#might make separate images in the morning

[autumnday19-fanart]

Cute spook 2: Fast boi

This shadowy demon cat is always watching.  Before you can look, it teleports away.  It can’t let you know it likes you ÒcÓ

Prompt from @x-cess38​!

[accioscarheadthings]

ULTRAMINE ~ CHAPTER 5

kenji sato x reader

summary: kenji finds a secret that you have been keeping from him and it's making him doubt everything about you

pairings: kenji sato x fem!student!reader

warning: angst, arguments, emi defending you, mention of violence, gore, blood, and death, onset of a panic attack

masterlist !

an undercover agent.

working for the kdf

kenji's mind was whirling as he glared at your watch with utmost loathing. he was up early that morning, not being able to sleep much with the information he had discovered.

"good morning," you walked into his lab in the basement.

the watch slipped his grasp and he accidently kicked it your way.

you turned towards it and your expression turned alarmed at once, "kenji... where did you find that?" you had an idea of what he might of seen if he had your watch.

kenji turned around to face you, his eyes blazing with anger as he strode towards you, "the kdf? seriously?"

"oh god, ken," you covered your face with your hands, "it's not what it looks like-"

"i can't believe I trusted you. all along, you were working against us. you're nothing but a traitor!"

you flinched at his words, hurt by the disappointment and betrayal in his voice. but despite the pain, you didn't know how to tell him the truth. so you steeled yourself for his barrage of accusations.

"you had me fooled all this time. it was all just a facade, wasn't it? you were leading me on, using me to get what you wanted,"

"please, let me explain," you tried to speak, your frustration rising, "allow me to explain. i need you to trust me, kenji," you picked up the watch and strapped it around your wrist.

"i can't. not anymore," he snapped in disdain, "I thought I wasn't good enough for you, when it was you who was wrong all along, "you know deep down that you're not good enough, don't you? that's why you're always trying so hard to prove yourself. you're just a poser, pretending to be something you're not,"

your shoulders sagged at his words and your expression cleared. you swore you heart your heart crack.

ah, he hit the home run.

emi stepped between you and kenji, crying out in perplexity. she had never seen you argue with each other, but now, she didn't like it one bit.

kenji stared up at her, "step aside, young lady! you're gonna be in big trouble!"

emi trilled in retaliation, glancing at you in confusion.

you wanted to defend yourself, to prove that he was wrong, but something didn't feel right.

you couldn't breathe.

a chill slithered down your sweaty back, bursting into a shiver throughout your body.

kenji yelled, losing all sense, "emi! you're taking her side but she's the bad guy! she will kill you!"

"that's enough, kenji!" professor sato thundered, having just entered the lab, and having heard enough.

you froze, all of it sinking it. the words ascended your throat to defend yourself, and when you opened your mouth, you could hardly breathe.

you clutched your chest, scurrying out of the lab, ignoring professor sato's calls.

emi hurried after you, sobbing, but the tube elevator had disappeared out of view. she slumped down in her place with a pout, ears drooping down.

you barged into your room, leaning on the edge of your bed, and slid down the floor.

the memories of your past come rushing back to you like a tidal wave.

flashes of your parents’ faces, their voices, and the sound of the door being broken down by armed guards fill your mind.

you were transported back to that terrifying day when your parents were arrested, your body trembling with fear and anger. You watched as the guards roughed up your parents, grabbing them without any consideration.

you feel the familiar pang of betrayal as you watch your parents being dragged into the van, their shouts of protest silenced by the KDF officers.

"no," you hit the side of your head repeatedly to knock off the images, "stop it!"

the scene changed, and you saw your parents being taken to a high-security facility. you watched as they were separated and taken to different rooms, their faces etched with worry and pain.

as you follow your parents, the memory begins to blur and shift. you can see your parents being subjected to intense questioning, their bodies bound to chairs as their minds are probed and invaded.

screams of pain echoed throughout the facility they tortured your parents to no end. blood oozing out of their skin where they had been beaten and battered up for information.

as you came out of the flashback, you were brought back to the present moment. the memories of your parents' arrest and torture came flooding back, and you felt yourself starting to spiral into yourself.

your breathing became shallow, your hands shaking, your mind racing with images of your parents in agony and drenched in blood.

your knees buckled, and you found yourself sinking to the ground. you could feel the onset of a panic attack, your body beginning to shake, chest tightening.

your watch beeped and your warbird suit encapsulated you, covering you from head to toe, metal plates shifting upwards over your body.

"no, not now," you screwed your eyes shut, reaching out to reality and attempting to steady your breathing.

snapping them open, your suit lit up and you began to gather yourself.

"her parents died that day," professor sato explained to kenji over the cries of emi, "they didn't make it through the interrogation. at first, y/n's father thought they were getting arrested for the identity of warbird, partner in crime of ultraman," he scoffed, "but they were wrong. it was for their involvement in kaiju studies. y/n's father knew where kaij island was. so they thought they could torture it out of him. it got so severe that they-" he paused, screwing his eyes shut in agony, "they tortured them to death," his voice shook.

kenji shut his eyes, his heart heavy with sorrow, regret, and guilt. The weight of his actions and the full extent of his guilt started to sink in, and he began to understand the gravity of his words.

"the kdf disposed of their bodies by faking a car accident. inconsiderate of the little girl that was orphaned," professor sato's heart ached at the memory, his eyes getting glassy.

"y/n got into the kdf under a fake name by using her skill and expertise to know why they were specifically after emi. and also to know if her parents were, by some miracle, still alive,"

"kenji, professor sato," mina interrupted, "dr. y/n is experiencing a panic attack. i suggest immediate assistance before her condition gets worse,"

kenji felt his heart drop, "where is she?" he spun around to face the ai, who was also worried for you.

"in the guest room, but kenji-"

he didn't let her finish. he rushed to the elevator, his brain screaming at him to get to you at once, "dad, watch emi, i'll go check in on y/n,"

once kenji skidded to a stop in front of your room, he found the door ajar. stepping in, he took in the bedroom's state of disarray.

several items were strewn across the room as though you had stumbled over them. the sheets on the bed were yanked off, leaving the mattress exposed.

but most of your things were gone, and so were you, leaving the balcony door open.

he sat alone in the empty room, consumed by a wave of guilt that seemed to crush him. he replayed the argument over and over in his mind, your broken expression, berating himself for the heated words he had spoken and the hurtful tone he had used.

he regretted allowing his emotions to boil over and push you away. the silence of the room was almost deafening, intensifying his sense of remorse and longing for your presence.

TAGLIST !

@earth-to-mee @sassy-cat-in-town @breaddippedinorangejuice @nuhteyam @gameboigyu @byunpum @jennypenny-19 @doublebunv @moonjellyfishie @m00nd0v3 @despacito-uwu16 @reivelmin @seyoran @warlike-morning @crimson-mage-02 @b3e-sat0 @miffysoo @t4naiis @lovingyeet  @imsimping4life @mmeerraa @btszn @jusmango-shak @yobriisstuff @goldenpoison @fruchtgeschmack @iateurdad16 @bandolls @lovingyee @reivelmin @f-ergj @arrozyfrijoles23 @aise-30 @simp-hub @armycaratlover

AUTHOR'S NOTE !

ahhh!! i'm sorry for the angst, my loves!

they will make it up to each other so, don't worry about it. even after i finish the series, i'll be writing drabbles because i can't get enough of kenji sato. if you guys have any requests, don't hesitate to send them.

also, do you guys want another smut chapter? i think it'll be an overkill. but if you guys want it, i'll make it work somehow;)

let me know below <33

[nayziiz]

Empty Bed | CL16

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x reader (her/she)

Author's note: This ended up being a lot shorter than I intended. My brain hasn't gotten over the LN4 win yet, so that's where my thoughts have been the last few days. As always, please send through your thoughts, suggestions and requests!

Masterlist

When Charles awoke to the unfamiliar silence of their bedroom, he stretched out his arm instinctively, only to find the chill of an empty space beside him. It was the first time he had woken up alone in their home; the rhythm of their lives often dictated separations due to his racing commitments or business trips to Maranello. But this time was different. She was always home when he was.

As the morning light streamed through the curtains, casting shadows across the room, Charles couldn't shake off the eerie feeling of emptiness that enveloped him. He reached for his phone, half-expecting a message, a call, anything to reassure him that she was okay. Yet, there was nothing.

The absence of her presence seemed magnified, her scent lingering faintly on the pillow next to him. It was a scent he had grown accustomed to, one that brought him comfort and warmth. But now, it only served as a painful reminder of her absence.

He tossed and turned, the sheets feeling colder than usual against his skin. The weight of her absence pressed down on him, suffocating him with a sense of loneliness he hadn't anticipated. He missed the sound of her laughter, the way she would hum softly while making breakfast, the way she would curl up next to him in bed, her head resting against his chest.

It wasn't just the physical absence that unsettled him; it was the realisation of how much he relied on her presence, her companionship, her love. As he lay there, staring at the ceiling, he couldn't help but wonder how he would get through the days ahead without her by his side.

He reached for his phone again and video called her. Charles's heart skipped a beat as her face appeared on the screen, her smile illuminating the otherwise dim room. For a moment, he simply gazed at her, soaking in the sight of her, as if to reassure himself that she was real, that she was there, albeit miles away.

“Hi, my love,” she greeted him, her voice carrying across the distance, reaching him like a lifeline. Her words washed over him, filling the empty spaces within him with a warmth he had been craving since he woke up to the emptiness of their bed.

“Hey,” he replied, his voice soft, almost hesitant, as if he feared that speaking too loudly might shatter the fragile connection between them. “I miss you.”

The words hung in the air between them, heavy with longing and yearning. He watched as her smile softened, her eyes reflecting the same longing he felt in his heart.

“I miss you too,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. “But it won't be long now. I'll be back before you know it.”

“I don’t know how you do it, baby, waking up here all by yourself,” Charles's sigh carried the weight of his emotions, mingling with the air between them like a tangible presence. He watched as her expression softened, her eyes filled with understanding.

“It's not easy,” she admitted, her voice gentle. “But knowing that you're out there, doing what you love, it makes it a little bit easier. And besides, it's always worth it when you come back home to me.”

Her words wrapped around him like a comforting embrace, soothing the ache in his chest. He reached out, as if trying to bridge the physical distance between them, his fingers grazing the screen where her image flickered.

“I love you,” he whispered, the words a declaration, a promise, a lifeline in the vast expanse that separated them.

“I love you too,” she replied, her voice echoing his sentiment across the miles that stretched between them.

And in that moment, as they shared those three simple words, Charles felt a warmth bloom within him, chasing away the chill of the empty bed, filling the space around him with a love that knew no bounds.

Each morning without her felt like a countdown, a reminder of the distance between them. And as the days passed, the iciness of the empty bed seemed to seep into his bones, leaving him longing for her warmth, her touch, her love. Oh, the things he wished to do to her when she came back…

[kookslastbutton]

Those Eyes Chico ༓ myg (m) | chapter one

✑ Summary: As the new marketing director for Min Yoongi’s upcoming D-Day album & tour, you’re expected to bring your expertise to the table. This shouldn’t be a problem—you’re the best in the business and you’re used to drawing a strict line between your professional and personal life. But what happens when the lines you’ve fought to keep as separate blur for the first time?

pairing: idol!yoongi x plus size!poc!reader

genre/AU: angst, fluff, smut, slowburn, coworkers2friends2lovers, winter setting, forbidden love,

word count: 6.5k+

warnings: oc is 28, Yoon is 30, oc is not originally from South Korea, oc has light brown eyes, swearing, mentions of alcohol consumption, mentions of anxiety, panic attacks, body insecurities, fear of being blacklisted, emotionally restrained yoon, unstable parental relationships, conservative parents, rude Hybe executive that should be fired, bestie!tae is wonderful support 🥹, and cute yoon and oc interactions bc yeah....its thier first time actually meeting so it must be cute!

now playing: Sweet Dreams by The Last Shadow Puppets

a/n: YAHHH chapter one!! Ok i apologize if the meeting is so long and drawn out...I really tried to make it fun but so much info is needed too haha. Anyway this series is dedicated to my wonderfully crazy friend and sorta beta, Gloom @theuselessdaydreamingidiot, and to all our fellow Yoon lovers bc we miss our sweet man SO MUCH 🥺 Enjoy! 🥰 Also huge thank you to @itaeewon for designing this beautiful series header! Love it!!

Series Masterlist | next chapter >>

Winter in Seoul feels like stepping onto the set of your most beloved holiday film.

As the brisk air wraps around you, delicate snowflakes gather atop your head, urging you to cocoon in your finest wool trench coat. Yet, despite the chill, the sight of frost-bitten trees basking in the morning's golden rays offers a source of warmth and delight. Perhaps the most radiant tree of them all is the towering Christmas tree that sits proudly in the heart of the city. Adorned with shimmering red and gold baubles, the giant evergreen catches the eye of every person that walks by–both tourists and locals alike.

Nearby shopping malls buzz with holiday fervor too as shoppers scour for treasures, couples engage in friendly competition to find the ultimate gift, and children line up to take their picture with Santa. But the best part is when night falls. The whole city comes alive with joy and laughter as loved ones meet one another on the ice-skating rinks, while karaoke bars echo tipsy renditions of timeless songs sung by overworked professionals, each with a bottle of soju in hand.

