way,” he grimaced. “The less we are near each other, the harder it’ll be for them to find out.” 

“Harder to find out what?” Scott asked as he swung the front door open, his signature goofy grin stretched across his mouth. Instinctively, Stiles draped his arm around (Y/N)’s shoulders and smiled brightly. “Ooh, did you bring your brownies, (Y/N)?” 

“Yeah,” she smiled. “Still warm from the oven.” 

“Wouldn’t be a party without them,” Stiles commented. “Now, let us in. It’s kinda cold out tonight.” 

The second they were inside, Stiles broke for the living room while (Y/N) moved to the kitchen with Scott. She set the tray on the overfilled kitchen island, noticing to the side that the dinner table was perfectly set up. “Oh, the table looks nice,” she commented. “But I thought we’d be doing something more low-key.” 

“Yeah,” he chuckled awkwardly. “Lydia thought it’d be fun to do a more grown-up dinner party.” 

“Yeah. Place settings and everything.” 

“We were waiting for you guys to start eating,” he said. “We’re doing gifts after.” 

“Sounds like a plan.” 

Slowly, the rest of the group trickled into the kitchen, greeting and hugging (Y/N) as they looked over all the food and served themselves their plates. And, of course, her seat was right next to Stiles’. Even if she had wanted to sit anywhere else, the rest had already taken their assigned seats, and the only open spot was the one that had her name. 

She gave her ex-boyfriend a small smile, looking anywhere but into the brown of his eyes. Her heart beat against her chest, threatening to jump out of her body. It made her fidgety as everyone ate, thinking any of the wereanimals around her would be able to tell how she was feeling. 

But Scott was laughing with Stiles, Malia was talking to Lydia, and Hayden, Liam, and Mason had their own conversation running. (Y/N) was all by herself. She was surrounded by all the people she loved, but it was the loneliest she had felt in a long time. Without the usual comforting words from Stiles, she couldn’t help but feel so out of place. It was the happiest time of the year, but the girl was miserable, and it hurt that it didn’t seem like the boy she loved was sad as well. 

“Alright,” Lydia spoke up as everyone ignored their mostly empty plates. “Now that our bellies are full, I think it’s time for Secret Santa! And I truly hope you all kept it a secret this time.” 

“Not that it’d matter anyway,” Liam chuckled. “We all know we ask for help every time.” 

“Anyways,” she said, ignoring the soft laughter that erupted from the group. “Let’s go to the living room, and (Y/N) you’ll go first.”

“Oh, uh, sure,” she smiled as she followed the group into the living room. She crouched under the decorated Christmas tree, pulling out the gift that had been there for almost two weeks. “I got Lydia.” 

“How wonderful!” the redhead mused, quick to hug her friend and rip away the wrapping paper. Inside the gift box was a mosaic picture of Lydia, Allison, and (Y/N), the first time they had finally considered each other friends. “Oh, it’s beautiful! I wish I could take it with me everywhere.” 

“It was hard to get it just right, but I loved how it turned out.” 

“It’s perfect, (Y/N),” she beamed. “Thank you.” 

“Of course. I love you, Lids.” 

“Love you too,” the girl said as she wrapped her friend in a tighter hug. “My turn!”

Lydia had gifted Liam nine books out of his TBR list —nine because of his lacrosse number. Then, Liam gifted Scott a new leather jacket so he could “actually look cool when riding his motorcycle,” Liam snickered. Scott then gifted Malia a light blue hoodie to add to her ever-growing collection, while Malia gifted Hayden a journal and pen set, saying it was for when her mind felt too busy. After a warm smile and a hug, she announced her gift was for Mason, laughing as he pulled out an ugly cat sweater. Once the loud laughter subsided, Mason gifted Stiles a massage mat for his Jeep. 

“For when you’re taking really long drives,” the boy smiled, clearly proud of himself. “There’s quite some distance between here and D.C. It’ll come in handy.” 

“Yeah,” he chuckled as he hugged Mason. “Thanks, man. It’s great.” 

“Don’t mention it.”

As Mason sat back down, Stiles cleared his throat as he pulled the last gift. Everyone knew by then who it was for. There was no one else left. “Well, I guess you all know who this is for,” he said. “I hope you like it, (Y/N).” 

The girl received the bag with a soft smile, trying her best to swallow the tears that were threatening to spill. She had forgotten for a second how cruel the universe could be. She pulled out the white tissue paper first before finding a beautiful brown bear dressed in a blue knit sweater. Around its neck, there was a necklace with something she could only assume was a soundwave. With curiosity washing over her, she looked to Stiles for an explanation. 

“Uh, so, it’ll make a lot more sense if you press the bear’s hand,” he stammered. Once she died as told, the sound broke her. From deep in the belly of the teddy bear, her father’s voice rang out, singing the words of “You Are My Sunshine.” There was not a single night when she was little that her father didn’t sing that to her, and even as she grew old for the lullaby, he would call her sunshine. “I got a recording from your mom of your dad singing the song when you were a baby,” Stiles spoke over the music. “And the necklace is the image of the soundwave of your dad calling you sunshine.” 

Tears had long since fallen down her cheeks, clutching the bear in her arms as though it was her own father. With her eyes closed, it was almost as though he was right there, singing to her. But it was what came after the song that shattered her. “You’re gonna do great things, (Y/N),” her father said through the bear. “I love you forever, my little sunshine.” 

At that moment, all she wanted to do was hug Stiles and kiss him like she had done a million times before. That was the boy she had fallen in love with. The one that cared and listened. The one that had made her heart race and her stomach turn into butterflies. She wanted to tell him she loved him and never let him go, but she couldn’t. Just like she could never do with her father. 

“I, uh,” she said as she stood from the couch, feeling as though she would faint in the crowded room. “I need some air.” 

(Y/N) stammered her way out of the living room and through the front door, only allowing herself to break down when she was at the end of the driveway. She fell to her knees and hugged the bear to her chest as she cried, letting the hurt that had accumulated over the years spill onto the pavement. In less than six months, she was going to walk into a new life halfway across the globe without the support of her father and now, without the support of Stiles. All alone. 

She should have been celebrating. She knew that. She should have been crying tears of joy and jumping into her love’s arms. Instead, it was the bear’s arms that she could feel. The softness of its fur, the sound of her father’s voice. 

Without even realizing it, she had begun singing along to the lullaby, sniffling between words as the tears didn’t relent. “You’re gonna do great things, (Y/N),” her father said once more through the bear. “I love you forever, my little sunshine.” 

“I love you too, dad,” she cried. 

“Hey,” his voice startled her. Through teary eyes, she looked up to find Stiles draping a jacket over her shoulders. He slid to the ground next to her, facing the house before them as she was now. “I’m sorry. I bought the gift weeks ago, and I wasn’t sure if I was still allowed to give it to you.” 

“No, it was… i-it was perfect,” she stammered, running her hand over the bear’s fur. “It’s just everything rushed over me. Like the breakup, the fact that I won’t be here next year, the fact that my dad won’t even see me gradua…”

Another string of sobs ransacked (Y/N)’s body, but that time it wasn’t the bear she was hugging. Stiles had wrapped his arms around her, pressing her into his chest. She could smell his cologne and feel his warmth, a feeling she had missed for the past seven days. All she wanted was to melt into his touch and profess to him all that she felt. But she couldn’t. Not anymore. Because he didn’t want it. 

“I didn’t want things to be this way,” she cried into his chest. “I didn’t want everything to fall apart.” 

Stiles remained quiet as she cried, a hard feat for someone like him. But he let her cry and cry until only quiet sniffles filled the air. Because he hadn’t wanted things to be that way either. 

He knew he had overreacted. When he had told (Y/N) his plans of enrolling in George Washington University all the way across the county, she had told him they could make it work. Especially if she got into any of the ivy leagues she had applied to on the East Coast. It had been fine. Hell, it had been perfect. 

But when she told him that she wouldn’t just be a couple of states away but that she would be on another continent, he couldn’t help but let his abandonment issues take control. 

He knew she was brilliant. He knew she deserved to do and be all that she had dreamed. But he feared that once she achieved all of her goals, he would just not fit into her life anymore. 

“You’re gonna go on to do great things, (Y/N),” he sighed sadly as her tears stopped. “You’re gonna go to Oxford, just like your parents, and you’re gonna probably graduate at the top of your class on your way. And I’ll be here —well, in Washington, technically—cheering you on.”

“But why couldn’t we be great together, Stiles? We couldn’t we both go on to do great things, together?”

“Come on, (Y/N). Once you’re there, you’re gonna meet so many people, and you’ll have guys falling on their knees for you,” he chuckled dryly. “I won’t fit into your new world. I mean, you said it yourself: that’s where your parents met and your life began. And now, maybe you’ll have a new beginning. And years from today, we’ll run into each other, and you’ll tell me about your job and your husband and your kids, and I’ll be so happy for you. Because you serve all the love and happiness in the world, even if it’s without me.”

“Have you even asked yourself if that’s what I want?” (Y/N) asked as she left his warm embrace, her red eyes boring into his. “I’m not leaving because I’m searching for a new life. I want to go to Oxford because it’s one of the last things I can share with my dad. I can walk down the same halls he did, I can take classes in the same classrooms, and eat at the same places he did. But I was always going to come back, Stiles. Because my friends are here, my mom is here, because you are here. I don’t want to run into you and talk about another man or the kids I would have with him. I don’t want to run into you at all. I want to walk beside you, Stiles. If I ever have kids, it’s only if they’re a part of you too,” she cried, fresh tears falling down her already-stained cheeks. “If you don’t love me anymore, then fine. I can understand that, and I can walk away. But don’t you dare say that you wouldn’t fit into my life because you’ve been there longer than anyone I know, and I need you to be there until the end. Because I already lost someone important to me and I can’t lose you too. Not you.” 

“(Y/N), I don’t want to lose you either,” he sobbed. “But how can we fight with the distance? How could we ever withstand the fact that we’ll be an ocean away?”

“We have gone through worse battles than a plane ride, Stiles. We have been on the brink of death more times this past year than any person would in their lifetime. Do you really think being in a different time zone is the limit to our relationship? I know the future isn’t promised but you were the one person I always knew would be there.”

“I’m scared, okay?! I’m scared that you’ll meet someone better than me, (Y/N). I’m terrified that you’ll realize that maybe I’m not the guy that can give you your happy ever after,” he finally confessed. His voice croaked, and his chest heaved as the words fell out of his mouth faster than he could ever stop them. “This week has been torture without you. But it’s made me realize that Beacon Hills has always been too small for you. After May, you’re gonna go out there and find your place. And this town will be nothing but a memory you’ll come back to.”

“There is no one better for me than you, Stiles, and Beacon Hills will always be my home,” she replied softly. Her cold hand found his cheek, and she wiped away his tears with her thumb. “I don’t want to know a life where you’re not there. You can’t give up on us without even trying, Stiles. You just can’t.” 

Without thinking twice, (Y/N) crashed her lips onto his, sinking into the warmth of his mouth. After a week, kissing him felt like the very first time. It was desperate and filled with need —the need for closeness and passion, the need for love. Instinctively, Stiles’ hands found her waist and pulled her closer to him, wondering how he ever thought he could live without her touch. 

“I love you, Stiles, and I don’t even want to think about ever having to love someone else,” she whispered as she parted from him. “My heart belongs to you. And if this is the end, it’ll still remain in your hands.” 

“I couldn’t love anyone else like I love you, (Y/N),” he replied with a soft smile. “But I just can’t help the thoughts that flood my brain sometimes.” 

“Then don’t listen to them and listen to me when I say that since the moment I met you, I’ve known you were it for me. There is no other man waiting for me in Oxford. It’s you, and it will always be you,” (Y/N) said before kissing him softly once more. “You’re the best thing that has happened to me, Stiles Stilinski, and you’re the only thing that I want to keep happening to me.”

“I can’t believe I ever broke up with you. Especially during Christmas,” Stiles chuckled as he rested his forehead against hers, flicking the tip of her nose with his own. “It was honestly the worst week of my life.” 

“Including being possessed?” Scott’s voice startled them as he came into view. “Although, I get it because this was completely avoidable.”

(Y/N) chuckled as she took Scott’s extended hand and got on her feet, wiping away any tears that still remained. “Did you hear that whole thing?”

“More or less,” he chuckled. “It’s a bit hard not to when I was coming to see if you guys were okay.” 

“We’re good now, Scotty,” Stiles grinned. “Just had some unresolved feelings to work, though.” 

“Can you not mention the whole thing about the breakup? I don’t wanna make it a whole thing.”

“That’s a bit hard, (Y/N),” Malia called from the open front door. “We all kind of already know.”

“Oh, cool, great,” she said as she hid in Stile’s embrace. “That’s not embarrassing at all.”

“Eh, at least our parents are back together,” Liam commented. “Best Christmas present.” 

“It really is, huh?” Stiles whispered as he kissed the top of her head. 

“Yes. Very cute and adorable,” Lydia added in a desperate tone. “Now, can we go back inside before Hayden and Mason finish all the brownies?”

As the group walked back into the house, Stiles and (Y/N) shared one more moment together on the front porch. “Hey, look up,” Stiles said with a smile. “Mistletoe.”

“Funny that they’d hang that at a werewolf's home,” she chuckled. “Although, I’m pretty sure that one’s plastic.”

“And I’m pretty sure you’re supposed to kiss me.”

“Maybe I’m waiting for another guy to kiss under the plant.” Stiles frowned at her words, and all she could do was laugh. “Too soon?”

“Much,” he said. “Now, come here.”

He snaked his hands on either side of her face and kissed her passionately. He kissed her for every day they had spent apart. He kissed her for every hurtful word he had spewed. He kissed her as a promise of his love for her. Stiles kissed her like she was his future. 

Next ->

My content will always be free, but if you’re feeling particularly generous, you can leave a tip on any of my posts  or buy me a coffee to support me and my love of writing If you’d like to be tagged in every 12DoF work, any fandom or story: click here Make sure you have my notifications on so you know every time I post!

Taglist:@bellabadacadabra@winter-soldier-101@zheezs14@cevans-winchester @andreiafaaria @bluetreecloud20@sunshine2894@skyesthebomb@esposadomd@blueshoelaces@then-worship-at-my-altar@yuki254

@honeylovemoon @beckiej0073-blog @baebeepeach @cecehensonn @catgirlpwr@magimtz23@perle-noir22@adaydreamaway08@hufflepuffobsessedwithmarvel@thatgirljayy@sugasthreedollarkookie @laylaskywalker @fandomonetwo @fruitylilfuck @haroldpotterson@yaskna@elijahssuit@ellabellabus07@scarletdfox@halleest@sunflowerleii@shara-ne@nngkay @mar @saltedcoffeescotch @thecollectorofwords @gabi-princesada1d @zealouscookierebeltrash@sleepilysworld@laylasbunbunny@treatiseofselena @american-sataness @brittany-appleyard24 @avada-kedavra-bitch-187@ivory-raptor@euphoria1992 @hopexargent @druigsluver29 @fresita1218 @the-house-of-rose-and-ember@elizabeth916@heccatee@cerejinha

@caosfanblr @heartfilia01 @shadowwolfqueen @jinxxangel13 @arcaurix @cheshirecat484 @venusesworld

[mondaymelon]

𖥔 ݁ ˖⩇⩇:⩇𝟣.𖥔 ݁ ˖

⤷ a halloween event hosted by @mondaymelon !!

taglist: @manager-of-the-pudding-bank, @iamdedinside, @ilyuu, @achlysis, @swivy123, @silaswritesthings, @neigesprincess, @mintydump, @kaeffeinee !!

