#i don’t think she knows i like her which is good

[ktgoodmorning]

Keeping Secrets

Claudia Pina x putellas!reader

You get a new addition, much to your sister's dismay but your girlfriends excitement.

Masterlist

“Mapi, I’m serious right now, you can’t tell anyone I’m doing this. Not Claudia, definitely not Alexia, nobody.” The older woman rolled her eyes at you but you both knew she’d take you seriously, if anyone wanted to avoid the wrath of your sister, it was Mapi. You wouldn’t have even bothered bringing Mapi but you needed the moral support and it was her friend that’d be doing the piercing for you. 

“I don’t understand why you’re not telling Pina, though. She’s gonna see it soon enough anyways, right?” Now it was your turn to roll your eyes.

“I already told you, I’m not hiding it from her, it's just a surprise cause I know she’ll love it.” You apparently didn’t hide the smirk on your face as well as you’d hoped to, but you knew that the second you let Claudia see your new tongue piercing, she would be obsessed for more reason than one. 

“Ew, if you don’t wipe that look off your face I might actually throw up,” you giggled at the older woman and pushed her away playfully, something you inherited from your older sister. “Come on, I have to fill in as your older sister since Alexia still doesn’t know about you two. Which I still don’t think is a good idea, by the way.” She gave you a knowing look but still kept a smile on her face. 

You knew she was right, both about her stepping into your sister’s role, and also that it was a bad idea that you and Claudia were hiding your relationship from her, but at this point you just weren’t ready. To be fair, it’s not like Alexia was the only person you were hiding it from. The only people who knew about you two were Mapi, Ingrid, and Vicky, and Vicky wasn’t even supposed to know. 

Vicky only knew about the two of you because she had been playing games on your phone when you got a rather X rated text from Claudia and easily caught on to the nature of your relationship. The younger girl knowing about it was more of a nuisance than anything else. Her new favorite thing to do was hold it over your head when she wanted something from you. You didn’t quite think she’d actually spill your secret, but it was a risk you still weren’t willing to take, so every time you said no to her, she’d give you that look, with that stupid little smirk, until you eventually gave in and gave her what she wanted.

Mapi, on the other hand, had been surprisingly mature about it all. You and Pina had both, unknowingly, been telling her about your feelings for each other before you ever got together, so it only felt natural to tell her when you finally did.

 The night Claudia finally asked you out and you said yes, you both were so giddy and excited that you called her to tell her. The defender knew it would happen eventually but was just waiting for you two to figure it out yourselves only because Ingrid told her to stay out of your business, so when she got the call, she was almost as excited as both of you. She also knew however, that she had a big responsibility being the only one who knew (besides Ingrid). 

Both of you were close with her, making her protective over both of you. The fact that neither of your other friends or family knew, only made her more protective, especially for you. 

Mapi was obviously quite close with your sister, so she felt she had a duty to fill that sisterly role when Alexia was kept out of the loop. Because of this, it was typical for you to see her switch from her role as your friend to that of a protective older sister. The athlete didn’t approve of the way you kept it from your sisters and made sure you knew that from the very beginning, but at the end of the day, she knew you were an adult and couldn’t force you. So at the very least, she’d make sure to stand in for them until they knew.

That’s how you found yourself here, getting glared at every time you made a suggestive joke over the piercing you were about to get. “I still don’t get why you’re getting a tongue piercing, Cari. It sounds painful and you can’t even see it!” 

“Just because you can’t see it doesn’t mean you can’t feel-”

“IF YOU FINISH THAT SENTENCE I’LL HIT YOU!” She gave you a gentle shove while you were busy laughing at your own joke. It truly wasn’t the only reason you were getting the piercing but it sure didn’t hurt. You knew Claudia would love it and love how it looked on you and you were excited to finally do it. Your schedule had been so busy that you had been waiting for a day where you had time, not too close to a game day, and today was perfect. All you had was a recovery session later in the day before a couple days off to take it easy and let it heal. The more time off you had, the easier you knew it’d be to hide it from your sister too. 

...

A few hours later, you found yourself sitting in the locker room in front of your cubby, using your tongue to play with the new metal bar going through it. To say you were excited would have been an understatement. Just feeling the metal in your mouth gave you a confidence boost you didn’t know you needed. 

You were buzzing to show Claudia, knee bouncing, fingers tapping along the side of the bench next to you. The plan was to wait until after training to show her. You knew the second she saw it that she’d be too excited to play it cool and keep the rest of the team ( and more importantly your sister) from seeing it. She also was likely to be all over you and give away the secret of your relationship as well, so you decided to wait until you were home, or at least in the car, before she could see it.  

You were on your phone as you sat there, waiting for the rest of your teammates to arrive, especially your girlfriend. More of your teammates started to walk in but you paid them no mind, spending your time texting Claudia, excited to see her for the first time all day. You missed your sister coming in and shooting you a suspicious look over the small smile that was plastered on your face as you texted. If you realized it was there, you would’ve worked harder to hide it but it was so subconscious that you had no idea you were doing it. 

“Somebody’s in a good mood today, what’s got you smiling at your phone?” Alexia greeted you with a smile and a small ruffle to your hair, something she knew you hated and was always doing anyway. 

You scowled at her actions and immediately put your phone down, maybe a bit too quickly, causing your sister to instantly take note. “Nobody, I’m just in a good mood, I had a good morning with Mapi.” You gave her a small shrug and watched a smirk growing on her face. 

“Hmmm, I just thought it was a cute dog video or something but since you said it’s nobody, I assume it must be a person then?”

You met her with an eye roll but you couldn’t deny the blush that was growing on your face, suddenly nervous you’d give yourself away. “Alexia, don’t you have something better to do?” you sighed. 

She furrowed her eyebrows at you, seemingly intrigued by something else now. “What’s up with you, your voice sounds weird?” Her question was light-hearted enough but you instantly froze.

The one thing you didn’t account for- the way your tongue was a bit swollen and your speech was a bit off as you got used to the new piece of metal in your mouth. The comment from your sister made your eyes go wide. Your mind was racing to come up with a lie but simultaneously went completely blank. You opened your mouth to speak but then shut it when you came up with nothing, only incriminating yourself even further. It was clear to everyone in the room that you were hiding something. 

You didn’t realize how many of your teammates had now arrived, including your girlfriend who came bouncing through the door at that exact moment. Her face lit up when she saw you but dropped the second she saw the look on yours. Clearly she realized something was going on between you and Alexia. 

All the girls knew not to get involved in anything between you two, but it was obvious they were trying to hide their interest in the current situation. You saw the little side eyes and short glances your way as they tried to catch a word of what was going on. 

You and Alexia were close; you had a great relationship. But it also wasn’t unusual for you to butt heads at times. She was fiercely protective over you and at times it pissed you off. Sometimes you wished she could be more like Alba and not worry so much about pushing you to be your best but just let you live your life instead. When the two of you got to fighting, everyone knew, there was no getting in the middle of it. 

The second she saw your reaction to her previous question, Alexia’s soft smile turned to a cold glare, “Hermana, what are you hiding from me?” 

“Nothing, Ale, it’s no big deal, I just-” 

“Don’t lie to me! You know I don’t like when you lie and you’re still talking weird. Open your mouth.” Her voice was cold in a way that shook you to your bones. She was oddly calm, as if she could explode any second, and somehow that scared you more than any yelling match you had with her. It pissed you off that she’d do this with your teammates around but it still made you shrink just as much as it did when you were little kids. 

Your sister took your silence as disobedience and shrunk in closer to you, “Open. Your. Mouth.” 

Out of the corner of your eye you could see your teammates all frozen around you, watching closely to figure out what was happening between you. Mapi was worried, knowing exactly what you were keeping from her and also knowing that she was partially responsible for it. Claudia was worried in a different way. She was confused as to what it was you were keeping from your sister besides your relationship and knew how much this interaction would hurt your feelings. 

You continued to shrink under Alexia’s gaze, finally submitting to her and opening your mouth, gently sticking out your tongue to show her your new addition. You watched her eyes go wide. Her mouth opened and shut a few times in an attempt to figure out what to say but still came up short. You wanted nothing more than to disappear at that moment. 

“Ale-”

“Why would you do that?” she cut you off, her voice a harsh whisper, still scarily calm. 

“I-”

“Why?! Why would you do that, (y/n)?!” 

This was the moment she snapped. 

Your sister was immediately standing over you, voice raised like you expected it to be from the beginning of the conversation. You sighed in annoyance, trying your absolute hardest not to roll your eyes at her reaction. Why couldn’t she just let you live your life? Instead she had to be yelling at you in front of all your teammates over a simple piercing. 

When you glanced around the room, you saw Claudia staring at you with eyes as wide as saucers. You didn’t know it but your girlfriend was torn on how to feel right now. The second she saw your tongue piercing, she could hardly hold back a smile. Her mind instantly went to how good it looked and started wandering to some of the other benefits she could see coming from that piercing. But her excitement and attraction to you was quickly overshadowed by protectiveness for you. She knew she couldn’t step in- the last thing you needed was for Alexia to learn about your relationship and she knew you could handle yourself. But gosh it was hard to just sit and watch you shrink under your sister. 

Mapi was chewing on her bottom lip nervously. She was the one person who could sometimes step in and diffuse your arguments but she wasn’t sure if it was a good idea or not, especially with her involvement in the situation.

Seeing your teammates' reactions gave you some level of courage, lighting a spark in you to stand up for yourself. “Alexia! Why can’t you understand that I’m an adult and can make my own decisions?” 

“Because your decisions are stupid! What if it gets ripped out during a match, huh? Then what? Or when you break your teeth on it? Just so you can feel cool or something? Is that it?” 

“It’s not your decision! It shouldn’t matter what I do! It doesn’t matter to you when I do anything else and now when you don’t like it suddenly you have a problem?! You don’t get to do that, it’s not fair to me!” 

“Don’t pretend I don’t care about you! Do you realize how much I do for you?” 

That really set you off. You were always telling her how grateful you were for everything she did for you throughout your life and it wasn’t fair for her to hold that over your head. 

You raised your voice even further, basically screaming at your sister in the middle of the locker room, “This isn’t about you for once Alexia! I made this choice for myself! It has nothing to do with you and I don’t need your opinion on it. It’s ridiculous that you’re so upset over something this small. I have nothing left to say to you, if you don’t get it by this point, that’s your fault, not mine.” At this, you stormed out of the locker room, overflowing with anger towards your sister but also embarrassed that your whole team had just watched that argument. 

You didn’t have a plan as to where you were going after leaving the locker room, you just needed space from your sister. The two of you were both stubborn and it wasn’t unusual for it to bubble up like this, you just needed space. As soon as you had walked out, Mapi started tearing into the captain, trying to get her to understand where you were coming from. 

While the older women yelled at each other, Claudia half-heartedly continued getting ready for training. She was trying to figure out how to react or if you’d even want her to follow you. She wanted to, for sure. She wanted nothing more than to wrap you in her arms and make sure you were okay. But she wasn’t sure you’d want to risk your secret getting out, especially when Alexia was already mad at you. 

The brunette gave it a few minutes, feeling like it was an acceptable amount of time for her to leave the room without it being obvious she was following you. She wandered the hallways some, not expecting to stumble into you sitting on the floor, tucked away next to some random vending machines, virtually out of sight from people walking the main corridor. 

“Do you want love right now or do you want some space?” Claudia squatted down next to you for a moment in an attempt to give you some room in case you didn’t want to see her. Normally she’d want nothing more than to engulf you in a hug but with the secret of your relationship looming and you still being in a public place, she didn’t want to overstep. She was also more hesitant knowing that arguments with your sister were sometimes a touchy subject. 

You raised your head to look at her from where it was resting against your knees when you heard the familiar voice. “I don’t know. I’m fine,” you shrugged, “I just needed to get away from her for a minute.” 

Claudia responded with a nod and sat down next to you, close enough you could lean into her if you wanted but not too close that it’d be suspicious if anyone walked by. “I get it. I can always just listen if you want to rant about it or anything.” 

It was killing her not to ask about your piercing. She wanted almost nothing more than to get a good look at the piece of metal in your mouth, but she knew it wasn’t the time to ask.

“Thank you, Clau.” You leaned your head on her shoulder, just grateful for her calming presence next to you, especially as she rested her hand on top of yours. “It’s just frustrating, but I know she means well.” 

Your girlfriend gave your hand a reassuring squeeze, “she does, but it still doesn’t make it any less frustrating.” 

Alexia’s reaction to your piercing was exactly the reason you hadn’t told her about your relationship. Everyone knew she just wanted to protect you but she seemed to forget you were your own person with your own life. The captain had a hard time loosening her reins on you and that was exactly what caused you to push against her at times. 

When she felt like she’d given you an appropriate amount of time to calm down, Claudia finally spoke up, deciding she couldn’t hold it in any longer. The brunette’s voice was tentative, much more than it ever was, still not sure if she should bring it up yet. “So do I get to see what made her freak out so bad?” It was clear she was trying to hide her excitement and suppress a smirk that continued to grow. 

You gave her a light chuckle at how quickly she could pull you from your annoyance and bring you back to the excitement you’d had earlier. “Clau, you can’t do anything crazy when I show you, we're still in public remember?” 

You laughed at the way she nodded quickly, eager like a little kid awaiting a treat. When you stuck out your tongue to show her the new addition, Claudia’s jaw just about hit the floor. She had seen a glimpse of it when you showed your sister but now that she could really see it up close, she was blown away. 

“Ay dios mio, you’re so fucking hot, babe,” she groaned as she leaned into you, looking for any sort of physical contact, but you didn’t give her much, still just keeping a hold of her hand as you giggled at her reaction. 

“Clau, we can’t do this, you know that. Someone might see us.” You could both tell your words were tentative, not quite fully convinced yourself as you both leaned into each other further. 

“Mmmm I know but look at you. How is my girlfriend more badass than me?” She pressed some light kisses to the side of your neck, doing her best to be careful but ultimately failing. “I don’t know how I’m supposed to go the rest of the day without kissing you, knowing that’s in your mouth.” She mumbled into your shoulder, sure to keep her voice down in case anyone came looking for the two of you. 

“Well I have even worse news then,” this was the part you were a lot less excited about. “I’m not supposed to be doing any kissing for a few weeks while it heals.” 

“NOooo!” Her whining was much louder than she had been just moments before, throwing her head back dramatically. 

You gave her shoulder a light smack but still just smiled at her reaction, “Claudia, be quiet someone could hear you, you have to calm down.”

“Calm? You want me to be calm right now? How am I supposed to go that long without kisses?” she stuck out her bottom lip to pout at you, something she did all the time. 

“You can still kiss me though, just not on the lips! And I think we can both agree that it’ll be worth it in the end, yes?” 

Your girlfriend’s pout had been replaced with a smirk as she just hummed in response and buried her face in your neck, leaving open mouthed kisses anywhere she could reach. You both knew you shouldn’t let her continue but didn’t have the willpower to stop. At some point during her kisses, she had turned to face you better, reaching one hand to land on your waist and pull you closer, the other grabbing at your thigh. 

“Clau, we can’t- we can’t do this.” you struggled to get your words out, suddenly caught up in her actions. 

“Hmmm, are you gonna stop me though?” you felt her fingernails dig into your thigh as her hand ran dangerously higher. 

“No,” you whispered breathlessly as her hand continued to move up, “But if we get caught I’m blaming you.”

And as if on cue, you were suddenly being yelled at. “Dios mío, habláis en serio?!” The two of you immediately pushed away from each other, scattering as far away as you could when you heard the voice. 

When you looked up, you were relieved to see that it was only Mapi and let out a breath you didn’t realize you had been holding, flinching as she started to scold you. 

“What is wrong with you? You’re at training! You’re just lucky it’s me who found you and not your sister! I can’t even imagine what she would have done. If you’re gonna pull shit like this, you need to tell her about you two, cause she can’t accidentally stumble into whatever that was.” She grabbed you by the arm to pull you up from the ground, both you and Claudia looking down sheepishly. 

The older woman held you in front of her, pressing a finger into your chest, “you are going to go back to that locker room and we are going to tell everyone I found you calming down after your argument with Alexia and we just happened to run into Pina in the hallway. And you both,” now she pulled your girlfriend up next to you, “are going to hope to God that you didn’t leave any marks on her neck, because I can only defend you so much. Understand?” 

Neither of you could make eye contact yet, still scared of how serious Mapi had become, nodding your heads rapidly at her statement. “And Pina, you keep your hands to yourself.” 

“Si, si, I will, I promise.” 

“Good,” she appeared to be satisfied by your answers and started pushing you both back towards the locker room. “Now I’m gonna try to erase that image from my mind so I don’t throw up.” 

You did your best to suppress a smirk at Mapi’s reaction and tried to sneak a look at your girlfriend who was walking along next to you. The two of you locked eyes for a brief moment but looked away quickly to make sure you wouldn’t giggle at you both having the same thought. 

“Hey! I saw that look! Keep walking!” This time you could barely keep it together at Mapi’s feigned seriousness, while the three of you continued back to the locker room, your secret still safely between the three of you and Vicky, just praying it would stay that way.

Not sure how I feel about this one, let me know! Planned to do more in this universe but now can't quite decide, would love some ideas if you want more of it, I know not everyone loves the Pina ones as much.

Masterlist

[luveline]

hii hope youre doing well! could i request coworker!james where r comes in to work sick and he gets worried?

fem!reader, 1.3k

It’s getting old, the whole charade. James didn’t like you and now he does. You used to piss him off, now you don’t. Somehow, someway, he’s seen parts of you he couldn’t help but love, in your voice, how you talk; in your hands, your touch; in your emails worst of all. Who ever thought that James could fall in love on Outlook? 

Dearest desk mate,

Where are you? It’s 9.45 and you aren’t here. You realise work starts at 8.30? Besides my worry, I need the invoice for Lang and Co. and Remus doesn’t have them either.

You’re my only hope, 

James

You email back a stringy fifteen minutes later. 

James, 

I’ll be there soon. I can’t attach the file from my phone but I will send it to you the second second I get there, I know you asked meyesterday. I’m sorry for holding you up .

James reads your email with a frown. Your typos are unlike you. He wonders if perhaps you’re texting and driving, which is abhorrent, but you walk into the office a minute later, so you must’ve been responding to him as you walked. 

You duck straight into the manager’s office. James can hear you say sorry before the door is fully closed, craning his neck for a good look at you. 

Remus laughs shamelessly. “Worried about her?” 

“About who?” he asks, even as his chair creaks and threatens to snap under his weight, leaning back to see you through the frosted glass. 

“She’s not going anywhere now she’s here, James. Nobody stops by for social visits.” 

James relents when he realises you may be in there for a little while. The rain today is aggressive against the window, condensation dripping down the windows to pool atop the radiators. You hate it; you love the radiators when they’re working in the winter, but sad summer days with rubbish weather bog you down. Either way, the condensation wets your elbows or gathers on your desk —it’s not nice. James grabs a wad of tissues from the box on his desk and begins his quick mission. 

“Oh, my god. Jamie, you can’t be serious.” 

“I'm avoiding electrocution.” 

“You’re cleaning up for her,” Remus says, putting his face in his hand to watch him with a softer smile, “it’s nice of you, really, but you can’t expect me to pretend I believe you when you say you don’t like her for much longer if you’re going to do stuff like this.” 

“Now say that five times fast.” 

His heart drops when you clear your throat, caught, sodden tissue in hand. You don’t eyeball him, there’s no scorn, you clear your throat again and all but collapse into your seat. 

“Hey,” James says. 

You tip your head back. “Hi, James.” Your eyes are bloodshot, and, to James’ surprise, you aren’t wearing a lick of makeup. You look very pretty but very tired, too. 

“You okay?” 

Remus bends around the desktop. “Yeah, are you okay? 

“I’m fine,” you drop your head back with some vertigo, and press your hands to your eyes. “I’m not very well, is all.” 

“What’s wrong?” Remus asks. 

“Just poorly. Um, I have a bad headache, and my ears are ringing, but it’s not unmanageable. I’m full of sudafed.” 

“Can’t you go home? We can manage without you until you’re better,” Remus says.

“I had all that time off a few weeks ago,” you say. You’d been ill not so long ago. 

“You can have some of my sick days,” James says immediately. 

You rub your eyes hard enough to make James’ ache in sympathy. “Doesn’t work like that.” 

“You really shouldn’t be here if you’re sick,” James says. 

“I won’t get you sick, I promise. I brought hand sanitizer, I’m not sneezing or coughing, I’m just aching.” Your movements are lethargic as you lean back in your chair, the slow roll of your shoulders and the limp cross of your arms over your stomach hard to ignore. 

James rounds the desk to chuck his tissues in the little bin beneath it. “I don’t think either of us are worried about you getting us sick, lovely.” 

Your face crumples quickly and neatens up again just as fast. “My head just hurts,” you say, rubbing your forehead. You manage to summon a wobbly smile despite your pinched brows. “I’m fine, don’t worry.” 

If it were Sirius, James would thrust a bottle of water and a pack of ibuprofen at him and tell him to chill out. It it were Remus, the expression would turn his heart, and he’d give his friend a good pat on the back. You aren’t Sirius nor Remus, you’re not so close to him that James knows what to do, but what use is he if he doesn’t try?

“Can I make you a cup of tea?” James asks. 

“That’s cruel,” Remus says, “your tea is like milky disappointment.” He stands with a smile James hates, some playful conniving mixture with good intentions deep, deep down. “I’ll make it. James, why don’t you turn the radiator?” 

“Is that okay?” James asks. 

“What?” 

“Do you think that’ll make you feel better, the radiator?” James asks. 

“I can do it.”

“No, it’s okay, it hurts your hand. I’ll turn it up.” He weaves back in between your chair and the radiator. Your desk is close enough to be faced with your thighs, but James doesn’t get half as distracted by them as he does your twitchy face. 

“You sure you’re okay?” he asks. 

“You and Remus worry too much.” You give him the side eye. “Why do you care?” 

“I think we’re a little bit past pretending we don’t like each other, aren’t we?” 

He turns the radiator on with less struggle than he’s anticipating and holds his hand to the bottom until he feels the metal warming. “Tell me if that gets too hot for you,” he says, standing. 

“Thank you.” 

“It’s no problem.” 

“No, really,” you say, rubbing the bridge of your nose, “thanks for worrying about me. I’ll feel better in an hour.” 

“Did you eat breakfast?” He brings his hand up to wipe a stray fibre from your cheek, “Why were you late?” 