Yes, Seoul is a place for making memories and you’re in the thick of it.

Having been in the city for three years, one might assume you’ve become well accustomed to the energy of the season. You've really grown to love it here. But adjusting to the new environment is still proving to be a challenge, the most outstanding being the prevailing beauty standards.

Massive billboards featuring stunning models serve as constant reminders of the type of beauty one should aim to achieve as you commute to work. Impossible to miss are the shining examples themselves – iconic k-pop groups Seventeen, Red Velvet, EXO, BlackPink, Mamamoo, TXT, and of course BTS plastered on the side of every flat surface imaginable. You’re not exactly complaining about that aspect as you’ve helped design a good handful of them as a top marketing and advertising professional. But the strict image of what constitutes a beautiful and worthy individual weighs on you more than you’d like.

While a conventional body type isn’t what you’ve been given in this life, you don’t consider yourself to be completely unattractive either. Having high cheekbones, a strong jawline, striking light brown eyes, good enough ass, and a full chest shouldn’t classify as undesirable. Still, you wish you’d adopt this more body positive mindset rather than your current overthinking one. It’s easier said than done, being that you not only see idols everyday on the streets in digital form but at work as well.

You continue further into city until a set of tall, glass doors meet you mere steps away. You tilt your head back to catch the name of the skyscraper before nearing the building’s sturdy, silver handle.

BigHit Music.

Feeling its cool metal under your fingertips, the door swings open with an easier pull than imagined to welcome you into the bustling lobby. You feel a rush of confidence return to you upon entering– this is your domain, this is where you truly shine.

“Did you get the files I sent to you?”

The woman nods her head in affirmation while sweeping a few pieces of her long, silky hair behind an ear. To strangers, she appears to look about 24 which is only four years younger than yourself but nonetheless she’s the same age as you. Hei-Ran is her name, meaning “graceful orchid” according to Korean translation.

Hei-ran is one of Hybe’s newest hires and based on her experience, a near perfect fit to being South Korean boy group Tomorrow X Together’s new marketing manager. Until about three months ago, this had been your job.

You never imagined giving up the position after three years of working in the role. But with December right around the corner Hybe had other plans for you.

"Graduated summa cum laude with a bachelors degree in BTech in Electrical and Electronics Engineering and a MBA in Marketing from NYU Stern. You worked two years as a brand manager for U.S record label Atlantic Records immediately after graduating, and are now working at BigHit Music as a marketing manager for TXT including liaison with their global marketing team.”

You recall Bang PD's voice vibrate in the back of your mind from mid-August. You thought you were called into his office to discuss details of TXT’s latest promo, so having your resume read back to you was a sweeping curve ball. Your determination must have far exceeded the heaviness you felt in your chest because before you knew it you, you were shaking hands with your boss in acceptance of your role – the new marketing director for Min Yoongi’s upcoming D-Day album & tour.

The tedious knot that’s formed in the nape of your neck reminds you that as surreal as the situation might be, it’s undeniably real.

Months spent drafting a comprehensive marketing proposal for D-Day; often until the wee hours of the night, inevitably takes its toll on even the mightiest of warriors. An entire new team of fifty people, all of who you’ll be in charge of orchestrating for the next eight months, doesn’t provide much to relief either.

You’re excited nevertheless. Working with one of the most respected artists in the music industry is an opportunity you couldn’t let slip by, especially since the album’s rock-inspired genre aligns closely with your own music taste.

“Thank you so much for helping me get settled __,” Hei-ran’s gentle voice returns you to the present. “I appreciate the time you’ve taken these last few months to train me despite the tight deadlines you have.”

Smiling, you shake your head. “It’s no problem at all and if there’s anything you need in the future, feel free to give me a call or stop by my office.”

“On the 16th floor right?”

“1656A. Take a left off the elevator and walk to the end of the first hallway. The door on the right is mine.”

Referring to any room on the 16th floor as your own is something you don’t take lightly. For one the offices are double the size of any other office spaces in the building. Yours in particular has a giant skyscraper window draped with heavy white curtains. Secondly, the floor above is the 17th floor which is exclusive to Hybe artists only.

"How's the proposal coming along, by the way?" Her curiosity is palpable, genuine in its nature. You’ve always appreciated that in an individual.

“It’s done,” you respond. “Only thing left to do is to prepare for our meeting with C-suite executives next Monday. It’s nearly perfect as is, but the presentation could use a bit of refining in terms of organization.”

Hei-ran is silent for a moment longer than usual before her next inquiry, which is undoubtedly the question on both of your minds. “I can't help but wonder what it'll be like to meet him for the first time,” she muses.

You don’t bother asking for clarification on who the “him” is; you’re already well aware that it’s Min Yoongi. The same subject has managed to intrude your own thoughts more and more as the date of meeting him draws closer. It's peculiar honestly, considering you’ve encountered him before.

Granted, it was only a small handful of times the hallway, both heading in opposite directions. Min Yoongi typically greeted you with a hoarse 'Good Morning' those instances, along with a curt nod of his head. You would nod back with a brief 'Morning' yourself. Deep down you feel he'd make a quality friend, though it's only a premonition. It’s not like you actually know much about him beyond those small exchanges.

"I'm not sure what to expect, honestly," you admit. "I imagine it'll be similar to previous professional collaborations—composed, focused, and intense. D-Day is poised to become a global sensation for the next year, so it's going to need our full, undivided attention."

Hei-ran gives a knowing nod. “Good luck __,” she wishes you well as you head towards the elevator doors. Breaks over, back to work.

After another late-night prep session for Monday’s D-Day proposal, you trudge through your apartment door well past 8:30 pm with an empty stomach and a throbbing headache. Good news is that your graphic design team seems to be well on track with their album mockups ready to present.

The same can’t be said for your U.S. promo team however, who required additional guidance on their projects. The social media team was in a similar boat. Somehow several of their members lost track of time and were convinced the proposal was still two weeks away.

Despite the hiccups, you managed to tie up the loose ends, but it meant that none of you got to leave early.

When you finally get to curl up in your fluffy sofa, a loud, exasperated sigh leaves your lips. Your lids flutter shut too as you rest your head against the soft cushion. Silently, you make one last mental rundown of all the tasks you checked off today.

Did you miss anything?

D-Day is the most crucial project you’ve ever taken charge of—you need it to be flawless.

When nothing pressing comes to mind, you grab the tv remote from your dark oak coffee table and aimlessly flip through the channels. You’ll unwind for an hour and then call it a night.

Ten minutes into an episode of Brooklyn Nine-Nine and the light chime of your phone's notification bell catches your ear.

Tae 💚: Haven’t heard from you all day. Everything alright?

Taehyung, your best friend. You smile fondly at his message as your thumbs hover over the reply button. He's always checking in on you. You and Taehyung have been friends ever since you first moved to Seoul and started working at Hybe. You didn't expect your friendship to become this strong, but both of you are sociable individuals, which led to discovering several unexpected commonalities. One of those is a shared love for jazz, which has been one of your all-time favorite genres for as long as you can remember.

You: yeah, I’m good. Just tired. Been working on D-Day's proposal for months and finally got it fully prepped for.

Tae 💚: Well, that's amazing news! You feel good about it?

You: I don't know. I’m definitely ready for this project but I’m also starting to feel a little burned out. The proposal is only the beginning you know, and it's already taking the wind out of me.

Tae 💚: Sorry to hear that 😞 I'm sure it must be draining, but I also know this is your territory. No one is more fit to head this project than you. Everyone thinks so. How about you take the weekend to rest?

You: Yeah...I'm watching B99 rn

Tae 💚: B99?! Without me?

You can't help but giggle. Somehow over the course of three years you've roped your best friend into becoming obsessed with your mindless sitcoms. You've done more than a handful of binge watching together, until all hours of the night.

You: Wanna come over for an hour?

The company might be nice.

Tae 💚: Be there in 20 🏃

Your door bells rings exactly twenty minutes after you and Taehyng finish exchanging texts. He's so prompt it scares you sometimes.

“Hey.” His deep, baritone voice greets you first, along with a friendly hug. Taehyung slips his snow covered boots off upon entering your apartment and hangs his wool jacket on your coat rack. His limited edition Gucci scarf is next. Taehyung loves the winter as it’s the time he can wear his most luxurious clothes.

“What’s this?” You peak inside a brown paper bag that Taehyung has conveniently set on your kitchen countertop. He flashes you a playful grin and gestures you to open it. Naturally, you're suspicious but it all washes away when a new, unopened bottle of whiskey presents itself. “Oh my god, you didn’t!" You swat his arm in a rush of excitement.

“I had to!" Taehyung opens a kitchen cupboard and grabs a glass from the top shelf. He's been in your apartment enough times that he’s grown comfortable with your place. That and he's also your best friend.

"With all the recent events you've had going on, I think it calls for a celebration." Taehyung expertly pours you a glass of the smooth, rich liquor and offers it to you.

“Thank you, Tae," you say, taking the glass from his hand. "Come sit down. Jake's about to sing I Want It That Way with the police lineup.” Taehyung pours himself a glass of Pinot Noir and follows your lead.

After about forty minutes of sitcoms and booze with your best friend you begin to feel yourself relaxing. Whatever challenges lies ahead, you know you'll be able to handle them one whiskey at a time.

All stream of thought is interrupted when your phone dings off again. It's now half past 9, who on earth is trying to reach you?

Fuck.

You tighten the grip on your phone as soon aa the message appears. Taehyung, previously occupied by the end credit scene, catches the sudden shift in your demeanor and calls your name but he's inaudible to you.

Mom: It’s been almost two weeks since we last heard from you. We know you're busy but your father and I want to know if you’ll be coming home. The holidays are coming up right? Why don't you use some of that time to come see us? There's someone we want you to meet.

"__, who is it?" Taehyung's voice manages to break your intense concentration.

“Just my mom.” You answer briefly, still averting eye contact.

“What’d she say?”

“She wants me to come home for the holidays.” You shut your phone off in an effort to calm yourself.

Unlike Taehyung your relationship with your parents has always been rocky. Expectations are set high from birth and you never see eye to eye. Likely, the only accomplishment that's earned genuine praise from them was when you accepted your initial job proposal with Hybe. A respectable career is only second to health to them after all. Your father was more torn with the news that you’d be moving hundreds of miles away than your mom however, not that you’re surprised.

Of course while having a healthy and respectable career is priority for your parents, there is no mistake that their greatest wish is to see their daughter married. A stable man with ample resources to provide her a secure home and healthy children is preferable.

You love your parents and you'll always be there for them, but you must admit that their traditional outlook is one you can never live up to. They tried setting you up dozens of times before, and tonight's request to have you come home "for the holidays to meet someone” is simply another attempt to marry you off.

Yes, you would like some sort of companionship in your life and you hope if you find it that they’ll approve. But giving your hand in marriage to the first notable suitor isn't your forte. You consider yourself to be an independent woman with a tender heart, and you'd rather be single for the entirety of your life than be forced into another obligation.

Preserving your independence is highly important to you. So no, you draw the line when it comes to relational affairs.

If only you could be firm and repeat all the above to them aloud, rather than within your own head— if only.

“So are you gonna go?"

You don't respond immediately, still weighing out your options. "Not sure," you murmur. "I don't really want to but maybe I should. I haven't gone home to see my parents since last year."

Taehyung recognizes the growing tension in your voice as well as the flushed expression playing on your face. He wishes he could take it all away but instead he moves closer to your side of the sofa and lets you rest your head on his shoulder.

"I'm sorry." He's silent for a moment before continuing. "Why don't you tell them you can't go because of work? There must be a number of things you'll need to get ahead of for Yoongi's album."

"True. But it's too easy, they won't buy that. I have to go."

"What if you say I invited you to celebrate with my family this year? We're going to a nice, cozy cabin a few hours north of here for Christmas."

The offer is temping and you know he means it but it's also not enough.

"No," you reject. "They'll think we're dating and ask to meet you."

"I'll do it!" Taehyung's voice lifts into a more playful tone, earning a soft chuckle from you.

"Very cute Taetae, but no. Neither of us are going to say 'that was a good idea' in the end, trust me. I'll have to make this decision on my own."

Taehyung grimaces slightly at your last choice of words. "I really think you should consider telling them you can't due to a full schedule. We don't get that much time off at the company any way. Don't your parents live at least 7-10 hours away? Come on, spend the holidays with me and the guys. Plus, it'll be my birthday soon. I want you there at my party."

When you look at your best friend to gently scold him for not so sneakily using the guilt tripping technique, he's pouting. Like a baby. Not even you can resist him with that face on.

"Fine. I'll think about it."

"Good," Taehyung chirps and snatches the tv remote to flip through episodes of Brooklyn Nine-Nine. "I want you to be around those closest to you, especially around the holidays. You're my badass best friend who deserves more than some stupid forced marriage to a guy with an unhealthy alpha male complex. Should we top the night off with one more episode by the way?"

You nod and Taehyung hits play on the remote. "Thank you," you coo, feeling a tad better.

The weekend is a blur at best and you’re back at the office before you realize. Of course this is no ordinary work day however, given that today signifies the day you officially start work as D-Day’s marketing director. You’ve been perfecting every detail of the proposal like a madman since the beginning, meticulously obessing over every element. Your new team members must have a pretty eye-opening understanding of what it’ll be like having you as a lead for the next year–you pity them to be honest.