“...That’s the briefing. Any questions?” Sango uncrossed her arms, glancing up from the paper she was reading off of. It was a chilly evening at the Bantan Sango Detective Agency, and you regretted not bringing an extra layer of clothing with you to work.

You sighed, your exhale turning white in the frosty air. The sky had already blended black, tiny pin pricks of bright stars resembling white paint scattered on a midnight canvas hung like a dusty backdrop. The days had been growing colder of late, and the maple leaves that loosely clung to the trees now blanketed the cobblestone streets. “Typical of you to hand me over to some tiring task right before the festival… that other guy, genius detective Shikanoin Heizou, why not ask him instead and spare me the trouble?”

The brunette’s expression grew strained. “You know I don’t talk to him anymore. Besides, he quit a long time ago. He works for the Tenryou commission now, and I hear that quite the skilled man. Wherever he is, he always finds a way to boast about him, I suppose…” Her voice trailed off with an exasperated groan. “It doesn’t matter. Are you going to take the job or not?”

“Do I really have a choice?” Judging by her scammer-like smile, you already knew the answer before you asked the question.

“Nope.” And just like that, she thrusted the manila folder of information into your arms, several pieces of paper flying out of it in the process. “Have fun, I’ll see you at the Halloween Festival later!” She sprinted away before you could even get in another word.

As expected. Sango was rather stone-faced, yet she only grew more and more animated as you got to know her. You didn’t know exactly what happened between her and that redhead detective, but you weren’t one to pry for details the other wasn’t willing to provide. Besides, you still had Ryuuji to pester for help… not. He had long since gone home for a weekend vacation.

“This is why I’m miserable.” You shook your head, reluctantly glancing through the information in the files given.

[ 48 missing people.

No attacks on children. Prime targets seem to be young adults regardless of gender.

Only three bodies have been retrieved.

Bodies are drained of blood. Puncture wounds in neck. Inscriptions on body...

Last event was Oct 24. Tanaka Oda, aged 24. Inferred to have gone missing at night. Had gambling problems but otherwise was a clean slate. ]

“Shit, this sounds like something from a legend… couldn’t these just be wild animal attacks?” You examined the photos, spotting the sunken eyes and dry flesh. “Ah, but unless it was an 8 foot tall bat… and the runes. How the fuck would a bat write? The work of a cult, maybe? Human sacrifice has been a thing before, and that would certainly explain the markings on the corpses, would it not…?” You didn’t have enough evidence to come to conclusions now, nor the sufficient amount of sleep. You had never exactly been the most intelligent, which made you question why Sango had even assigned this case to you in the first place. To give it to the least capable detective in the workforce must’ve meant that it must be an insignificant mystery, right? Then it’d only be a while until all the threads came unraveled. That, at the very least, provided you with a sense of comfort.

That sensation was a fleeting one, shattered by the shrill cry of a woman in the distance. High-pitched. Terrified. You snapped your head up, hastily shoving the evidence in your arm and sprinting towards the sound. It happened again, a broken cry piercing through the misty night. Smoky tendrils swirled in the air and curled around your ankles.

Where had the civilians gone? There wasn't a soul in sight. There were no lights in the windows. Food stands were left unattended as smoke rose from their stoves.

You pulled out into a clearing. There she was. She couldn't have been more than twenty years of age, her paper-white skin contrasting with the pink on her cheeks. Her kimono was strewn, creased as if someone had grabbed her with force. You could see the blood seeping from the bite wound on her neck. Her skin was icy cold. Her pulse had gone dead.

No. Not a wild animal.

This... A word, one spoken in storybooks, flashed in your mind.

There wasn't time to dwell on it. You could feel your heart pounding against your ribcage. There was someone. In the alleyway. They had seen everything.

"Huk...!"

He made a sound, then his body crumpled to the ground.

His inanimate corpse glowed with a sinister energy. Lines of foreign words circling around his arms and chest blazed forth, shining a deep red against the black night. A tongue you couldn't comprehend. A forgotten, ancient language that had long since been buried.

His body gave a spasm, shaking. It was as if he was a doll, and his joints creaked and groaned as they bent in upon themselves. Where his heart should have resided instead was a crystal-cut ruby, quivering in the open air. His eyes bulged, and then they were no longer there, bursting into a fountain of red. Then, he stilled.

He didn't move again.

Silence. Suffocating. There was something building in the back of your throat. You could taste the bitter bile on your tongue.

"F...Fuck."

Two bodies, cruelly bent and misshapen. The woman in the clearing, the blood pooling from her wounds growing cold. Her face was an almost ashen gray, and her dead marble eyes stared blankly into the sky. What was there to look at?

Then, the man. Twisted arms hung morbidly from his frame. His bloody, mangled sockets lay bare as they gazed at nothing at all. His bloodied body slowly dissipated as ashes in the wind. It was the smell of iron.

You exhaled a shallow breath. You could feel the tremble of your hands as you held them over your mouth. Shit. Shitshitshitshitshitshit. You wanted to scream, cry. You shouldn't. You couldn't.

Droplets of crimson lay scattered on the ground. A trail of blood.

Blackened remains of the cursed. A trail of his ashes.

ᴛʜᴇ ꜰɪʀꜱᴛ ᴛʀɪᴀʟ.

next

[woeswrites]

Yandere Will Graham

Warnings: Yandere themes, Obsessive behaviors, Brief mention of rape/rapist, Dubious consent (mention of sex while under the influence), etc.

Notes: I am trying to be active again (fingers crossed). Headcannons are a really easy way for me to get the creative juices flowing. Don't be surprised if a few more come out after this one lol.

You were a recent survivor of an attack

No, it wasn't the Chesapeake Ripper

It was just some other wannabe serial killer trying to get his rocks off

He had a dumb, stereotypical name too

The midnight slasher? midnight butcher?

Something like that

The media wasn't very creative with it

Whatever his name was, he'd clearly had a type

Young men

All of a similar stature

With the same hair and eye color

All known to known be up at all hours of the day

It was a pretty open and shut case in Will's eyes

He was a plain and simple lust killer

Most likely white and in his 30s-40s

Classic closet case turned homicidal

He hadn't seen why the FBI was so stumped on the whole thing

The only real trouble was the lack of DNA evidence

He'd been real good at cleaning up after himself

Will knew he'd slip up eventually

This wasn't the type of guy to be so well organized for long

Well--

Does being murdered by your most recent victim count as a slip up?

Because that's exactly what happened

He was called to the scene with the rest of the team

The sight of you trembling, covered in blood, and standing over top of that creep was his first impression

You met his eyes and he was unable to pull away

Something about your tear blotched face held him captive

Jack tasked him with asking you questions about the events at hand

Normally this would have annoyed Will

He wasn't the talking type

Let alone someone sensitive enough to make such a traumatized person feel comfortable

But something in him didn't mind so much

Maybe it was the way you looked so vulnerable

Or the fact that no matter how much he pushed the idea away, he saw himself in you

An innocent man turned murderer under the right circumstances

"I'm Will Graham and I'll be asking you some questions."

"God, okay. I'm Y/n. Can't really say it's nice to meet you."

Will tried to start off slow

Ask the basics before moving onto the more pertinent information

You'd answer to the best of your abilities (considering the circumstances)

It took Will a second to jot down your responses

He'd get a little too caught up in your features to notice you'd stop talking

"Sorry, what was that? You got off work at 9?"

There was something admirable about your attempts to infuse your story with a bit of dry humor

Likely a coping mechanism

But Will found himself smiling a bit at your quips

By the time he'd finish up with you he'd felt a little attachment form

Sure the case was over on his end

But it didn't stop him from asking Jack about you

At least a couple times a week

"How's things going with that self defense case? Y/n's...?"

Will showed up the next day with your case fill on his desk

The sticky note stuck to it warned about annoying Jack with too many questions

He'd spend all night re-reading the details

Without noticing he began slipping in and out of re-enactment mode

Imagining you on top of him

Knife in hand

Crazed look in your eyes

He tried to shake the image away

He shouldn't be doing this

It wasn't right

You could've died that night

His guilt ridden thoughts did nothing to lessen the tent that had formed in his pajama pants

He tried to push the idea of you out of his head

Usually he'd have more control over himself than this

His resolve was strong at first

He'd hidden the manila folder away in the depths of his lower drawer

Telling himself he'd drop it

That worked for a couple of days

That was before he started dreaming of you

Events that he hadn't preformed himself took ahold of him

He became your attacker that night

He chased you

He ripped apart your clothes

He was the one who you fought off

He's the one who you thrust that knife into

And he loved every second of it

Wait--

No, he couldn't

This was just his empathy disorder

Yeah!

He was just in character

This definitely wasn't him

He would never want to do any of that stuff

And he'd prove it

He had memorized that file from front to back at this point

It wouldn't be weird that he'd known your address

He was an FBI consultant

It was basically warranted

Will found himself picking out his best clothes that night

His newest jeans, tailored shirt, the works

Not for any particular reason

And his bed was definitely not littered with rejected articles of clothing

This was just going to be a simple checkup, it's not like it really mattered what he looked like

He showed up on your doorstep with the nicest bottle of wine he could find

"Will? Is that you?"

"Uh, yeah it is. Would I be able to come in?"

You welcomed him in, albeit a little confused

"I thought my case was cleared..."

"That's not what I'm here for. I just wanted to check in on you."

You smiled at this

And Will felt his heart ache

You'd invite him to join in on your sorry excuse for a dinner

He'd never accepted anything so fast before in his life

It didn't take long before the two of you got into the wine he'd brought

It was innocent enough at first

Just drinking and talking

You'd mention how life was after the attack

Will shared a little about his experience with GJH

Its the first time he had ever felt so utterly connected with another person before

But then the two of you got a little more than tipsy

And Will found himself leaning in

One kiss turned into another and another

Will felt a sense of static overtake him

Every touch between the two of you sent shivers up his spine

He felt the strong urge to consume

Before either of you knew it your clothes were now in a heap on the kitchen floor

You woke up the next morning with a splitting headache

Oh-- and an FBI agent in your bed

Shock was an understatement

That was when the memories of the previous night flooded back

Will woke up at the loss of warmth

Last night was the best he had slept in years

You wrapped tight in his arms, bodies perfectly intertwined

His heart sank at the look of regret on your face

"We definitely shouldn't have done that. I think you should leave Will..."

He couldn't just leave now

Not knowing what he did

That you two were made for one another

He'd try to calm you down

"Y/n let's talk about this."

You weren't having it

Mentioning how inappropriate this all was

You'd shove his clothes into his arms

Will tried to console you

Not realizing why you were so worked up

You both did just have the best night of your life after all

You'd back away but he'd continue approaching

"C'mon I know you don't really want me to go. Let's just take a second before we make any rash decisions"

"We aren't doing anything. I want you to go. Now."

Something about him coming over while you were still recovering from your distress and it all leading to this...

It just didn't feel right

Will tried to approach once more but you pushed him away

He couldn't help the smile that made its way onto his face

"Push me. Go on, make it hurt."

You were absolutely bewildered

He reached out and grabbed ahold of you

His grip was almost crushing

Like he was holding on for dear life

"I won't leave you alone that easily. Fate brought us together for a reason. You feel it too right? We're one in the same. We're each other's destiny."

He looked crazed, sweat slipping from his brow

It felt just like that night all over again

The knife in your hand as your attacker bled out

Only now Will took his place underneath you

[lazarusrisingx]

Alright so this’ll be my first official one shot for this account yippee!! Im starting off with something fluffy cause ya boi hasn’t written fan fics in quite a while (yes i was a fan fic writer before but i wanted to start over cause i abandoned that account tee hee)

summary: A fluffy one shot where sylus teaches you to ride his motorcycle and you..kinda fail at it

also for one shots i think im gonna use MC instead of Y/n as the name? if yall want me to change it for the next one just lmk.

this story also diverges from the actual lore of LADS, its mentioned theyve already had some past ‘romantic’ moments tee hee.

triggers: mentions of scrapes and blood, no serious injuries, motorcycle incident without helmet, uhhhh there isnt really anything triggering so yeah! just pure fluff and scared sylus

might be a bit ooc sylus but im tryna stay true him, also excuse my bad spelling im gonna autocorrect everything but im writing on my phone so don’t judge.

okay lets get it peoples!!

————————————————————

It was a relatively nice day in the N109 zone. Crime seemed to hold itself for the crisp cool weather that decided to roll in over night. The sky was less murky grey than usual and a few patches of blue peeked through fluffy white clouds. The sun was near setting as MC and a certain silver haired man sat in his office.

“..you want to what?” Sylus asked, not looking away from a manila folder in his hands.

“I want you to show me to ride your motorcycle.” MC repeated.

The tick of the grandfather clock was the only sound that could be heard for a few moments. MC felt for a moment she might want to take back her recquest, but Sylus silently set down the folder he held and leaned back in his chair with a sigh.

He rubbed his eyes, and folded his arms, studying the girl without expression.

“If you do-“

“Your telling me the great wanderer huntress doesnt know how to ride a simple motorcycle?” Sylus interrupted. the edge of his lip quirked up in a slight smirk.

MC narrowed her eyes at him.

“Its not in the training for us to be taught to ride or drive.”

Sylus tilted his head, before speaking again.

“You mean you dont even know how to drive?” It sounded as if he was holding back a laugh.

“Will you teach me to ride or not! I can hire an instructor if you wont.” MC said, purposefully dodging the question of her driving skills.

She had thought about asking Sylus before, but lately the two of them hadnt had a single afternoon to do anything besides… questionably legal missions. It was so nice out that she thought itd be a shame to spend it in this dark and dreary office.

Sylus stood up without a word, dragging his coat off his chair and picking up the manila folder. He punched a code into one of his many safes and placed it inside for safe keeping, and went for the door.

“Are you coming? Or should i roll out a red carpet for you sweetie?”

MC stood up quickly, a smile sliding across her face as she followed him out of the room.

The two walked down the hall of his house quietly. She felt excited, and slightly nervous. Sylus didnt seem like the most compassionate teacher she couldve found. however spending money on an instructor was something she never intended to do in the first place.

Sylus glanced down at her as the two stopped by his room.

“you cant wear shorts, and I cant wear dress pants nor this shirt. Go get changed.” Sylus said as he opened the door.

MC gave him a questioning look as he opened the door for her, leaning against the wall waiting for her to enter.

“I dont have clothes here.” MC stated.

Sylus shook his head, his hand twitched and an invisible force pushed MC forward.

“I had the twins pick something up for you in case you needed to stay here for a while, itll be the third drawer from the bottom sweetie.”

the surprise on MC’s face mustve been obvious, because a quiet chuckle left Sylus.

“Dont look so surprised kitten, we work together enough that if you end up injured under my watch I’m not going to send you home to recover alone.”

“How do you even know my size in pants?” MC asked as she lifted out a pair of jeans. surprisingly they looked as if they would fit quite nicely.

Sylus leaned over her, his chest brushing over MC’s back. He was much warmer than she thought he might be, and the contact sent a slight spark of electric through her. He opened the top drawer of the dresser and produced a pair of black pants and a nice fitted black shirt for himself. MC glanced up to find Sylus peering down at her with a curious expression. Was that a smile she saw? If only for a split second. Sylus lingered against her for a few moments, pretending to look for soemthing else before taking a step back.