“I…” Your eyes follow his hand as he lowers it. Emboldened, James raises it again, wiping at a phantom fibre. “What is it?” 

“Little hair on your cheek.” 

“I slept late, and I felt strange in the car so I parked for a bit, and… I don’t know. I should’ve stayed home, but you know what he’s like about sick days.” 

“You feel alright now, other than the headache?” 

“Just heavy.” 

James spots Remus coming back and steps away. “You’ll be alright, okay? Don’t worry too much. Do some of the top spreadsheets and we can manage the rest.” 

“You don’t have to do that for me.” 

James does, really. Remus gives you your mug of tea and one of the plastic wrapped muffins from the kitchen, both boys keeping watch over you like a vigil. If you were well enough to notice you’d complain, but you spend the next few hours sipping at your tea as it turns cold, and nibbling at little bits of muffin, clearly tired. 

You email James the Lang and Co. invoices four hours after he’s asked for them with a sorry and a frowny face emoticon. James wants to kiss you on the forehead, feels it so strongly it becomes a different kind of wanting, to look after you and for you to want him to do that. He’s in way too deep. There’s not much he can do. 

“You want some more tea?” he asks, leaning over to grab your discarded mug.

“Yeah, please, Jamie.” 

James’ fingers wobble around the mug. 

Remus glances up from his phone. 

“Of course,” James says, smiling, “coming right up.” 

Jamie, he thinks. Friends call him Jamie. He can be your friend, he’d love to be your friend, but Jamie. Even sick, you say it sweetly. He trips over himself trying to get what you asked. 

[lev1hei1chou]

Cafe Drama

Gojo x reader Genre: Fluff Synopsis: Gojo loves drama when he’s not the center of it Masterlist

"BABE, YOU WON'T BELIEVE WHAT HAPPENED!"

You almost dropped your phone. Not a hello, not even a 'Hey, how are you?' Just Gojo, screaming into the phone, voice filled with eagerness.

"Satoru, what—"

"So I was on this mission, right?" he interrupts, not bothering to wait for you response. "And I decided to take a break at this cute little cafe. You know the type, rustic charm, overpriced lattes, the works."

"Uh-huh," You reply, already grinning because you know this is going to be good.

"Okay, so I’m sitting there, minding my own business, trying to decide between a macchiato and a cappuccino—very important stuff, obviously—when suddenly, BAM! The couple at the table next to me starts arguing."

You can almost see his eyes sparkling with glee as he recounts this. Gojo loves drama when he’s not the center of it.

"So, naturally, I tune in. It’s like my own private soap opera. The guy’s all like, 'I can’t believe you did that!' and she’s like, 'Well, maybe if you paid more attention to me instead of your stupid phone!' Classic stuff. Anyway, they’re getting louder and louder, and I’m just sitting there, sipping my coffee, trying not to laugh."

"Of course you were," You chuckle, shaking your head. "You love a good train wreck."

"Exactly! But it gets better. The guy stands up, and I think he’s going to storm out, but no. He leans in, gets all serious, and says, 'You’re being irrational.' Which, by the way, never helps. She stands up too, and I’m like, 'Oh boy, here we go.' She picks up her glass of juice—orange, if you’re wondering—and I’m thinking, 'No, she wouldn’t.' But she did. SHE DID, BABE!"

"She threw the juice?"

"Right in his face! Full-on, slow-motion movie style. It was beautiful. Juice everywhere. The guy’s just standing there, dripping, looking like a soggy, defeated puppy. And the whole cafe goes silent."

You couldn’t help but burst out laughing, picturing the scene in your head. "Did anyone say anything?"

"Oh, the barista tried to act professional, but you could tell she was dying inside. Everyone’s just staring, and the guy, poor guy, he wipes his face and says, 'You know what? I don’t need this.' And then he slips on the juice! He didn’t fall, but it was close. Very close. He regained his dignity just enough to leave the cafe without actually hitting the floor."

You're laughing so hard now, with tears forming in the corners of your eyes. "Did you do anything? Or just watch?"

"Me? Oh, I applauded."

"No you didn’t!"

"I did! How could I not? It was a stellar performance. I gave her a standing ovation. I think she appreciated it, too. She bowed before storming out. Quite the exit. Ten out of ten."

You could barely breathe. "Only you, Gojo, would turn someone’s breakup into your own personal entertainment."

"Hey, I’m just here to enjoy the show life puts on for me. And to share it with you, of course. How’s your day going? Any juice-throwing incidents I should know about?"

"Sadly, no. My day has been quite boring compared to yours. Just paperwork and a slightly burnt grilled cheese."

"Tragic. I’ll have to take you to that cafe sometime. Maybe we’ll get lucky and see round two."

"As tempting as that sounds, I think I’ll pass on the drama. But thank you for the update, babe. You always know how to make my day."

"Anything for you, babe. Now, tell me more about this grilled cheese situation. Burnt, you say? Sounds like a crisis."

You giggled, settling back into the couch, feeling the warmth of his ridiculous story still lingering. "Well, it started with the toaster oven malfunctioning..."

[ddarker-dreams]

Lock I need you to share something about Gojo. Jjk is getting worse with no hope in the future. Plis just a tiny part is god. 🙏🙏🙏🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺

Detour.

Gojo Satoru x F Reader x Geto Suguru.

Warnings: Mild not SFW implications, Gojo and Geto are Not normal about you, exhibiting possessive behavior. Word count: 1.2k.

-Index-

"—Excuse me, miss!" 

The exclamation barely registers amidst the crowded street's ambiance. Everyone has a destination they're eager to reach, and you're no different. Unlike those native to the area, however, you're more likely to get lost; hence your current conundrum. 

You examine the mess of squiggly lines, blocks, and patterns intended to function as a map. 

Kagurazaka, Kagurazaka... c'mon, I know this one... it starts with the kanji for god or something, right? 

While you scrutinize the map, the same voice from earlier calls out again, this time beside you. You glance around, not wanting to respond if he’s trying to flag down someone else. In doing so, it becomes increasingly obvious that you’re who he’s been trying to grab the attention of. 

From the looks of it, he’s a man in his late thirties, wearing a suit that could use a good ironing. You can’t recall meeting him before. Then again, you’re not privy to everything that happens back on campus. Meetings with influential figures frequently occur without your knowledge. You only ever find out about them later when Satoru loudly voices his critical view on everyone who attended. You are wearing your uniform, it’s recognizable to those in Jujutsu circles. 

You’d rather not stir up a scandal by unintentionally snubbing a Zenin or someone equally important. With this in mind, you politely inquire, “Can I help you?” 

“That uniform… you’re a high schooler, right?” 

You nod, figuring that this confirms your hypothesis. 

“What year?” 

This question makes less sense. Maybe he wants to know your proximity to Suguru, or, far likelier, Satoru. These types always have their own designs for the pride of the Gojo clan. 

“I’m a second-year.” 

“I see, I see,” he begins rummaging through his blazer’s inner pocket. He procures a business card and holds it out. “How about a job? From the looks of it, you’d make a good fit.” 

You blink. 

Are you… allowed to do freelance work? You’ve heard of specific sorcerers being requested for jobs, but that’s always been through the school. Besides, as a Grade Three, you don’t think you can go on unsupervised jobs. Not wanting to seem rude, you reach out to accept the card— 

—Only for it to be intercepted. 

“Sorry, she’s completely booked,” a voice that sounds the furthest thing from apologetic chimes in. 

Gojo Satoru stands to your right, adorned with his circular sunglasses and trademark grin. He rips the card in half without so much as a second thought. You stare at him, incredulous. Questions swarm around your head. When did he get here? How didn’t you notice him until now? Why does his cursed energy have such an unnerving quality to it? 

He bends down and hangs his arm around your shoulder. “You’re somethin’ else. Ignoring Suguru and I’s calls, chatting up strange men in Kabukichō… I swear, we can’t take our eyes off you for a second.” 

“Wh— I’m not chatting anyone up!” You whisper yell. His infinity nullifies enough for you to jab a finger at his chest. “Why can’t you give better directions?! ‘West of the Edo Castle’ doesn’t tell me anything, it just sounds like a TV drama!”

Satoru shrugs. “Should’ve just asked an auxiliary manager to drop you off.” 

“You might treat them like a personal taxi service, but I’d rather not. Taking the train’s fine.” 

The man finally overcomes the shock inflicted by Satoru’s audacity, taking a step forward. “What are you, her boyfriend or something?” 

“Bleh, no!” 

“Future husband.” 

Yours and Satoru’s responses come out simultaneously. 

“In that case—” 

“Excuse me,” A new presence interrupts the increasingly irritated man. Suguru wears a friendly smile which somehow comes across as more menacing than Satoru’s wolfish grin. He places a hand on the man’s shoulder. “You are aware that it’s a minor you’re trying to recruit, correct?” 

The man flushes at the accusation. “Listen, I dunno what you’re trying to accuse me of—” 

“I’d hate to see you get in trouble for a mistake like that,” Suguru cuts him off again, raising his voice ever so slightly. This attracts the attention of some bystanders. “Who knows what consequences that’d result in, especially for a married man like yourself…” 

Huh. You hadn’t even noticed the gold band on his ring finger. Suguru’s nothing if not perceptive. 

Nearby commuters whisper amongst themselves while eyeing the scene. The man’s gaze flits between a self-satisfied Satoru and an overly polite Suguru, eventually settling on an escape route. Wordlessly, he departs, although you swear you overhear him muttering ‘crazy kids’ and ‘doomed girl,’ along the way. 

“Yo, Suguru. Took you long enough.” 

“Unfortunately, not all of us can teleport.” 

“Your curse did a better job at tailin’ me than you.” 

Ignoring the jab, Suguru dusts his hands off while honing in on you. “You alright? You weren’t answering our calls.” 

“And you’re late,” Satoru whines. He helps himself to searching through your purse, taking your pink Razr hostage. “Huh. Battery’s dead.” 

Suguru appears content. “What’d I tell you?” 

“If she’s blocked me before, the same could happen to you.” 

“I wouldn’t block Suguru.” 

“She wouldn't block me.” 

This time, it’s you and Suguru who speak concurrently. Satoru pouts, putting his hands up like he’s under attack (which he probably believes himself to be). You snatch your phone back without issue, unlike when he last stole it. He unblocked himself and dangled it above your head until you promised you wouldn’t do that again.

“And here I was, about to treat you both to pastries,” Satoru sighs, melodramatic as ever. 

“While we were waiting for you, I noticed creampuffs and macaroons on the menu; which would you recommend?” Suguru inquires, not bothering to acknowledge Satoru’s complaints. 

“That depends on what you want from the experience,” you mimic his decision. “Creampuffs tend to be one flavor, whereas macaroons come in multiple, so the variety’s nice. When I get a variety pack, I always end up disliking one of the flavors and wishing I’d just gotten my favorites instead.” 

Satoru sighs as loud as he can. “Right, right, I’m just a walking wallet. Let’s get going before someone else solicits [First].” 

“Eh?” You turn your head to face Satoru. “‘Solicits?’ As in…?” 

“Se—” 

Suguru slaps a hand over Satoru’s mouth. “What he means to say is that this isn’t the best area for a high school girl to linger.”

“W-Wait, hold on! I thought he was like a… er, how would you say that… sorcerer employer?” 

They both stare at you. 

“You do know what Kabukichō’s famous for, right?” Suguru tentatively asks. 

“Hm? ‘Kabuki’ is a type of traditional theater, isn’t it?” 

“...” 

“...” 

“Let’s just show her what we mean,” Satoru bends down, picking up two halves of the business card he split in half earlier. “It’ll be a good lesson. I’d rather not have to come fetch her in this place again— oh.” 

Suguru inspects what has the power to shut Gojo Satoru up. You watch as his eyes move back and forth, his face shifting while he does so. His lips narrow into a thin line when he pulls back. Curious, you stand on your tiptoes, hoping to catch a glimpse yourself. Thankfully, there’s yomigana above some of the kanji you don’t recognize. This eliminates any possibility of you misreading the card’s contents. 

‘Oh’ indeed, you think. That poor guy…

It’s a business card for the company that oversees AKB48. 

[tsimvkas]

find comfort in you — trent a.

A/N: it took me a week to be able to write this so im sorry to be posting it on a happy sunday lmao 😵‍💫 a proper trent fic is coming soon please be patient with meee

In the six months you’ve been together, you’ve seen Trent crying once: when Klopp announced his decision.

Since then, you’ve been dreading this day. The final game, when Trent would have to say goodbye to one of the most important men of his life.

When all the celebrations ended and the player’s family entered the pitch, you sat and waited. Trent is very reserved, and you’re even more reserved than him.

Since day one, the agreement was not dragging attention to the relationship, which means you hadn’t been officialised to the rest of the world yet.

It was never a problem to you, not wanting to have people stalking you around or commenting weird things on your socials. But in moments like these you wish Trent were a normal guy.

You wish you could just go there and share the moment with him and his family, supporting him and telling him how proud you were. How strong he was.

But your choices needed some sacrifices, so you kept watching the lap of honour as a normal fan, smiling to the view of your boyfriend holding Aura, so happy and comfortable in her uncle’s arms.

Having seeing him crying earlier during Klopp’s speech had broken your heart, but you knew it was coming. Even though the rest of the world doesn’t know how much, Trent is a sensitive guy, and the end of this era — the only era he has known in his professional career — really affected him.

You agreed to meet them in the parking lot, so when Marcel waved for you it was your signal to leave.

Patiently waiting next to Trent’s car, you instantly noticed how his mood had changed since the last time you checked on him on the pitch.

When no one’s watching, is when your boy shows how he’s actually feeling.

“Are you coming home with me?” was the first thing he said, but instead of teasing and saying something like ‘good night to you too’, you chose to cup his face and stroke his cheeks.

“I think your mum was thinking about staying with you, she was telling me about what she’ll cook” you told him softly, your heart hammering in your chest when he leaned on your touch.

“I asked her not to. Just for tonight, I need to be alone” Trent squeezed your waist, sighing. You nodded, since you imagined that he’d want some space after the draining day.

“That’s ok babe” you stroked his chin. “Can you drop me home?”

“No” he shook his head and opened his eyes, his pleading eyes immediately finding yours. “I need to be alone with you. Can you come?”

“Yeah. Yeah, of course” you felt your heart tightening with worry. “What do you want for dinner? We can have a takeaway”

“I don’t feel like eating” he mumbled, playing with the hem of your Liverpool shirt. “I just wanna cuddle and sleep”

It was your turn to sigh, but you kept stroking his cheek to give him some comfort. “Trent…”

“You can make me breakfast tomorrow” he shrugged, and you knew the subject was over for him.

“Do you want me to drive?” you asked him, ignoring the dinner topic for a while. When he nodded, you pecked his lips and walked to the driver’s side.

You drove quietly, scratching Trent’s scalp at every traffic light and smiling at his little pout.

It didn’t take long to get on his porch, and soon you were turning off the engine. Trent jumped out of the car and ran to open your door for you, making you smile.

Holding hands, you entered his house with him and Trent sighed at the warmth of his safe space.

Once you were in his room, you let go of his hand to open his wardrobe.

“You can shower first” you told him, wanting your boyfriend to have a relaxing time whilst you got to tidy his room. You love Trent, but on a daily basis he’s a messy guy and there’s nothing you can do about it.

He nodded without enthusiasm, accepting the towel you grabbed for him and walking to the bathroom.

Knowing Trent you knew it was going to be a long shower, so you got to work. Changing the bed sheets, putting his clothes in the laundry, opening the bedroom’s window and preparing a snack for him, soon you were back in his room.

Placing the sandwich and the cup of tea on his side table, and looked for the pyjama you’re always leaving there for moments like these.

When he got out, Trent frowned at the plate on the table, but you didn’t give him time to complain, quickly kissing his cheek and entering the bathroom.

Coming back to his bedroom, you were welcomed with the sight of Trent still sitting on the edge of the bed waiting for you. His tired and puffy eyes looked back at you when you got closer and leaned to peck his lips, happy to see that the plate you brought him was empty.

“Ready to knock out?” you murmured, scratching his scalp. Instead of answering, he grabbed the hoodie next to him and handed it to you.

“It’s cold tonight and we know I’ll steal the blanket” he murmured, giving you a shy smile

Giggling, you wore the hoodie before climbing in bed. Cold or not, Trent’s bedroom was acclimated and he could easily make the room warm, but you know how much he liked seeing you in his clothes and after a day like the one he had you think you boy deserves the little happinesses.

When your boyfriend crawled behind you, you let him lay in bed before laying on top of him and tucking your head into his neck, sighing when his hand started to stroke your lower back gently.

In the past six months you quickly found out that cuddling with Trent was one of the best parts of your relationship. His strong arms made you feel safe and it never took you long to sleep with the comforting warmth that irradiates from him.

“Thank you for staying with me tonight” he murmured, and you instantly pulled back to look at him.

“Always. Are you ok, though?” you gently stroked his cheek, brushing away a few tears that you know he tried to hold, without success.

“I’m gonna be” he murmured, kissing your nose. “We’re all gonna be alright. But I was thinking…”

“Mm?” you gently poked his nose, waiting for him to talk.

“You should come live with me” he said casually, biting a smile. “If I’m not seeing Klopp everyday I think I should be able to see you everyday”

“You’re comparing me to Klopp?” you raised an eyebrow.

Trent smiled softly and shrugged, and it was crazy how you could make him feel better even after the intense and emotional day he had.

“I mean, both are family”

You rolled your eyes with a pretending disbelief.

“I’m surprised you never tried to move in with him, Trent”

“I did” he mumbled, making you laugh loudly. “Ulla said no”

“I’m Klopp’s replacement then” you mocked, playfully biting his jaw.

Your boyfriend shook his head, now looking at you seriously. “You’re not a replacement. I just think the time is right but I understand if you think it’s too soon”

“I know baby” you kissed his cheek, smiling he caresses your back beneath the hoodie and your shirt. “I’ll move in with you if you learn how to clean your room”

Trent eagerly nodded, hugging your waist tighter and pecking your lips.

“Deal. I’ll clean it everyday after training”

“We know you can’t clean it everyday, not even if your life depended on it, Trent” you chuckled, resting your head on his shoulder.

“But you’ll move anyways” he brushed his nose on your hair. Trent always says how much he loves the smell of your hair products, and you think it’s cute how he pays attention to that, even complaining when you use a different one.

“I will” you kissed his neck. “I’d do anything to be closer to you”

Tangling your legs together, your boyfriend yawned before readjusting your body on top of his so you could both be more comfortable.

“I wish Klopp felt the same” Trent jokingly sighed, making you both laugh.

You know he’ll cry when you’re asleep. You know there’s a maximum amount of comfort you can offer.

But you also know that Trent will feel better if he can cry holding you; for him, your presence is already enough. You know he’ll wake up with puffy eyes and a tired expression, but he’ll get up and look for you in the kitchen.

He’ll give you a softly smile and hug you, giving your face little kisses until you start to giggle and push him away. He’ll sit and wait for you to finish coffee, and then bring you to sit on his lap.

Trent knows that tonight something was taken away from him, and that the future is uncertain, but he has you. And you, he’s sure, are his only certainty.

[xannsin]

Pairing: Miguel O’Hara x fem!reader

Warning: 18+, NSFW, Slight submissive to dominant Miguel, Creampie, Penetration

Précis: You think you need someone older.

A/N: sorry i’ve been gone for a min , been going thru some things , but i’m back ❤️.

Edits & Look-overs: 3

It’s a Saturday morning.

The sun comes spilling in through the curtains, hitting your face. Your eyes begin to flutter as your body shifts and you roll over in bed. You’re just trying to get some rest after being swamped with papers at work causing you to pull a late shift last night. You’re utterly exhausted. You let out an exhale through your nose, curling up into a ball while your grip tightens and loosens on your pillow. You relaxed, practically sinking out of relaxation into your bed, until —

Beep! Beep! Beep!

Your restful state was interrupted by the loud and obnoxious beeps of a moving truck in reverse, or a big truck, at that. Is someone moving something? It sounded close by, too. You yawn and sit up, your eyes taking a couple moments to adjust to the light. You swing your legs out of bed walk over to your window and peer out of it, looking around. You spot a U-Haul backing into a driveway, the driveway of a house that was right next to yours. New neighbors…

That house had been for sale for a couple months now. You knew the neighbors ever since you were little, Al and Sharon. They were middle-aged and still working when you met them, but time waited for nobody. Your mom and dad’s house was now yours after they found work in Atlanta, and Al and Sharon were now seniors in retirement, going on to buy a beach house in Florida. You felt a tinge of anger at the buyer’s audacities to buy the house, as if they stole it. Maybe it was just the stolen memories in that house. How Sharon would always invite you for cookies. How the couple felt like an aunt an uncle to you…

Whatever. You continued peering out of your window, trying to get a good look at the buyers, plural or singular. Your eyes fall upon a man who stepped out of the U-Haul, stretching and cracking his neck. He was handsome, you couldn’t even deny it. Tall, muscular, medium skin, and features you wish you could see up close. You didn’t really mind having a sight to look at every day.

You smirked as you mulled over that, but the smirk faded into a smaller one as you watched the passenger door open, and out came a little girl who looked no older than 10. The man gently took her by the hand as she ran up to him, leading her into the house. Your expression softens. You didn’t see a woman come out of the U-Haul. Could the mother be somewhere else? On the way? You’re not sure, but you don’t want to know. You’re not a nosy neighbor. Right?

Two days later, after you’re sure that your new neighbor is settled, you whip up a batch of delicious cookies Sharon gave you the recipe to. You absolutely had to take at least one from the batch, they were just that good. Sharon’s cookies never missed. You dressed presentably before walking out of your house, a plastic container in your hands which contained the fresh batch of cookies. You walked next door, clearing your throat before ringing the doorbell.

You wait for a few moments before you hear a lock turn and the door swing open. You’re met with a 6’9, muscular, and imposing figure. God, he’s much taller than you thought. “Hi, I’m your next door neighbor, um, I’d just like to welcome you into the neighborhood,” you say, extending your arms out with the plastic container in your hands. The man glances down at them and smiles softly before taking them, “I appreciate it.”

You nod and hum in response, and he looks at you, smiling softly. “What’s your name?” he asks. “I’m Y/N, pleasure to meet you,” you say, extending your hand out for a handshake. He shifts the plastic container in one hand and shaking your hand with the other. His grip was firm, his hands large and slightly calloused. “Pleasure’s all mine. I’m Miguel.” he says, looking you in the eyes as he spoke.