Between your fingers clutches a small tube of lip balm, berry flavored with a faint tint to match. You love chapstick for some odd, inexplainable reason and you felt the need to apply a generous amount of it on your lips for good luck.

“No one’s here yet,” Yi-joon, one of the members of your graphic design team, speaks first upon stepping foot into your assigned conference room. Others hum, unsurprised. Being the ones leading the presentation, you’d be startled if anyone actually arrived beforehand.

A grand mahogany table, seating up to 14 individuals, boasts itself to you in the middle of the room with every chair lined in genuine black leather. Traditional seating arrangements have one chair at the head of the table, but today’s meeting has two, both positioned to face the wide presentation screen at the opposite end.

Undoubtably, they’re reserved for Bang PD and Min Yoongi.

A momentary shiver courses down your spine, yet fades quick when one of your team members asks if anyone's seen the remote to the projector. There’s no time for nerves to be acting up, you remind yourself calmly. Only 15 minutes remain until every C-suite executive in Hybe congregates into the room.

With a composed demeanor, you swiftly gather your thoughts and respond, "Try checking inside the podium. It's likely close by, but if not, we can always power it on manually." You then start delegating tasks to the rest of your team, mentally rehearsing key points of the proposal between each instruction.

Time appears to have vanished in the blink of an eye because in a matter of seconds a gentle breeze slips through the conference door, accompanied by the arrival of several Hybe executives. You offer a polite "good morning," which is briefly reciprocated as they take their respective seats around the conference table.

You count twelve at the table in total, including your own team.

"Sajangnim should be here in about–"

Hybe's Chief Finance Officer doesn't get to finish his sentence when an older gentleman in a freshly pressed suit walks through the door, fully immersed in conversation. The person following close behind him is none other than the man of the hour himself–Min Yoongi, fitted in a clean white dress shirt that's unbuttoned at the collar and sleeves rolled to the elbows. His soft, raven hair falls gently in front of his eyes, framing his face a little too well.

Unexpectedly, both your gazes shift from Bang PD and onto one another. His dark, intense eyes pierce through you as they observe you from the opposite side of the room. You're certain he recognizes you from your previous shared encounters, though you don't have the slightest clue what he's thinking. Min Yoongi has been known to be many things, but an open book isn't one of them.

He then walks in your direction until he's directly toe to toe with you for the very first time. Completely against your wishes, you feel all the tiny hairs on the back of your neck stand straight. You've never officially met before.

"It's nice to finally meet you __-nim. Those nods we give each other in the hallway hardly count as a proper introduction." He extends a hand to you, offering you a sturdy handshake which you accept.

"Absolutely, it's a pleasure to meet you as well Min PD-nim," you say, smiling warmly. "I'm looking forward to working with you on your new album. I truly appreciate the opportunity."

For a split second, Yoongi allows his professional demeanor drop. "I should be the one thanking you. You'll be the one leading this whole operation right? So I'll be in your care."

You want to respond with gratitude, but you're not given the chance due to an authoritative voice speaking up from behind.

"Min PD-nim," Hybe's Vice President calls out to the man in front of you, requesting his attention.

Yoongi is hesitant to leave you mid-conversation but you assure him that it's alright. "Please, feel free to take a seat," you offer. "The presentations will begin soon."

A small, subtle smile graces Yoongi's lips before he turns around to take his seat beside Bang PD at the head of the table. He engages in small talk with Hybe's Vice President who's conveniently seated across from him. Yet despite their conversation, he's only half focused; his eyes repeatedly wandering back to you. At this point, however, you've already stopped looking at him.

"Good morning, all," you address the room when the time comes to commence the meeting. "We'll be getting started now that everyone's here. I'm sending down samples of the album design our graphics team has created for D-Day. Please pass them along." You hand the stack of copies to Hybe's Chief Technology Officer who smiles courteously.

"On behalf of my team and me, I want to thank you for joining us today to discuss our marketing strategy for Min PD-nim's upcoming D-Day album. Our agenda will be as follows," you guide everyone's attention to the presentation board, which provides a rundown of all the points you plan to cover for the remainder of the meeting.

"Let's begin with introductions. My name is ___ ___, I hold a Bachelor's degree in Electrical and Electronics Engineering from NYU Stern, as well as an MBA in Marketing. Over the past five years, I've worked in the music industry as a marketing manager. Three of those years were spent here at Hybe. The recent promotional campaign for TXT's The Chaos Chapter was lead by my previous team and me, resulting in a positive return on investment. Now, with a new team, I aim to achieve similar success with Min PD-nim's D-Day album."

Once you finish your introduction, you introduce each member of your team. This is soon followed by a brief introduction from each c-suite executive.

The whole room falls silent when you begin diving into the bulk of the proposal; every measurable objective, goal, and market analysis is shared for D-Day. When it comes time to present the brand guide and album design, you invite your graphics team to speak.

"You'll notice that we have two versions of Min PD-nim's albums on the sheet in front of you," Yi-joon refers to the mockups you handed out earlier. A few executives nod quietly as they study the proposed album packaging while Yoongi leans over to Bang PD. He's whispering something but you're far to distant away to hear. His expressions aren't telling either.

Does he like it? Does he not? You don't know.

Nevertheless, you give a subtle smile to Yi-joon as encouragement to continue.

 "We've opted for a sleek, pitch-black design for the first version, and a dusty brown for the second. The first version symbolizes the past, characterized by societal expectations and internal struggles, while the second represents the present and future, conveying a message of liberation. To complement these themes, we've selected a bold and daring font to exude the album's transparency. This design consistency extends to the album's contents; for instance, lyrical cards will reflect the respective color and style of the version they belong to."

Hybe's Chief Marketing Officer appears to be in approval with the entirety of the plan so far, yet it's short lived when a low voice interrupts.

"I think the vision of album's design aligns closely with mine, so I like what I see in front of me." Yoongi pauses and places the mockup on the table. "There's one aspect that I'd like to discuss in hopes of some insight however. I've been mauling over it for a while now."

"I'll do my best to–" Hybe's Chief Marketing Officer opens his mouth to respond yet closes it immediately when he notices Yoongi's gaze sharply shifts to you. It's a signal that it's your insight he specifically requests.

"Please go on," you reply.

"Regarding the name under which the album should be released, should it be 'Agust D' or 'Suga'? I'm personally biased towards Agust D because it holds more weight for me. It's close to my heart and the stories I have to tell as Agust D are heavier than those of Suga, right? The D even stands for Daegu, my hometown where I grew up and where my parents still live. Suga on the other hand is my stage name, which I have some identity in as well."

You don't answer immediately, preferring to carefully process everything he's said. Your team has already proposed to release the album under 'Agust D', yet he makes a valid point that 'Suga' is also a part of him.

"I understand that releasing the album under 'Suga' has its merit. However, I still support the original idea of releasing it under 'Agust D'. As you've mentioned, the name carries a deeper meaning, evoking memories, emotions, trials, and tribulations. I'd also like to emphasize that by releasing D-Day under 'Agust D', you can showcase who the real Agust D is. The collaboration with IU in People Pt. 2 already has you one step in that door."

Like you, Yoongi considers your words cautiously, weighing them in his mind. "Thank you ___-nim," he finally speaks. "Your perspective is reassuring. We'll proceed with releasing the album under 'Agust D'.

Following your short discussion, the graphics team continues presenting their design materials. Minor comments are made by Hybe executives, but Yoongi doesn't comment again until half-way into the social media segment.

"Why do we need to schedule this many Weverse Lives? People might get tired of seeing my face after so many in a row. ARMY will read, 'Min Yoongi started a live' and say to their friends, 'This is the fifth time in a row, is he in love with his own voice or something?'." His joke sparks a light in the room as Bang PD gives a chuckle.

"I don't think that's going to be an issue for you Yoongi," he replies. "Don't you know the strength of your own fanbase?" Bang PD's statement is undeniable. Everyone in the room is well aware of Min Yoongi's international fanbase who willingly stay up all hours of the night just to catch a glimpse of him. In fact, rather than seeing less of him, they hope to receive his live notifications more, as Yoongi isn't as active on Weverse as other idols.

It's clear that compliments like these aren't easy for Yoongi to take though, judging by the flushed look that subtly sweeps over his face. You'd react the same way to be honest.

"If I may Min PD-nim," you speak up, deciding to offer an alternative plan. "Leveraging Weverse Live to help promote D-Day will draw significant international engagement. We know that time differences pose to be a challenge which is why we proposed an increase of live sessions per week. However, we understand that going live this often might be exhausting. Would you consider reducing the frequency to once or twice a week instead?"

"I'm open to once a week but didn't we film the 'Suga: Road to D-Day' documentary for a similar reason? Won't it be too much to add more than two Weverse Lives throughout the entire promotional phase?" Yoongi's challenge is met with an unanimous hum of support from his fellow executives. You'd feel intimidated if you didn't already have a justification mapped out.

"The objective behind releasing 'Suga: Road to D-Day' on Disney+ differs from that of Weverse Lives," you rebuttal confidently. "While the documentary presents a structured behind-the-scenes view of D-Day's development, the Lives focus on building hype among your existing fans who know you well, will spread the word to their peers, and will likely pre-order the album. As you're aware, Lives are more personal and stripped down, allowing your fanbase to feel closer to you."

Thinking of no further objectives, Yoongi, still somewhat unsure, accepts your suggestion. "Once a week will be fine then. While we're still on the topic, do we know when 'Suga: Road to D-Day' is set to release on Disney+?"

"Our digital marketing and promo team will be reviewing the specifics of that soon," you inform. "Right now we have the documentary releasing April 23 of next year. The poster for the film will release a week and a half earlier on the 12th."

Rather than furthering the discussion, Yoongi sends an understanding nod your way which allows the social media team to resume their portion of the proposal. Recording more Weverse Lives than usual remains a pain point for him, but he's willing to move forward if it means connecting with his fanbase.

Alast, after what seems like three hours of social media; followed by financing & budget talk, the last team to present their material takes lead of the meeting.

"We'd like to provide a timeline for D-Day's promo schedule as a way to wrap up today's proposal," So-hyun from your digital marketing and promos team explains. "Promotions will begin April 10, 2023 and will run until April 25th. During this time the album's track list, concept photos, MV Teaser, and official MV will drop. As far as concert schedule, we're proposing April 26-June 24. These dates include U.S, Asia, and Korea Tours."

"We might need to rethink concert dates but for now I'm on onboard." Yoongi remains brief in his interjection, allowing So-hyun to continue.

"As far as other marketing channels, we plan to implement both print and digital methods including billboards, banners, paid search ads, and YouTube. We'd also like to reach out to a variety of magazines like Rolling Stones Magazine for interviews. If we want to extend our global reach even further, we can book a time slot on the Jimmy Fallon Show. Bare in mind that if we go this route, we'll need to decide fairly quick, as slots are in high demand."

You notice Bang PD whispering amongst Yoongi and his Chief Finance Officer when Jimmy Fallon is mentioned. Yoongi seems the least interested. Perhaps he isn't fond of being front and center of talk shows, you guess.

"When will we need a decision for the Jimmy Fallon Show?" Bang PD inquires for the group.

"No later than three weeks from now," So-hyun answers. "It's a tight deadline but it can been done if we get the official go."

Bang PD directs his attention to Yoongi who's chosen to be silent in this conversation. "What do you think, Yoongi? It's your call."

"Maybe," he says, "give me a day or two to think on it."

Another ten minutes of productive overview with your promos team pass and soon, you're standing up to adjourn the meeting. You have to admit that out of all the proposals you've given in your career, this goes right to the top.

Your team was phenomenal today, and despite the the fact that several Hybe executives are biting at the bit to finally go on their lunch break, you feel confident that everyone is leaving on the same page.

"Min PD-nim."

You're ears inevitably pick up the conversation in front of you as you make your way out of the conference room. Yoongi and his Chief Financial Officer are running through some quick numbers only a few steps steps ahead, but with everyone simultaneously rushing in the same direction, neither must have realized you were within earshot.

"There's no doubt that she's good at what she does," Hybe's Chief Financial Officer continues. "Still, it's hard to believe that she's only 27 or 28. A person should take better care of themselves don't you agree? Like our Eunchae for example."

If there was a way to erase what you just heard, you'd do so, because in an instant, all previous successes you felt from today's proposal shatters to the ground. You're no stranger to receiving these sorts of comments about your appearance, yet it leaves your confidence fleeting, along with any amount of resilience you've built.

Blinking back the tears that threaten to spill, you exit the conference room the first chance you get. You have no desire to stick around for Yoongi's reply.

Not long after you leave does you phone ring off.

Tae 💚: Hey! How's the meeting going? Still available to get lunch this afternoon? I'm heading to the cafeteria as I type this.

You: It went okay. But I don't think I'll be coming to lunch, just a lot to do. I'm also not that hungry.

You second-guess how convincing your message is, knowing that it's your best friend on the other line. Regardless, it's the only words you can come up with right now. You really do have a lot of work ahead of you though, at least that part is true.

Tae 💚: Are you sure? I was looking forward on hearing how the meeting went! Wasn't there something you had to give me too?