“I told them to look in the kids section.” He said.

MC turned to scold him, and found him unbuttoning his dress shirt, his silver hair dangled in front of his eyes as he looked down, the shirt parting just enough to expose a strong muscular chest, before MC promptly turned around her face turning bright red.

“Ill find a bathroom.” She said quietly.

“Straight ahead sweetie.”

She made a bee-line towards it, not looking back to see how Sylus’s eyes followed her, or the smirk on his face as he pulled his shirt off.

MC shut the door behind her, heart pounding in her ears. It was an odd reaction since she had seen him shirtless before. although it was different because this was unexpected.

She wiped the image from her mind and quickly got changed. Sadly, the pants fit her perfectly. MC was truly curious as to how Sylus or the twins figured out her size but it wasnt something she was ready to look into.

MC walked out from the bathroom, Sylus was dressed in all black his shirt was tight enough to show the outline of his abs, and make his arms look incredibly huge.

Sylus was finishing a message to someone on his phone. He glanced up at MC once before he finished the message.

“letting the twins know we will be out for a bit. I expect youd like to go to dinner after we are finished?” Sylus asked.

“mmm sure, I saw a hot po-“

“im picking where we eat. I dont feel like going to linkon tonight.” Sylus interrupted

He stood up and opened the door for the two, motioning for MC to walk out before him. She obliged, and the two walked in silence to his garage. Sitting in a parking spot was his usual black and red bike. The paint shiny from being newly washed, not a speck of rust nor dust decorated the expensive equipment.

“do you atleast know the basics of controls?” Sylus asked.

“theres the clutch, throttle and break. i know that much.” MC responded.

Sylus nodded, he pulled the kickstand up on the bike and began to slowly walk it towards the exit.

“Mine has some.. enhancements, so youll have to go easy on the gas. turning is fairly self explanatory. but as i said before take it very gentle. I dont want a scratch on this bike.”

MC nodded and followed behind him. She was getting nervous now, but she knew Sylus had a decent driveway that she would be able to drive around, that way she could avoid any extra cars or pedestrians. the few times she had driven a car, she had done fairly well, although went a little slower than the speed limit… by ten miles.

If anything, her only worry was annoying sylus with how careful she was!

The two walked out of the small garage and into the cool outside. wind rustled the small trees and birds chirped quietly around them.

“Get on here.”

Sylus held out his hand as he kept the bike steady. MC carefully got into the drivers seat and set her feet on the rests.

“put a foot on the ground so the bike can tilt when i let go.” Sylus said

“like this?”

MC put one foot on the ground, and Sylus let its weight rest on her. It was heavier than expected but nothing she couldnt handle. He took a step back and folded his arms.

“Turn the keys in the ignition, let it roll forward a bit so you know how itll feel.”

MC fumbled with the key for a moment and the engine roared to life. She smiled proudly, and looked to Sylus who was to focused on watching her slowly roll forward.

“Turn the gas a bit, and ride to the edge there, you dont need-“

MC thought she had pressed the gas lightly. she really did. Instead, the bike shot forward across the driveway, pointed not towards the grass, but the exit to the driveway. A scream escaped her as she pulled her foot onto the rests.

The wind ripples through her hair as she sped towards the entrance to the street, the handles wobbled in her hands, and within a second she was flung from the bike.

Metal screeched awfully on concrete as the bike was sent skidding towards her. Her body tumbled over the driveway, the rip of jeans and the feel of gravel driving into her arms didnt feel like much as she watched the bikes path heading straight for her.

MC threw up her hands, curling up expecting to be hit by the skidding motorcycle, but the impact never came.

The sound of heavy footsteps and muffled yelling made her open her eyes. Her vision was blurred, and her ears rang slightly. In front of her was a barrier of black and red smoke, instead of hitting her, the bike had been stopped not a second to soon.

“MC! For fucks sake!” Sylus yelled.

MC began to shake a bit, not from the pain in her arms and legs, nor the throbbing headache from hitting her head. She scrambled to her hands and knees. Sylus was running towards her, an unfamiliar expression on his face. His crimson eyes glowed brightly from using his evol.

“Sylus i-i didnt think itd be so sensitive!”

the barrier dissipated and MCs heart lept into her throat. the bikes previously shiny paint was nearly fully scraped clean, the seat had a few tears in it, the handles previously rubber grip was now worn down to the metal on one side. there was a bend in the rim of one of the wheels.

Tears filled MCs eyes as a mix of anxiety and fear pierced her heart. His bike was ruined! the one thing he had told her not to do was crash this, and less than a minute on it she had!

MC’s hands brushed over the ruined paint job, she barely noticed the blood dripping from her arm or down her hands, nor the pain of dirt being gritted into her badly scraped knees.

“What are you doing, what are you doing?” Sylus asked.

he had dropped to his knees beside her, grabbing a firm hold of both arms, that same unrecognizable expression written all over his face. his grip was firm, but MC didnt look away from the bike.

“Your bike! Sylus is swear i didnt mean to do that! I was gentle l-like you said I didnt think-“

“the bike? the fuck are you on about sweetie look at you!”

His voice was harsh and demanding. his eyes were still glowing crimson as MC finally looked at him. She was trembling badly. finally she noticed the blood now coating his hand and her arm. her lip was also split down the middle, and a cut on her cheek.

“I-ill pay for the bike Sy-“

“the bike? you think i give a fuck about the bike i have ten more just like it.”

He dragged the two of them to their feet.

“but you said-“

“your hurt.” Sylus said plainly.

His eyes scanned her wounds as if he was looking for something.

“Its nothing-“

“we are going back in.” Sylus stated.

in one swift motion he lifted MC off her feet, carrying her like a princess. MC was speechless as he stepped over the bike, walking quickly to get the two of them back into the house.

“You dont care about the bike?” MC asked.

Sylus glanced down at her.

“Why the fuck would i care about a damn object right now.”

MC paused for a moment, she stared up at his face, now noticing a thin layer of sweat over his forehead, his eyes darting back and forth and he looked… pale. was he scared? panicked?

the last thing MC expected from him was concern over a few scrapes and bruises. Well, maybe they werent scrapes. with each step her adrenaline wore off, and throbbing pain came over her entire body.

Sylus brought the two of them to his room, slamming the door open. The twins stood there together, talking back and forth.

“Boss- wait is she-“

“get out.” Sylus said gruffly.

“Boss are you alright? you look-“

“I told you both to get!” Sylus yelled.

The twins looked at the both of them for a moment, before scurrying out of the room.

“They could patch me up sylus you dont have to do this.” MC said quietly. he ignored her as he gingerly set her on the plush comforter.

“sylus the blood, i cant ruin more of your things.”

“why do you think i care about ‘things’ MC. sit down and wait for me. if you can get into your shorts put those on or im taking your jeans off myself.” Sylus said.

MC watched him enter the bathroom and rummage around. She didnt know what to think. of course her first thought was that he would be more concerned for his bike, he had seen her get hurt by wanderers before and hadnt seemed so… upset by it.

She found her shorts on the floor and slowly peeled the ripped jeans off herself and tugged on her shorts. her leg was definatley sore and bruises already began to blossom over her thigh. the concrete had rubbed away quite a bit of skin, blood dripped down her leg and onto the floor now.

without a word sylus came back in, his eyes had finally stopped glowing, and in his arms he held rolls of bandages antiseptics, tape, and cobain.

“i can do this myself Sylus.” MC said

“no.” Was all Sylus had to offer.

a wave of black and red smoke pushed MC back onto his bed. it wasnt as rough as usual, almost like a cushion pressing her into place.

Sylus knelt down in front of her. eyes narrowing as they scanned over her leg.

“shouldve been more careful.” Sylus mumbled.

“i know im sorry.” MC replied

“no, not you. I shouldve been more careful. that bike has enhancements on it, its to much for a beginner i didnt think about it.” He said.

MC grew quiet for a moment.

“well i wont die.” MC said, trying to lighten the mood.

Sylus didnt seem impressed. he hesitated his hands hovering over her leg before he grabbed a damp cloth and began wiping blood from her leg. His hands were calloused from boxing and fighting, but he was much gentler than MC expected.

“you wont die, but you still got hurt.” Sylus said after a moment.

he folded the cloth over itself and cleaned the edges of her wound. He gently brushed one of her scrapes, causing MC to grimace.

“sorry.” he mumbled quietly.

his free hand left the bed where it was planted, and gingerly took hold of hers.

“squeeze when it hurts, you wont harm me sweetie.” He said. His crimson eyes flicked to hers making a bolt of electric shoot through MC’s heart. she hesitated, before giving his hand a gentle squeeze.

sylus’ shoulders relaxed a bit after this. he picked up a new cloth, and doused it in antiseptic.

“it has lidocaine in it, but it might sting a bit.” Sylus said

Thankfully, he didnt try to clean the wound in sections. he paused for a moment and pressed the cloth firmly to her scrapes. MC grunted and squeezed his hand. When she looked back at him he was gently rubbing his thumb against the uninjured portion of her leg, looking at her with that oddly concerned expression.

“better?” he asked.

MC nodded her head letting out a breath. He lifted the cloth, now that the area was numb he was able to thoroughly clean the bits of dirt out. the process was repeated over the second patch of scrapes on her calf. Sylus slowly wrapped her leg in cobain and gauze, before sitting on the bed beside MC.

“are you alright sylus?” MC asked.

He had kept his usual snarky comments to himself the past few minutes and it was slightly worrying. Sylus turned his head to her and looked her up and down.

“you shouldve worn a helmet.” He said quietly

“well i wasnt intending to drive more than five feet.” MC replied.

a small smirk came across Sylus’ face.

“five feet? I thought youd have more confidence in yourself sweetie.” Sylus said.

MC laughed quietly and shook her head.

“my teacher didnt seem to have much confidence ‘ride to the grass’ i beileive you said.” MC replied.

Sylus quirked up an eyebrow.

“it seems i was right doesnt it?”

He gestured to her still injured arm, and held up a clean cloth.

“still got another spot to take care of sweetie.” He said.

MC groaned quietly, but turned so he would have a better angle for it. She looked away and waited for him to begin cleaning the wound. instead he leaned towards her, his hand slipping around to the back of her head and pulling her forward. MC nearly protested, but Sylus placed his hand on her back after resting her head to his chest.

She could hear his heart, beating extremely fast for someone so fit.

“just… a moment.” Sylus said quietly.

MC practically held her breath for a moment, before taking in air. his cologne smelled nice, a mix of fresh spices and expensive cigars. the muscles under her head her soft but firm. his arm resting around her body in a hug. Sylus was hugging her.

tentatively, MC put her good arm around him. it felt right, her anxiety and worry began to slowly melt away the longer they stayed like this. her eyes grew heavy, and she began to relax more and more against him. he was so solid, his chest rose and fell under her, slowing down after a moment or so.

“dont worry about the bike sweetie. really. im more concerned about the fact you were… injured.”

MC smiled slightly.

“The great leader of onychinus is concerned for me?” MC asked

a chuckle vibrated through Sylus’ chest. he almost sounded releived.

“more than youd know MC.” Sylus said quietly.

MC’s heart fluttered slightly. she closed her eyes as Sylus began to move again, his free hand found the back of her head, beginning to rub her hair gently as he pressed the cloth to the side of her arm. It wasnt long before the two had to seperate to allow sylus to wrap her arm.

“Why dont we order food tonight. I dont really feel like going out again.” MC said.

Sylus cleaned up the bloody cloths and nodded his head. he began to make his way towards the bedroom door.

“you pick the spot, ill pay.” Sylus said.

“absolutely not, i just trashed your bike-“

Sylus stood up and in a few strides crossed the room to stand in front of her, he leaned down and tilted her chin up to make MC look at him.

“how many times do i have to say that i dont care about the bike, just that you dont have a damn head injury?” He asked.

MC stared up at him for a moment, Sylus brought her face a little closer, speaking quietly now.

“I got you hurt today MC. The least i can do is pay for a damn meal.” He said.

MC couldnt help but look between his eyes and lips. was she insane to think about kissing him now? they were so close, and it wouldn’t be the first time one of them had made an attempt like that. Sylus scanned her face. did he just lean in more?

There was a knock at the door.

“Boss? we were just wondering if you needed us to get the bike out of the driveway.” One of the twins said.

Sylus looked dissapointed, and slightly annoyed. he released MC and turned away from her, going to the door and opening it.

“Ill come out and help you, one if you dispose of these. MC, you might want to change your shirt. Ill be in the living room when your done, sweetie.” Sylus said.

MC was left alone in his room. bright red blush creeped over her face as she slumped back on his bed. She was cursing herself slightly. Part of her was angry she even thought of kissing him, the other half was angry she didnt.

She flopped over onto her stomach groaning loudly before she sat up again.

Another uneventful night of eating in.

———————————————————

maybe ill make a smutty part 2 to this one? maybe not straight smut but some good steamy kisses and things like that idk.

uhhhhh yeah! i havent written in a little while so i dont know how good this is or isnt!

if yall have any ideas for other oneshots then just lmk. im currently working on the storyline for a yandere!sylus x reader fic so i might drop some teasers for that when i can.

in the meantime ill alternate between fluff and smut, i can do some sad stories to but they gotta have good endings cause i cant stand my mans to be sad like that.

also gonna work on some zayne material because i love my mans zayne just as much as sylus if not a bit more. i feel like he doesnt get enough love fr.

okay byyyyyee hopefully this was good.

please credit me if you share this story

[bro-atz]

elevate [bro's 500 — jinsik]

[forced proximity, smut, ceo!au, jinsik/afab!reader]

requested by: 🎧

word count: 1.5k

content: smut, kissing, oral sex, hand job, blow job, completely consensual!

author's note: mmm yes i changed it from ceo to managing partner but close enough right? anyway enjoy

Jinsik had a huge crush on you. You were a powerful, independent woman who worked her ass off to become managing partner at your firm, and Jinsik found that incredibly hot. So hot, in fact, that he would always get super flustered whenever you entered the bullpen to check in with the paralegals.

Not only were you a badass, but you were also the sweetest human being (but could tear someone’s head off if need be), which just made you more and more desirable not just to Jinsik, but to everyone at the firm.

As much as Jinsik liked you, he couldn’t. For one thing, it was crazy that he, a lowly paralegal, could even dream about being with you, the high and mighty managing partner. The other thing was that you were not allowed to date within the firm. That was a big no-no, and one of the senior partners made that abundantly clear to him when he first joined the team. So, he just had to settle for appreciating from afar.

So, when he got stuck in the elevator with you, his brain was on fire, and his brain cells were sprinting around trying desperately to extinguish the fire.

You were beautiful that day with your tight blouse and gray pencil skirt that hugged your waist and hips just right. You had the cutest little scowl on your face as you pressed the help button over and over again, and Jinsik had to keep himself from staring before all of the blood in his body rushed straight down to his waist.

“Is this button not working or something?” you huffed angrily. Your tone then became gentle as you apologized with a slight laugh, “I’m so sorry, Jinsik… I’m sure you’d rather be out enjoying your night.”

“N-no, I was just g-going to go home and go over these c-case files,” Jinsik stuttered.

“Oh, which case are you working on?”

“T-the nuclear power plant m-meltdown…”

“Oh! That’s going to be a tough case. Do you have the files with you right now?”