The two of you smile at each other before retracting your hands back. Miguel clears his throat before speaking, "Would you like to come in?" You pause for a moment before sighing. "Sure, why not," you say, stepping inside when Miguel moved aside to let you in. You look around, letting out a hum of approval as you see the sheer effort he put into the house these past two days. "I'm surprised," you say, "I was expecting the house to be pretty much empty considering the fact you only moved in a couple days ago..." you mutter loud enough for Miguel to hear.

He lets out a soft chuckle. "Yeah, well, I'm a fast worker." he says, gesturing for you to sit down on the couch. You sit down, looking at him as he sits on the other side of the couch so he's looking directly at you. "So, how old are you if you don't mind me asking?" he asked. "I'm 27,” you say simply, "You?"

"Ah. I'm 32," he replies. You nod your head in response, both of you looking at each other. "So, where are you from originally?" you ask, breaking the silence. "Oh, I'm from New York. I moved here for a fresh start, y'know? Gotta give my kid a good life." Miguel replies. You pause for a moment. Was that the little girl you saw getting out of the U-Haul? There's no way... you thought that was his niece.

"Right... um, where's the mother if you don't mind me asking?" you ask curiously, worried you offended him with that question. He looks at you for a second or two before sighing. “She’s uh… she passed.” Miguel explains. You look at him, your eyes softening with the guilt from even asking in the first place. “I’m so sorry…” you say. “It’s okay.” he replies, waving his hand slightly. Then, your ears catch the sound of feet going pitter-patter upstairs. Your eyes trail up to the ceiling before lowering back to meet Miguel’s gaze. “Papá! Come up! There’s too much sink water!” Gabriella shrieked from upstairs, making you flinch slightly. Miguel sighed, pinching his temple before standing up.

“Sorry about that.” Miguel says, and you nod understandingly. “It’s okay. I’ve gotta go, anyway,” you smile softly. “It was nice meeting you.” you say softly, and he smiles back. “Likewise.” he replied. You stand up and walk over to the front door, leaving his home. It was nice meeting him, but, you realized one thing.

He was a fucking DILF.

You and Miguel went from acquaintances to good friends within one month, and he trusted you enough to babysit one night. He had to go out for something he wouldn’t tell you about. Maybe it was about his deceased wife, you didn’t know and wouldn’t push it any further. Babysitting Gabriella was great, she was kind, sweet, funny, qualities that you enjoyed and reciprocated to her.

You were sitting in her room, listening intently as she rambled about her different records, gesturing to her record player on her table. She had a deep love for music, something both of you could relate to. She was so respectful, mature, held her boundaries when needed. It made your opinion about Miguel shift, too. You thought more of him. He raised his daughter so amazingly that this is how she turned out. Your thoughts cloud your mind, making you doze off…

“Y/N? You okay?” Gabriella’s voice breaks that fog in your mind, making you blink a little. “Oh, yep — I’m okay.” you nod, looking down at the carpet the two of you were sitting on, and the records laid out. Your hand moves over them, not feeling any dust as you swipe your hand over them. You let out a thoughtful hum. “Which record is your favorite, Gabi?” you ask, looking up at Gabriella. “Ooh… I really like this one,” she says, tapping her index finger on a Jhené Aiko album. You nod your head, “Good choice. Really good choice.”

The sound of your conversations echo through Gabriella’s room, until you hear someone clearing their throat in the doorway. “Having fun?” Miguel’s deep gravelly voice could cut through air. You and Gabriella whip your heads in his direction, the little girl immediately standing up and rushing over to her dad. “Papá! You’ve been gone for so long!” she exclaims, hugging his torso tightly — the spot she could reach. “I know, I know, mijita, there was just a lot of rain and I had to drive slower than I would if there wasn’t rain.” Miguel explains, patting her head and caressing her scalp. You watch the interaction with a smile, standing up and dusting yourself off.

“Okay. Gosh, it’s late. A dormir, mija.” Miguel says, pressing on Gabriella’s back slightly ro nudge her along to her bed, where she hurries off and crawls into her bed, yawning softly. You lean down and pick up her records before placing them all in her pink record holder. Once he’s done tucking her in, the two of you head out of her room, Miguel turning off the light before you close the door. Once the door’s closed, he looks at you. “She looked happy with you. Thank you, Y/N.” he says as the two of you walk down the hall and down the stairs. “Oh, it’s no problem! She’s so easy-going, your daughter’s amazing, really.” you say, smiling. Miguel smiles softly, “I appreciate it.” he says.

“Well,” you start, sighing, “Time for me to go.” you say, but as you glance out the window you do a double-take. It was almost flooding out. You scoff under your breath, in utter disbelief. “Damn…” you say, and you feel Miguel’s breath hitting the back of your head as he stares out of the window as well. “You sure you wanna walk home?” he asked, chuckling under his breath. “I mean, I’m only next door, it won’t really do me dama-” you’re cut off the sound of thunder booming, causing you to yelp. “You were saying?” Miguel quipped, smirking. You roll your eyes and sigh, “Fine. Sure. I’ll stay.”

“Good, good,” he says, gesturing you to sit down on the couch. He walks over to the kitchen and you hear him rummaging through the cabinets. “You drink?” he calls from the kitchen. “Sometimes… whatcha got?” you ask. “I can make really good Moscow Mules.” he replied. “Sounds good!” you call back.

A couple of minutes later, Miguel walks in with two Moscow Mules in his hands. You whistle in awe, sitting up on the couch as he set them down onto the coffee table. “Where’d you learn to make these?” you ask as he sits next to you. “I had a buddy back in New York, he was a bartender. I picked up a few things from him.” Miguel says, shrugging. You hum in understanding. He gestures to the drink, and you pick it up by the handle. You take a sip, your eyes widening slightly. You’ve only had a couple of Moscow Mules throughout your life, but this is the best one hands down. You pull your lips away from the mug as you swallow, “Wow…”

“Good?” Miguel grins, looking at you. “Soo good,” you reply. He nods and picks his own mug up, taking a large swig out of it like it was water. You scoff under your breath with a smile on your face. He then leans over and picks up the remote, turning on the TV. “What type of movies do you like?” he asks. “Mm… I like horror a lot,” you say softly as you take another sip of your Moscow Mule. “Alright.” he says, putting on Annabelle.

20 minutes into the movie, Miguel speaks, “Thank you for taking care of Gabi tonight. I appreciate it.” You look at him and smile. “Of course, she’s a really great kid. She was raised well.” you say. “Thank you.” he smiles, staring at your lips the whole time you were speaking. His thoughts were all on you. Gabriella’s asleep and the two of you are alone… fucking during a movie could be so-

No. Miguel, she’s just your good friend.

A silence ensues, interrupted by the occasional scream or rustle from the horror movie. You look at the TV intently, still sipping your Moscow Mule, ignoring the fact that Miguel’s mug was already empty and has been for minutes. Suddenly, you’re caught off guard by an intense jumpscare, which causes you to flinch and rub against Miguel. He instinctively grabs onto your thigh to comfort you. “Damn, you good?” he asks, looking at you. You nod, but your eyes trail down to his hand which was on your thigh.

“Oh, sorry-“ he hesitates, but you rest your hand on his. You look at him with slightly pleading eyes, eyes that just read ‘don’t move your hand away’. He didn’t hesitate anymore as you looked at him like that. He just chuckled under his breath and looked away, continuing to watch the movie. You felt his large hand massage your thigh, kneading the skin through your jeans. Your lips parted slightly as his hand trailed upwards slightly, and he could practically feel the heat growing in between your legs. You could feel the tension in the air. The thick tension. But even with that, you felt comfortable in a way. You enjoyed being touched like that by Miguel for some odd reason, and you sort of knew why. The two of you exchange glances through peripherals for a couple of minutes before Miguel’s grip on your thigh gets tighter all of a sudden.

“Fuck it. Come here.” Miguel grunted out, moving his head towards you and pulling your head towards him, crashing his lips onto yours. You gasp sharply at the sensation of his lips on yours, but you quickly accommodate to the feeling. They were so warm, so inviting. His hand moved to the back of your head, gently grasping the hair there to keep you in place. When he felt you part your lips, he gently dipped his tongue in to your mouth, making you taste him for the first time. You moaned softly at the taste. He tasted like vodka and mint.

Both of your hands were grabbing at anything they could, Miguel’s hands pulling you closer to him as your hands slip under his sweater. He pulls you onto his lap, your bodies flush against each other as he kisses you hungrily. His hands trail down to your ass, squeezing gently before reaching back up to slip off your shirt. He does so quickly, tossing the useless fabric to the couch. He does the same thing with the rest of your clothes, including his, creating this pile of clothes on the side of the couch. You can feel his tent in his underwear, and the small wet spot from pre-cum. He was practically aching for you, and it isn’t surprising considering the tension you two have had since the start. You break the kiss and watch as he shifts under you to slide his hand in his boxers and fish his cock out. His tip was weeping precum, begging your heat to envelop it.

He does all of this while looking you in the eyes, his fingers moving with ease. “Ven aquí, give me those pretty lips.” he muttered, pressing his lips against yours again. You wrapped your arms around his neck, not bothered by the silver chain wrapped around it. You could feel his tip press against your mound, the swollen flesh begging to be cared for. He tugged at the hem of your panties and looked into your eyes, as if asking for permission. He smirked when you nodded eagerly, showing no hesitance whatsoever. With one swift motion, he slipped them off of you and glided them off your legs, tossing them onto the pile of clothes without care.

“So fuckin’ beautiful.” Miguel muttered, reaching down and rubbing your clit gently with his thumb, biting down on his bottom lip as you whined softly. He continued rubbing your sensitive nub, only eliciting more moans from you. He continued his ministrations for a minute or two, until he felt your thighs begin to shake. “You gonna cum? Hm?” he cooed, the movements of his thumb growing a little rougher as you nodded your head. “I’m about to c-cum..” you breathe out, causing him to abruptly retract his thumb, leaving you whining in protest.

“You didn’t think I was gonna let you cum that quick, did you?” Miguel grinned, his canines showing. You scoff under your breath and breathe out, nuzzling your face into his neck. Miguel shifted under you, positioning his fully-hard cock at your entrance, eliciting a gasp from you as you felt the tip teasingly rubbing against your sex. You tremble slightly as he pushes in gently, eliciting a sharp gasp from you. You whimper softly, trembling so much you’re just unable to grind or move your hips at all. He encourages you slightly, guiding your hips back and forth in a slow rhythm. He groans out as he feels your movements, your walls contracting on his cock are all it takes to make him slightly lightheaded.

It’s been years since he’d had sex, so he didn’t expect to last long. As long as it was with you.

“Fuck…” Miguel grunted softly, his grip loosening on your hips as his control loosened with it. “Slow, slow, just like that…” he breathed out, letting his hands fall back to his sides as his eyes went half-lidded. You braced your hands on his broad shoulders, slowly grinding on his cock as you felt him go limp in your arms. You analyzed his face as you continued to slowly grind on him, smiling softly as you saw pleasure written all over his face. He moved his hands up and moved you lower on him, his cock filling you to the brim. You felt his tip kiss your cervix, eliciting a loud whimper. Your mewls and his grunts filled the room, and the pace began to gradually increase.

Your movements went from grinding to bouncing the closer the two of you got, but either one was sending Miguel into an internal frenzy. His eyes were almost rolling into the back of his head as he groaned loudly, feeling that familiar knot in his stomach. “Fuck… keep doing that…” he gasped, his cum threatening to pour out any second now. You weren’t any better, your legs shaking uncontrollably until they started giving out, your bounces on his cock slowing down greatly, causing him to huff slightly. “Hold on. Hold on, stay still. Let me do some work,” Miguel panted out, wrapping his arms around the small of your back and shifting his legs before beginning to thrust up into your pussy.

You let out a choked out moan, pressing your body against his, your breaths heavy as he managed to rail you from underneath you. “Fuuuck, you’re so tight,” he breathed out, holding you in place as you writhed in his arms. You whine in response, practically gasping for air at this point.

And just like that, his hips stuttered as his cum shot into you, and your walls tightened around his cock, milking it for every last drop. His movements slow as he slowly thrusts his cum into you, both of your noises filling the living room, the TV barely drowning out the noise. It just blended. Miguel looked up at you, reaching up and taking your chin in between his thumb and index. “Look at me,” he says, moving his head to find your eyes. When you do, he chuckles softly. “You okay? Need anything?” he asks, leaning forward to gently plant a kiss on your forehead.

You shake your head and smile, “Nah. I’m okay.” you say, smiling, but your smile fades when you head a voice from upstairs.

“But I’m not! Miss Y/N, please stop boxing my daddy! I’m trying to go to sleep!” Gabriella calls out from upstairs before slamming her door back up. You freeze, your face turning beet red. Boxing, huh? You can safely say that you’ll never fuck that man in his house again.

[dambaepuff]

hey hi, could i make a request? Im happy to see another good author starting :) u also seem very nice. could i request a yoongi x preferably fem!reader? if you want you can make it a genderneutral fic. my idea was a scenario were one of them is jealous, i thought of it being her jealous of him, over something stupid, but not in a toxic way like yk just pure jealusy mixed with insecurities. And they have a little petty argument and like it ends with smut i mean they make up to eachother that way :P like smut mixed with fluff at its purest. also, i am really curious to see how u write yoongi, i see many authors making him cold and tough but i believe that he is a very caring softie haha, by the morning wood headcanons, i think you got him very well ;) thank u in advance

REGRETS (m)

Pairing: Idol!Yoongi x FEM!Reader

Genre: angst, fluff, smut, one shot, request, established relationship

Warnings: jealousy, insecurities, a petty argument, depictions of sex, crying, emotional, oral sex (f receiving), vaginal fingering, bodily fluids, penetration (vaginal), a bit of praise, light biting, squirting

Word count: 5k

Summary: uhhh idk dude just read the request that’s pretty much it

A/N: UGH I LOVE THIS IDEA!! I don’t have much experience with writing angst so this was a really nice exercise. Thank you sooo so much for all the kind words, it’s what keeps me writing. I’m also a sucker for soft Yoongi so this is right up my alley. (Also this is not proofread so lmk if there’s any mistakes or anything)

Thursday night, it’s quiet outside. You’re trying to watch a movie with Yoongi. Key word trying. His hand has been gently rubbing your thigh for a few minutes now, whenever he tries sliding it up to tease you, you grab it and put it back onto his lap. He’s clearly trying to get you heated, but it’s having quite the opposite effect. Lately you’ve felt quite out of it, your lack of confidence causing you to avoid intimacy. With Yoongi being the gentleman he is, he always accepts it when he realizes you’re not in the mood and he moves on. However, you’re starting to doubt his ability to keep going like this. What if he realizes you aren’t satisfactory to him anymore? He could easily find someone else who would be all over him in seconds.

Replaceable. That’s how you’ve been feeling lately. He could have anyone he wants, so why you? “Are you not feeling it tonight?” Yoongi’s voice startles you out of your thoughts. “Huh? Oh. No I’m sorry.” You respond, your voice growing quieter with the end of the sentence. “That’s okay, c’mere.” He mumbles before pulling you into his chest, his hand soothing down your back.

‘Will he stay with me if I keep pushing him away like this?’ Is what you keep asking yourself. On one hand you’re afraid he’ll stop loving you if you stop showing him affection. And on the other hand, you’ve been so self conscious lately about your body and if you’re doing things right you don’t know if it’s worse to ruin the relationship by pushing him away or by not being good enough. ‘Do I even deserve to be with him at this point?’

Friday, 4:37PM. You got off work early today so you decided to stop by Yoongi’s studio. He’s still working so you’re lounging around on one of the couches inside of the room. The two of you had made plans to get dinner together when he finishes up for the day which you’re really looking forward to.

A short blurry figure appears at the studio door, they raise their hand up and place three quiet knocks onto the glass. Yoongi gets up with a huff and opens the door. In front of him stands a familiar woman, you can’t quite remember her name, but you’ve seen her around the company building before.

“Here’s your coffee Suga!” She says in a cheery tone. Her eyes land on you and her smile falls a bit. “Oh, I didn’t know you would be here. Sorry I didn’t get you anything.” She apologizes with a light bow of her head. You dismiss her with a wave of your hand before going back to fidgeting with the hem of your sweater. She turns her attention back to Yoongi who is setting his drink down onto his desk. “Hey Suga, a few of us are going to that barbecue place down the street for dinner and drinks tonight. Do you guys wanna come with?” She asks with a tilt of her head, her long black hair swaying with the movement.

“Uhh, yeah?” He looks at you quickly for confirmation to which you nod your head lightly. “Yeah. Sure we’ll come.”

Yoongi continues chatting with the girl. She casually leans against the door frame, the conversation between them flowing oh so easily. ‘It took me ages to be able to talk to him that smoothly. Why couldn’t I be like her?’ You think to yourself, trying your best to not let your irritation show.

He bids her farewell and sits back down at his desk. For the remaining time you spend in his studio all you can look at is him. Your gaze burns holes into his side profile, tracing each curve of his features over and over again. Why would a man whose heart only knows kindness, whose eyes and soul are so understanding of everything be with you? Your being is rotten with unforgiving bitterness, you seethe at every imperfection like a nun enraged by sin. Why would he want you?

He’s like a wild flower. He needs to be pollinated by the love and kindness of a bee to bloom, yet he stays with you, a caterpillar feeding off of him, biting off his flesh for your gain. Eating away at him and leaving nothing. Maybe you aren’t even a caterpillar. They can eventually turn into a beautiful creature with wings of eyeful colors, yet you can’t become anything more than what you are. You’re stuck in a vicious cycle, devouring every resource without paying any mind to the fact there will be nothing left when you’re done. What does he get for loving you if you can’t be of use? You can’t make him bloom.

“(Y/N)? (Y/N)!” You snap out of your thoughts, the reality around you giving you whiplash. Yoongi is kneeling in front of you, holding your jacket out. “Let’s go, we’ll be late.” You try to take it from his hands, but instead of giving it to you he holds it up so you can slip your arms inside. Once it’s on you he turns you around and zips it up for you. “Okay, let’s go.”

As you’re walking down the long hallways towards the elevators, Yoongi notices something odd. You usually grab onto his hand the moment you start walking somewhere together, but your hand is tucked away in your pocket now. He gently pulls it out and intertwines your fingers together. You can’t bring yourself to grip onto him like usual, instead you limply keep your hand at your side, letting him hold it. He’s a bit confused by this, but nevertheless he keeps holding you, his grasp only growing tighter in an effort to reassure you.

Yang Sunhee. Her name popped up in your head the moment she sat down across from you and Yoongi at the long wooden table. She’s been leading the conversation at your part of the table for a while now, mostly talking to Yoongi. To her credit she has tried to include you into the conversation a few times, but you didn’t really give her much to work with so she gave up.

You’ve been pushing your food around your plate for a while now. It’s mostly pieces of meat Yoongi placed down onto it for you, your favorite in fact. You just can’t get yourself to even place anything into your mouth, anxiety squeezing your throat so tightly you can barely even swallow your own saliva.

Sunhee is laughing at something, her eyes bright and her large smile hidden away behind a polite hand. Yoongi is laughing too, maybe not as hard as her, but he’s still laughing. ‘Why am I not the one making him laugh right now? Am I not funny anymore?’

As you’re glaring down at your food you feel a warm hand make contact with your shoulder. “You wanna go home?” Yoongi asks quietly, tucking a stray piece of hair behind your ear. “Yes please.” You breathe out, barely audible. On the drive home Yoongi tries asking what’s wrong multiple times, but all he gets in response is a simple “I just don’t feel too well.”

It’s been a few days now since you had dinner with Yoongi’s coworkers. He realized something was wrong so he’s been giving you some space. To be quite honest you aren’t sure if the space is helping or making it worse. After spending the whole day quietly sobbing to yourself in bed you decide to see what he’s up to. You find him sitting in the living room watching some sort of documentary and looking like he’s about to fall asleep. One of his cheeks is squished against a pillow and his hair is going on all the wrong directions. He looks adorable, your heart almost breaks in two knowing this is who you’ve been pushing away lately.

Taking a seat next to him, he lifts up his blanket so you can use it too. Just as you’re getting sleepy as well his phone pings on the coffee table. Instinctively you reach down for it so you can hand it to him, but when you see the contact name annoyance squeezes at your chest.

Yang Sunhee

Sent a message

“Why is she texting you?” The question slips from your mouth before you can even think it through. “I don’t know, let me see.” He responds while extending his hand out for the phone. You peer over at the screen, shamelessly trying to see what she sent. “Ah it’s just the schedule for next week.” He says and likes the message before setting his phone back down. Now you feel a bit guilty. Why were you questioning the intentions of this woman? She’s his employee after all.

Yoongi’s large hand comes up to cup your face, his thumb gently gliding over your cheekbone. “I know that look, what’s wrong baby?” He asks, his dark eyes skimming your face in search for answers. “It’s nothing.” You respond a bit too quickly, your tone stiff. The corner of Yoongi’s lip quirks up. “You’re jealous, aren’t you?”

Your eyes shoot open, “N-no!” you sputter out a weak defense. His hand slides down to your chin, the grip tightening a bit. His smirk spreads into a smile which angers you. He thinks this is funny?

“Don’t fucking touch me right now.” You say in a way harsher manner than you intended, tearing his hand away from your face. A flash of hurt runs over Yoongi’s face, his smile instantly falling. “Don’t look at me like that! I just- I need a moment right now.” You say in an apologetic tone. “You need a moment? I’ve been giving you a moment for days now. What about me? I keep trying so hard and you don’t show an ounce of being grateful. What’s your problem?” His tone gets louder as he talks, anger evident in his facial expressions.

“Problem? Oh it’s a problem now that I can’t always feel one hundred percent happy? Go sleep with some happy drugged out whore then if that’s what you want!” Without realizing it your tone has risen to a yell, you’re standing now, no longer in the comfort of warm blankets on the couch. “Don’t yell at me!” He yells back, tears beginning to brim his eyes.

“You’re yelling too asshole! Oh you’re gonna cry? Go cry to Sunhee, maybe she can suck your dick to make it better if you can’t go a week without me sucking it!” The moment you finish the last sentence a silence falls over the apartment. Yoongi stares at you wide eyed, unable to form a single sentence.

He looks like a kicked puppy, his eyes watery and his hands trembling. Realizing you went to far the only thing that pops up in your head is leaving the apartment for a bit. You speed walk to the front door, tugging your shoes on quickly and pulling a random jacket on. “Hey, hey! Where are you going?” Yoongi follows you once he realizes what you’re doing. Unable to look at his face you grab your keys and walk out, slamming the door behind you.