The meaning of the last line suddenly dawns on you as you make your way down the long hallway. How could you forget? You made Taehyung one of his favorite foods to surprise him for lunch; Japchae, a sweet and savory dish of stir-fried glass noodles and vegetables.

You: Right, sorry it slipped from my mind for a second. I'll meet you in the cafeteria to give it to you.

"Why won't you stay and eat with me?" Taehyung devours the homemade Japchae you made for him with delight, a pair of chopsticks clamped in his hand.

"I don't have much of an appetite, Tae."

You've already told him this twice already, clarifying that you'd be heading back to your office once you deliver his food. Evidently, he's not letting you slip away easily.

"Then take a break with me instead, even if it's only for ten minutes." You watch as your best friend swiftly pulls out the chair next to him from under the table, gesturing you to sit. "Tell me what's got you down," he says. "Did Yoongi say something to you? He can be a bit too outspoken with his opinions sometimes."

Feeling defeated, you slide into the chair. "No, the meeting was fine. I'm just overthinking something that happened."

You then proceed to explain what you overheard Hybe's Chief Finance Officer say about you from earlier, that you didn't look healthy enough for your age and using Eunchae as an example. The scowl that appears on Taehyung's face as you retell the incident is unmistakable–he's clearly pissed.

"First of all," Taehyung starts once you finish, jaw clenched. "Eunchae is 17 and is a part of a Korean girl group. She has an entire team dedicated to making sure her appearance is flawless. It's the idol life; trust me, I'm well acquainted with it, so it's not a fair comparison. Secondly, Hybe's CFO is an asshole who I'd replace in a day. I don't want you letting him make you feel insignificant just because you don't conform to his narrow idea of how a woman should look."

You appreciate Taehyung's efforts to cheer you up, though you remain unaffected. Besides, he still isn't aware of Yoongi's involvement since you purposely left that detail out due to their close friendship.

"Yeah, I don't know. We don't have to talk about it anymore." You decide to dismiss the topic entirely and reach for your phone, along with a pair of earbuds bundled in your pocket. "Wanna listen to something?"

Music has always bonded you and Taehyung's friendship, as you've frequently found yourselves fully immersed in timeless songs from King of Leon and Led Zeppelin together. Taehyung nearly accepts the offer to listen with you once again, but then he freezes all movement. An eager grin follows close after.

"Hyung!" His voice echos though the room, earning the attention of Min Yoongi who's just entered the cafeteria. This time, you feel nothing but discomfort when the man looks your way.

"I have some material I need to review from my promo team. I'll text you later, okay?" You leave your best friend no time to reply as you quickly rise from your chair, stick your phone in your pant pocket, and head for the nearest exit. Yoongi attempts to make eye contact with you on your way out, but you avoid it completely.

When he approaches Taehyung, he acknowledges your semi-odd behavior. "I didn't mean to make her leave," he states, joining the younger at the table.

Taehyung offers a light shrug in response. "Don't worry, you didn't. She had other matters to get to. Something with her team members I think."

Yoongi grabs a fresh clementine from a nearby fruit bowl and beings peeling it little by little. "You two must be pretty close if you're having your lunches together."

It's not hard for Taehyung to read between the lines of what his member is insinuating.

"We've been friends for a while," he clarifies. "Just friends, nothing else."

a/n: Hope you enjoyed! Lmk what you think 🥰

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no reposting, copying, or translating my work– © kookslastbutton

[httpscomexe]

Ensnared 2

Summary: You finally get your room, but a little jealousy check leaves you ending up in Logan's room instead.

(Find What I’m currently writing by checking my pinned post)

Parings: Yandere!Logan Howlett x PlusSize!Reader

Warnings: (Individual warnings per chapter) Blood, violence, jealousy, injuries, Y/N faints around blood, a little comfort, sixth sense, foul language, separate POV, chapters 3 and further WILL include non-con aspects. Logan is an official warning as approved by the FDA (Food and Drug Administration) because Logan is a DRUG. PLEASE BE AWARE that this will be a NON-CON fic. Do NOT get attached if you do not like non-consensual fiction. I will not change my fic plans because somebody decided not to read the warnings. Let me know if I missed anything. Thank you.

Tags: @sammyluvsfics

Word Count: 4099 (Find all chapters here) Chapter 3

P.S. If you’d like to be tagged, ask in the comments, you also have permission to send an ask, but make sure it is NOT anonymous, so I know your username, don’t worry, I’m scared of confrontation too. But this is a SAFE SPACE where I will not judge. Thank you again.

Logans POV

“Hey, watch it-” His voice broke off as soon as his eyes found her, and he immediately calmed down, his hands now gripping her shoulders more carefully as he held her steady.

“I’m so sorry.” She apologised, taking a step back as he reluctantly let go of her. “Where can I find Xavier?” His ears don’t listen to her voice, instead his eyes are watching the way her lips move as she speaks.

He lets go of her. “He’s probably still in his office.” Her eyes softened, and she seemed to study his face.

“Uhm, where’s his office?”

“Are you new here?” He asks her, and she sort of shrugs before telling him “kind of.” Then he turns around, and heads towards Xaviers office, expecting her to follow behind him. Completely forgetting about the beer he had stashed in the back of the fridge, which was the reason he wasn’t in his room in the first place. But then you showed up.

He reaches the door, and notices a change in her eyes as he reaches for the handle to Xavier's office, then she shot her hands out suddenly, gripping his forearm and keeping him from opening the door. He didn’t mind though, just her touch was sending waves of heat through his body. More words spilling past her lips that he couldn’t hear before she lets go and Xavier opens his office door.

He doesn’t remember the conversation after that. He just remembers staring at her as the light shone on her face from the office light, and he was hoping the image of the way her lips moved would be imprinted in his brain. He knew he had to have you.

“Finally decided to move in?”

“Move in?” He wonders, he’d be able to see you.

More of the conversation goes straight through his head.

“You have healing powers?”He asks, trying to see at least a little interest.

Then more conversation as she answered him. Any longer standing next to her and he wasn’t sure he’d be able to keep his hands in his pockets. Then Xavier brings her into the room with him, cutting the conversation short.

Without even a good night, he just walks away, knowing if he had stared at you for one more second, he would’ve busted just by watching her lips move.

The next day wasn’t any better, he had stayed up all night just thinking about her, and when he got to see her again in the afternoon, he immediately felt better, Vincent trying to hang out with him as usual, but Vincent was nothing special like you were. He needed-

You.

Readers POV

You were ecstatic, it was Tuesday and you would finally have your own room, and Xavier tells you that Logan picked out some clothes as well that you might like. You couldn’t wait as you woke up in the morning, immediately searching for Logan, whom you’ve come surprisingly close to in the span of two days, and you normally found him in his room, just relaxing.

You don’t bother knocking, he’s told you to just come in, so you do. Immediately barging into his room and hopping onto the foot of his bed, his eyes watching you.

“So my room?” You ask.

“It’ll be done by 12.” Groaning, you lean back until you’re on your back, the stretch of your skin hurting the bruises on your ribs and stomach, making you wince. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” You say quickly, groaning as you sit back up.”

“You’re lying, something hurts, what is it?” Your jaw tightens as you squeeze your teeth together, and just before you speak, his bedroom door opens. The same brown haired girl coming in as usual, every time you were in there. You assumed she was Logan's girlfriend, or something in that matter, but he talks so poorly of her.

“Vincent, I’ve asked you to knock.” You notice the change in his tone every time he talks to her. It’s soft when he speaks to you, but when he talks to her he sounds pissed every time.

“She doesn’t.” She shrugs, pointing at you before coming to sit on the bed, but Logan stretches his leg out just before she can sit and join.

“Sorry, but you’re going to have to leave. We’re having a private conversation that she wouldn’t want to share with you.” You squint your eyes, wanting to say he’s lying through his teeth, but it was true. You only trusted Logan with this information.

“Fine. Okay, Lo. Bye, and bye hun.” Vincent turns back around, making a disgusted face as she faces you, but Logan's face matches her disgust when she uses his newly acquired nickname.

“Doesn’t sound the same when she says it.” He tells you, turning back to you. “So what’s wrong?” He tries on the subject, watching your chest as you sigh heavily.

“You know the video I sent you?” You recall the video of the men attacking you.

“Yea, the assholes who tried to kick your ass.”

“Yes. The one dude that ran after me did eventually catch up, and…” You voice softens, and you slowly lift your sweater, revealing the purple and blue bruises that were painted across your stomach and ribs.

“Holy shit, he did that?” He sounded actually pissed as he stood up, suddenly laying you down before lifting your sweater further, only stopping when you hold the sweater at your chest. You weren’t wearing a bra. “Those assholes…” He mumbles, his left hand gently gliding over your bruises. Half of your body wants to punch him, but you know he’s just being friendly. You never took him as one to love physical touch, but he adored being touched or touching someone else.

“Yea, but it’s okay now.” You tell him, watching as he shakes his head before his hand finally lies flat on your lower stomach where there were no bruises.

“No it isn’t, this looks painful.”

You shrug. “Can’t do anything about it.” You whisper to yourself mostly, his eyes seemingly getting darker as his eyes move from your skin to the wall, a thought coming to his head.

“Yea, you’re right.” But he didn’t sound confident as he removed his hand from your stomach and helped you sit up.

“Just don’t tell anyone yet. I don’t want Xavier to over react.”

“I won’t but what about your checkup on Friday?”

“I asked if I could keep my clothes on, because I don’t like revealing my body.”

He wanted to ask why. Why wouldn’t you want to reveal your body? It was amazing, it was everything he’s ever wanted.

“Is that true? Or just an excuse?” You don’t say anything for a moment, not wanting to make the moment awkward but ultimately failing at best. “Darling.” He says finally, leaning forward until his face is just a few inches from yours. “You are absolutely gorgeous, don’t ever think otherwise.” You smile a little, basking in the compliment, ignoring the red sirens in your head.

“Well, thank you.” You awkwardly start to pick at your nails. “I should probably get going, I’m sure you're busy, and Xavier needed me for something.” You lie, some sort of sixth sense beginning to poke at your body. “But text me when the room is done please.” You stand, getting off his bed and he watches you move.

“Of course, I’ll see you later.”

Throughout the next few hours, you couldn’t stop looking over your shoulder. Your body was telling you something was off and you weren’t sure what it was. You were supposed to be safe and feel safe in the mansion, but for some reason, your brain suddenly wouldn’t settle.

“Hey.” A voice comes from behind you and a hand is placed on your shoulder.

“Oh, hey.” You mumble, Scotts hand still on your shoulder as he walks next to you.

“So, Logan was telling me he wanted to hand you the key to your room, but I saw you walking so here.” He holds the key out on his index finger, it dangles from a little chain.

“Why would it matter who hands it to me?” You take the key as you ask the question.

“I guess he wanted to see your reaction or something,” He takes his hand off. “I’m not sure.”

“Well, thank you, Scott. I’ll head upstairs right now.”

“Alright cool, if you need anything let me or Logan know, and by the way we also put clothes in the drawer. Xavier asked us to.” He lets you know before nodding to his friend group. “But nice seeing you, hope you like the room.” He finishes, then jogs off to his friends as you split off into another hallway, making your way up the stairs and to your room.

The second you walk in, you freeze, taking a moment before you could actually close the door. The room was nice of course. You loved it. But they had put a LOT more effort into the room than Xavier had led on. It wasn’t plain and dark wooded like all of the other rooms. Your room was lighter coloured, and the bedsheets and furniture were a girly design. Some are adorned with flower patterns or glittered with sparkles. And you’re surprised.

But that wasn’t what your eyes immediately landed on. No.

It was the bouquet on your bedsheets.

Your favourite flowers, all nicely put into a bow tie, were just sitting there, a little tag on it with Logan's name scribbled onto it. You didn’t take him for one with good handwriting.

You lift the flowers, smelling them. They were beautiful, you couldn’t deny that, but it all felt so wrong, inappropriate even. But you walk over to a little desk with your flowers, noticing an empty vase sitting on the table, already filled with water for you, so you cut the tie on the flowers and gently arrange them in the vase before texting Logan.

You put your phone away, your palms placed on the desk as you stare into the mirror attached to the wall. He had wanted to show you the room at 12, but it was past then. It was already 5 in the afternoon, did he not expect Scott to just hand you the keys? Whatever.

You think, examining the room a little further and opening the drawers to see what clothes he’d purchased for you.

In the closet there were hoodies hanging, and a few pairs of shoes including heels were set on low shelves. In the drawers were the pants, some skirts, short shorts, and a few pairs of sweats. In the other drawer were some bras and panties, all neatly folded. They weren’t exactly your style though. You were a more comfortable person when it came to bras and panties, and what he had purchased were all lace, apart from a few sports bras for if you went out exercising.

You didn’t mind it though. It was sweet of him to put as much time in as he did for you, but you still felt like he overdid it, like he had done more than he was expected to do.

Just then, as you begin to become lost in your thoughts, there’s a knock at your door, and not a second passes before it opens, you had forgotten to lock it, and Vincent's face proves it.

“Hey-”

“Don’t fucking play with me.” She cuts you off, closing the door behind her before storming up to you. “I know what you’re doing, and it better-” She pauses, her eyes landing on the vase of flowers, Logan's name still hanging from one of the stems. “He got you these?”

You nod, taking a step back from her.

“He doesn’t even buy me, his literal fucking lover any flowers, but then he gets you flowers?”