Jinsik nodded rapidly before producing the manila folders from his bag. You accepted the folders from him and started leafing through the various documents, looking at his notes. Jinsik gulped nervously as your eyes darted back and forth on each piece of paper only to sharply inhale to keep himself together. You ran your fingers through your hair and brushed it back, and while it was something so simple, there was something about the way you did it that turned him on to the max. Doing his best to hide it, Jinsik covered his crotch with his bag and started to slink away from you while hoping and praying you wouldn’t notice his consternation.

“Jinsik, are you alright?”

Fuck, you noticed.

“Y-yeah, um, yes. I just, I just need to sit— No! I can’t sit! Fuck— Oh my God, I am so sorry for swearing in front of you— I’m just, I’m losing it, and—”

“Jinsik, calm down, please.”

How the fuck was he going to calm down when you kept saying his name with that honey voice of yours?

“No, I can’t— I mean, like, fuck— Oh shit— I’m so sorry! Fuck— Oh God, why am I doing this?!”

Jinsik looked ready to hyperventilate. You tried your best to calm the poor thing down and get him to breathe normally by placing a calming hand on his shoulder, but that was worse. That was so much worse. Physical contact with you was turning him on even more. Bad.

That’s when you finally noticed Jinsik pressing his bag against his waist so firmly, his knuckles white, and his hand shaking. Jinsik saw your eyes travel downwards, making him burst into flames. God, he was so embarrassed. He wanted the elevator to suddenly crash to the ground for the world to end or anything just for him to get out of this situation with any amount of his dignity left.

“Isn’t it uncomfortable, Jinsik?” you whispered while leaning closer to him, trying to get a look at exactly how far along he was.

“Y/N, I’m so, so, so sorry…”

“Don’t apologize, it’s only natural,” you told him gently while softly stroking his shoulder. “You must be so uncomfortable, though.”

“I— I am…”

“Let me help you since I don’t think we’re going to be out of this elevator anytime soon.”

“W-what?”

You dropped the files to the ground before reaching for Jinsik’s bag. He reluctantly let go of the bag and let you toss it to the ground as well. His hands were desperately trying to cover up his crotch, but you were having none of that. You moved his hands to the side and cupped his bulge, Jinsik’s eyes nearly rolling to the back of his head just at the feeling over his clothes.

“Y/N,” Jinsik said while breathing heavily the more you massaged his dick over his clothes. “Can I touch you?”

“Of course you can,” you responded while bringing your own body closer to his.

His hands slithered around your waist and he hugged you close, his body rolling against yours as his impatient hands groped your body here and there. He was still panting as he brought his lips mere millimeters from yours, teasing you slightly as he tilted his head as if he was going to kiss you.

“Can I kiss you?”

“Yes please.”

With one hand on the back of his neck, your lips met his, your own body now trembling with excitement. You unbuckled his pants and undid his fly before diving your hand down his underwear and producing his hot, throbbing cock. Your fingers ran up and down the length of his dick, your nails tickling the tip as you continued to lock lips with him. Jinsik moved his hand so one was grabbing your hair and messing it up like anything while his other hand strayed to your ass and gripped it while pulling upwards.

A moan left Jinsik’s throat when you began to stroke him properly, his pre-cum allowing your hand to glide up and down with ease. You stroked him slowly as he moved his hands to your blouse, unbuttoning it and pushing your bra upwards so he could firmly massage your breasts, making you groan into his mouth when you felt his fingers twist and play with your nipples.

The friction from your hand and his cock made him feel like his entire body was on fire, and he wanted to release his load, but he wasn’t quite there yet. You knew that too, which is why you ended your intense make-out session and sank to your knees. Jinsik watched with shock and complete and utter lust as you took him into your mouth slowly until your lips were pressed right against his pelvis.

You quietly gagged as you moved your head slightly from the base of his cock to a little away from him over and over again. You only gagged louder when Jinsik ran his fingers through the roots of your hair and gripped tightly, moving your head at the pace he wanted.

“Yes, oh wow… Just like that… Mmm, fuck!”

Jinsik’s groans and sighs filled the elevator as you throat-fucked him. When he bucked his hips towards you, he swore quietly under his breath, the profanities not stopping. You held onto his thighs and dug your nails into the cloth covering his thighs, but your nails were still leaving tiny little crescents that he could feel on his skin, stimulating him further.

He was about to pull out of your mouth and release his load onto your face when he suddenly remembered that there would be no way for him to clean you or anything up for that matter unless one of you decided to forego a piece of your clothing. He was struggling to hold his orgasm until he could figure out exactly what to do, and before he knew it, ropes of his cum shot to the back of your throat. His dick throbbed and twitched in your mouth as he came harder than he ever had before, embarrassment washing over him once more.

The embarrassment only piled on when he looked down at you to see you arching your back and looking up at him with wide eyes, his cock still fully in your mouth. He covered his mouth and bit back a gasp when you swallowed the entire pool of his cum. His cock was starting to get hard again, but thankfully, it immediately went limp when the elevator speakers went off.

“Hello?! Are you still stuck in the elevator?”

You released Jinsik’s cock and wiped the residue from your lips and chin before standing up and walking to the intercom.

“Yes, we are. Took you long enough.”

“My apologies, ma’am. We’ll get you out of there as soon as possible. Hang tight.”

Jinsik, meanwhile, had dressed himself, his face still a light shade of red. It only got redder when you fully turned towards him and began straightening out your own clothes, giving him a beautiful, brief view of your breasts before you fixed your bra.

“Fuck, Y/N…” Jinsik whispered. “I need more of you…”

A slight smirk appeared on your face. You walked up to him and pressed your chest against his as your fingers worked on the buttons of your blouse. You brought your lips to his ear.

“Let’s get out of this elevator, and I’ll let you do whatever you want with me tonight.”

bro's 500 event | bro's 500 event masterlist

bro's 500 taglist: @eyeryis @sinnarols @nakiiko @haebaragisworld @hyukssunflower @aaasia111 @k-hotchoisan

apply for the taglist here!

[photmath]

Comme Les Fleurs - Chapter 8

Chapter 8: Aurèle

Summary: Left with no other options, Kylian must rehab his newly injured leg at a stranger’s home for the next month and she isn’t at all what he expects. Meanwhile, Aurèle has to deal with easily-irritated and sullen Kylian as she opens her home to him.

Word Count: 7.2k

Warnings: SMUT (18+), MDNI, some angst, kissing, fluff

Note: Oh, these two, always up to no good.

Aurie had come home quietly, the manila folder had burned an imprint into the passenger seat of her car. She wasn’t sure if Kylian was home but for what it was worth, she hoped so. She didn’t want to go into the night without talking, and she knew he wasn’t going to miss his scheduled rehab session, despite them both being thirty minutes late. She hadn’t even rushed to leave the nursing home when she realized her and Camille spent too long talking.

As she walked into an empty house, she placed the manila folder behind a set of planted pots. Was there a potential million euro check casually sitting on a dresser not hidden well? Yes. But she could care less for the moment being.

She explained to Camille everything that happened in the car, at the tennis match—everything. She told her how intoxicating it was to feel so carefree despite Kylian sitting next to her. She showed her the pictures of her with Serena and Naomi, her sister absolutely elated for Aurie to have experienced such unique opportunities.

Aurie also showed her the message from their mom, told her about the lecture she got from her in the rehab room, and the lengthy conversation afterward with Kylian where she explained to him everything that happened.

Although Camille was happy for her and advised her for hours at the nursing home, she also had to remind Aurie of what could transgress because of Aurie now being pictured on social media with Kylian. And it happened fast. They already knew her first name and her social media accounts. Someone had spread a rumor that she was Kylian’s manager and despite it being false, she was thankful that it distracted them from the truth for the time being.

It scared Aurie, but she had her own priorities to focus on before she added something else to her already heavy plate, and as long as her socials were private, she was calm.

That was until the front door opened and Bleu’s wagging tail weaved through the kitchen to greet the person home. Aurie perks her head up at Kylian, clad in black dress pants and a long-sleeve, white button-up shirt. The cuffs were folded up to the middle of his forearm and the first few buttons were undone, the tie hanging loosely around his neck.

If things weren’t so tense, she’d tell him how handsome he looked.

“Hi, chérie,” he gives her a warm smile.

She forces a thin-lined smile, “Hi, Ky.”

He walks over towards her, looking at the leftovers of the soup he made her, “You haven’t eaten?”

“No, have you?”

“Mm-hmm,” he responds, pulling his tie off of him and curling it up in his hand. He watches her diligently as she warms up a bowl, standing an arm’s length in front of her. Kylian wants her to ask him what he had for dinner—or anything for that matter—but she doesn’t.

Instead, she moves around him and takes her bowl to the dining room table. He sighs softly, following her and sits in the front chair.

“We have a session tonight, right?”

“Was supposed to start thirty minutes ago.”

“Is that why you’re upset?” he questions, his hands folding in his laps. “I’m sorry for being late.”

Aurie resists the urge to scrunch up her face or say something back. It wasn’t because he was late, she had been late as well and to hold that over his head would make her a hypocrite.

Both of them grow silently impatient with the other as neither speak.

Kylian grinds his teeth together, “What’s going on?”

“I’m trying to eat.”

Pursing his lips once more, he proceeds, “We both have things to say, so do you want to talk after you eat, during rehab?”

“Sure.”

Kylian gets up from his seat and goes upstairs to change into a different set of clothes. Throwing his tie across the room, he plops down on the bed with a groan. He feels the end of the bed shift in weight and he rolls his eyes as Maple’s gray fur comes into contact with him. She was purring loudly, bumping her head into his hand until he gave up and stroked her head.

“I don’t get her sometimes,” he whispers to her. Her purrs only get louder as he continues talking, “I’m usually so good at reading her mind, but I can’t right now.”

Maple lets out a meow and Kylian sits up, giving her one last pet before standing up and changing out of his clothes. He takes his time, hoping Aurie doesn’t feel rushed to finish eating before he finally heads downstairs. She wasn’t at the dining table, so he walks towards the rehab room where he sees her flipping through a textbook.

“Oof, you brought that out,” he chuckles, trying to lighten up the mood.

Aurie only gives him a curt smile, a coarse laugh escaping out of her, “Just for one exercise.”

As she finally set up the bicycle with a barely-there resistance, instructing him to not go past a certain number of revolutions per minute, were they finally talking.

Kylian started first: “I disliked how you handled my heat exhaustion.”

“What did you dislike about it?” she asked, watching the bike stat’s monitor.

“It was a lot, Aurie. You didn’t tell me what was going on before you did anything. You usually do.”

“What do you even remember about that?”

“I remember you stripping my clothes off—”

“Lower your speed,” she instructs.

“—I would have at least liked to have been told why you were doing what. I mean come on, in front of Paul and Mac.”

Aurie sighs, having to listen to him talk and monitor his speed at the same became difficult. She was listening and made sure not to interrupt him, but it was challenging when she wanted to yell back despite feeling so tired. This was the latest they had ever done rehab, a whole hour later yet it felt much later. She still needed to shower afterward before bed.

“So?” Kylian tuts, “Why did you do it?”

She crosses her arms, looking at him finally and his expression suddenly softens from her red-brimmed eyes. Immediately concerned, he swallows as her shoulders slack. He regrets his bratty attitude seconds prior.

“Your heart rate was too fast at the time. You’re an easily-queasy person, so if I were to tell you in that moment that you could have a heat stroke, you would’ve panicked and caused one yourself just from panicking. I needed to act fast, and one of the best ways to do so is by submerging your unclothed body in ice cold water. Given that we were not near a bathtub, I chose to drench you with water at that moment.”

Kylian stops pedaling, his arms uncrossing and falling against his waist, “Oh.”

“I’m sorry that I let you get to that point,” Aurie whispers. “I should’ve noticed that you were drinking so much water and that your skin was clammy and cold. I was distracted with my own thoughts…not focusing on you.”

Kylian shakes his head, standing up and stepping towards her, “Wait, no, Aurie. No you aren’t allowed to blame yourself. I’m sorry that I didn’t realize what was happening was serious.”

“Had I not been—”

“No,” Kylian cradles Aurie’s face in his hands, tugging her closer to him. “I was short-tempered at the time, irritated, and hot. I didn’t mean to come in the way of you doing your job.”

Aurie peels his hands away from her, “But you have! You have come in the way of my job. Every single day, I’m distracted by you. By your manners, the way you care so much, the way you take care of me. I mean Kylian, we were supposed to be out of the limelight, away from the cameras, and here I am wanting to bring you to the Roland Garros. What happened to the rules we had in the beginning? They’re gone. We’ve both come so lenient and now look at us doing your rehab so late.”

Kylian turns towards her, “We both made those decisions though, Aurie.”

“And something could have seriously happened to you.”

“But nothing did because you were right there. I might’ve been unwilling, but you were going to do what you needed to do anyway, weren’t you?”

“Yes,” she quiets down.

“I had the signs, sure, but you said it yourself sometimes it can just happen. I haven’t been in the sun for a while, so maybe that’s why it happened.”

Aurie frowns, “You’re only proving everything I should’ve seen.”

Kylian steps towards her as she steps back, “No. Stop bringing yourself down. I’m not going to let you do that, and it doesn’t seem like you want to be here all night.”

Aurie leans against the treatment table, folding her arms. She didn’t do anything wrong, but staring at Kylian wasn’t enough to convince her. The increased inflammation of his calf he had because he had to drive her to the hospital mocked her. His heat exhaustion. Their first encounter with Lucette. There were so many little things now coming to light because of her mishaps.

Was everything out of her control? There was nothing she could grasp, nothing she could hold onto and define that it wasn’t going to throw a curveball at her. That there would be no tricks.

Her pets? They’d be there. The Summer Gala? Well, that was up to her. And Kylian? He was the fastest spinning ball there was.

Kylian shifts his weight on his leg, worried from her blank expression, “Aurie?”

She shakes her head, “Come on, let’s finish this up.”

If there was one thing she was going to attempt to control right now, it was going to be his leg and damn the time it was.

Forget the money, forget Kylian going against her wishes to not make a donation. She would express her concerns in the morning when they were both well rested because she couldn’t continue looking at him and seeing him this way. Especially when he wasn’t deserving of the entire wrath.

Kylian, on the other hand, fought visibly expressing his annoyance at her changing the conversation. He could tell there were still questionable thoughts behind her tear-stricken eyes. He knew if he pestered, she’d say it was nothing.

“Okay,” he mutters, hopping back onto the bike.

That was the last bit of conversation they had, moving along the night in silence as Aurie told him what to do next, her hands guiding his leg and hip every now and then. Her touch still burned his skin, and it was different to not have a flowing conversation through the session.

But they were tired. The day had been way too long for the both of them.

After his shower, he checked his phone for any missed calls from his dad and he was unsurprised to see both of his parents had called him and texted him. They wanted to start his discussions of a transfer, still gunning for a done deal before the July preseason matches began.

Walking upstairs, he tiptoed slowly past Aurie’s door, resisting the urge to look through her ajar door. The light from her lamp crept into the hallway. He sighed and turned around, peeking through the gap to see her laid across her bed. He stepped closer to her room and entered the room to turn off the lamp.

She looked tired, evident bags underneath her eyes as she stirred. He bent down to kiss her forehead briefly before turning towards the lamp. Little trinkets of hers surrounded it, he wished he could ponder their significance, but Aurie stirred again. He turned off the lamp and used the light from his phone to go back to his bedroom.

---

Aurie woke up to the pittering pattering of rain, but also Bleu’s jingling collar as he went back and forth in the corridor. Kylian shushed him, earning a whine from Bleu as he raced him down the stairs.