Not knowing where to go you walk to the nearest park. Taking a seat on one of the benches you stare up at the moon. “Why did I say that?” You mumble to yourself, tears stinging at your eyes. Your throat contracts, guilt choking you. There’s no holding back now, you let your sobs loose, tears running down your face uncontrollably.

“(Y/N)? Is that you?” A soft voice calls out to your right. Your head shoots up, trying to find the source of the sound. There stands Sunhee, she seems to be in her pajamas with a puffer jacket thrown on top. Her hair is a mess and she’s holding a leash. A little white dog sniffs around near her legs, you assume it’s her’s.

“What’s wrong?” She asks as she sits down next to you. “Ah don’t worry about it.” You mumble, sniffling lightly. “You’re so pretty (Y/N), I don’t think I’ve ever seen someone look good while they cry before.” Sunhee says with a genuine smile. “I- uh what?” You tilt your head to the side in confusion. “If I didn’t have a girlfriend I’d be jealous of Suga for having a girlfriend as pretty as you.” She giggles lightly.

“WHAT?” The question comes out harsher than you intend, the whole situation confusing you. “Listen, if you ever leave Suga just give me a call.” She says with a playful wink. You laugh in disbelief, your tears completely gone now. “You’re funny Sunhee.” You say, still sniffling lightly. “I’m not joking, but thank you.” She giggles along with you.

“Now why are you outside so late?” She asks while pulling her dog up into her lap. “I had a fight with Yoongi, I didn’t really know where else to go. I’m kind of scared to face him right now.” You answer truthfully. “Girl, have you seen how he looks at you? That man is a goner, I’m sure whatever you argued about isn’t that bad. You should go home and apologize, you can talk it through.” She says while giving you an encouraging smile. “You think so?” You ask quietly. “I know so.”

Even with Sunhee’s encouragement you’re still unsure. Guilt wracks through your whole body, pressing down on your insides and making you nauseous. You try to be as quiet as possible when you enter the apartment, but the sound of the heavy front door closing and jingling of keys betrays you. Just as you’re taking your shoes off you hear shuffling down the hallway. Yoongi’s dark figure emerges, you’re ready to hear something nasty from him, but instead you’re met with two warm arms wrapped around you.

“Thank god you’re safe.” He mumbles before kissing the top of your head. “I’m sorry Yoongi, I’m so sorry baby. Please don’t leave me. I didn’t-“ you’re cut off by a hiccup, your tears returning. “I didn’t mean to say any of that. Please, please don’t leave me I’ll never do that again…” You sob into his chest. “Shhhhh, I know you didn’t mean it, I should’ve done some things differently too.” His hand softly pets your head.

“I’ve been trying to figure out why you’ve been acting so weird lately and I think I get it now. You look at her like she killed your dog. You know she’s a lesbian right?” You can’t help but laugh a bit at that. “Yeah I kind of found that out just now.” You mumble, your fingers tangling into the material of his shirt. “Why don’t you like her?” You can feel him softly smile against your hair as he asks the question.

“I don’t know I just-“ You try to form the right words, but they won’t come. “Ugh! She’s just so pretty and she’s really open, it feels like she’s perfect and has everything you could need and I’m just sort of me? I don’t know, it’s stupid. I’m just projecting.” Yoongi listens intently to everything you say while he takes your jacket off. “Lately I’ve felt like the shell of who I was when you met me, you know? I’m just sort of bleh- and every other woman around me seems to have her shit togehter.” A tear runs down your cheek and Yoongi chases it away with his thumb.

“It’s why I’ve been avoiding having sex lately. I just feel gross and ugly while you… you look like you were sculpted by the ancient Greeks. You need a Hera to your Zeus. I’m like a satyr or something!” You let out a bitter laugh, trying to mask your feelings. “Hmm I think we’re more like Orpheus and Eurydice. Except I don’t want to lose you the way he lost her. They were such perfect lovers, yet there was something tragic about them. What’s love without tragedy?” He softly spoke, continuing to wipe your tears. You let out a genuine laugh and hit his chest lightly. “You idiot! You don’t get it.”

“I think I at least partially get it. I mean hell you make my knees weak whenever you look me in the eye woman, and we’ve been dating for years! I’d go to the pits of hell for you a million times more than Orpheus if it meant having a bit more time to spend with you. There’s no other person that could fulfill your role in my life as well as you do. I love you for you, you’re my muse. My light.” He places a ginger peck onto your forehead.

Love and desire suddenly flood through you, grabbing the collar of his shirt you pull him into a rough kiss. A few more tears make their way past your eyelids, but these ones of relief and joy rather than sadness and frustration. Yoongi gladly accepts your advances, kissing you back firmly. He barely wastes any time trying to get his tongue intertwined with yours. Your interwoven muscles becoming a metaphor for your souls combining together, the act of physical intimacy projecting your consciousness into one being, content and whole.

One of your hands shoot up to grip his hair a bit tighter than necessary which makes him release a deep moan. He pants against your lips, trying to catch his breath, but unable to fully separate your bodies. As he had endured yearning for you such a torturous amount, how could he let you go now?

He presses you flat against the door, holding you down chest to chest. His cold hands slide up your shirt, the contrast of temperature making you shiver. Caressing the skin of your stomach so lightly it tickles, he snakes one of his hands behind your back, swiftly unclipping your bralette in one movement. You let it drop to the floor, the only thing on your mind right now being the feeling of his body on yours. With his hands lightly ghosting over your breasts now, you shudder each time one of his fingers brushed against your nipples. Slowly he pulls your shirt off, the cold night air bites at your skin making your nipples harden. Instinctively your arms shoot up to cover yourself, but Yoongi stops you. He firmly grips your wrists and pins them down above your head.

Now fully exposed to him, he looks you in the eyes before licking a fat stripe from the area between your breasts to your neck. Lightly blowing onto the wet part of your skin, you take in a deep breath from the sensation. He begins to trail kisses down to your chest, letting go of your hands so he can bring you as close to him as possible. You tug at his hair softly as he mouthes at ode of your breasts, his tongue lightly teasing the soft bud. He groans softly before kissing down lower so he can get onto his knees.

He kneels before you know, unashamed of the submissive position he’s in. His teeth occasionally graze your stomach between sloppy open mouthed kisses. Looking up at you through his lashes, Yoongi starts undoing your pants. He pushes them down as if they’re getting in the way and moves his kisses down to your thighs. His uncalculated mouth moves dangerously close to your clothed cunt. Hovering over it he purposefully breathes through his mouth so you can feel his warm breath on your skin. You gasp when he suddenly pressed his nose against your pussy and inhales deeply. You can peel the tips of your ears heating up from embarrassment, but Yoongi doesn’t seem to care in the slightest.

“Ugh, fuck how I missed this part of you.” He groans as he kisses over the thin fabric. Finding your clit almost immediately he starts to roll his tongue against it through your panties. Your arousal and his saliva mix together in the material causing an uncomfortable need for real contact.

“Yoongi, take it off already…” you whisper to him, brushing his bangs out of his face. Looking up at you with a cheeky smirk he grabs onto the hem of your underwear with his teeth, making sure to lightly graze your sensitive skin with them as he pulls down. Your panties don’t even have the chance to reach the floor and his mouth is already on you again. He runs his tongue through your folds, making you instinctively angle your hips to give him more access. Heedlessly circling your clit with his tongue, he occasionally sucks on it or flicks it. You’re unsure if his mouth is glistening from his own saliva or from your wetness, but the sloppy noises he’s making are causing you to involuntarily buck your hips into his mouth.

“You’re so beautiful like this, my sweet girl.” He mumbles as he pulls away, nuzzling his head into your thigh. Replacing his tongue with his fingers, you let out a quiet moan when he slips them inside of you. “I love having you like this, only for me to see. You know I’d never do this for anyone else, right?” He emphasizes the question by pressing his fingers down against your sweet spot. ”Shit, Yoongi. I love you so much, no one makes me cum like you do.” Your response comes out in a dragged out whine.

Satisfied with your reply his mouth returns to your clit while his fingers work you open. The combination of sensations makes an orgasm built up in your abdomen fast. “Yoon- Yoongi, I’m gonna ah- I’m gonna cum!” You moan out, trying to warn him. This only encourages him to go faster as an orgasm ripples through you in harsh waves, your head falling back against the door as your eyes roll into the back of your head. You spasm slightly as he continues to work your cunt, trying to pull him away so he doesn’t overstimulate you.

He licks off your juices from his fingers, wiping his lips with the back of his hand. As soon as he’s back on his feet you go in for a kiss, leaning on him for support while still coming down from your high. He refuses to let your lips part as he leads you to the bedroom, his shirt and pants getting lost along the way.

“Lay down baby.” He mumbled against your lips as he led you to the bed. Kneeling down between your legs he made sure you were comfortable on your pillow. No matter how basic, missionary was always the best when you needed to express your love sexually. Parting your lips he pulls you down a little so your thighs are pressed together. He grabs his erect cock out of his underwear, not even bothering to get rid of the boxers. Pumping it a few times he gives you a dopey look, a lazy smirk spreading on his face.

“You ready?” He rasps out, rubbing the tip of his cock against your swollen clit, mixing his precum together with the aftermath of your previous orgasm. “A little too ready.” You replied, running a hand through your hair. “Mmm I can tell.” He teases while spreading the natural lubricant over his cock. Slowly he pressed the tip in, “Fuck, it’s going in so easily, o barely had to prep you. You really want it, don’t you?” his brows crease together in pleasure as he slowly bottoms out. “Yes, fuck Yoongi I want your cock so bad.” Your hand shoots up to grab onto his shoulder, biting your lip at the fullness.

“Please, (Y/N). Can I move?” He murmured, holding onto your hips tightly. “Yes, fuck me Yoongi.” You replied, grabbing his face to place a wet kiss onto his lips. He let out a low moan as he started thrusting into you, the warmth and wetness of your cunt feeling better each time he fucked it. You lightly squeezed your walls on purpose knowing it drives him crazy. “Oh my- ah shit I won’t last long at all if you do that.” He said breathily, his hips jerking forward involuntarily. You hooked one of your legs onto his hips, pulling him forward so he’s pressed into your cunt as deeply as possible. The both of you groaned at that, as soon as you let go he started thrusting into you with a quicker pace. His movements rapidly increased with each slap of skin that echoed throughout the space, his head thrown back. That look on his face means he’s absolutely lost in please and that makes you proud. He molds so perfectly inside you it makes all of your doubts melt away, it’s like he was made for you.

Matching the pace of his thrust to his fingers flicking your clit, Yoongi can swear he can feel you pulsating around him. “Ah, fuck (Y/N) I think I’m gonna cum already. Shit I’m sorry it just feels too good.” He groans, the already pink tips of his ears darkening. “It’s okay, go ahead baby, cum inside me.” You breathily respond, continuing to moan with each of his thrusts. He speeds up before abruptly stopping, the feeling of his warm seed filling you up making you clench around his cock. “Wait, shit, shit run my pussy please I’m so close too.” His fingers immediately speed up on your clit, furiously flicking it as your abdomen tightens again. As the hot white pleasure rips through your whole body, making your muscles spasm you hear a wet noise. Looking down the moment you can open your eyes you see Yoongi’s lower stomach covered in a clear liquid.

“Did you just make me squirt?” You laugh in disbelief. “That’s a first.” He mumbles before pulling his cock out, various liquids gliding down your ass. “I’ll go get a towel. He quickly gets up, trying his best not to make any of his surroundings wet.

As the two of you are laying in bed, your warm baked bodies pressed together, you feel Yoongi’s chest vibrate as he speaks up. “From now on, you always have to tell me when something’s bothering you, okay?” He softly says, stroking your hair. “Okay.” You whisper back. “Promise?” He questions while raising his pinky finger up, you lock yours with his, pressing your thumbs together. “Promise.”

[luci-in-trenchcoats]

He's My Man (Part 2)

Summary: The reader isn't quite so sure if she can trust Russell with her secrets but he's decided she's going to get his help, whether she wants it or not. Reluctantly she accepts but in the process realizes she might actually be starting to care about him...

Masterlist

Pairing: Russell Shaw x reader

Word Count: 4,500ish

Warnings: language, gun shot injury mention, mentions of death, angst, fluff

A/N: Ooooh things are heating up! Please enjoy!

__________

Russell stared at you with what one could only describe as a look of wonder. You didn’t exactly blame him. Eating four large cheese danishes and chugging back a week’s worth of coffee in the span of fifteen minutes was enough to make anyone’s eyes widen.

You tossed your trash in his motel waste bin when you finished and returned to your seat at the tiny corner table. With an obnoxiously loud slurp of even more coffee, Russell titled his head, shaking it slightly.

“Good god. You have never been more attractive to me, which is saying something.” You slurped again, Russell letting his curiosity in your eating habits fade away in favor of the elephant in the room. He straightened in his seat, pausing a beat. “So. What’s this long story?”

Your fingertips rattled against the side of the large styrofoam cup, a small amount of heat radiating through. Now that you’d had some time to think, or rather stress eat, you knew this was a mistake. A big one. You needed to kick Russell out of your life and the sooner the better.

“I think you have the wrong idea about what’s going on and I thought it better we talk in private,” you said. Russell wore a weary expression, his eyes dissecting your every micro-movement. “I’m not interested in a relationship or a date or conversation. I don’t do that considering my line of work and I imagine you keep things casual with yours. So you take your money and consider this a warning. Contact me again and I will have you dealt with, understand?”

Russell leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms with a clenched jaw. You narrowed your eyes in response, Russell picking at his bandage without realizing. 

“Stop that,” you mumbled when he kept doing it, his lip twitching up in a not so friendly way.

“You threaten me and in the next breath are worried about my damn stitches? I don’t think you realize just how good I am at my job,” he said, placing both hands on the table, folding them together. You swallowed, Russell staring so intently you had to glance away. “Alright. Back at the coffee shop, that was a moment of bravery and now it’s passed? Tough shit. We’re in the weeds now and we ain’t leaving until I know you do your job of your own free will. Understand?”

“Forget I said anything.” You stood up, Russell matching the movement and catching your bicep before you could take a step. Yes, he was injured but even one armed, he had enough raw strength in him to keep you from leaving.

“Tell me or I dig on my own and make things a lot riskier for both of us.” He dropped his hand, nodding to the seat. Russell sighed. “I trusted you. You can do the same.”

“You’re one guy.” You shook your head. “Drop this or you’ll wind up dead or worse.”

“I made my living doing jobs where if I fucked up I’d wish I were dead over the alternative. I know how to keep a secret. Maybe I can help, maybe I can’t. But you opened the box. You can’t just close it again.”

“Yes, I can. Goodbye, Russell.” You grabbed your coffee and headed for the door, pausing when you had a hand on the handle.

But what if he could help…he was ex-special ops…

Russell’s hand slid over yours, giving it a gentle squeeze. You frowned, a reassuring smile greeting you.

“Do you like your job?” he asked. 

“S’complicated,” you whispered.

“How complicated?”

“Jobs like yours…that’s up to me to do that stuff but I…I work for someone else.” You found Russell’s unreadable green eyes and sighed. “I’m a fixer for the local mafia. It’s not a job you get to quit and stay alive very long.”

Russell contemplated your words, lips forming a thin line before he nodded. “I can take care of that assuming your story checks out.”

“My story?” you asked, Russell humming. “Why would I lie-”

“You could be playing me for any number of reasons. Like I said, I’m going to check your story out and if it’s all kosher, we’ll figure out where to go from there. Capiche?”

“Fine,” you grit out, shaking his hand away. “But do it quietly. You got three days.”

Late Evening

Your eye actually twitched when you answered your front door that night to find not your pizza delivery man before you but Russell fucking Shaw. He wore a deep navy utility jacket that hung loosely around his trim waist and a pair of black jeans. You weren’t sure why but his shift from lighter colored clothing this morning to this dark, edgy look made him look as dangerous as you expected he was.

“Russell,” you said. He didn’t bother hiding his smirk, eyes roaming over your body. You glanced down at your soft pale yellow pajama shirt and matching shorts set, huffing when he slipped past you inside.

“You totally are the kind of woman to having matching jammies,” he chuckled. You gripped the door tight, ready to kick him out just as your delivery driver pulled up.

“Just…take off your boots.” Two minutes later you had your pizza and garlic knots on your kitchen counter while Russell leaned back against it, his jacket since removed and tossed on the back of your couch. He wore a black zip up that was undone over a black t-shirt, Russell shifting at your growing unease.

“Listen,” he said, holding up his hands. “You got questions but first off, I’m not here to hurt you. This is just what I wear when I need to go…looking around places I ain’t exactly invited into.”

“Like my home?” He stared blankly, eyes drifting down to your chest. “The flirting was cute. Eye-fucking me in my kitchen, not so much.”

“You have sauce all over your shirt.” You glanced down, spotting marinara drops all over your short sleeve button up top from where you’d had the edge of the pizza box pressed against your torso as you’d carried it in. “Thanks for thinking so highly of me, though. Makes a guy feel special.”

“I’m on edge, alright?” you snapped, grabbing a towel and trying to get most of the sauce out. “Plus I just ruined a two hundred dollar shirt.”

“Figured you for a oversized men’s t-shirts kind of gal but little sets from french boutiques suites you.” You froze, Russell dropping his hands. “I know all about your shopping habits. You have high quality taste, much richer than the average suburbanite.”

“And?” you said, tossing the towel down, hands going to your hips. “Are you about to kidnap me and turn me over to the mafia or what?”

Russell approached you slowly, gently picking up the towel from the floor and dabbing it with some dish soap. 

“If I had wanted to hurt you or take you or whatever else is going through your head, you wouldn’t have seen me coming.” He rubbed the towel against the damp spot on your shirt, letting the fabric get soapy. “Let that soak for a few minutes and then after you have some dinner, toss it in the wash. It’ll come out good as new.”

“How do you know that?” you asked, Russell hanging your towel on the oven handle. 

“Because knowing how to get stains out of all types of fabrics is kind of necessary in my line of work,” he said, opening a few cabinets before finding the one with the plates. “Now. Can you put the knife you thought you grabbed without me seeing back and we have a civilized conversation over pizza?”

You weren’t sure how he’d seen you swipe the knife from the butchers block but figured he had a point. If he’d wanted to screw you over, he would have done it already. After excusing yourself, you returned in a pair of skinny black joggers and a slightly cropped gray AC/DC shirt to find Russell had already plated two sizeable portions for yourselves. 

“See? Now that’s a look more fitting for the princess of darkness,” he chuckled.

“That’s queen of darkness to you,” you said, taking a seat at the island in front of one of the plates. “Do me a favor, lover boy. Grab me a guinness from the fridge.”

“Dark stout. Always a good choice.” He got out two, removing the cap for you before retreating to the other side of the island.

“As much as I love uninvited house guests who welcome themselves to my food and beer, why are you here, Russell?” You took a large bite of pizza, Russell long necking his beer for a moment. 

“Yet I don’t see you kicking me out. It’s okay to admit you’ve fallen for me, Y/N,” he teased. You growled, Russell’s eyebrows raising in amusement. “Hot damn, woman. I love when you get all grr. Tells me you are a force to be reckoned with.”

You rolled your eyes, Russell taking an extra large bite. “Stop flirting and talk.”

“Why can’t I do both?” he asked, not waiting for an answer. “But to answer your original question, I’m here because your story checked out and that’s kind of a problem.”

“Excuse me? Why is that an issue?”

He set his plate down and gripped the island, leaning over it slightly. “Y/N. I can call up a few friends and wipe out a local mafia family no problem.”

“Awesome. Then what’s the fucking problem?” Russell tilted his head, like you’d just walked into some kind of trap he’d set.

“Y/N. Despite all the obvious sexual tension brewing between us, you failed to mention that you have a boyfriend. You know, the head of this fucking mafia family. The boyfriend that buys you those fancy french pajama sets? The one that bought that espresso machine over there? Girl, you better explain yourself because I am not a hired gun.”

You chewed quietly for a few moments under the heated scrutiny of Russell’s gaze before you pushed the plate away.

“My dad was an accomplished doctor. He was very well respected. I grew up very comfortably until I was about eight.” Russell loosened his stance and began to eat while you decided what he needed to absolutely know. “My dad unknowingly saved a mobster’s life one night in the ER. Mr. Lauter.”

“The former head of the mafia and this guy, Owen, your supposed boyfriend’s dad?” You nodded before taking a big swig from your bottle.

“Well, that pissed off Mr. Elpine who had almost had a successful hit on Mr. Lauter. Elpine tried to get my dad to kill Lauter. Dad refused and the next morning on the way to school, the brake lines in our car didn’t work. Dad and I walked away. Mom and my brother didn’t. Dad was scared Elpine would come after me again.”

“Your father went to Lauter for protection,” said Russell. You picked up your pizza as he put together the rest of the pieces. “Lauter offers him protection for saving his life but something happens and your dad ends up working for Lauter as his fixer.”

“The paranoia got to dad. He would take me on these weekend hunting trips all the time and teach me survival skills and medical stuff and I was a fucking kid, Russell. I didn’t want to do that shit but dad was…twitchy. PTSD for sure, a mental break too. I always guessed there was some brain trauma after the accident that never healed. He got real bad when I went to college. Bad enough that Lauter stepped in when my dad attacked me when I came home for the holidays. Lauter killed him and the fucked up part was I wasn’t even upset. My real dad had died when I was a kid. But…when a mob boss kills for you whether you wanted them to or not-”

“They think they own you for life.” You nodded. “So you became the fixer.”

“They let me finish college under the condition I come back and work for the family. They leave me be except for when I need to patch someone in the crew up. It’s honestly not that bad. They gave me a lot of money over the years. I hate to say this but Mr. Lauter was pretty good to me.”

Russell cleared his throat. “You do know how fucked up what he did to you is, right?”

“Of course I do,” you said, closing your eyes. “But compared to my dad and Owen, he was the lesser evil.”

“I came across the fact Mr. Lauter died about three weeks ago from heart disease.” You hummed. “Tell me about this fuckface, Owen.”

“Dude has had a crush on me since he was fucking twelve. He has it in his head that the family owns me, literally. Lauter always reined him in but since he’s been gone, Owen’s been…pushy. Telling the crew I’m his girlfriend, asking them to follow me. Thankfully, and this is why this is so weird, I grew up around a lot of the guys. Making me work and fix people, fine. But some kind of forced romance? They aren’t cool with it, at least they’re kind of ignoring Owen. I’ve kept Owen off my back because he’s grieving and busy trying to take over but he’s going to back on my ass soon. This time, those guys will have to listen to their new boss.”