“Wait, you two are-?”

“Yes you fucking idiot.” She raises her voice a little as she speaks to you. “For years now it’s just been me and him, but ever since you’ve shown up, he’s ALWAYS around you and he never stops talking about you, so you need to back the fuck off.” Her finger points at you as she approaches you until your back is against the wall.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t know, but I’m not even going at him, I only ever go see him when he asks or if it’s important, otherwise I never actually see him-”

“Don’t lie to me.”

“I’m not.” Your voice finally starts to raise a little.

“Then why the fuck were you in his room on his bed earlier?”

“Because I had a question.”

“He said it was personal.” You pause, your lips slightly parted. “What could that possibly mean?” She scoffs. “I mean are you two fucking?”

“Absolutely not, sorry, I’m not interested in him.”

“Then what was so private that-”

“There was nothing private about it.” It was your turn to interrupt her, and slowly begin to stalk towards her, having enough of her attitude. “I’m sorry that you’re so self conscious about your boyfriend that you have to yell at me and confront me instead of trusting him, but this is not my problem. And for the record, the conversation wasn’t private, so you might want to check in with Logan to make sure he actually loves you, it seems to me he wanted you gone.”

Her face hardens, but she says nothing.

Until her fist collides with your face, pain shooting through your body from the already horribly placed bruise on your cheek.

So you hit back, and it’s back and forth throwing punches, you of course having the advantage from years of hiding and self defence. You punch at her until she’s on the floor before climbing down on top of her, hitting more punches to her face until there’s a shooting pain in the side of your thigh, making you scream in pain and fall off of her as she gets on top of you, leaving her knife in your thigh as it was her turn to punch your face, her knuckles mainly colliding with the already bruised part of your skin. Then she’s lifted off of you, thrown against the wall and you see her fall back to the floor out of the corner of your eye.

Groaning, you sit up. The knife is still sticking out of the side of your thigh making it painful to sit. You look up, and Logan is speaking to Vincent, but you couldn’t hear it. Then you shake your head a little, numbing the ringing sound of pain before gripping your bed frame and hoisting yourself up on the leg that wasn’t injured.

“So you fucking stab her?”

“She attacked me first!”

“I highly fucking doubt that.” He turns around, noticing you were not standing with beads of blood dripping down your thigh, enough to make it down to soak into the shoes you were wearing. “Are you okay? Hey, stay still.” He tells you, rushing over to help you stand.

“Don’t fucking help her, look at me!” Vincent demands, pointing at her face, her nose obviously broken as trails of blood seep past her lips.

“Yea and you fucking stabbed her!” He grits his teeth, trying not to yell since it was already most kids' time to fall asleep.

“She fucking started it.”

“No I didn’t…” You mumble, looking up at her with hate, wishing Logan wasn’t there so you could punch at her again, but you knew he would easily peel you off of her.

"I don’t care who started it, we need to get both of you to the nurse.” He finishes the argument before easily lifting you, making sure to be careful with your wound.

“Oh so you’re not gonna carry me?”

“Shut the fuck up and get the door.”

At the nurse, she doesn’t ask for an explanation. She simply takes care of Vincent, who was lucky she only had her nose dislocated, before asking Vincent to leave as she came over to you, Logan sitting behind you as you stood on your good leg.

“So I see Vincent doesn’t like you either.”

“Either?” You ask the nurse as she inspects the wound on your thigh.

“She tends to believe that every girl is after this boyfriend of hers, but no one knows who her boyfriend is.” You squint your eyes and look back at Logan.

“She said you were her boyfriend.”

“I’m not.” He growls. “She’s a fucking psycho.”

“She sure is.” The nurse mumbles, knowing she shouldn’t be expressing her opinion. “Wish you had broken her nose, then I wouldn’t have to see her.” She admits, grabbing a clean cloth from a counter.

You groan, dreading the moment the knife would have to be pulled from your body.

“So this is going to hurt obviously.” She tells you, bending down next to you and gripping the knife handle.

“Wait.” You say quickly, just before she’s about to. “Uh… I don’t-” You’re suddenly nervous. You knew it would need to be removed, but you really didn’t want it to be. You always got oozy around blood and sharp objects, such as knives and needles.

“Okay.” She nods towards Logan, who reaches forward and wraps his arms around you, holding your arms down to your sides and keeping you still.

“Logan-!” You scream, biting your teeth down in pain as the nurse pulls the knife out of your thigh, and it takes a moment for some reason, making her have to pull with more effort before it finally comes loose, a pained whimper leaving your lips as it comes out, blood pooling down your leg and onto the floor a little before she quickly covers the wound with the towel, Logans arms still wrapped around you.

“See the wasn’t so bad-” She looks at you, expecting to see your eyes fall on her, but they were closed, and your head was limp.

Yea, you’d passed out. You told her to wait for a reason, but she didn’t give you time to explain why. You knew you were going to pass out, and it was a good thing Logan was holding you, or you would’ve already been face planted on the tile floor.

“Oh.” She says, surprised. “She’s fainted.”

Logan's eyes squint in confusion as the nurse turns away and his finger gently is placed under your jaw as he continues to hold you, the nurse wrapping the cloth around your wound as she goes to collect what she needs for stitches.

He looks down at you, moving your head so it rests under his chin as he presses a soft kiss to your head. One you would punch him for if you were awake.

“I'll probably have to medicate her. I don’t know if it was the knife or blood that bothered her.” the nurse tells him, kneeling next to you with a kit to stitch the wound.

“It was probably the blood.”

“Which wouldn’t be too good. She’ll have to replace the bandage in the morning and a few more times, meaning there will be more blood until it heals.”

“I can help her.”

“What exactly happened with Vincent and her?” Logan looks down at you, making sure you were still faint before answering her.

“Vincent just walked into her room, yelling at her. Then she punched her.”

“Oh, Vincent is- well she’s something.” The nurse says, just as your eyes twitch slightly, but you keep them shut, your head spinning as you feel the needle the nurse was using go into your skin.

“Yea, Vincent is annoying, she can be a piece of shit. But Y/N only has a certain amount of patience. I just can’t believe Vincent punched her.” How did he know that?

“Yea, I’ll be sure to suspend Vincent, I know she has a home outside of the mansion.”

“And what about her?” He looks down at you, eyes still closed.

“Well, I know she didn’t start it, but she did still fight back instead of trying to get away. So I’ll have to send out a suspension for her too. Vincent will have her three days, then when she gets back, it will be Y/N's turn, we don’t want them outside both at the same time.”

There’s a clipping sound as the nurse cuts the wire she was stitching you with, and she stands, some blood on her gloves as she looks at you, your eyes finally opening.

“All done darling.” She smiles sweetly, nodding towards Logan so he lets you go.

“Thank- thank you.” How did he know Vincent had punched you first? He wasn’t there and no one actually described what had happened yet. You were with Vincent from when she arrived to when she left, neither of you had told Logan who did what first, only why.

“Of course, now was it the blood or knife that made you… faint.”

“The blood.” You mumble, hating even the word.

“Okay, well are you alright with Logan changing the wrap twice a day? So you don’t have to walk all the way down here?” You nod, and feel Logan take a deep breath, your back still against his chest but you feel too exhausted to move.

“Alright. Well, he’ll help you to bed of course, let me know if you need anything, and let me know if it starts to bleed profusely. As a matter of fact maybe you should sleep in the same room together.” She throws the idea out there as she cleans her area. “It would be smart in case you do wake up in blood, you’ll wind up and faint then bleed out.”

You turn to look at Logan, who only shrugs. It was up to you.

“Yea… I guess that would be a good idea.” You sigh a little, not exactly excited to have to sleep near Logan for the sake of your life.

“Alright then, well you two have a good night then.” Logan shifts behind you, then lifts you again as the nurse shoves a bottle into his pocket. “Only two a day, painkillers, she doesn’t have to take them, but she should only need them for the next two weeks.”

“Thank you, Ronda. Good night.”

“Good night.”

He places you on his bed, making sure you’re comfortable sitting before going to his drawer and taking out a shirt.

“Go ahead and take those off, they’re covered in blood.” He tells you, and you hesitate before looking down, your shorts ruined from blood, then you shift a little to make space and remove them, it’s painful. “Here, shirt too.” You look down again, yes, of course the shirt was ruined.

You sigh a little, pulling your shirt off over your head before quickly taking the shirt from him and replacing your last shirt. “I’m sorry for what happened-”

“How did you know?”

He freezes, and stares down at you.

“Know what?”

“That she was in my room.”

“I didn’t know. I was going in there to see how you liked your room but walked in on her kicking your ass.”

“For your information, I was kicking her ass.”

“This says otherwise.” He points to your thigh, wrapped in bandages, and you chuckle a little.

“Yea, if she hadn’t stabbed me though, I would’ve won.”

“I’m sure you would’ve.” He tells you, moving around the bed after switching off the lights to sit next to you, and he lifts his shirt off over his head, giving you a moment to look down at his toned abs before looking away, his shirt barely covering his eyes for a second.

“Wake me up if you need me.” He tells you, opening the pill bottle and handing you two pills.

“Thank you.”

“Do you need water?” You shake your head, taking the pills dry before he turns off his bedside lamp. “Okay, then good night.”

“Good night.” You echo, lying down next to him after turning out the lamp on your side as well.

And as your eyes close, the pain in your thigh subsiding, he falls asleep way before you, the bed shifting as he moves his weight closer to you. Except he doesn’t touch you like you expected him too, your body stiffening at the thought.

Behind you, his hand pauses as he sees you stiffen, you could feel his hand had gotten closer, the only reason he hadn’t touched you was because of the fear he could smell off of you. Fear he knew he would have to demolish.

[navstuffs]

"Private" Security

Pairing: Rookie!Leon Kennedy x GN!Reader

Summary: Your rookie cop boyfriend, Leon, protects you during your morning jog. Based on the tiktok by @johnny_tsunami_88.

Warnings tags: protective!leon, fluff, though the image says female jogger, this is a fic for gn!reader!!!, reader might be jogging/running/walking

Author's notes: heeey!! finally i have decided to write! i am a HUGE sucker for protective fics and when i saw this tiktok i HAD TO WRITE.

my leon's masterlist

"Leaving the house. Love you."

Your text message arrives around 15 minutes before the end of Leon's shift. It had been a relatively peaceful night in Raccoon City, except for a fight in the busy bar on Main Street at 3 am. Again, Leon had to separate two males who got involved in a fight because of a woman. " Every Saturday, he thought as he sent both men their way before asking for backup. At least they were inoffensive enough to get in their ride-share app cars without complaining.

Leon welcomes your text message with a smile. You tell him you want to restart your fitness journey at 5 am. Why? Because if you don't do it at 5 am, you will never compromise for the rest of the day, so it is a way to encourage yourself.

Of course, Leon was there at 5 am every morning to accompany you. There was no way in hell Leon would let you run alone. The streets could be dangerous, and Leon was always cautious about your safety, especially given the dangers of Raccoon City.

But today, the first day of his new schedule, Leon couldn't relax. He asked you to text him when you left the house, let him know if anything bothered you, and carry pepper spray, though you hated the idea of "arming" yourself. Leon couldn't fathom something happening to you.

With a sudden decision in mind, Leon turns on his patrol car with his lights on, but no sound. He has an appointment he can't miss.

-x-

Breathe, you tell yourself. Breathe deeply. Concentrate.

With your favorite playlist playing in your ears, you put one foot after the other, focused on exercising. It is your first day without Leon at your side as your loyal partner, and you thought you would feel bad, but sometimes being alone is the most peaceful thing that could happen.

You texted him as he asked you to put one earbud in (Leon begged you not to put both and to always be aware of your surroundings) and started jogging- slowly, at your own pace, with no stress. The sun wasn't out yet, and the birds weren't singing yet. Most lights are off in the houses in your neighborhood. 

This new fitness journey has always been about your mental health, a way to make you feel better about yourself. The fresh air, the feeling of having your body moving. It sucked that you had to be aware of your surroundings, but what can we do right?

Within ten minutes of your run, you notice the familiar lights of a police car appear behind you. You are surprised, turning your head quickly behind you and seeing the familiar car following you at a slow speed, escorting you as you exercise.

As you get close to the park near your house, far away from most houses, you hear your boyfriend's voice through the speakers.

"You are doing fantastic! I know you can do it, honey!"

You giggle, then continue and focus on your usual jog- almost a walk, but you don't mind. What matters is that you are feeling good about yourself. After you had enough, you walk toward the police car, breathing heavily, and Leon has his window open, a massive smile on his face.

"Hey, pretty." He looks so handsome, with the rising sunbeams illuminating his face.

"Hello, officer. Am I in any trouble?" You tease back, lying against his open window. Leon offers you a water bottle, which you gladly accept and drink. "Shouldn't you be off work already?"

"Yeah. Need to keep civilians safe, though. Especially adorable ones like you."

"I would be fine. My boyfriend told me to bring this." You raise the pepper spray in your hand, and Leon nods, happy.

"I am glad you are following your boyfriend's direction." Leon then stops and becomes more serious. "I hope I didn't make you uncomfortable."

"You didn't, sweetie. Are you telling me you will always escort me during my morning jogs?" 

"I will always keep you safe. Your safety is my number one priority, always." Leon replies, his tone very serious. You nod, saluting his seriouness. "Do you need a ride back home?"