She groaned, flipping over and throwing the blanket over her head. She wanted more sleep and coffee at the same time. She begrudgingly sighed, getting up and starting her day by making her bed and brushing her teeth.

Going downstairs, she sees Kylian with her red umbrella through the backyard door throwing a frisbee away from Bleu as he takes off, catching it and then running back towards Kylian. She starts the kettle and goes outside, leaning against the door as Kylian flings the frisbee once more.

She twists her face, “What are you wearing?”

He looked ridiculous. Shirtless, black shorts with socks stretched to his knees, and of course chunky black shoes that looked abruptly slipped into. Kylian turns around, a wide smile adorning his face, “Good morning, chérie.”

“You look like a mess.”

“He wanted to play.”

“So you found time to put on socks but no shirt?”

He shrugs, “Priorities.”

Aurie rolls her eyes, a smile ghosting her lips as Kylian walks towards her. Her eyes stay on his, fighting every urge to glance down at his chest.

He smirks, “How are you?”

“I still feel tired.”

“Yeah? You want me to make you a coffee?”

“I have the kettle on right now, no need.”

He nods slowly, glancing at Bleu running back towards them, “He jumped on my bed, you know?”

“I told you,” she shrugs. “They’re a lot.”

“I didn’t mind it, but he scared me.”

“And Maple? She wasn’t with me last night.”

He rolls his eyes, “She slept at my feet.”

Aurie snickers, Kylian’s head snapping towards her lips. He hadn’t heard a version of a laugh in hours and it warmed his heart. He blushed as she spoke, the words going in one ear and out the other.

Bleu nudges his thigh with the frisbee and he throws it once more, Aurie’s eyes not leaving the contracting muscles of his shoulders as he swung it. A few water droplets had the pleasure of hugging his skin as they trailed down his back.

She shudders, “I’m going to go make my coffee.”

“Okay.”

She goes inside, a bit jittery as she makes her cup. Her eyes land on the corner of her manila folder as she takes a sip. One more talk, and then finally their troubles could be pushed past behind them.

Kylian comes inside, a coy smile dancing across his face as he sees Aurie. His excitement is contagious, earning a nervous giggle from her all of sudden. She wants to roll her eyes at herself for having no self-control, but Kylian looked breathtaking: his eyebrows perked up in delight, strong shoulders still glaring at her, and the awful excuse of shorts she had ever laid eyes on. They were short and tight with only a finger-length room for him to breathe in.

She doesn’t even have to remind him to wipe Bleu’s paws, he takes the towel and does it himself before turning around to face her.

“You’re staring, Aurie,” Kylian winks as Aurie looks at him. She shakes her hand, turning around to hide the mess of her flustered state.

“Go put on a shirt.”

He laughs, following her command and going upstairs. She wishes the coffee were hotter, more bitter, so that her mind wouldn’t be so focused on how his chest caved with each breath he took.

Goodness.

Kylian’s thumping footsteps make her glance at him as he nears, now in a navy zip-up that exposes more chest than usual. There was no undershirt underneath—of course. His eyes, however, are focused on something else: the folder. Eyebrows furrowing, he grabs it, turning it over to see if it’s the exact one he gave Angie yesterday.

“Can we talk about that?” Aurie suggests.

He purses his lips, “How did you know?” His sullen, hooded eyes peer up at her with guilt. The last thing he wanted was for Aurie to find out the check was donated by him, knowing that she was persistent about not wanting his money.

“They gave it to me,” she shrugs, walking towards him. “Timing was just a bit odd, hmm? And I know none of the residents have families that are wealthy enough to easily donate that kind of money.”

“You don’t know that.”

She sets down her coffee, crossing her arms, “Why wouldn’t I?”

Kylian wants to scoff, but the way Aurie tried to appear unwavering humored him. Her hip was jutted out to one side, the slight furrow of her eyebrows, and lips pressed so tightly that it almost looked like a forced smile.

“I don’t want your money, Ky,” she says softly, loosening the firmness of her arms. Her sudden change in demeanor makes Kylian step towards her, face riddled with concern.

“Hey,” he grabs onto her elbow to soothe her defeated state.

“No, I’m serious,” she bumps his hand away, “I know the funds were tight and that we didn’t have enough, but seriously, a million is too much.”

“It’s a donation for a reason, Aurie, you were never supposed to grab ahold of the envelope anyway.”

“But I did.”

He smacks his lips, “Think of this as your birthday present—I didn’t get you anything, so here is the gift.”

“I can’t accept that.”

“It’s the nursery’s money.”

“In my name?”

He groans, suddenly bursting into a smile, “I can’t believe you’re being like this right now.”

Aurie’s taken aback by his nonchalant expression, “Why are you giggling? This isn’t funny. I don’t want you to look at this nursing home like it’s some horrid, underfunded place. It’s not.”

“I never said that,” he says. “However, a monetary donation wouldn’t hurt. New equipment, new bedding, new decorations. Medications—”

“Now you make me sound like a spoiled brat.”

He shrugs, dipping his head lower to hers as he laughs, “I never said that either.” His nose brushes up against her cheek as he hands her back the envelope. Aurie has to wrap her hand around his neck or else she’d be too off balance.

“I know what you’re doing,” she gently pushes him back as he chuckles, standing up. She grabs a hold of the back of his neck more firmly, changing her mind. She sets the envelope back onto the dresser and then presses her front against his waist.

He glances down at her lips with a bashful smile. Although everything told Aurie to refuse the check because of its large sum, she knew she could distribute the rest of the difference to different departments within the home. Some of the beds did need an upgrade and they could never have too much of a savings. Kylian’s money wasn’t out of pity and it would be selfish to decline something that could help others. She didn’t want to argue anymore and try to negotiate something that was meant to be a donation; Angie shouldn’t have given her the envelope in the first place but she wasn’t upset.

Before Kylian kisses her, she reels back, “What if we did half of the million?”

He shakes his head, the smile and gaze never leaving, “No.”

“Three-quarters?”

“No. Now kiss me, damn it,” he groans hoarsely, as if he was going through withdrawals from not being able to touch her the past hours. It hadn’t even been a full day.

“Wait,” she urges, her thumb pressing into his jaw to get him to look up at her. “I’m sorry for drawing this out. I didn’t mean to, and if I wasn’t so tired last night, we could’ve resolved it all.”

“It’s okay, it was late,” he assures. He watches the way she breaks eye contact with him and momentarily focuses on the backyard door in her line of view. “What’s wrong?”

Aurie deflates, pressing onto her tippy toes to close the space between them and bury her head into the crevice of his shoulder. He feels her fist the cotton of his jacket on his backside, so he wraps his arms more snug around her waist and back. He lays gentle kisses on her shoulder and neck to comfort her.

“I’m being too hard on myself, aren’t I?” she asks meekly.

He wants to cradle her to the living room couch to hold her properly, but he doesn’t make the move. Instead, he plants the top of his head on hers, caressing her back, “You are, belle.”

“I have a bad habit of self-sabotaging things.”

He shakes his head, her wincing at his strong jaw rubbing against her. He chuckles, “Sorry—I don’t think that’s what you are doing now. I think you’re focusing on everything that’s going wrong and missing what has gone right. Setbacks happen. No matter how much we prep to prevent them or try to do everything to avoid them, they happen. All of your cards happened to land at the same time that you haven’t had time to deal with them. It’s okay, alright? We accept it and move on, yeah?”

She nods, picking up her head, “Why couldn’t you give me that talk a couple of days ago?”

He kisses her forehead, “You’re strong regardless. With or without what I say.”

“Thank you,” she smiles.

“Kiss?” He sees the glint of mischief in her eye before he can grip her shirt tighter, and within an instant, she pushes from out of his arms and takes off running towards the living room. Her laugh echoes across the downstairs. “Aurie, that isn’t fair!”

He scurries behind her, walking quietly around the wall and sees Aurie slipping into the library. He laughs, picking up his pace, “My calf is still injured!”

“Don’t run,” she stops to look at him. He smiles, opening his arms wider now that she’s cornered into one room.

“I’m a little insulted, you know. Running away from me like that?” He raises his eyebrows to feign hurt as she rolls her eyes, bouncing on her heels. He leans against the column of the wall, his hand resting against the top arch, “Well, you can’t run.”

Aurie sighs, skidding towards him. It was hot. The way he raised his arm against the edge, a part of his hip exposed underneath his jacket. She could admit defeat and now was one of them.

She rises to the ball of her feet as Kylian’s dimples deepen with anticipation. She kisses him softly, the both of them sighing into it as if they had been underwater for too long and were now just getting a breath of fresh air.

Her hands find exactly what they’re seeking: his hips. He grunts at the sudden warm contact, not expecting her touch. It was hesitant, almost tickling him at how slowly she’s pressing her entire palm on him. His lips tug into a smile as he leans down towards her.

Aurie gains the encouragement to draw his hips closer to her and Kylian groans at the feel of their bodies pressing against one another. Aurie’s fingernails pressing into his sides almost make him lose his footing. Tugging on her bottom lip with his teeth, Kylian takes a hold of her face with a little more urgency. Aurie’s teasing hands continue, her pinky unknowingly slipping underneath the hemline of his shorts.

He pulls back, mouth agape as he opens his eyes to meet Aurie’s cheeky ones. He laughs nervously, eyelids batting down, suddenly feeling hot in the jacket he wore.

“Are you…flustered?” Aurie teases.

He rolls his eyes, “No.”

“Oh my god,” she slides her hands off of him, and he’s quick to search for them to put them back in place.

“I’m not,” he says with confidence.

“I’m not judging.”

“It feels like you are.”

“I’m judging you for lying.”

“Same thing.”

“Will you shut up for once?” she playfully rolls her eyes, slapping his hands away and walking away.

Kylian scowls at the stiffness of his shorts, begrudgingly following her, “Where are you going?” He can still taste the coffee from her lips as he rounds the corner. “You’re kidding.”

Aurie shrugs, sipping on her coffee as he pouts. He shakes his head, lips pursed as he takes ahold of the mug from her grip and dumps it into the sink.

Her jaw drops, “Kylian.”

“You’ll be fine, you addict.”

She laughs, “Unbelievable. What has gotten into you?”

“You,” he kisses her, trapping her against the counter. Her hand tugs down the zipper of his jacket, slipping her hands inside to shrug it off. “I lied earlier.”

She continues nonetheless as she stares at him with a hint of confusion, “About what?”

“Your birthday present. The check was never meant as your gift.”

“Ah,” she nods. “I would hope not. Money is a shitty gift.”

He chortles, “Not the point. I got you something, it just took a while to be made.”

“Made?”

“Mm-hmm,” he fumbles off the jacket and then searches through one of the pockets. His shirtless physique suddenly no longer intrigues her as he pulls out a square-shaped box. “It’s a necklace.”

“Thank you because I almost had a heart attack.”

Kylian titters, “Here.” He hands her the black, velvet box and she opens it. She had never received jewelry as a gift so she didn’t know what to expect, and so a daisy framed in gold catches her off guard. It’s bigger than the size of her thumb but not too large, a single daisy. Delicate details are etched into each petal with a patterned-cluster in the middle, there had to be almost twenty petals with how skinny each petal was but it was perfect.

Aurie continues to admire it with such rigor that Kylian chews on his bottom lip, “Is it too big? It’s not heavy, I promise. You won’t even feel it. Although, I wouldn’t advise running with it on, I don’t think it will pop up and hit you in your face but—”

“It’s beautiful,” she whispers. She didn’t want to think about the price of it; it was a gift from Kylian. It was her first meaningful jewelry piece and she was going to be damned if she felt guilty about it because she didn’t buy it.

It was a gift, she reminded herself. It had been years since she received such a thoughtful gift.

“How did you know?”

“Know what?”

“That I liked daisies.”

He chuckles, “It’s probably the only flower I know.” She looks up at him and he throws his hands up in surrender. “I know, don’t murder me. I only know daisies and roses. You wore a shirt with a daisy on it and throughout the house, you have tiny fake ones around—and it’s not like you have a flower you dislike. Plus, I found some in my room. Speaking of which, I think I killed that flower, it’s drooping—”

Aurie quiets him down with a kiss, her nails tugging against his shoulder that he hisses. His hands settle against her waist as they part. Her eyes are still wide with admiration and shock, “Thank you, Kylian, this is the sweetest gift I’ve ever gotten.”

“Turn it around.”

“The daisy?” He nods. She flips the pendant around and gasps at the tiny engraved ‘Aurèle’ in one of the petals. It’s written so eloquently and crisp that she doesn’t even have to squint to read the tiny font.

“Oh my god.”

“Do you want me to put it on?”

“I’m scared I’m going to break it.”

“You won’t,” he takes the box from her hand and unwraps it. “Plus, it’s insured. Do you want your name showing, or no?”

She laughs, “Hmm, name showing.”

He makes sure it’s facing the correct direction before clasping it around her. She pinches it between her thumb and pointer finger, grinning as she faces him.

His face lights up, “You look beautiful.”

“Thank you,” she sniffles. “I’m going to start crying if we keep on talking about it.”

His hands clasp behind her waist as he leans in to place chaste kisses on her lips. They’re slow but meaningful, savoring every second of it while Aurie wraps her arms around Kylian’s neck. She’s already pressed against the counter as Kylian steps even closer to her.

Aurie’s cheeks flush as she feels Kylian’s arousal, letting out a small gasp. Her eager hands trace the ridges of his shoulders as he slips his tongue into her mouth. He finds the hem of her shirt and runs his hands across her bare waist, pinching her softly to elicit another moan.

He reels back, whispering, “Aurèle.”

Aurie’s eyes open immediately and look up at him. He’s afraid that he said the wrong thing, that she is going to slip through his arms and run—again. His grip tightens but then quickly loosens, not wanting her to feel trapped between him. He takes a step back, “I’m sorry.”

She wishes she could hide her shock better, to not make him feel as if he was in the wrong, but only a few people called her ‘Aurèle’ and that wasn’t a secret. Kylian was lost in the moment, muttering the name he was infatuated with.

“It’s okay,” she nods. “I like it.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

“It doesn’t—”

“You don’t say it in a condescending tone,” she interrupts, reaching forward to kiss him.

“How do I say it then?” his lips curl up.

She shrugs, “Like something else.” Endearing, appreciative, full of admiration, it was unlike any other. Before Kylian’s hands can sneak underneath her shirt, she pulls away and walks away from him.

“No more running,” he whines, adjusting his shorts now that she isn’t facing him.

“Then follow me, princess.”

He grumbles, rolling his eyes. Aurie triggered the air conditioning on that it made him shiver as he followed her up the stairs, wincing with every step. She goes into his bedroom first, gasping at the drooping Calathea plant. He rounds the bedroom door as he hears her mutter, “Jeez, did you even attempt to water it?”

“I thought you were going to,” he bites onto his lip. He sits down on the edge of his bed and watches her walk back into the bedroom with a cup of water.

He was itching for her touch to get his mind out of the haze and misery. Aurie had to be messing with him and it pained him as he gritted his teeth. She was so oblivious, walking around as if she wasn’t turned on herself.

“Aurie,” he rasps.

“Hmm?”

“I thought you said you weren’t running.”

“I’m not,” she assures, setting down the cup that is usually in her restroom next to the pot, “this only took a second.” She walks towards him and he gulps involuntarily. Aurie can make out the subtle desperation in his eyes, a sympathetic smile forming while kissing his forehead. He holds himself by locking his elbows, leaning against the bed.