“So…I take out Owen and you think you’re in the clear. You could have just said that.” He finished off his beer and washed his hands at the sink. “Here’s what we’re going to do. You’re going grab essentials, and I mean essentials, while I pack up your dinner in what I expect is some color coordinated tupperware. Then you’re going to take my car and drive to Elmhurst Camping Grounds. It’s about four hours north of here and no, you will stop for anything so use the bathroom before you go and I’ll pack you a snack. You’re going to park in the visitors lot and go to the airstream in lot 4. It’ll be isolated. You knock on the door and there’ll be a guy inside. Colter. You stay with him, go wherever he goes and do whatever he tells you to without question. You don’t leave his side until I come and get you, understand?”

“I feel like if I ask questions you’ll just tell me I don’t want to know.” Russell smirked.

“I love that big brain of yours.” You rolled your eyes but felt a tiny smile on your face. “Warming up to me are we?”

“Fuck no. But uh, who the hell are you sending me to?”

“My baby brother. Don’t worry. His ugly mug will keep you safe.”

Four Hours Later

“Uh, hi,” you said, practically bouncing up and down at midnight in front of a strange tall man at a very nice airstream RV. 

“Y/N,” he said as you forced a smile. “Bathroom is right there-”

You darted past him and into the small cubby bathroom, grateful after the long drive. The man was waiting leaned against a small counter space when you exited, a temporary bed made up behind him in what looked like a breakfast nook.

“Sorry to barge in. Russell said not to stop for anything.” 

“S’alright,” he said. “Bed’s made up if you want to crash. I’m going to stay up a bit longer by the fire. You’re welcome to join if you like.”

“Thanks, uh…” you said, a very brief smile on his face as you tried to remember what Russell had called him.

“Colter. It’s not a problem.” He skirted by you and outside, taking a seat in a foldable camping chair. You had questions but for the moment, all you wanted was to get some rest. 

You woke up around six thirty, jolting up in your bed to find a very wet and nearly naked Colter trying to pick up a mug he’d dropped. 

“Well good morning,” you said, his hand in a death grip on the towel just barely concealing him away.

“Morning,” he said, slowly backing up to the bedroom. “Didn’t mean to wake you.”

“Not a problem,” you said, catching a whiff of coffee. 

“Mug are in the first cabinet if you want a cup. I’ll be out in a minute,” he said. He excused himself to his room and slid the divider shut, leaving you to the rest of the airstreamer. 

A moment later you were outside in front of a small fire, sitting in a chair with warm coffee in your hands. It was cool and you wished you’d thought to pack a jacket in your haste last night.

You were rubbing your arms when something was draped over your shoulders, a thick heavy hoodie. 

“Russell got you out of there pretty quick, huh?” asked Colter, taking the mug while you shrugged into the warm fleece.

“Yeah. All I grabbed was my wallet, some cash and my computer. He told me I could buy clothes here,” you said. Colter handed you back the mug and took a seat beside you.

“I checked his car. He had a duffel full of his clothes in there I brought inside. You can use his stuff, or mine, until we can hit a store.”

“Thanks,” you said, smelling Russell’s deodorant on the fabric. Colter saw you tug the hood up, a question on the tip of his tongue but he decided against it. The air was still and quiet apart from the crackle of fire and morning birds. 

“So,” said Colter, not looking at you as he drank. “You and Russell…you like, his girlfriend-”

“No,” you said, shaking your head. “I just met the guy yesterday. All I did was patch him up.”

“Right.” You sunk lower in your chair, slurping loudly.

“Were you special ops like him?” you asked. Colter shook his head.

“Civilian. Never had any formal training, just what we grew up with.” Well, that was an interesting statement. What the hell did it mean though? “Our father was a survivalist, taught us things.”

“Oh. My dad was a little out there too.” Was that why Russell was so adamant about helping you out of your situation? No. Maybe it played a part, but no. He’d wanted to help before you told him that. “Does Russell do this sort of thing often?”

“No clue. First time I talked to him in years was two days ago. I helped him find a friend of his. I was there when he got that bullet hole in him you fixed.”

Alrighty then. Russell was becoming more and more intriguing by the second. 

“So you don’t know a lot about him then,” you said. Colter shrugged.

“I guess I’m figuring him out too but he’s a good guy. He’s somebody you want as a friend.” You hummed, finishing your coffee off. Colter excused himself to get you more and returned with a fresh cup, steam billowing from within. 

“You trail run?” you asked, Colter’s eyes showing a flash of surprise. “Muddy sneakers by the door. I did cross country in school.”

“I try to get out most mornings. The hot water should be good to go in about five minutes if you want a shower.” 

“Thanks.” You licked your lips as you remembered the sight of him exiting the bathroom not long ago. Sure, Colter was hot but Russell…well the image of that man in nothing but a towel as water dripped down his body…You shifted in your seat, squeezing your legs together to try and get a hold of yourself. Colter smirked slightly in his seat. “What?”

“I’m good at reading people is all.”

“And? What am I saying?” you asked, staring him down. Colter only smiled as he looked away to the fire.

“You’re wondering if Russell works out and picturing him naked.” You glared at him but it did nothing to hide the heat radiating off your cheeks. “Hey, you’re a grown woman. You can do as you please.”

“I think I will take that shower now.” You stood and set the mug down on the ground, shooting Colter one last look. There’d been no malice or teasing in his voice. He was simply being straight with you. “Listen. I just…I haven’t exactly been around good guys much, or ever. I’m not saying there’s anything there beyond physical attraction, okay?”

“Okay,” he said, looking at you like you were the worst liar in the world. “Whatever you say.”

You grumbled and went inside to take a very cold shower.

Three Days Later - Spokane, Washington

“Hey, Colt,” you said, pushing up the long sleeves of Russell’s gray henley you wore. Colter hummed around the piece of grilled chicken in his mouth as you spun your laptop around from the other side of the airstream’s dining table. “Could she have gone here? Looks like a decommissioned game trail.”

“Yeah, yeah that fits,” he said with his mouth full, chewing and swallowing quickly so he could take a closer look. You returned to your own dinner, Colter mentioning he was going to take a look after dark. 

Things had fallen into an easy pattern with the two of you. Colter was very different than his brother but it wasn’t a bad thing. He didn’t talk much and worked as a rewardist. He’d planned on sticking around the east coast for when Russell met up with you again but an urgent case in Washington popped up. You’d spent most of the past three days driving cross-country behind Colter’s truck and the airstreamer, learning what the hell a rewardist was.

Colter had told you about the case at first to keep your mind off of Russell but you’d reluctantly taken an interest and now were deep in the weeds of helping him locate a missing young woman.

“You want to come look with me?” asked Colter, breaking you out of your train of thought. You blinked, a small smile on his face. “Come on. It’ll get you some experience with rewardest work and stop you from doom scrolling.”

“Alright,” you sighed. While you appreciated Colter’s attempts to make you feel better, you were starting to get very concerned. You hadn’t heard from Russell since you left your house a few days ago and there was nothing in the news about the local mafia members being killed. Or him.

Colter rubbed your back when you helped him unhook it from the airstream. He tended to do that when you started to get stressed out. He hadn’t been lying before. He really was good at reading people. 

“Colter,” you said in the dark truck, the hum of the vehicle quiet in the cab as he drove. “What if something happened to him and he needs our help?”

“He knows what he’s doing. A job like this, he’s got to do a lot of prep work and he’s got to put a crew together. Trusted friends. Try not to worry.” You bit your bottom lip as you stared out the window, trees passing by. 

If only it were that simple.

It was two in the morning by the time you and Colter made it back to the camping grounds. You’d found Martha in not too great of shape but she was alive and the doctors said she’d make a full recovery with time. Colter has tried to give you some of the reward money for helping but you hadn’t done all that much in your opinion. 

“Stay here,” he said when he turned the truck into your lot and you spotted a dark figure sitting by the fire. He took his gun from the back of jeans and got out, pausing halfway out the door. He smiled over at you and you caught the dark figure give an awkward little wave. “Should I tell him how much you’ve been worried?”

“Not. A. Word. Colter,” you said before hopping out and happily rushing over to where Russell rose to his feet. You didn’t realize you were giving him a hug until he was laughing, returning it and lifting you off the ground. 

“I missed my queen of darkness too,” he chuckled, setting you down with a smirk. You scoffed, Russell’s eyebrows raising at your attire. “Is that my jacket? And shirt?”

“Why waste the money on new stuff,” you shrugged, Russell grinning like an idiot. “Stop that.”

“I’m sure that was the reason.” Colter came over, the boys sharing a nod. “You keep my little delinquent out of trouble?”

“She’s a breeze,” said Colter, taking a seat. “Even helped with my latest case. She should try the rewardist thing. She’s good at it.”

“Maybe. All I want to know is am I good?” you asked. Russell took your hand in his and gave it a gentle squeeze. He nodded, the tension running of out your body. “Thank you, Russell. Thank your friends too. I’ll pay you guys-”

“No payment. This was because you’re my friend, plain and simple. Just knowing you’re safe is more than enough.” You smiled, letting yourself rest your head against his shoulder. “You should rest. We’ll talk in the morning.”

“How-”

“In the morning. I need to catch up with my little brother.” You nodded, enjoying the feel of his heavy hand as it ran over your head. “Go sleep, Y/N. You’re exhausted.”

You reluctantly peeled yourself away and went inside to find your makeshift bed had been done up for you already. You didn’t even try to fight the flutters in your stomach when you spotted a yellow pajama shirt and shorts set neatly folded on top. There was a note beside it, a stupid ass smile finding it’s way onto your face.

Brand new. Imported from France. Don’t get used to fancy ass presents like these. I ain’t made of money. Even if these are soft as fuck and I totally wish they made these for men. I still think you’d look better wearing a band tee to bed.

Russ

P.S. They had a sale so I got you something else too. Check your backpack.

You shook your head and grabbed your bag from the floor, taking out a very elegant black bag. You undid the tissue paper and went wide eyed. 

Inside was a very, very, fancy black lace bra and multiple pairs of gorgeous bikini style undies in soft muted colors. There was another note waiting for you inside, your heart stilling.

No strings attached. Hopefully these will cover you for a little while until you can get settled again.

“Oh, Russell,” you said quietly, thumbing over the bag, smiling to yourself as your insides did very happy backflips.

He wasn’t just a pretty and protective face. He was thoughtful too.

And you were starting to fall for a guy that’d most likely be gone by this time tomorrow.

Fuck.

__________

A/N: Part 3 coming soon!

[ecoterrorist-katara]

The tragedy of Katara’s parentification

Sokka and Katara were both parentified, and it��s a profoundly life-changing thing for both of them. One of the saddest things in ATLA, though, is how Sokka sort of got to outgrow parentification, but Katara never did.

Sokka’s told to be the man. The provider, the protector. He’s not so good at the former (his hunting failures are a consistent source of comic relief), and he takes failures of the latter very, very hard. He doesn’t manage to save Yue, and that wrecks him. After Yue, he becomes extremely protective of Suki in a way that’s borderline offensive to her. He’s willing to do anything to protect his friends and his family, including something as irresponsible as breaking into the Boiling Rock. I don’t think it’s a coincidence that Sokka is the only one of the Gaang who unambiguously kills. The rest of them may technically have clean hands because of cartoon logic, but Combustion Man is very dead, and Sokka is the one who killed him. We don’t know how he feels about it, because the show never goes there, but I have a pet theory that Sokka is so uncharacteristically (remember he was team “leave Zuko to freeze to death”) against Katara confronting Yon Rha in The Southern Raiders because he’s the only who knows what killing feels like and wants to protect Katara from it.

But by the end of the show, Sokka’s in a place where he can start to let go of his need to protect. Objectively, all his friends are unbelievably powerful and can take care of themselves, including his sister and his girlfriend. Suki is the one who saves him in the final battle, representing not only a reversal of his initial cartoonish misogyny, but also demonstrating that he is worthy of protection. And of course, he and his friends saved the world, so there isn’t really an enemy that he has to protect them from anymore. Sokka’s loved ones create the conditions under which his parentified behaviour is no longer necessary. Sokka would still have to take the first step to stop seeing himself as the one who has to lay his life on the line, but at least it’s possible for him.

But not Katara.

Katara had to take on the mom role after their mother was murdered, which meant she was responsible for domestic labour and emotional support. Sokka says in The Runaway that her role was to keep the family together. Unlike protection, that’s always a full time job regardless of the war. We see Katara spending more screen time than anybody cooking, getting food, mending, and generally doing women’s work. We see Katara giving everyone emotional support, including strangers and her enemy. We see Katara putting aside her own discomfort and her own hurt in The Desert because if she falls apart, they all die. Nobody ever showed her that she doesn’t need to be the only one who cooks, or that somebody else can be responsible for the emotional wellbeing of her friends, or that — god forbid — someone else can actually be responsible for her emotional wellbeing.

That’s why I never cared for the Ka/taang argument of “he teaches her to be a kid again!” Putting aside the fact that Katara ends up taking care of Aang a lot more as the series goes on, the whole tragedy of parentification is that you can never again be a child. That part of your childhood, your god-given right, is robbed from you. It is extremely precious and important to still be able to be a kid, but breaking free of parentification is not about seeing yourself as a kid. It’s about breaking free of being responsible for everyone’s feelings and behaviours.

For Katara, that responsibility is not problem of perception, but of reality. Unlike Sokka, who was told and shown that his loved ones are capable of protecting themselves, Katara has zero reason to believe that her loved ones are able to feed and clothe themselves and not fall apart emotionally. Between Toph and Sokka who emphatically don’t want to do this work, it all falls on Katara. Telling a parentified child that they just need to loosen up is akin to telling an overworked mother that she needs to just relax (“happy Mother’s Day! You get a break from chores, which you will catch up on tomorrow because nobody else is doing them”). It doesn’t accomplish anything if nobody creates the circumstances under which it’s possible to let go of responsibilities. A lot of Zutara fans, spanning all the way back to the early days of the fandom, like the “Momtara and Dadko” trope where Zuko also does chores. Why? Because even without the concept and language of parentification, many fans recognized that Katara’s performance of domestic and emotional labour is inequitable and probably very taxing.

Growing out of parentification is about more than just letting go of old expectations: it’s also about finding a new way to value yourself beyond the role you grew up with. I’ve said this before, but it’s very important to acknowledge that just because a kid is parentified doesn’t mean they’re actually good at being a parent. In fact, it’s probably a given that they’re not, because they’re kids performing roles that are developmentally inappropriate! Sokka remains a shit hunter; he becomes a decent fighter but he’s still miles behind his friends. A big part of healing from his parentification is finding another area — strategy, engineering, project management (what else do you call that schedule) — where he actually excels, to which he can dedicate his time and from which he can derive satisfaction and a sense of identity. For Katara, fighting for the oppressed and combat waterbending give her that. Crucially, however, Katara does not stop being a girl when she becomes a warrior. She’s still responsible for domestic and emotional labour. Unlike Sokka, whose protector duties were more or less relieved as the series went on and he found new ways to contribute to the group, Katara continued to perform her old role in addition to her new one (which is depressingly realistic btw, look up feminist theory around the concept of the second shift). Still, it’s important that she found these new ways to value herself and her contributions…

…which disappear in her adult life. Where’s adult Katara fighting for the oppressed? Where’s adult Katara enjoying her status as a master waterbender? Where’s Mighty Katara? Where’s the Painted Lady? Where’s the person who vanquished a whole Fire Lord?

What do we know about adult Katara? She’s no longer a rabblerouser or an ecoterrorist. She did not translate her desire to help the downtrodden into a political role, like being Chief or on the United Republic Council. She’s not known as the best waterbender in the world, only the best healer, even though her combat abilities are what she took the most pride in. Even as a healer, she established no hospitals, trained no widespread acolytes (except Korra, I guess?), and made no known contributions to the field.

What Katara is known for…is being a wife and a mother. The same role she was forced to take on at age 8. One which she performed for the next 80+ years.

[7surugi]

dancing in the moonlight ｜ haitani ran x f!reader

in the summer of 2005, you and ran meet under a shooting star. even now, years down the road, ran still finds himself enchanted by you and everything you are.

[content] sfw, mentions of sex, summer love (i guess), bonten timeline

[word count] 7.1k

[note] happy birthday to my princess, ran haitani (∗˃̶ ᵕ ˂̶∗) ♡ (this took me forever to post because i was too lazy to edit :x)

“You are always up here these days, Mr. Haitani.”

A soft and feminine voice breaks Ran from his daze, he spares the woman a short glance before turning his attention back to the bustling city below, to the blinding billboard screens in his line of vision, and there is only one that has his complete attention. Like it always has, and always will.

He doesn’t know her name, but he does recognise her as one of the new hires from a few months ago, he thinks she may be Takeomi’s new secretary, or assistant, something like that, but he doesn’t care enough to figure it out. He leans against the metal rail, taking out a pack of cigarettes, noticing there is only one left, and lifts the last cigarette to his mouth as he stuffs the empty pack into his slack pockets. He lights it, inhaling, pulling the smoke deep into his lungs. A plane passes by overhead, the scenery around him dims. It’s dark gray and the world fades. Only for a split moment.

Hearing your name leaving her bold red lips catches his attention, he immediately coughs, sputtering out the smoke. “Oh, do you know her? She’s been gaining a lot of popularity lately due to a new movie releasing.”

He clears his throat, his cheeks light pink and the back of his neck heating up in slight embarrassment as he shakes his head. “No. I actually don’t know much about celebrities…”

“Aw, really? Well, you are a busy man, Mr. Haitani, so that’s no surprise, but I do recommend watching her films,” she replies, coyly gazing at him through fluttering lashes.

“Yeah? Is that so…”

“Yeah! Well, she has only been in two small projects before this, and they weren’t really well-known due to the genre but there was a new one that was released a few days ago…” she slowly trails off, her manicured nail slides against the metal rail, a quiet screech, and Ran knows what she is going to ask before the words leave her lips. “Maybe we could, um, go see it together? If you want, of course…”

He chuckles at her simple predictability, her boldness, his eyes rack over her face then down her body, her neatly put together outfit that clings perfectly to her figure, and Ran lowly hums. He doesn’t like red, he’s never been fond of the colour. It’s not the first time he’s been approached by a colleague, and he finds things like this amusing, cute, and tiring. He’s surprised this woman is able to speak to him without being a stuttering mess like most of the people that work for him — for Bonten Inc.

She is quite cute, not his type, more like the type of girl Takeomi is into (he chooses them well, Ran is surprised), but he still sends her his signature smirk before turning his head away. From his peripheral vision, he catches sight of her cheeks reddening more. She is so easy to understand, he almost laughs.

“Maybe,” he lazily replies, a sliver of hope he gives, all well knowing he easily takes it away as he gives it — with the way the girl perks up at his word, smiling happily to herself, it’s almost too cruel of him. He brings his cigarette back to his lips, deeply inhaling the bitter smoke as his eyes lift back to the billboard screen to meet you, faraway, worlds away from him.

—

In the summer of 2005, Ran is eighteen when he and Rindō get into a fight – a serious fight – nothing like their usual bickering and playful banners. It started over nothing, only small talk about the S-62 generation and how Izana will be out soon, by the end of the year if not sooner (he is only allowed out earlier by good behaviour which is highly unlikely).

And then the mention of gangs and expanding their territory, things become more serious and what lit the fire was Ran laughing beneath his breath at Rindō’s suggestion (the idea was not logical and takes too much effort), uttering something about how stupid it was. Rindō is not one to back down from petty remarks – he never has – which often leads to full-blown arguments, or even fights. When Rindō bites back, Ran likes to bite harder and lower, he likes to hit in places where it causes others to be unable to breathe.

It’s a mixed exchange of harsh words, yelling, and shoving. Rindō doesn’t understand him, too exhausted, stressed, and blood boiling, neither of them want to back down. It ends with Ran slamming the door shut, leaving their shared apartment to cool his head. His feet lead him towards the train station, and without much thought, he finds himself sitting on the blue cushion, going to who knows where.

It is barely evening when Ran hops off the train and finds himself all the way in Nikkō. Two hours away from home. He has never set foot in the Tochigi Prefecture before, the air here feels so fresh compared to Tokyo, the backdrop of the tall sacred mountains is something he doesn’t see back at home. It’s surreal, so beautiful. A calm, quiet detour, away from everything and the bright, bustling city he knows.

Ran doesn’t know what he’s doing; he is not too concerned though, mindlessly walking around to take in the view before stopping by a local restaurant. He eats cold soba noodles, flipping open his phone: no new messages or calls. He sighs.

Rindō is still upset with him (to which Ran believes to be unfair because he barely said anything wrong), and it is starting to get late, and he is getting exhausted, his body feels sticky from the humidity, so he decides to stay in Nikkō for one night. While walking around looking for a hotel for the night, he passes by an old inn, a jingle echoes in the night air, a soft scent of floral rushes past him, he inhales, and someone crashes straight into him.

During twilight in the summer of ‘05, the evening sun is fading, vibrant orange seeps into the horizon as a blanket of dark blue and black takes over, a shooting star passes by without him ever noticing, and Ran first meets you.

—

The boy you met last evening — the one you had accidentally bumped into on your way back from your break was on your mind for a while last night (he still is) and you think he might be more attractive than the idols you like. Something like that seemed impossible until now. He said his name is Ran, and you think there couldn’t be a name that suits him more than that.

When your boss, Ms. Sasaki, calls you this morning to ask you to grab lunch for her and bring it to the inn, you immediately agree — wanting to see her (and maybe the boy from last night). You decide on getting her favourite teriyaki tofu, your sandals click loudly against the pavement as you rush over to the inn before the food cools. Ms. Sasaki only eats hot food, even during the hot summers, and you are the same.

Unexpectedly, you run into the boy from yesterday right away, and he thanks you for showing him to the inn, asking if you weren’t working today because he didn’t see you around earlier.

“Oh, yes, I only work here part-time…” Was he looking for you? The idea of a handsome stranger waiting to see you makes your heart flutter, skipping a beat.

“Today is my day off, but I came by to give something to someone… Um, have you eaten yet? I know a good ramen place around here,” you try to casually ask, eyes flickering from him to the floor, heart beating, you suddenly wish you had worn something a lot prettier.

“Mm, sure—” he pauses, looking down at the navy yukata he’s wearing, before saying, “let me just change out of this and then we can go, alright? Gimme a second, sweetheart.”