"No, I will be fine on the way home. I promise." 

Since no one was around, you decided to return to the house after giving Leon a quick goodbye kiss. Looking over your shoulder, you saw the police cruiser still parked in the same spot, probably with the driver still keeping his eyes on you.

Leon watches as you quickly turn around to blow another kiss before disappearing. His face is red, and his heart feels fuzzy. He shakes his head, thinking it's better to bring the car back to the police station.

[tenelkadjowrites]

Wallflower - Part Two - Seonghwa x Reader (NSFW)

PART ONE HERE. PART THREE HERE.

🌻 Summary: The events of Sunday morning won’t leave your mind, and you are determined to figure out if every aspect of the rumor about your nerdy coworker, Seonghwa, is true.

🌻 Word count: 11.5k

🌻 Genre & warnings: nerdy seonghwa with coworker reader. fem pronouns for reader. dirty talk. fingering. oral sex. unprotected sex. creampie. 

🌻 Tags are now moved to the bottom of the fic.

this fic is not meant to represent Seonghwa in any way, shape or form.

               You have a problem and it is one of your own making. In fact, it could even be considered two separate problems that are colliding.

               Problem one? You have no friends. After spending years striving to climb the corporate ladder in your quest for money and job security, all your real friendships fell apart and faded away. That meant that every one of your ‘friends’ were actually coworkers. The unhappier you got at your job, the more distant you felt from them, leaving you increasingly isolated.

               Problem two? You fucked around with a coworker. Most people would agree that to fuck a coworker, especially in an office setting, is a bad idea. Sure, it hadn’t turned into full on sex but you believed a general consensus of the situation would be that having your coworker eat you out to orgasm twice could be a short term pleasure without thinking of the long term ramifications.

               The way these problems collided was in the fact that you couldn’t talk to anyone about Seonghwa because you had no friends who aren’t directly tied to work.

               This meant that, while pressing the button in the elevator on Monday morning, you are left to the spiraling thoughts in your head without anyone’s help or advice.

               As the doors open and you step onto the floor, you immediately scan the area for Seonghwa. But you don’t spot him. All that you see is the usual Monday morning bullshit – people cramming donuts in their mouth, the scent of that cheap break room coffee, the typing of many keyboards, people gossiping by the water cooler about the party on Saturday, and the sound of various boring and tedious phone calls.

               The dread that blooms in your chest is enough to knock you off balance. Fuck, when did I start hating this place so much? It isn’t as if working here ever gave you a ton of joy. Office work was often tedious, dry and dull. But the money was supposed to wipe that all away. So…why wasn’t it?

               You throw your bag down at your desk, sitting down and staring at your reflection in the computer screen for a few seconds before turning it on. As it boots up, you roll your chair back a little and glance over at Seonghwa’s cubicle. It is empty but his bag is there, making your heart skip a beat. Turning your attention back to your computer, you open up your e-mail, dreading everything that might have come in over the weekend.

               You had been steadfastly trying not to think of Seonghwa since he dropped you off yesterday. That proved to be difficult. Actually, impossible. You couldn’t stop thinking about how it felt when he kissed you or how he looked when his tongue was working your clit.  It’s been difficult merging the images of Seonghwa in the past as just your nerdy coworker with what happened last night.

               “Good morning,” comes the very voice you are thinking about.

               You flinch in surprise, looking over your shoulder to see Seonghwa standing there. He wears a pale blue button up, neatly tucked into the top of his khaki slacks. A black belt loops around his waist. He looks the exact same as he does every single day but this time…

               “Hey,” You reply, spinning in your chair to face him.

               We’ll see about that, baby is what Seonghwa had said when his fingers were buried in your cunt. The words bounce around in your brain as your gaze flicks to his hands quickly before back at his face.

               He looks a little shy but stares at you resolutely through his oversized glasses. “Your car is still at the bar, right? Do you want me to take you there after work so you can get it? I drove today just in case…”

               “Yes, please,” You reply, relieved, “I had to Uber this morning and the driver was one of those guys who wear like…the driver gloves. You know what I mean? Like, you’re not Ryan Gosling and I’m in a Tesla. Anyway, it was intense and uncomfortable and I was not looking forward to another ride after work.”

               He laughs. You’ve seen Seonghwa laugh before and it’s always fascinated you how it looks like he’s in mild pain when doing so. Now, it is kinda endearing.

               “I’m leaving on time today because I spent all of yesterday here and I could really do with some sleep.”

               “I’m leaving on time today because I just don’t want to be here,” You reply without thinking.

               Seonghwa laughs again but his gaze lingers on you a beat too long which makes your insides swirl. You suddenly are thinking about his tongue against your clit again. His mind must be traveling along the same thinking because he suddenly glances away, looking shy.

               “Uhm, so you were here for a long time yesterday?” You ask, trying to keep the conversation as normal as possible.

               “Yeah, the entire day and most of the night. I got home around one.”

               You shudder. The idea of spending that long in the office is nightmare fuel.

               Seonghwa continues, “But we got what we needed finished. See?”

               He is pointing to your computer screen. Your e-mail has finished loading (another shudder) but you aren’t sure what you’re looking at.

               “What?” You finally ask.

               “Oh, the update notif, see? Here, I’ll show you.”

               Seonghwa walks into the cubicle, leaning down to grab the mouse. He is very close to you although he’s busy clicking stuff on the computer. To be honest, you aren’t paying attention to whatever he’s doing. You’re thrown off by how it feels to be this close to Seonghwa, recalling how good he was at kissing.

               “There. It takes about ten minutes or so though,” He looks as if he is going to say more but that’s when he turns his face in your direction and suddenly looks nervous, trailing off.

               The two of you are extremely close. In fact, it’s so close that you could kiss Seonghwa easily. His lips are inches from yours. You can feel the warmth of his body and for one wild moment you just want to press your hands against his chest, pin him against the cubicle wall and kiss him until you are delirious.

               There is a touch of pink along his cheeks. You know what he is thinking about because you are too. You open your mouth to say…honestly, you aren’t sure but a sudden clatter makes Seonghwa leap away from you as if you have turned into a cold fish.

               “Oh, good, you’re here…uh with…Seonghwa?”

               It’s your gossipy coworker, her head cocked to one side, staring at Seonghwa and then at you.

               Seonghwa runs his fingers through his hair and says quickly, “Good morning! I was just pushing the software update through on her computer! Do you need any help with yours?”

               Your coworker drawls, “No, I think I can figure out how to press ‘update’, thanks.”

               Her tone is so dismissive that you feel irked. Seonghwa nods, quickly saying bye and scurries out of the cubicle, leaving you alone with your coworker.

               “Just wanted to see if you made it back to your place in one piece.”

               You could’ve texted, you think in a slightly bitter way but just go, “Yup, I did. Had a bit of a headache but nothing too bad.” Oh and the nerd you just quickly dismissed made me cum twice with just his fingers and tongue but I’m not about to tell you that.

               “You were so wasted, oh my god. Never seen you get that fucked up at a function before. But don’t worry, you were a pretty boring drunk and there’s nothing being said about you. Apparently, this guy in accounting got super trashed and barfed all over the bar countertop after I left so that’s what everyone is talking about this morning.”

               You feel weary. You dislike how confined the office feels, hate being smushed into your cubicle, tired of listening to the same gossip every week. You’re chafing at the repetition. You’re just happy that the rumor about Seonghwa is becoming old news because you aren’t sure about your ability to keep a poker face if it comes up.

               You’re waiting for your coworker to mention her comment about you being weird lately. But she keeps talking about the guy throwing up and you realize she doesn’t think you remember it. You could bring it up yourself but can’t muster the energy. She isn’t wrong, after all, but you don’t want to talk to her about how you’ve been so unhappy at work lately.

               “Oh, your computer update is done,” She finally stops talking, pointing to your screen, “Alright, I guess I should go. You coming out for coffee later?”

               “Uh, yeah, I’ll be there.”

               She walks off with a small wave, leaving you alone at your computer. Lost in thought, you think back to something Seonghwa said in the earlier conversation. I drove today just in case. He did that so he could take you to your car. The thoughtfulness touches you, makes your stomach feel weird in a way you can’t explain.

               Trying to wipe Seonghwa from your mind, you steel yourself to begin working through the emails with a small sigh.

*

               Running late to meet with Seonghwa, you hurriedly press the elevator button. A call had gone over the allotted time, leaving you scrambling to get out of the office before something else kept you. Sir Dipshit was just exiting his office as you scurried away. Now, you just need the fucking doors to close before you get stuck with him…

               Luckily, they glide shut just as he rounds the corner. Exhaling slowly, you rub your forehead. You’ve been nursing a headache since early afternoon. All you want to do is get the hell out of this building so your skin can stop crawling.

               A few minutes later, you are out in the parking lot. Seonghwa is waiting by his shit heap of a car, typing on his phone and doesn’t see you. Your heart skips a beat when you see him which you steadfastly ignore. We’re just friends, you scold yourself.

               “Hey,” You say and he looks up, smiling. “Sorry I was late. I got stuck on a call.”

               “It’s no problem,” He replies as the two of you get inside his car.

               After snapping in your seatbelt, you watch as Seonghwa curls his hands around the steering wheel. Your thighs clench at the sight and you wish that it could be possible to wrangle yourself under control. But you want him so badly that all you can think about is if he is going to kiss you or touch you or –

               “How was your day?” He asks casually, clearly oblivious to what is on your mind.

               “Fine,” You mumble, not wanting to say more in case you start complaining about how much you’ve hated work lately.

               As the car comes to a halt at a red light, he looks over at you. “How long have you been working here? I know you were already working here when I started two years ago.”

               “Six years or so.” Wow, has it really been that long?

               “When did you start experiencing burn out?”

               “What?”

               Seonghwa blinks behind his large glasses. “Your…work burnout. Sorry, am I overstepping?”

               “N-no, I just…haven’t thought of it like that before. I mean burn out from what? Having a steady, good paying job? I’m just in a rut.”

               “Alright,” You get the feeling he wants to say more but he is holding back, “When did the rut begin?”

               The light turns green and Seonghwa turns his attention back to the road as you reply, “Maybe…a year or so ago. It just keeps growing though. And I don’t know how to get out of it. I worked really hard to get to this spot and I still have more of the corporate ladder to climb so I’m annoyed with myself for feeling so disengaged. I hate going. I hate being there. I hate walking into that lobby and I hate how slow the elevator is. I hate how cramped the cubicles are cuz the company is too cheap to get a bigger building. I hate how disorganized everything is and I hate how everything, every single day, is the same. I hate that I have hours of nothing to do and I have to pretend to look busy. I hate how much Sir Dipshit talks and the stupid work events we need to attend or we won’t hear the end of it. I hate how when I am not at work, I spend every moment dreading going to work. And I hate how pointless it all feels.”

               You blink, realizing that you’ve gone on a gigantic rant while Seonghwa drives. But you’ve never actually stated these things aloud to anyone before and the words hang heavy in the car.

               “Can I be honest?” He says after a moment.

               “Uh, yeah, sure.”

               “That doesn’t really sound like a rut. It sounds like burnout combined with maybe just straight up hating your job.”

               “I don’t hate it,” You say weakly, knowing how absurd that sounds.

               Seonghwa shoots you a glance out of the corner of his eye. “I think you used the word ‘hate’ numerous times in that speech.”

               “Right but…you don’t feel that way about your job?”

               “No. I mean, some days sure, I don’t want to go in. That’s normal. No different than being a kid and not wanting to go to school. But I go, and when I leave, it’s just out of my mind. I focus on other things that give me joy. What do you do to relax from work?”

               The question is such a normal one that you’re horrified when nothing comes to mind. “I…watch TV.”

               “What are your hobbies?”

               “I like to read…although I haven’t really read a book in awhile.” Wow, your answers are dismal. “I just never have the energy for anything.”

               “It’s hard to make time when we work so much. But it’s still important to do stuff that has nothing to do with work. We don’t just exist to be at our jobs. We need to do other things too. Things we find enjoyable.”

               Well, I was enjoying myself yesterday, you think but stop yourself from saying. You get the feeling Seonghwa isn’t talking about sex being the only outlet from work.

               He makes a right turn and the bar comes into view. You can see your car parked and tell Seonghwa that it is yours. He parks next to it, shifting his body to look at you. He looks serious.

               “Maybe this job worked for you years ago. But it’s okay if it doesn’t fit the current you.”

               At this, you protest, “Wrong. I worked way too hard for this job. I dragged my ass through the dullest business courses at school and landed an annoying internship right out of college. This is what I’ve been working for.”

               “Okay, you’ve been working towards it but is it what you want?”

               You are starting to feel disgruntled and aren’t sure why. “What do you mean?”

               “A lot of the times, we just go after something because we are told we’re supposed to want it either by parents, or society or whoever. But in quiet moments, we should think about what we want. If this job no longer aligns with what you want, then there is no harm in looking for new work.”

               “No way,” You scoff, “I’ve worked too hard for this.”

               “Alright,” Seonghwa relents, “I don’t mean to be pushy but I had a friend deal with a job he hated and it sucked the soul right out of him. I just wouldn’t want that to happen with you.”

               Curiously, you ask, “What happened with your friend?”