She raises her eyebrows, “Oh?”

“Are you going to restrain yourself?”

“If you want me to.”

He snorts, his thumb reaching up caress her jaw, “I’m a second away from begging, Aurie, you’re killing me.” She snickers, sliding on top of his thighs, the movement catching him off guard. He holds in his cough, “Fuck.”

“If I knew I had this much of an effect on you, I would’ve stopped teasing earlier,” she chuckles, her hands resting on his shoulders.

“You didn’t notice at all?” he gapes, his hands creeping against her lower back. His eyes don’t leave her lips, intoxicated by her smile.

“I did,” she admits, “I don’t know, I just thought you would try to do a little better to hide it.”

His eyes narrow as he laughs, shaking his head while adjusting her legs. His hands roam her bare thighs as he kisses her, deepening it and then pulling away to kiss her neck.

Aurie isn’t slick as she rolls her hips further into his, her insides fluttering as she feels him against her. He groans, nipping and sucking her supple skin.

Everything in him ached to move faster, to roll her over and continue, but he resisted the urge. Sure, he hurt, but he could wait.

She squirms as his cold hands wander underneath her shirt, finally bunching it up in his hand and pulling it over her head. The bandages that cover her frontside don’t stop him, it only makes him pull her closer to him. The feeling of their skin touching radiates shockwaves throughout the both of them. Aurie draws her neck to the side, sighing under the assault of his lips on her skin.

The necklace shined from the light peering in from the windows. It made his legs twitch as he stared at it, leaning in to kiss the pendent. Aurèle. His.

He sucks on the skin above her bra line, earning another hiss from her. Kylian smirks, causing her to grind her hips once more against his bulge. He groans, releasing her skin from his teeth and pinches at her bra clasp. As he pulls down her brown straps, he maintains eye contact with her while her nails dig around his neck. Once Aurie feels the cool air hit her nipple, she murmurs, wanting him to make contact with her but he refuses.

A sly smirk marks his face as he rests his arms underneath her bottom while standing up, walking her to the other side of his bed and laying her down. Aurie’s breasts brush against his chest and it sends her into a frenzy. He chuckles, finally sliding his fingers across her chest and landing on her needy nipple as he pulls the other into his mouth. Having her exposed like this was everything to him, he couldn’t believe he made her feel this free and comforted to be seen so intimately.

Aurie chokes out a moan, having wished for this moment for a while. She’s suddenly thankful that she closed Kylian’s door when she walked in and out of the room to water the plant, making sure it wouldn’t budge. Kylian hadn’t even noticed, too hungover with his aching bulge.

“Kylian,” she whines, wrapping her arm around his head as he swirls his tongue around her sore nipple. He was pinching the other, making her squirm underneath him, her hand not being shy as it traced his curves. She stopped at his pelvic bones, pressing into the skin as a tease and Kylian’s hips buckled down. Her hands teetered around his shorts until they reached the center.

Kylian’s warm breath fans around her nipple as she palms his bulge through his shorts. He glances up at her and she only gives him a playful smile. His teeth skimmed across her erect nipple and then slid to the other. Aurie was relentless, working on sliding down his shorts and caressing his thighs. Her burning touch only made his concentration more complicated, already feeling a small dampness pool in his boxers. He knew that once Aurie found the spot her hands would begin taunting him.

He groans, nipping at her nipple once more before kissing the skin underneath her boob. He knew to be gentle as he neared down, not wanting to painfully rip off any of her bandages by accident.

He tugs down her shorts and raises an eyebrow at her. For all the running away she did, her underwear illustrated a different story. The light gray material was decorated with a darkened puddle.

“Stop staring,” Aurie pleads, wrapping her hands around his forearms. He smiles, hovering over her to kiss her. He plants a couple of kisses on her cheeks, they’re haste and rough as he laughs.

He wanted to scream it, wanted to tell her right then and there but he couldn’t get his throat to say it. Staring down at her, he nudges her nose with his as he kisses her one last time. “Aurèle.”

She snickers, grabbing his chin, “You like saying my name, hmm?”

“It’s beautiful,” he smiles. He catches Aurie off guard by sneaking up his hand to pinch her nipple, earning a smack from her. He winks, sliding his knuckles down to her core, brushing over her clothed clit. He watches her facial expressions contort, still hovering over her. “You’re beautiful.”

Their mouths meet in a feverish kiss, Aurie pulling herself more upward to get Kylian to slide down but it’s no use. He presses the pad of his thumb against her clit and she groans, grabbing a hold of his shoulders to stay upright.

“You’re teasing,” she exhausts, earning a chuckle from him. He grabs a hold of her legs and pushes her further onto the bed.

“Mm-hmm,” he kisses her nose, “welcome to my life.”

“I didn’t tease this much.”

He looks at her through his hooded gaze as he traces his fingers alongside her underwear. Aurie’s cheeks swell with heat, stifling a nervous laugh from her. He shakes his head with a smile. He pulls her underwear down with haste, earning a yelp from Aurie. His fingers don't hesitate to trace along her thighs and clit. And god was he moving slow.

He bends down and gives her thighs a kiss, inching closer and closer until his tongue finally settles onto her clit. The moan Aurie let out was unguarded, so desperate that it drowned out the splattering of the rain. Her hands can only reach his shoulders as he settles himself between her thighs.

She’s sweet, writhing through every stroke of his tongue that he wraps one arm around her thigh while the other massages her breast.

“Kylian—” she mewls, adjusting to the speed of his tongue that further inched down to her core. She wants him, wants to be able to hold him as she rides out her pending orgasm.

Aurie scratches his shoulders and he doesn’t mind the markings, knowing that he already left a couple on her. He continues, obliviously, letting his fingers coat with her juices. He knows by her jerky movements and erratic breathing that she’s close, so he picks up his speed not wanting to tease her.

“I’m close,” she says, her leg beginning to shake against his shoulder. She grinds her hips frantically, chasing her orgasm while he licks most of her slick juices around him. He presses his tongue hesitantly against her swollen clit, noticing the sudden jolt of her body from its overstimulation. He chuckles, pressing one last kiss on her before scooting up.

Her eyes flutter open with a blissful smile, perking her chin up to meet his glistening lips.

“You okay, amour?”

“Cloud fucking nine,” she slurs. He laughs, kissing her dampened neck and cheek. Her arms lazily wrap around him, and Aurie can’t get enough of the look in his eyes. They’re giddy, scanning her face with such rigorous attention that it makes her heart swell. His deep dimples don’t leave his face as he kisses her flushed cheeks again. She smiles, “You look so handsome.”

Kylian cheeses, burying his head into her neck, say it!

“Thank you,” he blurts.

“My turn,” she grins, attempting to roll them over but he doesn’t budge.

“I won’t last long.”

“I lasted a couple of minutes, it can't be that hard to beat.”

He shakes his head, “I’m really hard, Aurie.”

“Way to sound sexy.”

He groans at the sudden contact of her hand on him, shutting his eyes closed and rolling his head against her shoulders. Aurie pushes down his boxers, making them fall to the floor and he steps out of them. Her hand wraps around his tip immediately, evoking a groan and deep breath from him. His moans only sound more airy and yearning as she strokes him.

“Do you have a condom?”

“No, I’m on the pill though,” she admits. “Are you okay with that?”

He groans as she squeezes him lightly, trying to remember if he had ever seen Aurie take a pill. He can’t think clearly, not with her hand wrapped around him. “Where is it?”

Her hand stops, “Do you want me to go get it?”

He trusted her and knew that she couldn’t possibly be lying about something like that, but his rationale side still managed to scream for him to look for the pack. Kylian’s throaty voice murmurs against the mattress, “Fuck, Aurèle, I can’t—”

“It’s right next to my lamp, I can get it real fast,” she reassures. She can’t stop the laugh that manages to gargle out of her, the situation not funny at all, but Kylian’s ragged breathing only kept on hitching the more she stopped and pulled away.

Kylian’s eyes open in recognition, “It’s a pink rectangle?”

“How did you know?”

“I saw it when I went to turn off your lamp last night,” he kissed her cheek, picking himself up.

His eyes are cloudy as he presses his hardened self against her, the both of them gasping lowly. Aurie spreads his slippery precum around his tip and Kylian can only groan. Finally, she lines him up with her entrance and the both of them moan at the resistance. She urges him to continue, beckoning him forward. He presses soft kisses alongside her collarbone as he enters her slowly, letting her adjust to his size. The stretch only intensified as he pulled out, his legs on the verge of shaking from her warmth.

He can’t get himself to say it as he continues his thrusts. He can only whisper it alongside her shoulder, but it’s too low for her to hear him. Tears brimmed her eyes from the mixture of pleasure and passion, trying her hardest to rapidly blink them away before Kylian noticed. Despite their skin meeting  and the rain intensifying in the background, she can only make out the sound of her thumping heartbeat.

His hands trace down to her waist to increase his speed, careful to not touch her bandages. His breath hitches as he feels her clench around him, groaning at the added tightness. Aurie’s arms lock around him, granting him permission to pick up his speed. His sloppy kisses trail from her jaw to her lips, crashing onto them and letting Aurie have her way.

“I—” he stops himself again. He couldn’t do it, his breath physically stopping him from saying it. He feels Aurie’s uneasy breathing against him, signaling that she was close. As soon as she comes, Kylian follows behind her, moaning lowly now that he finally got his release. He sinks his head down into her shoulder as he pulls out, pulling her closer to him despite the mess between their legs. Her once centered necklace now lies against the side of her neck. He kisses it before he moves it back to its rightful place.

As her eyes flutter open and closed, Kylian simpers. He’s gentle as he strokes her back with her fingertips, ever so often does his touch tickle her.

After a lengthy moment's worth of cuddles and giggles shared, Kylian pries Aurie off to follow him into the shower. Her hands cling to him the entire time, a fond smile never leaving her lips—especially when Kylian almost makes the both of them slip in her bathtub.

She could get used to this, she thinks.

------

Note: I was tempted to drop a 10k worded chapter but restrained myself. Hmm, how are we feeling? I plan on there being almost three or four chapters left but shrug, we will see. 

Taglist: @karotland​ @peaky-shelby​ @darlingmbappe​ @mrs-bellingham​ @kylianswifey​ @kymb-10​ @fictional-l0v3r @chaotic-taco-collector-blog​ @itsjuspenny-blog @mattmurdocksbigtoe​ @formula101x @et-in-arcadia-ego77​ @lovekm @okayymochi​ @titti-maja @jokertbh @venus2eros​ @heli991113​ @neymarloverxxx​ @444jodie​ @mm2007 @freespirit-51 @flawlessdiamond1​ @euphoriapillz​ @imagesthatlive​ @ohpuckyeah​ @nothingtoes​

[cal-daisies-and-briars]

☠️☠️☠️☠️☠️☠️☠️☠️☠️☠️☠️☠️☠️☠️☠️☠️☠️☠️☠️☠️☠️☠️☠️☠️☠️☠️☠️☠️☠️☠️☠️☠️☠️☠️

Your murder mystery has me in a choke hold rn I need to know more

YAY! So happy to hear that!

102 for ☠️:

---

“Of course it does,” Bobby replies. “Of course what you feel always matters.”

“That’s now how the law works, Bobby.”

“I know,” Bobby concedes. “But if how the law worked was enough for you right now you wouldn’t be asking for my opinion. You’d just do your job.”

Well. 

He’s not wrong, there.

“I’ve never had to choose between them, Bobby.”

“I know it’s easy to think of the world in black and white terms,” Bobby says. “It’s comforting that way. But we both know that isn’t always true.”

But shouldn’t things like murder and framing an innocent man for murder be black and white? Where is the moral ambiguity there? 

The more Athena thinks of it, though, the more she can see it. When she thought Amir had burnt their house down, when she thought he’d more or less killed Bobby, she had been hell bent on revenge. Bobby had mattered more to her than the law. She would have killed him. She did things that were illegal to apprehend the people who did hurt her husband. She had just… Well, she felt justified. She felt like the law, herself. Maybe Hen and Buck and everyone who may or may not have worked with them aren’t the law. They don’t have that shield. But if their reasoning was as motivating as hers…

I think maybe some things are more complicated than we understand. Really complicated. And those complications can make good people do bad things.

“How can you say that so easily?” She asks Bobby. Genuinely desperate to know. “I haven’t told you what the crime is.”  

“It doesn’t matter,” Bobby says. “I know you. If it has you rattled, I trust that it isn’t that simple.”

That hits her somewhere deep. 

Maybe because it’s exactly the question she needs to answer for herself. Does she trust Hen? Does she trust Karen, Buck, Eddie, and maybe Chimney and Maddie? Does she trust herself enough to make that call? And what decision will let her sleep best at night? 

“Thank you,” Athena says to her husband. 

“I hope it was helpful.” He shrugs. 

“More than you know.”

vii.

It happens two days later. 

Athena is off, the 118 is working. So it can only be Karen or Maddie, though Athena supposes she’lll never really know. 

She hasn’t been doing well with the choice she knows is staring her down. She feels frozen. She hasn’t done anything yet. That feels like a choice in itself. But she also hasn’t ruled out doing anything in the future. Decision paralysis. She doesn’t want to accept either outcome without full details. But she’s trying to hold onto what Bobby said. 

Still, deliberating is taking its toll on her. She’s frazzled in a way she’s not used to. She’s gone through half a case of Tum’s. She might become dependent on chamomile tea. Nothing seems to calm the upset in her stomach. 

So, when the doorbell rings in the late morning, Athena isn’t really sure she’s prepared for company. She has no desire to be social. No desire to host. She half expects it to be the LAPD on her doorstep, ready to collect her badge and gun for suspecting and not acting on those suspicions. Of course, it’s not. That’s ridiculous. They’d call her in. 

When she opens the front door, Athena finds that no one is there. She thinks, rather grumpily, that some kid has pulled a lame-ass prank on her. That’s before she sees it. On the new welcome mat Bobby bought from Home Depot, there sits a large, stuffed manila envelope. There’s no name, address, or writing of any sort on it. 

“Oh,” Athena mumbles. 

She has a bad feeling about this. 

Of course, before she touches the envelope, she looks. There’s no vehicle pulling away nearby. No evidence of a getaway. Whoever left this here got in and out quickly. Athena can’t help but remember the package bomb left at their old home. The one Harry found. Left for her, but it could have killed her son. She doesn’t think this could contain a bomb. She can see the shape of a thick stack of papers inside. Nevertheless, she’s nervous as she reaches for it. 

The other thing she’s aware of, is the fact that if this is from her friends - and not a serial bomber - this potentially implicates her in quite a crime. A string of crimes. Essentially, this is it. If there is evidence or motive or whatever in this envelope, Athena has to make her choice. It will no longer be a well-educated suspicion. It will be undeniable. 

“Why did you do this to me, Henrietta?” She asks quietly.  Athena takes the envelope into her kitchen. She knows she’s going to look at it. Of course she is. She needs confirmation. She needs to know. Hell, maybe Hen is proving her wrong. Maybe she read all the signs incorrectly. Isn’t that a possibility, too? Athena can be wrong.