Sweetheart.

Your cheeks heat up at the unexpected pet name, you softly bite your lip in embarrassment, nodding your head as he leaves. He doesn’t take long to get dressed, he returns in the clothes he had worn last night, a simple pair of black pants and gray sweatshirt, his two-toned hair is once again put into two braids — you assume it is his go-to hairstyle. He looks comfortable and pretty and you try not to stare. You take him through the small city, through the gray streets and passing dull houses, leading him to one of your favourite ramen restaurants.

“So…” you trail off, gazing around the restaurant in hopes that Ran (you learned his surname today on the walk here — Haitani. Ran Haitani. Orchid. Ash valley. You think he suits his name very much) would say something to start a conversation. However, he doesn’t, his eyes lift to meet yours across the wooden table and he sends you a small smirk.

“So?” he questions, not starting a conversation, which you believe to be on purpose from the way his eyes don’t leave your form and how the edges of his mouth are curved into a seemingly polite smile. He is studying you.

You wished he would’ve asked you a question, or said anything first, however you are curious about him, you have a few questions, ones seemingly more important than the other the more you think. You decide on a simple one. “Where are you from?”

“I am from Roppongi.”

“Oh… yes, that makes sense.”

He chuckles at your response. “Indeed, I’m sure it does.”

“Mhm, you have that air to you,” you agree. Your food arrives, you thank the waiter as he places a bowl of miso ramen in front of you, tonkotsu for Ran, and a plate of gyoza in the middle to share. “Why did you decide to come to Nikkō? Is it your first time?”

“I heard it’s beautiful here, it definitely is…” his lavender eyes slowly consume you, and you nervously gulp. “I am just sightseeing.”

You nod at his words, taking a bite from your ramen before the noodles get too soggy, moaning in delight at the rich taste. Nothing beats the ramen here, you think, the chef is one of the best. Ever.

Ran asks you if you would like to show him around Nikkō, you look up at him surprised, ultimately finding yourself agreeing, to which he calls you his little tour guide.

He directs the conversation to you: asking about your interests, how long you’ve been working at the inn, and simple little questions about your life. You do your best to answer them without oversharing.

He jokes saying he hopes he isn’t taking up your free time with having you as his tour guide.

You say you don’t mind and he flashes you a pretty smile that causes unfamiliar blue butterflies to invade your stomach.

You ask how long he will be staying for, he says only for a few days.

—

On his second day here, Ran wakes from his deep slumber to the sound of his phone ringing. Squinting as his eyes adjust to the bright lighting and the small font on the screen. Rindō.

Ran audibly sighs while bringing his phone to his ear. He was enjoying his sleep, he thinks he had a sweet dream, one he hasn’t had in a long time. “What is it, Rindō? It’s too early for this.”

“It’s far past noon and you weren’t home yesterday either. Where are you? You passed out at a hotel? Kakuchō’s or some woman’s place?”

Ran grunts, sitting up as he stretches his body, his brother’s endless questions slowly processing through his brain. “Uh… Nikkō? Yeah, ‘m in Nikkō right now.”

“Nikkō…” Rindō slowly repeats. “You’re in Nikkō right now?”

“Mhm.”

His brother’s heavy sigh is clearly mixed in with the static – poor connection in this area, he assumes – and it’s silent for a few more moments. “So you ran away because we fought. What the hell is wrong with you?” His words aren’t harsh, he says them in disbelief at his actions and Ran shrugs his shoulders as if Rindō is able to see him.

“I’m just taking a breather. Did you not tell me to?”

“I didn’t mean that you should run to the other side of Japan,” Ran scoffs at Rindō’s exaggeration. Nikkō is only two hours away from Roppongi. Little crybaby, he thinks, some things don’t change. “You are so—” Rindō takes another deep breath, “when are you coming back?”

“Why are you asking? Do you miss me or are you ready to apologise to me?”

It goes silent. Ran can hear the sound of the summer birds chirping away.

“No. I don’t care so do whatever you want, Ran. I’m hanging up now.”

“No need to be so mad, chill, I was just asking.” No response. So typical. “Whatever. Bye then,” his voice laced with annoyance, his little brother is too stubborn – a trait Ran assumes he got from him – Rindō doesn’t reply, instantly hanging up. And Ran knows everything is alright again. In a few days, or even hours, everything will go back to how it always is.

Little things like this aren’t enough to even dent their unwavering bond.

(Rindō sends him a picture of him and Shion later that day, in a dim karaoke room full of people he doesn’t recognise in the background — he thinks that may be Kakuchō’s hand in the picture. He’s not even sure how they managed to get that kid to tag along.

Ran replies with a picture of his bare foot, Rindō sends him a series of disgusted emoticons and a middle finger up, to which Ran smiles at the reaction.)

—

“Wow. I feel like I was transported back into the Edo period.”

You smile at his words as he looks around seemingly awestruck — you assume that they don’t have something like this in Roppongi. Nikkō is quite well known for its Edo village, after all. “That’s a good thing to hear, it’s supposed to feel like that.”

“It’s like another world here…” he says.

You softly giggle to yourself, but he catches you hiding your laugh behind your hand and rolls his eyes. “So I can’t be excited and think something is cool without you laughing about it?”

“I just think it’s kinda cute of you…”

“I think you’re pretty cute,” your face flushes at his directness and how casually those words slip from his lips and he smirks at your reaction. “Now you aren’t laughing, hm?”

You huff, rolling your eyes. “Gosh, you are so childish, Ran. I wasn’t saying it to make fun of you, it was a compliment.”

“My words were a compliment too. I mean it, you know.”

You simply hum in response, you don’t take his words to heart. (They have already invaded your beating heart, setting themselves into the little place.)

Ran is dressed up as a samurai, adorn in a deep purple silk hakama, plain sandals, and a katana adorned on his hip (Ran constantly runs his fingers over the halt, unfortunately it is only a prop because he and Rindō are really into this kind of thing), and you, just a regular town girl.

You lead him around to sightsee the village — all of the old little shops, mini games, and food, and everyone greets the two of you in character. He seems to be enjoying himself — especially when his eyes lit up like a child during the ninja show and boat ride which makes you smile happily.

“I see you are quite popular here,” he points out after an old man had greeted you and said your name.

“Well, I do work here part-time.”

“Oh? You work here too? What do you do?”

You nod, saying, “mhm, only during the summertime. I act as a courtesan.”

“To think I have such a beautiful courtesan all to myself today,” he says whimsically, swiftly taking your hand in his, bringing it up to place a kiss on the back of your hand. “I am quite blessed, aren’t I?”

You giggle at the charming gesture. “All for you, Mr. Haitani,” you reply, playing along with him. He plants a gentle kiss, those pretty lavender eyes never leaving yours, you almost forget to breathe. His lips linger on the delicate skin of your hand for a second too long, you softly bite your bottom lip feeling shy, before he lets go. You ignore the disappointment you feel when his hand lets go of yours. “But I am a zashikimochi for the play. It's a comedy.”

“I would love to see the play sometime. I love comedy,” he says as the two of you continue to aimlessly walk around side by side.

“Thank you, I don’t speak much in it, but maybe you would enjoy it. A lot of tourists come to see it,” you explain to him. “It’s pretty fun to perform, but it does get hot and tiring.”

You don’t think Ran is the type to go and watch a play during his free time, he does not seem like the type to enjoy theatre despite how he presents himself — all charismatic and flashy, surrounded by vibrant purple and gold, he is eye-catching and everyone notices him everywhere he goes. Though, you think Ran is quite different around you; he is sweet and sleepy and likes to playfully annoy you. He is really cute and charming and the more you are around him, the more you want to see Ran, not Ran Haitani, just Ran. You want to know who he is beneath everything, who he is with his precious little brother and his heart that is carefully caged.

“Line or no line, I would still pay to see you.”

“You would?” you ask, curiously looking up at him, heart fluttering and light.

“Mhm. I believe the zashikimochi was pretty expensive back then, but for you, I definitely would. I’d be your highest paying customer.”

Ran is no longer talking about seeing the play, insinuating that if you two were in the Edo period, he would pay for your company if you were a courtesan. You think he would be the eldest son of a high ranking officer, son of a lord, or maybe a rich travelling merchant. All of them suit him. He has that luxurious air to him, a man shrouded in mystery, money, and a hint of danger that lingers behind his sweet smile and gleams in his enchanting eyes.

“Oh, wow, just to spend some time with me? I’m quite flattered.”

“That’s right. And I’d make sure that I am your only customer. We would spend all day together and the long nights too.” The moment those words leave his mouth, you roll your eyes, playfully pushing him away from you.

“Oh, you. Don’t push it now.”

He laughs, gently nudging you with his arm. “No? Are you saying you wouldn’t enjoy it?”

“There is no way I would.”

—

During the days you aren’t working, you spend all of them with Ran, you spend almost every moment of the day with him. Even while you are working at the inn, sometimes he’ll stop you in the hallway to say hi, which leads him to distract you and this gets you scolded by Ms. Sasaki when you aren’t careful. Sometimes, he will usher you into his private room once you hear light footsteps coming down the hall. Quiet and mischievous giggles you both try to suppress. A little secret. Ran’s presence is welcoming, so familiar, the little changes he brings into your life are visible, it’s colourful and warm like the summertime, just like this summer with him.

—

Ran is not one for the outdoors, he believes in admiring nature from inside his comfy home, however you dragged him out of the inn this morning to go on a hike. He laughed it off at first, saying you’re so strange, until it dawned on him a moment later that you’re serious about it. And before he can refuse by saying he has no clothes for that, you toss him a pair of men’s clothing saying you thrifted them last night. And to make matters worse, the outfit is a fashion abomination.

He would rather be dead than being caught in this outfit. If he were back in Roppongi wearing this, he thinks it would be the end of his reputation. However he isn’t in Roppongi, he is in Nikkō and nobody knows him except you. Only you. With your pleading face, your eyes staring up at him so hopefully, begging him to join you so you won’t be alone, Ran can’t help but cave into your desires.

Walking for so long was not made for Ran — however the view is beautiful, Nikko is well-known for this, which is what makes it a popular tourist place. Crossing the bright red bridge and walking uphill for what he swears was hours, doesn’t seem so bad now.

He thinks about Rindō. He’s worried about him, he misses his brother a lot and wants to go back home to see him — it’s been two weeks since he’s been here and Rindō keeps calling him every night. Ran wants to go home, he wants to eat his favourite Mont Blanc at the café he likes, and he needs to go to his regular hair salon to retouch his hair – the one here won’t do – there is nothing better than Roppongi to him, his home, half of his soul, but a part of him (his heart) doesn’t want to leave this place. He doesn’t want to leave you.

Ran believes there is probably something wrong with him. You are just a random girl he met, he barely knows you, yet as cliché as it sounds, he feels as if he’s known you his whole life. There are probably hotter girls down in Shinjuku or Shibuya, but for some reason, Ran knows they won’t do — they aren’t you. Something about you is so captivating and he can’t look away. His heart longs for you and every one of your smiles. Maybe he is a fool, but the feelings you bring him are divine and he’s willing to burn in the fire.

“I want to get out of here one day,” you say as the two of you sit on a wooden bench dated back to 1987 with a clear view of the nature around. The sun is shining down, the heat is too much for Ran, however the shade underneath the large tree helps block out the sun rays.

He leans forward, tilting his head to get a view of your expression. “You don’t like it here?”

Your head is slightly tilted up, gazing longingly at the clouds, eyes shimmering against the summer sun. The cicadas drone louder and louder, you are looking off in the distance, somewhere far from here. Far away. To neon blinding lights. Seagulls and the never ending ocean. A bustling city that never sleeps. To the shining stars above. “I do, but I want to become someone. I want to go to Tokyo and become an actress,” you reply, finally turning to him as you lean a little closer, “what do you think?”

He smiles the moment your eyes meet him, his reply comes instantly, “I think you should come to Roppongi with me.”

Your hands are close to his, close enough that if one of you moved another inch, you would be holding each other. However, you don’t move, neither does he; your hands remain untouched. A sense of distance he doesn’t like, a distance he wishes to close.

“I’m saving up money to buy a decent apartment and I also want to repay Ms. Sasaki—”

“Sasaki?” he asks, the name sounds familiar, but he can’t put it to a face.

“Yes. She’s the okami of the ryokan you’ve been staying at… you haven’t met her? I am positive that you have.”

“Um, probably, but I only remember you when you are working so…” he replies, smiling sheepishly at you, and you roll your eyes, turning your head away from him.

“She is a really kind lady. She helped me out when I had nobody and I don’t think I would be here without her… I owe her a lot, you know?” you carefully speak these words, pausing before continuing, “I am really thankful to have met her.”

Ran doesn’t comment on whatever hidden meanings your words have, he only hums in acknowledgment, never forgetting them. He didn’t expect you to know the owner or the owner’s wife – whichever one Ms. Sasaki may be – and maybe that’s why he has been allowed to stay for weeks, the amount he has paid wasn’t too expensive either, surprisingly.

Ran tells you he wishes to see you on the big screen one day, he knows if anyone would make it, it would be you, and you only laugh while trying to hide your bashful smile.

Ran tells you he has to go back home soon, you quietly say you know.

He takes your hand in his, and you don’t let go.

—

Ran walks you back to your one room apartment and you hesitantly invite him inside, slightly embarrassed to be having him see your living conditions – especially a man like Ran – but he never comments on it.

You make dinner with the leftover ingredients you have in your fridge. It’s nothing too fancy, only a simple bowl of gyūdon with poached egg on top. Ran tells you his brother really likes this, it’s one of his favourites (Ran doesn’t mention he prefers it with raw egg over poached, he still eats it). Ran flatters you the entire meal, saying he has never had such a delicious meal before, you know it’s not true, because he’s eaten from the local restaurants here and nothing could ever beat them. You tell him flattery gets him nowhere.

You show him a tape Ms. Sasaki had given you — a video she took of you performing as a courtesan for the first time last summer. It’s embarrassing to watch so you don’t keep your eyes on the screen, constantly glancing over to Ran to catch sight of his reaction, however, much to your surprise he doesn’t react in any way. You would’ve assumed he was zoning out if he hadn’t looked over at you and ruffled your hair before turning back to the screen.

You never took Ran as the silent watcher type. When the tape is over, you ask him what he thinks, and he looks at you smiling so tenderly, a noticeable shift in the air, and you don’t know who leans in first. At first it only lasts a split second, only a chaste kiss, but Ran kisses you again. This time more intensely. Your heart pounding beneath the thin fabric of your top, you are sure Ran can feel your heart in his hand. His slender fingers running over the cup of your bra, he squeezes once, then pauses to ask if this is okay with you.

You nervously tell Ran you’ve never done this with someone before, he doesn’t react when you say it, he only asks for you to trust him. He’s as sweet and gentle as he is teasing — he touches you so carefully as if he’s afraid to hurt you with his touch, yet his lust-fogged purple eyes are gleaming with mischief. He doesn’t continue unless you talk to him, you have to tell him what you want. You like Ran, you really do. You want him so much.

You grow self-conscious under his intense stare, your attempt to hide yourself is futile, Ran pins your arms above your head and frowns. He tells you he has never seen someone as beautiful as you, that nothing could ever compare to your beauty. It’s almost scary how honest his words sound, how gentle he is with you, and how easily you believe him, your worries vanishing.

The pale moonlight is seeping through the old curtains in your room, Ran’s features are glistening against it. He looks ethereal under the moon. He kisses you so frighteningly tender, the thought of him leaving makes you tear up, you hold onto him tighter, wanting to be impossibly closer as he pushes himself deep into you, moaning in sync as you become one.

Ran holds you close to him all night, he plants kisses and blooming deep purple marks all over your body; a valley of pretty little orchids just for the two of you to ever see. When the sun peeks through the horizon, Ran kisses you one last time before you two drift off to sleep.

—

By afternoon, you watch Ran board the train back to Roppongi. You watch in a trance until the train is no longer in your sight of vision, misty-eyed and blue. Very blue.

—

It’s New Year’s Eve when you see Ran again. Tears springing in your eyes the moment you see him, you immediately run into his arms and he holds you tightly. “Hi. I got these for you,” he says into your ear.

He hands you a bouquet filled with pretty purple orchids and white lilies. You've never mentioned your favourite flowers to Ran before, so you assume these ones are his favourites (or perhaps ones that remind him of you) and it all makes your heart flutter.

You don’t have a vase to place them in, you settle on putting them into a glass pitcher.

“I thought you said you wouldn’t be able to make it…” you say to him, only to be met with a light chuckle. You fill the pitcher with water, placing it near the window for sunlight.

You know Ran is behind you, you can smell the floral scent mixed with bergamot and faint tobacco lingering in the air. Both of his arms wrap around your shoulders as he pulls you in, resting his head on top of your head. “I was only joking. I wanted to surprise you. Were you upset because of that?” he teasingly asks. “Don’t pout about it. You know I wanted to see you. Missed my pretty baby so badly.”

“Is that so? Is it not because your brother made plans without you?”

“Promise it’s true. Nothing is better than spending the new year with you… Did you not miss having me here?”

You place a hand over his as his hold on you doesn’t loosen. “Maybe I missed you a little bit,” you quietly admit.

“Maybe? That’s so harsh… There hasn’t been a moment that has passed by when I haven’t thought of you.”

You giggle at his lovely words, calling him a liar which he immediately denies. You know you and Ran are not actually together. He is not your boyfriend, he never asked you to be his girlfriend, and you think there may be other girls in Roppongi who want him – there definitely are – and maybe Ran is with them too. But whenever Ran sends you an email or leaves you a voicemail when you are busy, you feel special. He calls you a lot during late nights when he is free and you stay up together talking about sweet nothings. And when he is here with you, he kisses you every moment he possibly can, his soft lips never leave you and your body. And you let him touch you in ways nobody else has, letting him lay you down on the futon as he whispers gentle praises and sweet confessions into your ear. You feel loved by Ran Haitani, and it terrifies you knowing this feeling may never last.

—

This night is a cold and silent one; only the quiet music echoing in your room from an old stereo, the laughter and sweet words of you and Ran can be heard tonight.

“Drops of Jupiter,” Ran abruptly says.

You tilt your head in confusion, “hm?”

“I really like this song.”

“Oh, this is my first time listening to it…” You admit, you don’t know too much about foreign music, but you like the sound of this song, and you attempt to hum along despite not knowing the lyrics.

“Yeah? Well, come here,” he tells you, grabbing both your hands to pull you from the couch and you stumble straight into his arms. “Dance with me, my darling.”

Slow dancing in your room, the only light coming from the pale moon and a small lamp that flickers from time to time. Ran twirls you around and around until you begin to feel too sick, everything is dizzy, and the whole room is spinning. He pulls you close to his chest, securing you there, swaying side to side slowly, you can feel his beating heart and the quiet breathing of his breath. A sense of solace with Ran, your eyes slowly flutter shut.

“Should I just whisk you away from here and take you to Roppongi? I hate being apart from you, baby, it’s driving me insane.”

You pause at his confession. You look up at him, your heart races against the ticking of the old clock, your gaze drops from him to your feet, a single loose thread on your sock and you take in a short breath. You look back up at him, giving him a thin smile in which he returns.

“Once I come back, I will take you with me. We will go Romeo and Juliet style,” his voice is firm and soft. Ran is too perceptive, he notices your worries and doubts, he notices all of it, and he lowers his voice into a whisper: “Believe in me.”

You can’t make out his eyes, the moon barely providing enough light. The music echoing in your little room, a symphony of your aching hearts, you stop swaying as your hands lower to his forearms, and he asks you what’s wrong.

“You know, Romeo and Juliet didn’t get to…” your own words die on your tongue as you stare at Ran who is staring at you with such a serious expression. You’ve never seen him look like that before, and you freeze. You think it might be desperation (for you, you hope, you aren’t too sure) swirling in those soft lavender eyes of his. Believe in me. His words echo in your mind once. Twice. Three times.

Ran probably has never read or watched Romeo and Juliet, or Ran being Ran, sees them as the epitome of romance. Profound and intense passion and the tragic beauty of star-crossed lovers. In a way, you can understand Ran – understand them – who sees it as true romance, you partially see it that way too. (You think maybe Ran sees you and him the same way.)

“Take me far away from here, Ran.”

He leans down to peck your lips at those words, smiling into the kiss as he promises he will be back here soon. “I’ll come back for you,” he whispers as he places a much more tender kiss on your forehead.

It was inevitable: the way the beautiful flowers Ran had given you began to wilt despite your best efforts to care for them. You look for a way to preserve them.

—

And like always, you and Ran email and call each other a lot. He prefers to call, always saying he misses you and your pretty voice. How he wishes you were with him, and how badly he needs you. Every word he says leaves you feeling shy and giggly. Sometimes you fall asleep to the sound of his breathing on the other end, knowing all too well that the phone bill cost will be higher than usual. But during those little moments you find it hard to care.

Until one night, when the snow begins to slowly fall down in late February, it all stops. None of your messages are returned, and your calls remain unanswered. Ran doesn’t talk to you again, and you’re left without knowing why.

You pick up an old pack of cigarettes Ran had accidentally left at your place when he visited for the new year. You open the white box, take out the last remaining cigarette, placing it between your lips and light it. The moment you inhale, you immediately cough and choke on the bitter smoke, it tastes worse than you expected, however you bring the cigarette up to your lips again and after a few more tries, it becomes easier, you feel a light buzz and your heart aches so so badly. It tastes like Ran and you start to cry.

—

Once Ran is released from juvenile detention, when things begin to settle down in Kantō Manji Gang, and when things are relatively safer (—their crimes are piling up, their influence is growing, and now their stressful activities are beginning to slow), Ran attempts to call you. Again.

His calls still don’t go through. Again and again. He has sent you dozens of emails and a handwritten letter to no avail.

He boards the midnight train to Nikkō. He makes a beeline to your shabby, rundown apartment, it’s vacant, mail piled up and his handwritten letter that sits on top of the pile stares back at him. Mockingly. His heart beats erratically, he pulls in a deep breath to calm himself.

Ms. Sasaki finds him on her way to your apartment to collect your mail. Ran is frantic when asking about you; nothing resembles the pride of Roppongi in front of her, only the broken heart of a young and desperate man. She says he is too late, you got up and left two months ago, and she doesn’t know where you went.

You are no longer here.

—

This week has been slower than ever, Rindō’s been slumped over his desk all day, and he’s growing more irritated whenever he sees the stack of unread papers beside him. Rindō much prefers dangerous, adrenaline filled missions and pretentious parties over long boring meetings and paperwork, and all week has been these boring meetings and paperwork. What a shitty week.