               “Wooyoung worked in the same line as me, just at another company. Eventually, he hated it so much that he quit on the spot with no work lined up. He didn’t know what he wanted, just that he couldn’t stand working in a cubicle anymore.”

               “And now?”

               “Runs a little tarot shop in the historic district.”

               “Wow, that’s a big change.”

               “He always dabbled in that stuff for fun but he said he got…some dream or something one night about running a shop like that. Saw himself happy with a blossoming clientele in some city where he was working alongside our mutual friend San. It was enough to prompt him to make some changes. Gave him some clarity.”

               You chew on this for a moment. But when you think of the future, all you see is your cubicle. Making any sort of drastic change like that seems impossible. Besides, like you said to Seonghwa, you worked so hard for this. Why ruin it just because you don’t like it? Almost everyone hates their job now. It’s completely normal to hate your job, right?

               “Well, thanks for dropping me off. I appreciate it.” You are anxious to get away from Seonghwa if only because it feels as if he really sees you which is gratifying but also unnerving at the same time.

               “One more thing,” He says quickly, “Uhm, well. I was wondering if you’d like to come to the movies with me tomorrow night.”

               Your hand had been on the door handle but now you look over your shoulder at him. In the setting sun, the orange hue reflects on his blonde hair at a slant, making it look golden. There is something so soft and inviting about Seonghwa, something you didn’t notice about him until you actually spoke to him because of the rumor.

               “What movie?”

               “Well, this week the theatre in old town is showing the Star Wars movies and tomorrow night is The Empire Strikes Back. I’m too tired to go tonight for A New Hope but if you’d like to come with me tomorrow…”

               You think you saw the movie randomly a long time ago because a vague memory of a ship flying around an asteroid field comes to mind. If it were anyone else but Seonghwa, the refusal would come quickly and easily. But…

               “Sure. What time?”

               “Be there around 7:30. I’ll wait out front for you,” He looks relieved as if he was expecting a rejection, “Do you have my number? I know we’re supposed to have everyone’s numbers because we’re on the same team but I wasn’t sure…”

               You scroll through your phone, surprised to realize that you do in fact have Seonghwa’s number. To your chagrin, you had put the nerd emoji after his name.

               “Oh, I do have it.”

               “Okay. I have yours so just text me if anything comes up and you can’t make it.”

               “Alright,” You push open the door, stopping briefly to look one last time at him, “Thanks again.”

               You take note of the fact Seonghwa makes sure you get in the car, that it turns on okay, and you drive out of the parking lot before he pulls out of the space.

*

               This isn’t a date. You’re just going to see some Star Wars movie with the nerdy guy from your office. Who is your friend. Who gave you two amazing orgasms but has not indicated that he would like to continue anything further.

               You’re parked in front of the theatre, hands gripping the steering wheel, mentally bolstering yourself for the night ahead. You have successfully managed to overthink the entire Seonghwa situation, including the fact that since the events the other night, there has been no forward motion on anything else.

               Maybe he didn’t have fun, you think, turning off the car and getting out. I mean, you’re just assuming he did and that it would lead to more but you haven’t exactly asked him and he hasn’t said anything about enjoying it. Wow, I really need friends. I wonder if Seonghwa has mentioned me to his fellow group of nerds or if he’s too shy. Or maybe he hasn’t mentioned me because what happened before isn’t that rare of an occurrence and I am just assuming it is because he’s a nerd. Maybe in reality he sleeps around a lot. I mean, he’s handsome. I mean that in a handsome but not in my type of handsome sort of way. You know –

               “Oh, hey, you’re here,” Seonghwa says, relieving you of your exhausting and never ending mental monologue.

               “Worried I would change my mind?”

               “Maybe just a little,” He replies bashfully.

               Seonghwa is wearing slacks and a black sweater which hangs off his slender frame. He looks comfortable and warm. You’re glad that you didn’t dress up because as far as you know, this is just a casual night out with a friend and nothing more.

               “Well, I’m here,” You gesture to yourself.

               Seonghwa pushes up on his glasses and smiles. Together, you walk into the theatre which is pretty quiet. It didn’t appear as if people were storming the building to watch The Empire Strikes Back. This is confirmed when you go into the theatre itself and only a handful of people are inside.

               Taking your seats, the movie starts soon after. Seonghwa seems to be engrossed immediately, his eyes staring at the screen with rapt attention. You wonder how many times he’s seen this film. His hand is resting on his knee and you are fighting the urge to reach for him. But something stops you – maybe it is that Seonghwa is glued to the movie, maybe it is because you just aren’t sure if that would be making things too date like, or perhaps it is because secretly you’re afraid of his rejection. Regardless of the reason, you keep your hands to yourself.

               At some point in the film, you lean over to ask a question and Seonghwa tilts his head in your direction. “Where’s that blue guy?”

               “What?” Seonghwa sounds baffled.

               “The blue guy with the red eyes. He was on the cover of your book,” You whisper.

               The corners of his mouth quirk up as he fends off a smile. He turns to look at you. One side of his face is doused in the colours of the cloud city on the movie screen, making his hair glow.

               “He’s not in the movies,” Seonghwa whispered back.

               You make a noise of understanding and mild confusion. But he is still staring at you in a way that is making your insides turn. For a split second, you think that Seonghwa is going to lean forward and kiss you. It hits you with a heavy intensity that you desperately want him to kiss you. No, not just kiss you. You want his hands back on you. You want him naked against you and you want him inside you.

               Seonghwa turns back to the screen then, leaving you with a fast beating heart and a swooping feeling in your stomach that you can’t believe is connected to the nerdy guy watching Star Wars with you.

*

               “It’s Thrawn,” Seonghwa says afterwards as you exit the theatre together.

               “What?”

               “The guy on my book cover. It’s Thrawn. In the 90s, he started out as the main villain in a trilogy of books set after the original trilogy of movies. That kinda started the entire expanded universe of Star Wars lore. Later on, it got retconned in the buyout of 2012 but they put him back in the canon later on cuz he’s such a fan favourite,” Seonghwa explains as you shiver in the colder night air.

               “That explains why that book looked so well worn,” You muse.

               He looks sheepish. “Yeah, I’ve read that trilogy a lot. I know it’s not canon anymore but…well, I’ve read it so much now that it’s comforting. I like to go back to it every few years. But there’s new canon books about him too that I’ve read.”

               “I miss feeling that way about books,” You mumble, “Like finding them comforting, reading a book for an entire afternoon or something and doing nothing else.”

               “You should pick up an older book like that. One you used to like. Maybe that would help you to relax and not think about work.”

               “Maybe,” You pause for a moment before going, “I don’t think about work when I’m with you though.”

               Surprise flickers across Seonghwa’s face and then he looks down at his feet for a second. You feel embarrassed at your admission, wondering if it is going to make him uncomfortable. You had already drunkenly told him that you felt safe around him even though you only got to truly know him in the past week.

               Although you want to be quiet, your mouth seems to have other plans. “I feel disconnected with everyone else at work. I don’t know if it’s just because how I feel about the job in general or what. But I don’t think I can talk to them like I talk to you. I know that sounds silly because we only just started talking but…” You trail off, unsure how to finish.

               Seonghwa takes a step towards you and the space in between your bodies close. You shiver again as the wind kicks up. Tentatively, he reaches out with his hands and brushes his fingers along your arms. Goosebumps break out across your skin.

               “Are you cold? I might have an extra hoodie in my car.”

               “I’ll be okay,” You say, your breath catching at the touch.

               His hands linger there for a moment before Seonghwa pulls away, looking unsure. He looks as if he has something he wants to say but isn’t sure how to word it.

               “Thanks for inviting me,” You say, trying to turn the conversation away from your admission, “Star Wars isn’t really my thing but I still had fun.”

               “I did too.” His nerves radiate off him, an energy that is brimming just underneath the surface.

               But Seonghwa doesn’t kiss you nor make any sort of move and you’re too in your head to do anything about it. You take a step backwards, giving him a small wave.

               “I’ll see you tomorrow then?”

                “Right, yeah, tomorrow. Uhm…” He swallows, “Text me when you get home so I know you’re alright.”

                 The words threaten to make your cheeks warm but luckily it is too dark for Seonghwa to see. “Okay.”

                 He nods and you turn around, walking to your car. You can feel his eyes on your back. You’re struggling with the random assortment of emotions bouncing around in your brain. It’s confusing to want Seonghwa this much even though you don’t understand what draws you to him. You want him to make a move but he doesn’t seem like the type to do so because he’s so shy or he’s lost interest in you physically. All you know is what started out as curiosity over a rumor seems to be shifting into just simply wanting him.

*

               “What’s up with you talking to Seonghwa so much? You still thinking about that rumor?”

               You’re at the coffee shop with your coworkers for lunch hour. After suffering through a long meeting this morning with Sir Dipshit, time is crawling along. You’re missing the times when your coffee break used to perk you up. Now, nothing seems to soften the blow of the long days.

               Your coworkers are all staring at you like you’re a fish in an aquarium. You shift awkwardly in your chair. “Yeah, I was thinking about it when I first approached him. But not so much anymore.”

               “Yeah cuz like I said he’s boring,” Your gossipy coworker interjects, “I talked to him at the work party thinking maybe there was something I’m missing about him but there obviously isn’t. He was talking about some…video game called Animal Crossing. I think that regional manager was lying about how good he is in bed cuz she can’t believe she slept with him.”

               You want to defend Seonghwa but you also don’t feel like talking about him eating your pussy out like a pro. The thing between you and Seonghwa feels private, something that doesn’t belong to work – the only thing currently in your life that doesn’t feel tied to work which is funny given the fact the two of you are coworkers.

               On top of that, you aren’t even sure of your own feelings for Seonghwa. What started out as curiosity shifted to straight up desire and now it’s shifting yet again. You’d rather fake your own death and flee the country than invite any discussion of that with your coworkers.

               “He’s cute if you can look past his gigantic glasses,” Another coworker chimes in, “But I’m not dating a guy into Legos.”

               “Wasn’t your ex one of those guys who painted his face before a sports game?” You say in a pointed tone.

               “Uh…yeah?”

               “Some people might argue that is more of a turn off than Legos.”

               This flusters your coworker and also signals a shift away from Seonghwa into shit talking the mentioned ex. You lean back in the chair, the conversation sliding through your head like water. You’re thinking about Seonghwa’s friend and how he started his own store. But I have no experience in that. And what type of store would I even run? You drum your fingers against the table, mentally scolding yourself for even thinking such a thing. You didn’t work this hard or for this long just to leave your cushy job cause it’s boring.

               Maybe if you keep telling yourself that, it will eventually click.

*

               Later that evening, you’re staring at the TV but not really thinking about the show. You have wandered to the existential dread you’ve been experiencing every night before going to bed because of work looming the next day. On top of that, your mind flickers to Seonghwa as you sort through your attraction and how much you like spending time with him. There is something quiet about him, a stillness in his centre of someone completely at ease with himself, his hobbies and his job – all things currently that you do not possess.

               You’ve been steadfastly trying not to think about the morning he went down on you but you’re losing the battle tonight. Laying among the pillows on your bed, you are picturing the way his tongue looked against your clit, the sensation of his fingers in you and how his voice sounded while talking dirty.

               You’re wet now and fighting the urge not to throw caution to the wind and ask if Seonghwa wanted to fuck. We had an entire discussion about the rumor. Would he be so surprised if I brought it up again? But you’re still unsure if he has changed his mind since –

               Your phone buzzes and to your surprise, Seonghwa’s name appears alongside a text. You feel caught as if he somehow knew you were thinking about him and unlock your phone to read the message.

               “Are you busy?”

               “No,” You type back, “Just watching TV. Is something wrong?”

               The three dots pop up and disappear multiple times. You’re on edge now, wondering what in the world Seonghwa could be struggling with that takes so long to send.

               After a minute, his reply finally pops up. “I’m sorry if I am out of bounds but there’s just something on my mind.”

               You sit up straighter, eyes glued to your phone as the dance of the three dots continues. You wish he would type faster but he keeps stopping and restarting. You wonder if the stuff your annoying coworkers at lunch has somehow gotten back to him and he’s mad at you not defending his pussy eating skills or something. You immediately feel silly for thinking such a thing as Seonghwa doesn’t give off any energy that he’s the sort of person who would want you defending his sexual prowess.

               Finally, Seonghwa’s message appears. “I was just wondering if you’re still interested in the rumor about me.”

               You stare at the words in surprise.

               Seonghwa immediately starts typing when you don’t reply after five seconds, sending multiple messages in rapid fire succession until it fills your screen. “I completely understand if you’ve changed your mind after what went on between us on Sunday morning. If it wasn’t pleasurable for you or if just simply hanging out around me made you lose interest in doing anything else. I know we are friends even if we decide not to bring anything else physical into it. I’ve just spent the last few days overthinking it because we’ve been alone a couple of times since then and nothing has happened. I know I’m not very good at making the first move because I grow nervous and I get in my head a lot. And frankly, my friends are sick of hearing me drone on about it and Hongjoong told me just to call and ask. But calling is giving me a lot of anxiety so I’ve settled for texting. But now that I’ve started this conversation via text I am worried that it is coming across as deeply impersonal for a matter like sex. Should I call? Would it be weird to call about this? Would it make you more uncomfortable to talk about it on the phone or through texts? Wow, sorry, I’ve really typed a lot. I’ve mentioned before I can talk a lot. Type a lot? I’m done now, sorry.”