[yoonmetogether]

Not In the Cards Prologue

pairing: dirty cop!hoseok x mob boss!seokjin (rest of the story will feature bodyguard!yoongi x CEO!fem reader)

genre: mafia

summary: a tragic love affair sets the stage and unfolds the story yet to come.

warnings: angst!!!!!, hurt/comfort, smut (not explicit), family drama, troubled childhoods, parental loss, trauma, su!c!dal thoughts, mentions of violence and murder (blood/guns), panic attacks, drug addiction/rehab, everyone is going through it, alcohol, weed smoking, age gap, borderline stockholm syndrome (whoops!)

this is a loaded chapter, so i apologize ahead of time if it comes out like an info dump lol

also reminder, Angel is reader's pseudonym

minors pls dni, nsfw

wc: 6.7k 😀

teaser l prologue l part i. I reminīscēns: strangers l part ii. I

“Hey, agent Jung, are you busy?”

Hoseok peers up from his laptop to the rookie poking his head into his office.

“What’s up?” Taking it as permission to enter, the rookie looks behind him at the hallway before stepping in and shutting the door, fidgeting nervously with a manila folder in his hand.

“Um, I have something,” he murmurs quietly, and Hoseok’s fingers freeze above the keyboard. Glancing back up, the rookie stares at the ground as he stays in place in front of the door. Hoseok sighs and sits back in his chair, stretching his hands cramped from hours of typing up reports. This can’t be good.

"Don’t just stand there, bring it over."

“Right,” the rookie squeaks, rapidly shuffling forward and holding out the folder with a slight bow. Hoseok winces at the intimidation the rookie clearly feels from him and he lowkey hates how he’s grown a reputation of being a hard ass.

Nevertheless, he accepts the folder and silently prays it isn’t what he thinks it is but once he opens it and sees the face of the man already tattooed in his mind, he has to hold back a series of curses. His jaw ticks as he leans forward to flip over the many sheets of paper holding information to the case of the alleged son of the Sparrow don, filled with leads and scrappy evidence gathered over years of investigations that he once was a part of as a rookie himself.

“What are you showing me?” He grumbles, thinking he would be looking at some new report of a half-assed lead but there's nothing in here that he hasn't already seen and spent sleepless nights practically memorizing.

The rookie clears his throat and points to the second half of the folder, quickly glancing over his shoulder as if someone had suddenly appeared behind him.

“I found a copy of the warrant the CID is drafting up.”

Hoseok is glad for the countless hours he's spent training himself to pass polygraph tests, otherwise his heart would be racing out of his chest and there would be nothing but panic written all over his face. Criminal Investigative Division, the office he climbed himself out of to serve in the CIA instead, getting away from domestic law enforcement to try and keep a low profile.

The rookie, a seriously intelligent and experienced cyber tech, uses his employment to hack into the intelligence agency databases in order to keep Hoseok informed about the CID's investigation into the Sparrow organization that holds the northern cities by the throats, poisoning the streets with internationally traded drugs, military-grade weapons, and counterfeit goods, all for lower-hierarchy syndicates to play with in the black market and make a buck for themselves. The CID has been going after the don, Kim Dongsoo, for years, trying to take him down for hundreds of pages of blue and white-collar crimes, but thanks to generational power and sickeningly innumerous wealth, the pockets of politicians, cops, judges, and lawmakers have been lined by the don and it's hard to pin down the don with any kind of conviction, since most of the evidence would have to be illegally obtained and therefore inadmissible in court. And now that the mob boss suddenly passed away, the CID turned their attention to his successor, Kim Seokjin, the face staring up at him from the manila.

Hoseok suddenly stands up, gripping the folder in a way that crinkles the papers. He leans forward and doesn't miss the way the rookie gulps.

"Are you stupid? Bringing this here to my office when anyone could snatch this right out of your hand to have a look? Do you want to screw yourself over?" The rookie looks like he's shaking in his boots in response to Hoseok's menacing tone and piercing glare. Hoseok misses the time when he used to be the fun, goofy agent around the office.

(He blames it on the man who trained the sunny disposition out of him ever since he'd been forced to go down this dirty rotten path. Min, the one who has a scar over his eye and shoots looks that could kill, who Hoseok had to learn to not be scared of. Now, they’re practically best buds; if there can even be such a friendship in this line of work. Sometimes the only fun Hoseok has is holding over Min's head the fact that he could arrest him at any point and lock him up for life. In return, Min reminds him how he could snipe him between the eyes and in the balls from two blocks away. But Hoseok knows the man is capable of far worse things like round-housing him until he folds up like a pretzel, neatly slitting his throat to bury him in scattered locations without a trace of DNA, and even running him off the road going 193 kph, leaving without a scratch on his car or a burn on his tires. Not that he could actually do anything since Hoseok has been fucking the man they both call boss who fills their bank accounts. But he'll never find out that Hoseok gets a few more zeroes tacked on every month thanks to that same man. Well, play one game of poker and Min could drain him of every last penny in the blink of an eye. Hoseok is shit at poker.)

"Sir, everyone's gone for the day," the rookie stutters and Hoseok whips his attention out of his daze to the window, finding it is very dark outside, and then takes notice of the time on his laptop, indicating how fast the day had gotten away from him. He sharply exhales and drops the folder on the desk, sitting down with a plop to rub his hands over his face as exhaustion settles heavily in his bones.

"Next time, find me outside the building, or I'll have your job. Understand?"

The rookie rapidly nods, significantly paler, and Hoseok dismisses him with a wave of his hand and not a single word. Not even bothering to tell him that his offshore bank account will receive an exuberant reimbursement for his work because the rookie already knows that, and it's the only reason that he comes back to deal with Hoseok’s moody ass. He waits until his mole shuffles out and the door clicks shut to collapse in his chair, mind starting to race as he thinks of his next move.

One thing is for certain. This is his excuse to see Kim Seokjin.

Shutting off his laptop and gathering all his files into his briefcase because he's not one to stop working when the day is done, he quickly mulls over the contents of the warrant, looking for any reason the judge would have not to sign it, and drops it in the shredder with a vengeance when he finds none. He shreds the rest of the file and carries out the scraps to burn in the fireplace back home.

Once he pulls into his garage, he routinely checks his surroundings as he presses the button to lower the door, and when he's safely locked alone inside, he finds the panel he installed under the steering wheel to fish around for the early-2010s android burner that has only one contact, listed under 'astronaut.'

cabin this weekend? sent 21:22

Hours later when he's in bed, attempting to sleep before 4am, he puts the battery back in the phone and checks that he received a message just thirty minutes ago. For the first time all day, maybe even all week, he feels lighter.

see u <3 received 2:36

He takes out the battery once more and puts the phone under his pillow. He lays his head down and tries to sleep but his anxious, racing mind has him slipping out of bed and packing for the overnight road trip, suitcase full of cozy sweaters and joggers. He won't be leaving until well into the evening, but he wants to be ready. He's looking forward to the 2-hour drive, but not the earful he'll be getting from his mother about canceling family plans at the last minute with vague lies about working overtime on a case. That's something he's had to get used to doing, lying to his family and friends. But he's worked through that, knowing there's no way they'll ever be able to understand all the risks he's been taking all these years. Back then, when he was a different, more honest person, he wouldn't have understood either. Now, with the access he has to multiple bank accounts which hold numbers that could support him and his family, for at least nine generations to come, he tells himself it's not all for nothing. Even though he's not doing it for the money. No, that's just a bonus. It's for the man he's going to drive up a mountain to see. A man who appears in the forefront of his mind any time he gets a second to close his eyes. A man he'd die for, who he hopes would do the same for him.

That's what this is all for.

*******

Around eight that night, at a stoplight, Hoseok whips out his burner and types up a quick message to 'astronaut' that he's almost there. He smiles when he receives a grainy, irrelevant cat meme in response and drops the phone in the console as soon as the light turns green.

Driving up the steep hills, he soaks in the sight of blankets of snow that line the sides of the road and the trees. He knows this could be the last time he'll take this route that makes him look forward to the cozy fireplace waiting for him at the cabin, started by the man who makes his heart just as warm. A string tightens there when he worries it won't be long until he'll be forced to douse it.

The road is long and dark so his mind starts to wander, thinking back to how he ended up here.

He had just turned 25 when he was assigned to infiltrate the mob, acting as a hijacker of trucks and ships coming in and out of the harbor. He was sure it was a hazing thing, getting the ambitious rookie into a semi-dangerous situation to see if he had what it takes. He found out a bit too late that he should've been smarter. He slipped up and his one mistake landed him in a windowless van with zip ties around his wrists and a sack over his head that only came off once he was thrown onto a cold, concrete floor. After he adjusted his vision to the harsh bright lights, his breath was completely stolen from him when he realized he was kneeling before a man whose face belonged in a museum. He barely registered he was in a dungeon of sorts, or the suited guards packed with illegal weapons surrounding him, too busy taking in the sight of the glory that was Kim Seokjin. Behind him was a younger, doe-eyed boy who was practically the spitting image of the taller, more muscular man, and Hoseok assumed this to be his brother, what with the way he stared at him as if learning every move he made so he could one day be like him. And that was confirmed when Seokjin let him throw the first few punishing punches and kicks to let Hoseok know just what he'd gotten himself into.

He held it together when he was interrogated and forced to beg for his life, seeing as he'd been made as the pig cop he was, and just as he thought he'd never see the light of day again, he and everyone around him were surprised that Jin did not decide to spill his blood right there on the stained floor, but gave him the option to die or become an informant, a mole, a dirty cop for his benefit instead. And of course he chose the option to live, even if it meant he would spend the rest of his life in paranoia, anxiety, and fear. At least he'd be making more money than he could ever imagine.

Since he had been found out, he came up with a different story to tell his boss that didn't include being caught by the mob's successor, which ended with him being taken off of the case and sent into witness protection until further notice. And that landed him on another continent in a secluded location, where no one, not even his mother, knew he was there. So imagine his surprise when three authoritative knocks pounded on his door one day and there stood none other than Kim Seokjin. But he shouldn't have been surprised. Not when he knew that the don's son had the resources to find him. Hell, Hoseok probably had colleagues who were puppeteered by him and Jin was there to add him to more lines of strings.

And to do this, Jin set him up with Namjoon, an esteemed lawyer who doubled as a computer science engineer, producing the Sparrow’s digital landscape to increase their market using cryptocurrencies. Namjoon trained and tutored Jungkook, Jin's younger brother who once broke Hoseok's nose, since Jin complained he was too old for all that technology, but really it was a reason to keep Jungkook off the streets for the time being. He worked with Namjoon to keep out traces of evidence in the CIA system that could lead back to Jin and the don, using his police access to wipe cameras, intimidate witnesses, and bribe judges and criminal lawyers. After a year, Jin introduced him to the man who called himself Min Agust, and they worked together to scope out other moles in the syndicate, the ones who worked against them, whether they were soldiers or associates, allies or rivals, and paid close attention to the guards employed to Jin's security team, and eventually his little brother's. He became the bad guy and even though the guilt and regret has taken years off his life, he doesn't care. Because he's doing all of this to protect Jin.

Hoseok learned that Jin was eight years his senior, but that didn't stop him from pining after him. He likes to think that it wasn’t some kind of Stockholm syndrome because Jin technically gave him an option to work for him or not (fucked up as it was) and employed him with a salary he'd never be able to spend in one lifetime. He could've killed him, but didn't. Instead, he arranged private, secret meetings that not even his personal guard knew about, under the guise for Hoseok to provide updates but more often than not, they would end up drinking and smoking and sharing stories and parts of themselves with each other. Jin does have a charm and a sense of humor, to the point that sometimes Hoseok forgets the man is who he is, responsible for the majority of the crime and corruption in the city and surrounding districts. Maybe it was all an act, a ploy, to get Hoseok trapped. And if it was, it fucking worked. Overtime, he fell. And fell hard.

Hoseok knew how dangerous Jin was but it didn't stop him from kissing him one night when it was late and they were silly and delirious from being sleep-deprived, because the spark had been there all along. Hoseok believes that's what had saved him in the first place. Jin took him to bed and fucked him until he saw stars.

Afterwards Jin dragged him onto the balcony where they smoked a joint together and for hours Jin pointed out constellations and planets littering the sky that they could see clearly from the cabin he's driving to now. Hoseok remembers every star Jin named, every fact about every planet and galaxy Jin gushed about, every dream Jin had of being an astronaut ever since he was a kid. He thought that because of how good he was at being lonely, he would do so well up in space. Hoseok wondered if Jin felt lonely when they were together, because he certainly didn't. Hoseok kissed him anytime he felt Jin needed a reminder - that he was there and wouldn't go anywhere unless Jin wanted him to. Down the road, Jin would tell him how his smile reminded him of the sun and make Hoseok's heart burst, because maybe there was still some good left in him after all, if someone like Jin could see it. And that was the beginning of the end.

He pulls into the snowy driveway of the cabin almost at the top of the mountain, edges of the roof lined in soft-yellow lights, smoke billowing out of the two chimneys, all signs of life hidden by thick forests of tall evergreen trees, and notices a silhouette in the window holding a steaming mug of hot chocolate, soon disappearing with a flutter of the sheer curtain once he puts the car in park. The door swings open and he chuckles when he hears his nickname "Sunny!" shouted through the windshield as he collects his things and a bag of takeout before stepping out of the car.

Strong, warm arms wait for him on the porch stairs and he wraps his free arm around the waist of the man who in another universe could be the love of his life. The embrace lasts for a little more than thirty seconds before he's tugged inside of the gloriously toasty cabin and isn't given the chance to release his lungs of cold air as his breath is stolen by a heated kiss. Jin shoves him against the door and his scarf is hastily tugged off, coat unzipped, and takeout carelessly dropped on the floor.

"Happy holidays, Sunny," Jin whispers in a warm breath of chocolate.

"You too, Jinnie," Hoseok whispers back, shrugging off his coat and tearing off his hat just as plush lips press again on his mouth.

He lets himself be manhandled towards creaky wooden stairs, mouths and hands never detaching from their touch-starved bodies. They pass the kitchen and Hoseok breathes in the festive smells wafting from the oven.

"You've been baking?"

"You know it," Jin mumbles, working the shirt out of Hoseok's jeans. "You don't mind waiting until later to eat, right?" Hoseok shakes his head and kisses him with a hum before Jin takes his hand and leads him upstairs, laughing when Jin clumsily trips over the steps or accidentally slams Hoseok into the railing.

It's snowing outside the wall-to-ceiling glass windows but neither of them pay attention as Hoseok, again, lets himself be tossed back onto the ridiculously soft bed and mounted by the most beautiful man he's ever seen. He lets Jin fuck him into submission, to the point that it hurts, giving him full control of his body like he belongs to him. Because he does. As the mattress rocks, headboard thumping against the wall, he stares up at Jin through his swinging bangs, noticing the background shadow of falling snow cast on the ceiling above his head, but he can only focus on the fire and fury that blacken Jin's eyes when they're together like this and Hoseok understands why he gets this way sometimes, especially when it's been so long.

But he quickly takes the reins before Jin can get carried away, flipping him onto his stomach to take him from behind, forcing Jin to let go of his resolve, of his need to be in control because Hoseok knows how exhausting it is to be in charge all of the time. Especially of a bunch of goddamn criminals. His hand that presses on the back of Jin's neck doesn't just do the job of keeping his face planted in the bedding, but covers the skeletal sparrow branded just below his hairline (with four rings circled around it's bony ribcage, marking Jin as the fourth blood successor) because sometimes it makes him nauseous to see it, to be reminded of who they really are, outside of this safe haven. As soon as they step foot back home, they'll have to pretend like they don't even know each other, where Hoseok will go back to being a national security agent and Jin to the most powerful criminal in the city, maybe even the country. A criminal from the very empire Hoseok was tasked as a rookie to infiltrate and build a case against, but eventually turned out to become a dirty cop, working to keep the prettiest and darkest eyes he's ever looked into out of prison because he's stupid and fell in love.