The door to his office suddenly slams open, Rindō jolts in the leather seat, glaring at whoever it was that rudely barged in, but it’s just Ran, so he deeply sighs, not exploding on him. It's Ran so he internally groans because he knows something is up with his brother, he’s got an annoying look on his face today (much like he always does), mentally rubbing his temples.

“Rindō, we are going to go see a movie tonight.”

“I have paperwork to do.”

Ran tilts his head with visible confusion, “and? Do it later, leave it to your assistants. We have them for a reason, you know. C’mon, man.”

Rindō lets out an inaudible sigh. This is nothing new, Ran always does what he wants without asking. However, Rindō doesn’t have time to spare today. “Call up a woman and take her with you,” Rindō casually replies, dismissing him.

“Oh, so my dear baby brother doesn’t want to spend time with his eldest brother anymore? What happened to the Haitani brothers of Roppongi? Is it just Ran and—”

“God, please shut the fuck up, Ran.”

Ran immediately straightens up, asking if Rindō will join him. He asks like Rindō would say no to him. It’s not like he had much of a choice in the first place because Ran would keep annoying him into agreeing (an annoyingly cheap trick that works every single time).

Rindō nods, saying, “yeah, but Koko is pissed off ‘cause these papers haven’t been finished yet. It’s only been a couple of days, so I don’t get why he’s so mad.”

“Who cares about him? He is always annoyed these days because the last deal didn’t go so well,” Ran replies as he takes a seat on one of the spare chairs.

“That wasn’t our fault.”

“Exactly, it never is.”

A few hours later, they rent out the entire theatre, perhaps an overkill, but it’s safer for them (and everyone else) that way. The only people remaining in the building are the workers and the ones who recognise the tattoo on their necks are visibly shaken up by their sudden appearance, and a few of their men on standby — just in case.

“You added extra butter to this right?” Rindō asks the employee who nods her head frantically, visibly terrified as she had caught sight of the tattoo adorning his neck. Despite this being an expected reaction, it still annoys him, and he visibly rolls his eyes, his annoyance clear to everyone.

“Y-yes! To both of them…”

“Okay, thanks, I’m just making sure.”

The film is a romantic comedy – Ran’s favourite genre – he’s uncharacteristically silent the entire time. Ran loves nothing more than to talk about anything and everything, but he hasn’t said a word since the opening scene. Rindō stays silent too, eyes flickering from his brother back to the screen. He doesn’t enjoy romance as much as Ran does, nothing about the film is particularly entertaining, but some moments are stupidly funny. And he does find the female lead to be very pretty – the type of beauty his brother is more often than not attracted to – there is something so captivating about you and Rindō can’t take his eyes off of you. He assumes your beauty is the reason why Ran is so silent tonight.

By the end of the film, he glances over to Ran to find him watching the ending credits roll with glossy eyes, and Rindō doesn’t say anything, he turns his focus back onto the credit screen, the silent understanding of it all slowly hitting him.

(And even now, years down the road, Ran still finds himself enchanted by you and everything you are. He always knew you belonged on the big screen, shining brighter than every star in this vast universe.)

—

When you enter your dressing room, your manager tells you there is a present for you set on the table, and when you ask who it’s from, she only shakes her head saying she isn’t sure. The director of today’s shoot handed it to her without a word.

You never get sent mail here, especially fan mail – those get sent to your agency – you wonder if it’s secretly from your manager (she is too shy when it comes to giving compliments most of the time — you think she may be what people call a tsundere), or maybe a co-worker of yours, or that sleazy, old director.

A handwritten note on top of a box, simply reading, ‘Congratulations, I never once stopped believing in you.’ Your heart trembles, a feeling you’ve never once forgotten comes knocking, tumbling inside once again, making its way home. Your throat suddenly feels dry and your hands begin to shake a little as you pull on the silk ribbon, opening the box. A bouquet. Purple orchids and pure white lilies.

Tears immediately well up in your eyes as you hold the flowers close to your heart, careful not to crush the fragile petals.

[padfootagain]

Only an Almost (XIV)

Chapter 14: Heartbreak

Hi! Here comes a new chapter!

Alright, buckle up! We’re up for a wild ride! We are reaching the heights of the angsty mess, from this chapter all the way to chapter 17. Is our girl going to be an asshole? Yes, I’m afraid she’s about to fuck up big time...

Apologies for all the damage that is about to be made in this chapter.

It’s also the first chapter I wrote for this fic! It all started with this mess…

I hope you’ll like this chapter! Please, tell me what you think!

*************************************

Pairing: Hozier x fem!reader, friends with benefits AU

Warning: No explicit smut or nsfw content, but there are sexual themes and heavy make-out sessions (it’s a friends with benefits AU, I can’t really escape it), so 18+ only!

Summary: Andrew has been in love with you for years, and yet he has never confessed his feelings. But a night out celebrating the engagement of his best friend changes everything. However, you don't seem ready to be with him just yet. You make him an offer that he can't refuse... but will certainly regret.

Word Count : 3450

Masterlist for the series – Hozier’s Masterlist – Main Masterlist

It was 11pm, which was early for a night owl such as Andrew, but late for his friends. Neither Sam nor Daphne were nocturnal creatures, and so Andrew answered his phone in a hurry when Sam’s name appeared on the screen. Something had to be wrong. He suddenly wondered where he had put his car keys, in case he needed to leave in a hurry.

“Hello? Andy? It’s me. It’s Sam.”

“Yeah, I know, are you alright?” he asked with worry making his voice deeper than usual, pausing the tv-show he was watching, lounging on his comfortable sofa.

“Yeah, yeah…”

“It’s 11pm, is there something wrong? Is Daphne okay?”

“What? Oh, no! Don’t worry, we’re both fine!”

Andrew heaved a relieved sigh.

“God, don’t scare the shit out of me like that ever again…”

“Did I wake you? I thought you never went to sleep before dawn.”

“Vampires tend to do that indeed.”

“Whose blood did you drink this week?”

Andrew wanted to answer, but he heard Daphne pestering Sam about not having much time, and he merely frowned instead.

“Right… sorry, darling…” Sam mumbled through the phone. “Are you alone, Andy?”

“Erm… yes…?”

“Okay, erm… it’s… it’s about Y/N.”

Andrew sat straighter this time.

“Y/N? Is she okay? Did something happen?”

“No, no… I mean… she’s fine, but…”

“For fuck’s sake, Sam! Spit it out! What’s going on?”

“Look I… I know that you said that I couldn’t tell Daphne about you and Y/N… but Y/N told her, so we’ve talked about you two together…”

Andrew rolled his eyes, lying back down, resting his head on the armrest of the couch.

“It’s alright, Sam… I knew you’d break it to her sooner or later anyway.”

“No, Andy… look… have you talked to Y/N lately?”

Andrew frowned.

“Erm… I don’t know… about… three days ago. Why?”

“I think you should talk to her.”

“Why? Sam, what is it?”

There was a short silence, while the couple exchanged a glance, no doubt.

“Daphne thinks she might take a terrible decision,” Sam answered.

“What kind of decision? What are you talking about?”

Andrew was growing annoyed at this game of riddles. If something was wrong, he ought to know what it was…

But even if he insisted some more, Sam refused to speak.

“Just… call her, and tell her you love her. Tell her to choose you.”

“’Choose’ me? What do you mean?”

“Just… do it tomorrow, will you?”

“Alright, alright. I’ll call her tomorrow.”

“Good… good…”

When he hung up, Andrew stared at the ceiling for a while.

Choose me?

Andrew didn’t need to call you the next day. You were the one to call, and ask him if he was free tonight. You didn’t offer an activity, like you usually would: a movie on Netflix, the cinema, a walk, going to the beach, eating together… There was little ambiguity to the reason behind your demand, and Andrew wasn’t sure whether he was flattered or vexed by it.

He warned you that he wanted to talk to you about something tonight though, and you agreed. You had something to ‘discuss’ with him too. His heart dropped as you spoke those words through the phone. It ought to be some kind of bad news. Or maybe not. Maybe he was reading too much into this, and you meant… to talk about the upcoming wedding, or your job, or… something else entirely. He wondered if you knew that he meant to tell you that he felt more for you than what he had let on.

He parked his car in front of your house, but didn’t climb out just yet. First, he ran through his speech one last time.

I know that you are not looking for a relationship at the moment. But I want more than just sex when it comes to you. To us. Our arrangement can’t go on like this. Again, I understand that you are not in a position now where you want to be in a relationship. And that’s okay. If you tell me that you could give us a chance, I will wait for you. I’ll wait until you’re ready, until your job is more stable and you’ve figured things out in your life. I’ll wait until you want a relationship with me. I have feelings for you, feelings that go beyond a casual fling. And that’s the reason why I’m asking you now to give me a chance. To give us a proper chance…

No l-word yet, you might freak out if he used it. But this speech seemed good enough. Short, to the point. He had written six versions of it this morning.

He took a deep breath, before finally climbing out of his car and walking up to your house.

You were quick to unlock your door and welcome him in. You looked lovely tonight. But then, you were always beautiful…

You went through some meaningless chit-chat while Andrew took off his coat and shoes and followed you down the hall to your kitchen.

You offered him tea without asking if he wanted one. It was late afternoon, but not quite dinner time yet. He could have used some alcohol, but it would have been impolite to ask for some, so he thanked you when you handed him his favourite mug with two teabags plunged in warm water. He leaned against your kitchen counter, his back to your tiny window and your sink while you were facing him, a couple of steps away.

“You… you wanted us to talk about something,” Andrew reminded you, taking a sip of the warm beverage. “And I wanted to talk to you too, so… who should start?”

You were growing nervous, the signs were obvious. In your modern kitchen, there was a window above the sink that let in some golden light. The photons embraced your form, in a way that made Andrew’s heart skip a few beats.

You pushed back some hair behind your ear, pulled on the sleeves of your jumper. Andrew frowned at the sight.

“You’re alright? I can start…”

“No, I… I reckon I should start.”

“Okay.”

He was nervous beyond reason and measure. Andrew dried his clammy palms on his jeans, tried to breathe deeply through his nose, but his heart kept on pounding and his stomach was turning into knots…

You stared at each other for a moment, him expectant and you hesitant. He raised an eyebrow as a silent encouragement for you to speak, but you merely bit on your lower lip.

But then you heaved a sigh, crossed the distance between your bodies in a hurry. Andrew barely had time to blink, and you had grabbed him by the collar, pulling him down to you while you rose to your tiptoes so you could slam your lips to his. But kissing you was a habit by now, and a delicious one too. Andrew’s body was reacting on instinct as he kissed you back, messy and passionate and breathtaking. Your teeth bumped into his in your passion, but he didn’t mind. It was easy to deepen the kiss instead, cradle your face in his hands while you wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him closer, closer, always closer.

You were making his brain short-circuit, despite the important talk he wanted to have with you. You were everywhere, blurring his senses, making all traces of reason disappear…

Only when he felt your fingers travel down his chest and towards his belt did he stop you, pulling away.

“Wait, wait… stop…”

You immediately took a step back, looking up at him with wide eyes.

“You’re okay?”

“Yeah… yeah… I… look, we… We wanted to talk, like… I think we should, erm, talk before we…”

“Or we can have sex, and talk after that.”

“Is that wise?”

“Do we really need to be wise?”

It was tempting. Too tempting to resist. God, he couldn’t think about anything else but your lips, how inviting they looked, how he wanted to kiss your neck too, he could feel his fingers tickle at the thought of touching all these places of your body, entire landscapes of bare skin…

He blinked a couple of times, struggled to swallow, trying to calm down. But blood was pulsing in his ears, and when he tried to remember his carefully-crafted speech, he couldn’t remember a word…

Fuck all of this…

“Alright,” he nodded. “But we talk tonight… cause it’s important…”

“Deal. Deal. Can I kiss you now?”

“Yes… God, yes, please… please, kiss me…”

You were back in his arms in a second, hands in his hair at first, while his travelled along your frame, from chest to hips and arse, feeling your shape through your clothes. You detached your lips from his to take his hand and guide him to your bedroom.

“We should get dressed to talk,” Andrew proposed, his breathing finally settling back into a regular rhythm.

He threw his condom away in the tiny bean next to the door of your bathroom. He grabbed his underwear as he walked back to your bed and handed you your large jumper.

“You’re too beautiful not to be distracting,” he chuckled, only half-joking, while you put on the piece of garment he was giving you.

He noticed how you looked away, how you seemed uncomfortable, all of a sudden. Instead of joining you in bed once more, Andrew sat down on the edge of the mattress, right next to you.

“So… who should begin?” he asked, voice soft and a little timid. “I… like… actually, I think I should…”

“Andy, I… I think you should get dressed.”

He frowned at that remark, or rather… he frowned at the tone you used. Cold and distant, whispered, and your eyes were still fleeing his.

“Why? Am I distracting too?” he asked with a charming smile, forcing a chuckle out. But you didn’t laugh, merely brushed a strand of your hair behind your ear.

Andrew’s nervous smile soon crumbled.

“Right,” he let out in a breath, blushing hard now, heart racing.

He grabbed his undershirt, slowly put it on while trying to swallow back the lump in his throat.

“Look, I… We should talk about… this arrangement of ours…” he started, but you interrupted him, blurting out words he wasn’t expecting so fast he second-guessed if he had heard you right.

“We need to stop sleeping together.”

He was half-bent to grab his pants when you spoke. He froze, looking up at you, cursing at his long hair when it fell before his eyes and hid you away. He stood back up in a jolt.

“What?”

“We… we need to stop this arrangement. Things have changed.”

And all of a sudden there was hope again, brighter than a sun and blinding every bit of reason in him… And he fell for it. No matter the odds, he fell for it, flew straight to it like a moth ready to be burned at the pyre of your flames…

“Right… things have changed for me too. So, actually, I do think that we need to change things between us…”

“I have a date next week.”

He froze again. Stared at you, too stunned to say a thing, too stunned to protest or ask any question or even comprehend what you were saying.

“I… I have a date with a coworker, Maggie. Next week. So… we should stop this… We said we would if we wanted to try something with someone else…”

A date? Next week? Maggie?

You… you wanted to date again… just… not him…

“But… we’ve just had sex,” breathed Andrew.

It sounded stupid and he knew it, and yet these were the only words he could summon now. The first that came to mind, the only protest he could find.

There were too many emotions all at once. It felt… like falling… falling forever… like the ground being stolen from under his feet. He had no air left in his lungs, and he had forgotten how to breathe.

“Yeah… it wasn’t planned. But I… I just… Maybe I shouldn’t have done that…”

His lip trembled, but his cheeks were still dry.

You were regretting him now?

“I think I just… wanted one last moment with you. Before we’d stop and I would date someone else.”

“So… you… you have a date?”

“Yes, I have a date with Maggie.”

“What do you mean, you have a date with Maggie? Who the fuck is Maggie?”

Andrew stared at you as he was about to cry, and he couldn’t help it. He blinked tears away, but they lingered at the edges of his eyes, ready to fall at your words.

“She’s nice. She works at HR, she’s a secretary. She asked me out, and… I don’t know, I said yes. So… I think we should stop this arrangement.”

“Oh…”

At long last, the information was being recorded in his brain. Andrew shook himself back to earth, turned around, fleeing you and your beautiful eyes, hurrying to put his trousers back on. He almost fell in the process, already looking for his shirt. He felt so exposed like this, so vulnerable, so flawed…

You were going on a date… with someone else… because you didn’t want to date him… he was the fucking problem. He was all along…

“I just… it was… good.”

He nodded, but didn’t let out a sound.

He couldn’t look at you. He would start crying if he did. He needed to run away as fast as he could…

“And she’s nice, you know? And… just… easy. Not like, easy to sleep with, but…”

“I understand.”

Of course, he did. Same argument all over again. And he couldn’t blame you, how could he?

But what if he dropped everything? What if he stopped touring? Stopped the whole music thing?

He thought about what you looked like right now, perfect and dishevelled and still gently glowing after the efforts of love-making. Absolutely perfect. Yeah… yeah… You deserved better than him, no matter the touring or the staying…

“Andy… are you angry?”

He didn’t answer. He couldn’t start acknowledging his feelings now. He would start crying if he did.

Where the fuck was his sock?

“I loved the nights we had together,” you went on, apparently unaware of the daggers each of your words planted through his heart, and for the first time in the long years the two of you had known each other, he wanted to stop hearing your voice.

You seemed to need to fill up the silence that Andrew was trying to maintain. Perhaps it was a way to reach out, perhaps it was a way to keep him at bay. He wasn’t certain about that.

“It was nice.”

Where was that fucking sock?!

“Andy?”

He put on his jumper, abandoning the thought of his black sock. He couldn’t lose any more time, he couldn’t breathe properly anymore…

“You’re okay? Can you say something?”

Silence. Only the rubbing of fabric against fabric as Andrew was getting ready to leave. He only had to grab his shoes and jacket in your hallway.

“Andy, wait!”

But he was already outside of your bedroom.

“You can’t be mad at me! We agreed about this, Andy! We agreed that… that… this was nothing but sex! It didn’t mean anything.”

He was blinded by tears when he reached for your doorknob, unlocking the door without seeing the keys he was turning in the lock.

“Andy! Where are you going? Stop! We need to talk about this!”

He shrugged you off when you reached for him.

“Andy!”

But then he was shutting the door behind him, his movement so harsh it shook the doorframe. He hurried to his car while he dried his eyes, refusing to crumble now, in the alley leading to your house.

He drove blindly, unaware of a destination, of a will behind the turns he took and the roads he chose. The words kept ringing in his ears, he couldn’t shut them out, they played on repeat in his busy mind…

This was nothing but sex.

It didn’t mean anything.

Did it not? The way you touched him, the way you kissed him, the way you held him… did it not mean something?!

His hold tightened on the wheel. His jaw clenched until it was painful, until he could hear it.

Nothing. The tenderness in your touch, the fondness in your gaze, the sighs on your lips. The way you held him after it was done, like you needed him to land again gently on the ground, like you held onto a dream before it faded. How you stared into his soul when you connected in the most intimate way possible. How you laughed together until none of you could breathe, how you talked for hours about the most meaningless things and the most intimate parts of your lives. How you let him be yours, how you almost let yourself be his…

Only an almost…

He parked the car before a house he had always called home, and it was only then that he realised where he was. He stared at the familiar door of his parents’ house, the curtains behind the windows, the light that came through them.

So, you had let him love you, and it meant nothing at all?

He turned off the engines, stared at the house for a suspended moment. What would he do now? He couldn’t possibly face you again after this. He was about to lose you for good; because after having a taste of what loving you felt like, he couldn’t go back to being a mere friend. No… no, he wasn’t strong enough for that. For seeing you happy with someone else, knowing that you held him close for a moment only to let him go, because he wasn’t enough.

He picked up his phone, ready to do something stupid, something he would regret the second his thumb would press send. He typed the text under your name.

If I gave up on touring, if I stayed home… would you give me a chance? Would I be enough if I weren’t just a ghost?

He heaved a sigh, resting his head against his seat, head tilted upwards in his exhale. He blinked tears away, staring at the dark ceiling of his car.

Did you really feel nothing now? Did it not hurt at all for you? Not even a little bit? Not at all?

Andrew didn’t press send. He deleted the text, opened the door, climbed out of the car and into the street bathed in an inky darkness and orange streetlights. His feet guided him to the safest place on Earth while he tugged his phone into his pocket. His right foot was hurting in his shoe without a sock on. He didn’t even notice.

It took his mother a moment to open the door, nothing surprising at this hour. She saw him through the glass of the backdoor, and her eyes grew round. Andrew finally noticed he was crying.

The door opened in a hurry, bumping into Raine’s foot in the process.

“Andy? Honey, what’s wrong? Are you okay? Are you hurt?”

His lower lip trembled as he stared at his mother, hands digging further into his pockets, nervously shifting his weight from one foot to the other. His throat was too tight to speak.

“Honey, what’s wrong? Tell me. Tell me what’s wrong?”

She narrowed her eyes a little as she guessed, aiming straight for his heart.

“Is it Y/N?”

He opened his mouth to answer but all that he could let out was a sob. His legs were shaking, he could feel all of his strength leaving his body. He barely registered his own moevements as he bent into his mother’s arms, folding around her frame.

“Oh, Andy… here, it’s alright. It’s gonna be okay, darling. It’s okay. I’m here, I’m here…”

She rubbed his back, in this soothing movement that had never failed to appease him ever since he was a child. His voice was a hoarse whisper when he let out the most painful words he had ever pronounced.

“She doesn’t love me, mom. She doesn’t feel anything… What am I gonna do? What am I gonna do without her?”

She let him cry for a moment longer, his father calling from the living room to know who was at the door. Raine merely answered with her son’s name, and gently pushed him upwards so he would stand straighter again.

“Well, for a start, I’m going to make you a cup of tea, with a lot of honey. And then, we’ll figure out the rest.”

[wanderingsoul6261]

Stuck with Me

Credit for gif goes to aaronwarner

James Beaufort x Reader

Synopsis: James and Reader are secretly dating. Elaine finds out and started to treat Reader terribly. Reader is an Ellington, sister to Elaine, twin to Alistair. When James finds out what Elaine had been doing, he does to comfort the reader.

Product of a series of requests that had explained similar scenarios.

warning: suggestive themes, but no details. Probably bad grammar and editing. I tried. Finished it in a rush before work. Will probably edit later.

-------

The two of them were honestly surprised that they had been able to keep their relationship a secret as long as they have. James and Y/N both went to a school where a majority of the students were too smart for their own good. Although, it wasn’t even the school that they were surprised about keeping the relationship from. It was their siblings. Y/N was not only a close and confiding friend to Lydia, but she was also an Ellington sibling. A twin to Alistair, older sibling to Elaine. 

They were definitely trying to hide things from Elaine. If she were to find out, it would be the end of the world. At least for Elaine that is. 

James and Y/N had wondered for some time on what would be the best way to keep this secret. It wasn't like they hated each other, so they couldn't use that. Y/N had in fact spent as much time around James as many others have. They had even considered fabricating a lie. Making up an event in which it would give the two no rhyme or reason not to hate each other. 

But then they remember who one, they were related to, and two, who they were friends with. It would have been a difficult one to pull off, no less keep afloat. So the two continued to bounce ideas off of each other, and had finally decided to keep interactions around others to a minimum. 