Even though both of them have never admitted it to each other, after all this time, it's there.

It's there in the way that neither of them have touched anyone else ever since they first started this, despite the months that have passed between times spent in secret. In the way they think about each other every day, when Jin sends him corny dad jokes and outdated memes that brighten Hoseok's week whenever he gets the chance to check his second phone. And in the way Hoseok drives all the way up a fucking mountain on a weekend he should be with his family, hours away from home, where Jin bakes and has hot chocolate waiting for him on the counter that has since turned cold and forgotten. And they’ll be in bed for hours, so the cookies and takeout will have gone to waste too. Oh, well. Hoseok would take Jin being under him, on him, inside him over baked goods and Jin's favorite noodles any day.

After the room has become blissfully hot and steamy with passion, the two men slip into a deep sleep that they both desperately need, arms wrapped tightly around each other as if neither of them have any plans to let go. However many hours later, Hoseok stirs to his favorite pair of biceps pulling him into his favorite broad chest, lips pressing against his temple. And as they lay there in silence, Hoseok begins to feel the air change with something that settles anxiety in his gut and even somehow lowers the temperature in the room. He pushes himself further against Jin in hopes to preserve that warmth that only exists between the two of them.

Jin turns on his back and pulls Hoseok onto his chest, turning his head to stare out of the window at the cascading snow blinding the horizon and Hoseok listens to the heartbeat thundering beneath his head.

"Y'know," Jin's gentle voice disturbs the solitude and Hoseok tries to blink himself awake. "It’s just a theory , but in the right kind of spacecraft, an astronaut could get almost as close as four million miles to the sun." "Really?" Hoseok asks, eyes drooping with a brain too tired to wonder why Jin chose now to bring up one of his space-obsessed facts. They haven't looked at the sky yet, not that there would be anything to see except the snow falling. And the sun set hours ago.

"Mm. Any closer and the astronaut would get burned." His eye peeks open at that simplistic conclusion and he huffs a worn out laugh, nuzzling into Jin's chest.

"I think they'd get a little more than burned, hyung." It's quiet for a moment. "Exactly." And Jin sits up suddenly, making Hoseok realize that wasn't just a theory. It was one disguised as a metaphor.

He panics and sits up as the elder whisks himself out of bed and heads to the bathroom, dragging a hand down his face when the shower turns on not seconds after the door shuts with a bit more force than necessary. Usually Hoseok would be traipsing off to follow him, but when he hears a heavy thud reverberate through the walls, an echo of Jin's rugged fist slamming into the tile, Hoseok swallows down the anxiety-ridden nausea in his gut and goes downstairs to shower in the second bathroom instead.

Upon returning to the bedroom to change, duffle bag in hand, he finds Jin switching out the soiled sheets and comforter. He goes to help, but he's waved off, and with an ache growing under his ribs, he quietly dresses and does his best not to become overwhelmed from this ominous tension forming between them. When the bed is made, Jin disappears downstairs and a small hill of hope arises when the cabin is suddenly blasted with holiday tunes and the smells of a new savory recipe. This time, Jin does let him help, passes behind him with hands on his waist while Hoseok chops and seasons, hips bumping occasionally as Jin maneuvers around the kitchen to cook up the best meal Hoseok will have had in months. Hoseok knows he's turned up the music extra loud so neither of them will talk. And he pretends he's fine with that.

After dinner, when they clear the table and wash the dishes in quiet tandem, and Jin turns down the music so Hoseok can hear his thoughts again, the older man heads to the window seat across from the kitchen, just under the stairs. He cracks open the window and Hoseok starts to scold him for letting in the cold air from the fucking snow storm outside, but then Jin pulls out a familiar roll of paper and a lighter and Hoseok shuts his mouth. He finishes drying up a dish, puts it away, and goes over to him, mid-step when Jin finally speaks.

"Say what you came here to tell me, Seok," Jin says flatly and Hoseok sighs as he plants himself behind him, hand sitting on Jin's lap while he tries to ignore the frigid air. He presses his frown to Jin's shoulder covered in the softest cashmere.

"You say that like it's the only reason I came here."

"But it's the main reason, right?" Hoseok leans away, frown deepening, and crosses his arms as his back settles against the oak wood wall. He stares at the snow softly falling over the hills, making the night grey instead of pitch black, wishing they could just be enjoying the view and not having this dreaded conversation.

"We only ever meet here when you have news about my case." Hoseok shoots a glare to the back of Jin's head and nudges his foot into his hip. "That's not true." He waits impatiently as the older man finishes up his joint with shoulders that grow more tense as the seconds pass by in silence.

"It's cold, can you hurry up?" Hoseok urges in a terse voice, watching as Jin nods once before taking a final drag and dropping the unfinished joint out of the window, letting the snow put it out. He stopped offering Hoseok weed ever since the office started doing random drug tests. Jin pulls in the frame, sealing out the cold, and settles back against Hoseok's chest, saying nothing when the younger man hesitates to uncross his arms and wrap them around his shoulders.

"They're getting ready to ask a judge to sign the warrant," he inevitably admits, eyes shutting as a tight feeling squeezes his chest when he feels Jin's entire body tense up.

"They're really gonna arrest somebody around the holidays? Who does that?"

Hoseok lets out a small snort, heart rate relaxing as he's reminded that one of the reasons he loves Jin so much is because of his ability to make light of a situation, no matter how serious.

"Tell me I'll at least get until after New Years."

"Maybe towards the end of January."

Jin huffs dramatically, enticing Hoseok to kiss the side of his head.

"I guess that means I won't have to get you a gift for your birthday." Hoseok tries to smile, but it’s tugged down with sadness.

“You know you never have to get me anything." Jin places a hand on his knee, a kiss on his elbow.

“Yeah, I do, Sunny. It gives me an excuse to see you." Past tense. Hoseok's heart sinks and he tangles their legs together.

"And after tonight, who knows if we'll..." Jin's voice tapers off and Hoseok fights the urge to give into tears. He can't be weak. Not for something he's known he can't have.

“What are my charges? Since apparently they’re sticking this time.”

“Drug and weapons trafficking. They can’t get you for racketeering because the evidence is mostly linked to your father.”

Jin stares at his cuticles for a few moments again, nothing but the sound of firewood crackling and snapping on the other side of the room, before he sits up abruptly again, knocking his head into Hoseok's chin.

"Fuck, what am I gonna do?!" Jin blurts, raking hands through his hair and tugging at the roots. Hoseok stays silent because he doesn't know what to tell him.

"Jungkook, he- he's not ready. He just got out of rehab for fucks' sake!"

A frown wrinkles Hoseok's chin.

"And Angel-" Jin continues, gulping down a breath. "She's barely spoken to me since she got engaged to that prick and I know that's the worst thing I've made her do but it wasn't my idea! It was his!"

Hoseok leans forward as he can sense the panic entering Jin's voice, paired with the shaking of his broad shoulders as he loses control of his breathing.

"This was his plan, he was never going to let them get away from all this. He knew the law was gonna come after him, he got too fucking drugged up and it made him sloppy and now-" Jin sniffs and wipes his mouth with his sleeve. Hoseok hangs his head like he's not supposed to know Jin is crying.

"Now I'm taking the fucking fall. And I could give a shit about what happens to me, but Jungkook and Angel?!" Jin twists around and Hoseok is taken aback by the wild, frantic look on his face, eyes tinged pink with raw tears.

"They can't do this, they're not supposed to do this! I was never supposed to let Jungkook take my place, much less get Angel involved!" Tears are streaming down Jin's face as he reaches for Hoseok's sweater, curls his fists in the fabric to pull him forward like he's the only thing he can hang onto.

"And now they both are and it's-" Jin sobs. "It's all my fucking fault!"

There's a pain in Hoseok's chest as Jin collapses and smothers his face against it. And Hoseok lets him cry for however long he needs to, because here, in this space, is the only place safe for Jin to release the hardness that has been driven into his soul by his father since he was a little boy. In his tears, he grieves the childhood he lost when his mother died and left him with a father who forced the youth out of him, forbade him from being anything but stoic, taught him that showing emotions meant he was weak and lacked control.

Yet somehow, Jin had been able to keep a part of himself, however small, that lets him enjoy and appreciate the little things in life, to crack stupid jokes, to have a smile on his face in the right company even if it was a mask.

And Hoseok knows it's because of Jin's siblings. He thinks that without them, Jin wouldn't allow himself to be charming, or silly, or make stupid jokes. He thinks that despite how he was raised, he taught himself to be for his siblings the man he wanted in his father. Especially since he ended up raising them himself from ages four and two when their mother left and he vowed to never let their father do to them what he endured all the way up to a few months ago, to the day he buried an empty casket beneath a headstone engraved with his last name. He was glad that his siblings were made to take on their mother's maiden name, even though his brother had been born as a fallback plan to carry on the Kim legacy if something ever happened, and his sister never existed to their father, both kept in hiding only until they were needed for the family business.

Despite what he was taught, Jin loved them. From the moment he found out about them, he made sure to raise them as if their existence wasn't surrounded by death and greed and crime and sometimes pure evil. Even though all of them grew up without a mother, he wasn't going to let either of them feel abandoned or like no one loved them. Because he was determined to maintain their childhood that had been stolen from him. He was the one who took them away to a park whenever their father yelled at and threatened their mother, just before she left. As a fourteen-year old, he would pack them in the car and drive them far enough away from home, because with the way he was aging, he passed for at least seventeen. When he got back one day, their mother told him to take care of them and after that, he never saw her again. But he kept his promise.

He made them lunches, took Jungkook to school, stayed home with Angel until she was old enough to go to daycare, all while pretending to be the babysitter when he dropped them off so they wouldn’t be mistaken for family. Having different last names helped him feel like he wasn’t completely lying. As soon as he picked them up and brought them home, he always had dinner ready, helped them with crafty projects and homework while he did his own, got them ready for bed, read stories and sang lullabies, and stayed up way too late worrying about how much longer his father would let him do this.

He knew he couldn't always be the best brother, but he'd be damned not to try.

When he finished high school and his father took every spare moment of his free time away to instead spend grinding away the rest of his innocence in preparation to take over for him one day, he made sure his brother and sister were left with the best nannies. And as they grew older, he sent them away to the best boarding schools in order to keep them away from the family business for as long as possible.

In disguise, he went to Jungkook’s baseball games and math tournaments, and Angel’s piano recitals and debates whenever he could, and if he was unable, he sent one of his guards instead to film them undercover.

Sometimes when he hated everything, hated himself, wished he’d never been born, he spent one too many nights driving back and forth across the Han river bridge, wondering if his father would call him a coward for not having the balls to throw himself over. Because every time he stood on the railing and leaned over imagining what it’d be like to drown in water that pretty, he thought of the only two people he ever truly loved. The ones he hid a picture of in his wallet, because he couldn’t take any on his phone, or even leave some around his house that’s way too big and hollow for just one person, as it would put a risk of revealing both of them to his world too soon.

So each and every time, he got down from the railing, went back to his car, and pulled out his third phone to put them on a three way call, doing his best to keep the fact that he almost permanently abandoned them hidden from his voice. He didn’t care if they playfully complained that he interrupted something in their busy, accomplished lives overseas, because he needed to talk to them so they could save him. Time and time again.

But now they have to be saved, and Jin doesn't know if he can. Because he fears that once he’s arrested, they’ll both be put in the worst possible danger and he won’t be around to protect them. He’ll be breaking his promise to their mother. And out of all the sins he's committed, that would be the one thing he could never ask forgiveness for.

So in the midst of his tears and panic, he comes up with a plan to make sure nothing will happen to them in his absence. If anything does, he'd have no problem sending himself straight to the bottom of the river.

They move to the living room for more comfortable seating while Jin goes through his process of formulating plans. Hoseok listens intently, taking mental notes and sharing ideas of how to ensure the safety of Jin's siblings. It involves him, Namjoon, and Min, a plethora of guards and weapons, that would all, without fail, protect Jungkook and Angel at all costs. Making plans helps Jin calm down and he eventually returns to his place against Hoseok's chest, hiccupping every now and then from crying so much.

"Promise me you'll look out for them, Sunny," Jin pleads in a quiet, nasally tone, needing reassurance for the tenth time.

"I will. We all will. Me, Joon, Min..." he promises.

And then, in a deep breath and a whisper, "We love you."

There's a pause just before Jin slowly turns around with a look in his eye filled with so much emotion that Hoseok has never seen before (and will never see again). There's a glint and a sparkle there as he glances at Hoseok's mouth, something that tells him he wants to say those kind of words back but can't. Instead, he makes a joke, true to his character.

"I've had fantasies about you arresting me,” Jin says, kissing Hoseok on the corner of his mouth as he huffs a laugh. “I don’t think I’d mind going to jail if you were the one taking me there.”

Hoseok cackles as Jin wiggles his eyebrows. "You’re a sick freak, hyung."

With an agreeing grin, Jin kisses him and then fucks him right there on the couch, then makes love to him on the floor in front of the fireplace on the faux fur rug, under the warmest, softest blanket. They mark their territory on each other's skin with bruises and bites that will last for weeks. When they're both sweaty and breathless, Jin falls asleep on top of him and Hoseok tries to memorize every inch of his body, like he hasn't already done so countless times before, because he just wants to make sure he never forgets what love feels like. He succumbs to exhaustion with tears pricking the corners of his eyes that he won't let fall.

When he wakes, Jin is gone. Hoseok sits up in the eerily silent, practically empty cabin. The fire is now reduced to embers and it's significantly colder in the cabin. Hoseok hates the hollow feeling he gets as he moves around collecting his things, heavy blanket wrapped around him as he looks for any trace of Jin but finds nothing. The baking ware is gone as well. But there's a carefully wrapped meal left for him in the fridge that he won't be able to stomach until later that day.

There’s a big plate of decorated cookies on the counter and his heart stops and sags when next to it he finds an old phone turned off, covered in Jin's fingerprints, an astronaut sticker plastered and worn on the back.

Taped to it is a note that reads:

If you ever need to save yourself, it’s all right here.

And Hoseok melts on the floor in a puddle of tears at the notion that Jin is willing to sacrifice himself, his freedom, his life all for him if it's one day necessary. This is something he never would have imagined, especially not since years ago when Jin once threatened him and his family for his loyalty and devotion with a gun held to his head. Now, Hoseok thinks he would leave all that behind to stay with Jin. It's stupid and irresponsible, he knows, but Hoseok hasn't found anything in anyone like what he has in Jin. And he doesn't think he ever will. But none of that matters now. Because Jin will be gone and there is nothing Hoseok can do, except pick himself up and leave like none of that meant anything.

He's gotten really good at lying.

.

.

.

part 1. coming soon!!! (for real this time)

masterlist

thanks for reading! this is the last of 2seok we'll see in this series :( they'll be mentioned throughout, but there just won't be anymore interactions. maybe at the very end who knows. i also could be lying and suddenly change my mind lol. hope you enjoyed! let me know if i missed any warnings.

xxx- claret

notes: i hope this all makes sense, like with the legal shit lol, i'm kind of making stuff up as i go bc it's imperative to the plot that both Jin and his father are no longer in charge so bear with me. That and i love the idea of hoseok being a dirty cop and having some forbidden love with mob boss jin.

taglist: @polarnightmyg @rinkud