They give each other fleeting glances when passing each other in the hall. If they sit next to each other in a classroom or just anywhere that will allow them, an arm or leg are barely brushing against each other. When addressing each other, they say their names. No nicknames. No usage of ‘hey’ or anything else. Just their names. If they sit on a bench, James allows his arm to rest on the back of it. They continue their normal mannerisms, and maybe that's why no one has caught on just yet to their charades. 

James and Y/N had the undivided attention of each other but in some way, they wanted more. 

—

Y/N was walking Lydia when They bumped into James, Alistair, Wren and Cyril. The two girls stood shoulder to shoulder. 

“I'm just saying. You guy are twins. Don't you have that mind thing that allows her to know what you're thinking? Or when you feel pain?” Cyril flicked Alistair in the forehead. Alistair had looked unamused, but Y/N felt otherwise. An amused smile graced her lips as she glanced momentarily at Lydia. 

“Ow.” The monotone voice and stare of Alistair caused a small snicker to come from Y/N. The four boys jumped, caught off guard by their company. Y/N eyes flickered to James, flashing a smile before Cyril pulled her away from her spot next to Lydia. 

“The girl of the house. Y/N, seriously. You guys don’t have that twin telepathy thing going on? Did you feel it when I flicked Alistair's forehead?” Y/N looked at him, then her brother. 

“I didn't feel anything. Sure you used enough force behind it? It was really light. Like a feather.” Cyril dropped his jaw, not expecting the comeback. “It's okay Cyril. Some women like the light touch of a man.” 

“Are you speaking from experience?” he asked, narrowing his eyes at her like he was trying to read her. 

James smirked as he looked at Y/N. She looked around the small group of people. Wren was waiting for an answer, one of which Alistair didn't want to hear. Lydia now looked just as amused as Y/N did. Then her eyes landed on James. He raised an eyebrow, the corner of his mouth quirking into a small smirk. 

“I prefer not to tell.” 

“Way to keep a man wondering.” Cyril drew Y/N's attention back to him. 

“You're not really a man, Cyril. A boy, maybe. But a toddler fits the image better.” Cyril took a stagger back, a hand to his chest. “You wound me so.” 

“Good. You can ask James and Lydia the same question.” James instantly shook his head. 

“I don't know. Do you want me to flick your forehead and see if I can feel it?” James looked at his sister. 

“Do you want me to flicker your forehead and see if I can feel it?” James flashed his sister a cheeky grin before turning back to Cyril. 

“You can do it.” Cyril looked at Lydia, who glared at him, albeit playfully. He shook his head. 

“I prefer life.” 

“Good choice. Anyways, I'm off to class.” Lydia bid the group goodbye. Cyril, Wren, and Alistair were next to leave. 

“Alistair!” Y/N called out to her brother. He looked back. “Don't let the toddler pester you too much. They can be pesky little buggers. Can't they?” He flashed her a smile at the same time Cyril turned back and flipped her the finger. 

Once they were gone, Y/N turned to James. He was already smiling at her. 

“Do you like soft touches?” He asked, raising an eyebrow, his smile turning to a smirk.

“Wouldn't you like to know.”  His hands itched to touch her. James looked up and down the hallway, making sure no one was there before pulling her into an empty room. 

He pushed her up against the wall. His hands entangled themselves in her hair. Y/N looked up at him, her fingers combing through his hair. She brushed his hair out of his face. 

“Playing a dangerous game every second both of us are in here.” Y/N said. 

“I had to have a few seconds with you.” 

“Well since both of us are in here, kiss me already.” James pulled her to him, capturing her lips in a kiss. He took it slow, holding her against him. She put one arm around his neck, while her other hand moved up his shirt, settling on his waist. James sucked in a breath at the touch, before moving his lips from hers and up along her jaw. 

“How’s this for soft touches?” He whispered. 

“Mm. Too soft.” James pulled back enough to look into her face. Y/N smirked at him. A low rumble could be heard on his throat, as he captured her lips into a searing kiss, pushing her further against the wall. 

And when they finally left the room, little did they know that someone watched them exit minutes later, both looking slightly disheveled, and exchanging a few chaste kisses in what they thought to be a quiet and empty hallway, before going their own way. 

—

Over the course of the next few days, Y/N had received glares and mistreatment from some of the students on campus. James had tried talking to her about her sullen mood lately, but had gotten nothing. Lydia had even tried to talk to her, but Y/N wouldn't even talk to her about it. 

And she felt bad, but going to a school where one person was always out to get the other, she didn't know who would believe her. Even if she knew that her boyfriend and best friend were the ones most likely to do just that.

So she received the mistreatment and said nothing. Most of it came from Elaine, her sister. The sneers, the ‘accidental’ bumps, the nasty comments. All from her own sister. 

Y/N could make an assumption, as she watched her sister talk to James from the end of the hallway. Her sister brushed up against James, her hands moving his hair out of his face just as Y/N does in private. He had shrunk away from her, a slight look of discomfort on his face. She watched as James politely excused himself, before walking the opposite way from where Y/N was standing. 

Elaine knew about James and Y/N, and now part of Maxton Hall did too.

She watched as Elaine stood for several seconds, watching James walk away, before she turned her head and caught Y/N watching her. Elaine sent her a sneer, before starting to walk towards her. Y/N waited for her and whatever kind of mistreatment that she would bring. 

“Do you really think that someone like him could love someone like you?” She asked. Y/N stared at her. 

“We are sisters Elaine. We have the same blood and genes.” 

“He will be mine. James will forget about you, and he will come running to me when that happens.” Elaine had a smug look on her face as she spoke to Y/N. “It's expected Y/N. No one could or would ever love you.” Y/N knew at that moment that Elaine was also talking about herself. Elaine finally turned to walk away. 

“Oh. And Y/N.” She stopped and turned. “We aren't sisters.” The last little bit of Y/N's heart crumbled as she watched Elaine walk away. Her hand reached into her pocket, and with shaky fingers, she got ahold of their chauffeur. Y/N wanted to leave. 

—

Y/N had opted out of going to class, and hasn’t been in for several days. Their parents were away for business trips and even when they were home, she played it off that she was either sick or had a migraine, which wasn’t too hard to pull off. Alistair had brought home her homework. Lydia and James had also kept her in the loop about assignments, but other than that, she didn’t speak much to either of them. 

Y/N had finally told Alistair what had been going on and how Elaine had been treating her. This also, therefore, had spilt the beans about Y/N’s and James' secret relationship. Y/N had thought that Alistair would have had an issue with it, just as Elaine did, but if anything, he was happy for his sister and best friend. Elaine wasn’t good for James anyway. 

I told him 

Y/N stared down at her phone, looking at her brother’s message to herself. She laid in bed, her face buried in the pillow, sullied with tears as she thought about the last few days and how she managed the situation. It was the wrong way to do so, and she knew it. James and Lydia should have been told, instead of being ignored in the way that they were currently. 

She deserved to be hated. They had every right to be bad at her. Instead, they were the opposite. 

Lydia had also messaged her, being gentle about it, even if she was upset that Y/N felt that she couldn’t go to her about Elaine. Lydia never liked her to begin with. 

Then there was James. 

He had only sent Y/N one message. 

I’m on my way. J.M.B 

She had smiled at his message, finally sending him one back. 

<3 Your F/M/L initials 

Y/N had only waited a little bit before James was bursting through her bedroom door. He stopped in the doorway. 

“Y/N.” His eyes traveled over her face, taking in the appearance of her tear stained face. “Oh love.” James hurried over to the bed, kneeling down on the floor. He brought her face into his hands, using his thumbs to wipe away any tears on her face. “Why didn’t you say anything?” 

“I didn’t know who would believe me.” 

“I would have. You know that.” He said. James searched her eyes, seeing nothing but pain and regret. “How long?” He asked. Y/N swallowed thickly, averting her eyes and face away from him. He grabbed her chin with his hand, moving her face so that she looked at him again. “How long, Y/N?” 

She stared at him for several seconds, before looking at his neck, avoiding eye contact.

“A week. More or less.” Her voice broke, remembering how she was treated. It would have been different had it not been her sister that treated her in the way that she did. But it wasn’t different, and it was her sister, so there was no changing it. Y/N sat up on her bed, her legs hanging over the side. James grabbed her hands, holding them in his own. He brought them up to his lips, pressing a kiss to her knuckles. 

“What did she do?” He asked. Y/N pulled her hands away from his, rubbing her eyes. James settled his hands on her thighs, rubbing his hands up and down them to help soothe her nerves. 

“The normal thing a bully does. Sneers. Snide comments. Bumping into them. Shoved me in private, degraded me here at home…” She trailed off, her hands settling on her thighs next to his own. James grabbed her hands again, rubbing his thumbs against her knuckles as he listened to her. 

“Is there something else?” She was silent for several moments, trying to find a way to phrase it. 

“I shouldn’t let this bother me because I really don’t like her right now, but she told me that we weren’t sisters.” James stared at her in silence for several moments. She stared at anything but him, feeling small in the current situation. “Also told me that she would have you at some point. That you would basically grow tired of me and go to her to give you what I can’t.” she mumbled softly. 

“And what can’t you give me?” he asked. “Because you have given me all that I need and more.” James reassured her. He stood up, settled his hands on her cheeks, and brought her into a searing kiss, before pushing her back on the bed.

“What are you doing James?” she asked, staring up at him, confused. 

“I’m going to show you how much I appreciate you.” He pushed the blankets off of her. “How much you make me happy.” James looped his fingers in the shorts and panties she wore for sleeping, pulling them down. “That there is no other woman I want other than you.” James pushed her shirt up slightly, laid on the bed, and began pressing kisses to her stomach, moving down. Soft kisses were pressed to her navel, and then on the inside of her thighs. His eyes never left hers, wanting to take in her appearance as he showed her just how much he loved her. One arm looped around one of her thighs, while the other searched for her hand. Her fingers looped with his. “You’re stuck with me, sweetheart.”

-----

taglist: @honethatty12 @lifeonawhim @ashamedtobewhitemanswhore27 @maryvibess @wheredidmyeyesgo @imasimptoowth @avada-kedavra-bitch-187

[hugsandchaos]

Danny in an Encanto crossover gives the impression of someone trying to befriend a stray feral cat and bring them inside to give the love and shelter, but the stray feral cat doesn’t trust them and keeps hissing every time they get too close.

Although, I’d love to see everyone being completely accepting of Danny. They don’t look at him with suspicion or hatred when they see him slip up, they’re amazed! He has powers just like the Madrigals? That’s super cool! And he has more than one? Not just phasing through solid objects, but also invisibility and sensing ghosts nearby? Even better!

I bet that Bruno would relate to him in a way. They were both looked down on for their powers, but in different ways. Bruno because he mostly predicted bad things with no control over it, and Danny because a lot of people, including his parents, really didn’t like “Phantom” because the sole reason that he was a ghost. Alma knew that it was Bruno who had the powers, Danny’s parents didn’t know he was the ghost they keep shooting at.

Also, Danny 100% defends Bruno from any villagers who blame him for having bad visions. Bruno’s lacked social interaction with other humans for ten whole years, but Danny’s up for fighting for him. His favorite line to use was “If I’m a child and I have to explain this to you, what does that say about you as an adult?”. He didn’t get in trouble for it.

Danny talks about space and teaches them about it! He’s more than happy to explain it all and answer their questions the best he can!

Danny eats Julieta’s food and is honestly freaked out because his ribs are suddenly not broken anymore. Take it a step further and say that he’s sleep deprived, and one of the side effects of having food that heals you is that it can make you really tired if you haven’t slept well for a while, so you can’t help but take a quick nap. So he just falls unconscious after a few bites and wakes up in the early morning not knowing what year it is.

It doesn’t get rid of his death mark, though, which confuses everyone. Speaking of his death mark, Danny doesn’t like to talk about it, but eventually explains that it’s a scar from being zapped. He doesn’t go into detail or talk about what exactly the incident did to him, though. He just mentions that he got zapped and has a scar from it.

Eventually, the Madrigals will come to the realization that he doesn’t just have ghost-like powers. He’s actually a ghost. Half ghost, at least.

Also, Danny swears he sees Pedro around the house, not just in the paintings, and the most often place is by Alma’s side. He’s even had conversations with him. To everyone else, it looks like he’s talking to thin air, but he seems so fixated on something that’s actually there and listens to nothing so much that they think he’s actually being serious. Once, during a conversation with Alma and she was telling him about Pedro, he looked at her very confused and said “What are you talking about? He’s standing right next to you”.

At first, she was upset, but he said it with way too much confusion and conviction that she starts to realize he’s serious. Every time someone says that he isn’t, Danny gestures to nothing and goes “Are you blind?! He’s right there!”. In his eyes, Pedro really is there, looking awkward because this kid sees him and is arguing with his family about it.

Honestly, Danny doing something by himself and then suddenly turning around and making immediate direct eye contact with Pedro would be really funny. Pedro is honestly freaked out because something seemed off with the kid from the beginning, and he just made eye contact with a ghost?

Oh, and you best believe that after being treated so nicely by everyone, Danny will start throwing hands the second another ghost tries to cause them trouble.

Make it even better by combining it with Good Vlad. The two just show up one day trying to find a place to live. Their dynamic confuses more than a few people because people usually treat their god father or technical uncle with love and respect. Danny’s constantly getting on his nerves for the fun of it, doing things including but not limited to taking his coffee. He also calls him a “fruit loop”, which apparently means someone insane. Vlad calls him “Little Badger”, and yes, he’s actually been bitten by Danny once because Vlad startled him when he grabbed him to pull him out of danger and Danny’s first instinct was to bite him.

[fangirleaconmigo]

*whispers* I think I have a date.

Guys I have had one date in the past ten years istg. At my age (40’s) I have to go online to date because almost everyone in my age range is mostly taken, AND I live in a conservative area so even the lesbians are sometimes right wingers. It’s bleak. Also I just have not wanted to. The reasons why not could fill a tome. I’m fairly aromantic, I don’t care, blah blah blah. Also I have a lot of internalized shit but we will not go into here.

But anyhow I was at my friend’s house yesterday and a woman came to the party, which is unusual because my friend’s house is basically a gay male colony. And ofc I assumed she was straight which may be another reason I never go on dates.

But she offered to walk me to my car for no reason and asked for my number and invited me to go wine tasting tomorrow. Just me. Not the guys. Like one of the guys texted me today to invite me to something else. So I’m almost definitely sure it’s just me.

I have a history of being mind bogglingly oblivious to being flirted with by women? But I’m just gonna go out on a limb and believe this is a date.

I know almost nothing about her except she’s a doctor and Indian and loves dogs and has a beautiful smile.

And that’s good to start with yes?

Also, this is a date, right? Right?

[oocfreaky]

🍂 ₊ ⊹ unresistable ex . ⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

PAIRING :: Matt x Danielle (Reader)

WARNING :: smut, unprotected sex, backshots, ( perhaps writing errors ‼ )

SUMMARY - you go to a party, not expecting to see your ex boyfriend there. you guys end up in the same room once he sees you trying to hide from him, which leads to a intimate moment between the both of you …

✎ AUTHOR’S NOTE - this indeed is my first tumblr so it won’t be as well as any of the other ones out there and lowkey felt like making one for this MAN (he’s too majestic not to), enjoy ??

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

DANIELLE’S POV ::

i wear the outfit my bestfriend made me wear to this stupid party; a lettuce bell bottom sleeved crop top, baggy jeans, sneakers to match my shirt, silver jewelry to compliment my black hair and makeup, topped off with these sunglasses that i don’t need since it is night. i walk toward the party that my bestfriend forced me to come to. i sigh before taking a few steps. there basically aren’t any lights and just led projectors, a movie playing for no reason, music blasting through speakers, then that’s when i see somebody familiar in the worst way.

there he was, matt sturniolo. he looks so good in his orange polo, white jacket, jeans and boots. he looks like a dad in a sick, yet, attractive way. i didn’t like him, in fact, i was over matthew. i roll my eyes playfully, even if he doesn’t see. i smile faintly, making my way upstairs. i take one glance back as i head up; he sees me.

in a panic, i rush to the nearest room and it was dark. i turn the lights on and see it was some guy’s room. i sit on the edge of the bed and play with ring intertwined in the necklace i had on; matt’s ring. i out my purse on and look in the mirror. suddenly, somebody knocks on the door, getting me startled.

i gulped and fix my hair, ready to leave and open the door. i walk so quickly, i run into the guy’s chest. i chuckle, “sorry, didn’t see you ther…” i get interrupted by my eyes meeting matt’s, “could this night get any more embarrassing,” i thought to myself.

he grins ear to ear, towers over me. he looks down at me and chuckles softly, “where do you think you’re going,” he questions and i look away, clearly awkward about this whole interaction. i was still the bashful kind and he wa still confident. of course, when we first met, he was shy too, but his confidence grew onto him and is why i loved him so much, but also the reason why it all ended.

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

MATT’S POV ::

she looked like a dream, just like the same day we met, she looked beautiful like always. her embarrassment didn’t change one bit, she was the bashful kind when we started talking and that’s why i fell in love with her, sucks that it didn’t last, but maybe that spark can return after tonight; i got everything planned in my mind.

“i’m going to go get a drink since i walked her, moorest road is a bit far from my place so,” she gets through and tries to make her way down, but she doesn’t make a step down because I grab her wrist and pull her back into the room. she yelps and i lock the door, “are you still trying to avoid me, dani? it’s been two months since our breakup and you’ve been avoiding me at school as well. seriously what’s going on, why did this all happen,” i demand in a calm tone.

she looks away and crosses her arms. i sigh and rub my fingers against her arms and up just below her shoulders. i wanted her to know i was interested in her still and still cared a lot about her the same way i still love her. she sighs and looks me dead in the eye with her dark eyes, “because your confidence, all girls liked that and i felt insecure and needed that time to reflect on myself then be those girls who get angry at their boyfriends because of their own insecurities… i couldn’t do that to you so i ended it and focused on myself, i did it for me and it sounds selfish i know bu…”

i cut her off by crashing my lips onto hers. I don’t know why i’m doing this, but deep down, i kind of felt relieved i did because she returns the kiss. i put a hand on the back of her head and the other on her neck gently, i couldn’t be any more happier.

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

DANIELLE’S POV ::

i wasn’t mad about the kiss or his touch. i actually was thinking about trying to get him back earlier that week and here i was, brushing my lips against his. i pant in between kisses and my hands go around his neck, caressing it. i pull away for a moment and his hands go to my hips, gripping it and leaning us back. he sits down on the bed and places me just on top, like a cherry on ice cream sundae.

i kiss him more gently than before, “oh matt…” i moan out loud enough so only he can hear.he pulls away enough to speak. he whispers over my lips “you don’t understand how much i missed you, dani…” a small smile plasters on his face and kisses my neck. i pant in excitement and chuckle, i loved how he called me dani while everyone called me danielle or elle. he then grips onto my ass and i pant harder. he shuts me up with a deep kiss and unexpectedly throws me beneath him in a somewhat of a soft way. he kiss my neck and explores my curves and body with his hands, “you’re so beautiful tonight, dani…” and i grin softly. he takes off my shirt in a swift move and unclasps my bra. i take his shirt off as well and he chuckles darkly, “you like this hm,” revealing his bare chest. i nod and he manages to take off my jeans. i help him a bit, taking off my shoes.

we stand up from the bed and get completely undressed. he takes one look at my bare skin and tells me in a husky tone, “you look way too good not to fuck,” before grabs my hips and collapsing on me, landing on the bed as our lips meet again. i pant and he cups my cheek in one palm and my breast with the other. i pant and he pulls away once again, his cock grinding against just in front of my clit.

he clears his throat, “do you have one,” referring to a condom and i shake my head, “i have been on the pilll, we’ll be fine,” i respond, lying. and he nods. he adjusts himself and flips me over, bending my body and standing us both up until i was in a position for him to give me backshots. i take a deep breath, preparing myself.

he slowly enters inside me and i gasp since the first and last time i did this was over half a year ago with him. i pant as he thrust in and out of my in slow and deep pace. i pant and moan softly. he grabs my waist as he continues at this pace for a few seconds, “that’s the girl i fell in love with,” he fixes my hair and begins to pick up the pace, causing my moans to increase.

i pant and cover my mouth. he groans and buried himself in me, putting his head on my shoulder, rubbing my sides, “you like that, hm,” he asks and i moan softly, catching my breath. i nod in response before he finally pulls himself out of me with a wet pop. i collapse on the bed, exhausted and he smiles softly, “so proud of you, baby…”

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

[thelighthousestale]

It was a bright spring morning when the topic of eloping came up. It seemed like the perfect solution—small, private, no way for the press to get any leaked information.

But then Ginny brought up a very good point while taking a sip of tea. “Well, we can’t get married without Mum. She’d absolutely die and then murder us.”

“Okay, so your parents and Ron and Hermione,” Harry conceded, pouring himself a cup of coffee and sitting down next to Ginny at the small wooden table.

“Well, if Ron is there, we need to invite all the brothers, or else it will be a whole thing. And they’ll all bring their families, of course. Hold on, let’s make a list so we don’t forget anyone.” Ginny summoned a quill and a piece of parchment and started writing down the various names of the Weasley family.

Harry leaned over and watched as she added the names of their nieces and nephews to the list. “If kids are invited, then I’d like Teddy and Andromeda to be there.”

“Obviously, Teddy can be the ring bearer, and Vic will be the flower girl.”

“You still do that in an elopement?”

Ginny shrugged. “I don’t know, but they’d be cute. We should also invite Luna and Neville.”

“Sounds good,” Harry said, taking another sip of his coffee.

“And Neville will bring Hannah,” Ginny said, adding the names to the growing list. “We should probably invite Dean and Seamus so they don’t feel left out.”

Harry nodded along, “Kingsley and some of the other Order members. Hagrid, of course.” 

“Oh, Hagrid! Definitely.” Ginny nodded. “Do you think he will bring Buckbeak if we ask?”

“A hippogriff in a bow tie?” Ginny and Harry laughed at the image, which cemented their agreement to extend an invitation to Buckbeak.

“And Viktor Krum and my Quidditch team, obviously,” Ginny said through bites of toast.

“I’d like McGonagall there,” But then Harry hesitated. “Or is that weird?”

“I don’t think so,” Ginny said while shaking her head. “I think she’d appreciate the invite. What about your relatives? Should we at least send them an invite?”

“Don’t be stupid, Gin,” Harry said, leaning back in his chair as he took another sip of coffee and gave Ginny a wink. “We’re eloping, not having a real wedding, after all.”