               You stare at the message, feeling both relief that you have both been overthinking and a certain giddiness at the fact Seonghwa is bringing this up.

               But you don’t want to add to his anxiety so you try to type as quickly as possible. “I’m still interested in the rumor. I just wasn’t sure if maybe what happened on Sunday had you change your mind or maybe it wasn’t as enjoyable for you as it was for me.”

               Seonghwa’s reply is hurried and you can feel the slightly panicked energy on the other side. “It was enjoyable for me! Like I said, I’m not good with making any first moves. Someone either has to be blunt with me or it has to be so extremely obvious of their interest or I end up second guessing myself. On Sunday, you were so honest about…everything that it was hard to misunderstand things. But since then, I thought maybe you just simply changed your mind.”

               You chew on your bottom lip, zoning in on the phrase about being blunt. Throwing caution to the wind, you type out, “Would you like to stay over Friday night?”

               Immediately, the response appears.

               “Yes, I’d like that.”

*

               You exhale slowly, running your fingers over your skirt. Seonghwa is due to show up any minute now and you can’t help the butterflies in your stomach.

               The rest of the week hadn’t been awkward, exactly, but all your small interactions with Seonghwa felt emotionally charged. Both of you knew what was going to happen come Friday night and you thought the whole office must have sensed it. It was in every lingering gaze Seonghwa sent your way, in the manner that you would walk past his cubicle just to see him, and how he would make you a cup of coffee in the breakroom and brush his hand against yours while handing it over.

               On top of that, you gave up on not thinking about Sunday and masturbated to Seonghwa every night that week. Your desire for him was at fever pitch, eclipsing everyone else you’ve ever wanted. You were desperate to know if he fucked as good as he ate pussy.

               You aren’t playing coy tonight. If Seonghwa worked the best with someone being blunt, then you were wearing the equivalent of a bludgeon. Your skirt ended just under your ass, knee high socks with a small bow at the top, and your shirt is low cut, exposing cleavage. The entire outfit is black although your matching bra and underwear are a deep red. There is nothing subtle about the outfit. This makes you nervous at being so forward but exhilarated at how open you are.

               A sudden knock on the door breaks you out of your thoughts. You slowly walk over to the door, taking a second to collect yourself and then you open it.

               Seonghwa stands there, in black slacks again and a form fitting simple white t-shirt. A black bag is slung over his shoulder. You don’t think you’ve ever seen him in just a short sleeved t-shirt before. The sight of his exposed arms sends a jolt through you. Wow, he really is fit, you think as your eyes drag across his well toned arms down to his flat stomach. The fabric of the shirt is thin enough that you can just make out hard muscles underneath. His waist is slender, almost dainty, and a belt hangs off his hips loosely.

               “H-hey,” You say, trying to collect yourself.

               Seonghwa looks as if you popped out of the front door with a baseball bat. His eyes rake across your body so openly that you don’t think he is even aware he’s doing it. He looks slightly dazed, and when he notices how short your skirt is, he swallows hard. There is a touch of colour on his cheeks and his eyes are wide behind his big glasses.

               “Uh, hi,” He manages to squeak out, “How are you?” His tone is formal but he is squeezing the strap of his bag so hard that his knuckles are white.

               “I’m alright. Come in,” You move to the side and Seonghwa enters so nervously that you think of a timid deer in the woods, “You want anything to drink?”

               “Just water, please.”

               You nod and turn around to head towards the kitchen. You can practically feel Seonghwa’s slack jawed stare at the skirt brushing against the bottom of your ass as you leave. Once in the kitchen, you try to slow down the fast beating of your heart. You didn’t think seeing him would throw you so off balance. But you’re already wet.

               When you return to the living room, Seonghwa is sitting on the couch, looking incredibly nervous. You hand him the glass and sit down next to him. His eyes drop to your exposed thighs and he gulps down half the glass immediately before angling his body to face you.

               “Can I be honest with you?”

               For a second, you suddenly worry that he has changed his mind. Too afraid to speak, you merely nod.

               “I’ve never come over to someone’s place with the knowledge it’s going to be for sex so I am out of my element and I’m kinda worried I am just going to…blank out and forget how to…do…everything.”

               The admission is endearing, the flustered way Seonghwa is squirming even more. It is jarring because this is something that normally would not be a turn on. Everything about Seonghwa takes you by surprise – from the rumor down to how much you want to sleep with him.

               “We don’t have to –”

               He interrupts swiftly, “No, I want to. Trust me, I want to. I just…have had a lot of time to overthink.”

               You lean back on the couch, grabbing the remote. “So, we won’t just jump into it. We can just watch TV. You’re staying the night. So…there’s no hurry.”

               Seonghwa relaxes slightly, some of the tension easing out of his shoulders. He still sits a bit stiffly though and you can almost see him overthinking everything. From this angle, your eyes trace the muscles in his back, the way the t-shirt lays against his skin and the curve of his neck.

               After about ten minutes of idly watching some boring cooking show, you speak up, “I’ve never seen you in like…a short sleeved t-shirt before.”

               Seonghwa looks down at his torso for a second before going, “Oh…I guess you’re right.” He looks mildly confused, unaware of the impact a simple white t-shirt can have.

               “Didn’t think you’d be working out that much,” You can’t help it – you’re teasing him.

               And it works. His face turns red as he sputters, “My friend Jongho takes it seriously so I tag along with him most times.”

               “You seem to keep quite the busy schedule between work, your friends and all your hobbies,” You say, thinking about how your own free time is spent dreading work, “Hey, weren’t you watching those Star Wars movies in the theatre this week? Are you missing one tonight?”

               Seonghwa leans back on the couch and tilts his face to look at you, his expression a bit shy. “Uhm, yeah, I am missing one tonight. It’s really not that big of a deal.”

               “Are you sure?”

               “Yeah, it’s Attack of the Clones tonight,” He says as if that means anything to you, “I mean I’ve seen them all a thousand times so it’s alright to miss some. Besides,” Seonghwa looks nervous now, “I would rather uh…be here with you.”

               You want to make a joke about how having sex with you wins out over Star Wars but he looks so delicate in his attempt to flirt that you decide against it. Instead, you reach over and take his hand, holding it gently. Seonghwa swallows again, his eyes dropping to your exposed thighs.

               He shifts his weight, leaning forward a little, his eyes asking a question that you’re happy to give an affirmative answer to. You meet him in the middle, your lips touching his lightly at first. His hold on your hand tightens from nerves and then he is kissing you like he did before in that manner that makes your stomach swoop and body stir with desire.

               His hand breaks free of its hold on yours so that he can run it up along your thigh, touching the fabric of your skirt. His breath hitches as his other hand comes down on your thigh. He trails his fingertips along your skin, making you shiver. Seonghwa doesn’t stop doing that as he begins to kiss along your jaw and down your neck. You don’t think you’ve ever been so wet before just from someone barely touching your thighs and kissing you.

               “Do you wanna come to my room?” You breathe out shakily.

               “Yes,” He says seriously in between kissing your neck.

               “Your phone isn’t gonna interrupt us this time?”

               Seonghwa laughs a little and shakes his head. “I put it on silent. The office could burn down and I’d have no idea.”

               Relieved, you pull away and stand up although your legs already feel like jelly. Seonghwa takes your hand and trails after you into your bedroom. The curtains are still pulled back from the windows which open onto a small balcony. Your apartment is large, modern and expensive. At the time, it had been exciting to be able to afford such a place. Now, you’re too miserable to enjoy it and not entirely convinced it fits who you are anymore. But tonight, those worries and concerns don’t matter because you’re here with Seonghwa.

               You cross the room to close the curtains, feeling Seonghwa staring at your ass. The short skirt seems to be impacting him in the way you hoped. When you turn back around, he is already walking towards you. He reaches for your waist, pulling you against him with such an intensity that it takes your breath away.

               His lips are back on yours and his hands slide down, bunching the skirt in the palms of his hands as he grips your ass. You make a small noise of surprise in his mouth, feeling a large bulge against your thigh. Your hands move to the bottom of his shirt and pull it upwards, the kiss breaking so you can toss it off him.

               Your hands move down his chest, feeling the hard muscles underneath before circling around his slender waist. Seonghwa is nipping at your neck with his teeth, his hands going underneath the skirt to remove your underwear. You realize he wants the skirt and knee high socks to stay on and you feel secretly pleased that he enjoys them that much.

               Once your underwear joins his shirt on the floor, you move backwards towards the bed, your hands fumbling with the button on his pants at the same time Seonghwa is trying to take off your shirt. It ends up being a collision of limbs and the two of you accidently thunk your heads together.

               Seonghwa laughs and then takes a step away from you. “S-sorry, I guess I got a little overly excited.”

               “Me too,” You say, taking note of how fast your heart is racing.

               Seonghwa stares at you for a few seconds, his cheeks a bright red. His hair is tousled, his pants unbuttoned. In the gentle lighting of the bedroom, you take in the sight of his toned chest and stomach, your pussy so soaked it is like your brain has simply shut off and retired for the night.

               You reach up for his glasses, your hands hovering over them. “We kinda made a mess on these last time. Do you…”

               “No, I don’t need them. My vision is worse far away and you’re…well, you’re very close,” He murmurs.

               You remove his glasses gently, stepping away from Seonghwa to put them on the top of your dresser. With your back still to him, you pull your shirt off over your head and turn to face him. His breathing has quickened as you take your place in front of him. This time, you go for his shirt as he stares at your bra. His skin is hot to the touch as if the nerves and desire are buzzing around just underneath his skin.

               It takes you a second to once again admire his body, taking note of how good he looks; certainly the last thing you expected from nerdy Seonghwa. You drag one finger down along his stomach, stopping at the top of his pants.

               “W-wait,” He says suddenly and your hand freezes, wondering if he has decided against sleeping together.

You don’t think you’ve ever had so much anxiety about someone opting out of sleeping with you until this whole thing began with Seonghwa. Frozen in place, your gaze flicks upwards at him.

               Seonghwa looks embarrassed as he stammers out, “We can’t just – what I mean is…going right into it. We can’t. Not that I don’t want to,” He says quickly, “I do but you’re just – and I’m…” He takes a steadying breath. “You’re too tight for me. Right now. I have to get you ready.”

               You blink, staring at him in surprise and fine, maybe a jolt of excitement. The rumor of his big dick comes back to you full force and your eyes instinctively drop down to the bulge in his pants.

               “Is that what you were doing last time?” You ask curiously, remembering how his fingers in you and telling you that your pussy was tight.

               “Well, I did want to go down on you. But once my fingers were in you, I realized…you know?” Seonghwa is nervous, making you wonder how many times he’s had this conversation in the past, “So let me help.”

               If by help he meant making you feel that good again, you weren’t about to disagree. His hands slink up along your lower back up to the clasp of your bra which he undoes, peeling the fabric off your skin to expose your tits. His warm hands grope them, his thumbs grazing your nipples to watch the way you shiver from the touch. He brings his head down to your neck, lips against your skin. Even though you’ve been daydreaming for days about bouncing on his cock, you are quickly lost in the touches given by him.

               Seonghwa gently pushes you against the bed, indicating for you to sit down. As you do so, he slides to his knees, his large hands gripping your thighs to spread them apart. Exposed in front of him again, wearing just your skirt and knee high socks, you normally would feel nervous. But instead, you’re lost in the sight of Seonghwa’s broad shoulders, his long fingers pressing against your skin and how his eyelashes are dark smears against his cheeks as he looks at your cunt.

               Bringing his face forward, his tongue dips into your wet hole with an almost lewd slurping noise. You can feel his tongue probing your entrance to taste you, his hands still holding your thighs apart. Then Seonghwa drags his tongue upwards to flick against your clit, causing you to gasp.

               One hand moves off your thigh. You watch as he brings one finger to your entrance, pushing it carefully inside your tight hole. He pumps it slowly while rolling his tongue over your sensitive nub. Your chest rises and falls quickly with each movement of his finger and tongue, soft whimpers tumbling from your lips. Still, you remain propped up to watch Seonghwa, his eyes closed as he works on your pussy.

               Gingerly, he inserts a second finger. Still pumping his fingers at a leisurely pace, he switches to using the tip of his tongue against your clit like last time. It feels good, incredibly good, and your head rolls back a little as you moan out his name. He makes a small noise that sounds like a sigh when you do so, wiggling his fingers deep in your cunt.

               You’re somehow going to climax already. You aren’t sure how Seonghwa can get you off so fast. Your thighs shake and he keeps his other hand steady on your skin so that you can’t close your legs. The tip of his tongue feels delicious against your swollen clit, his fingers making a soft squishy noise with each pump.

               And then you’re cumming, your juices against his fingers, his tongue still flicking hard and fast against your clit. You fall back on the bed, no longer attempting to prop yourself up to watch, as your orgasm takes over. Seonghwa slows down his tongue as you wiggle against his fingers, wondering what it would be like to be stuffed with him.

               Even after your orgasm quiets, Seonghwa doesn’t stop moving his fingers. Instead, he murmurs, “That’s good. I’m going to add another finger and then you’re going to cum again.” His tone isn’t forceful or demanding – it is just matter of fact.

               Woozily, you go, “What?”

               “You heard me,” He hums quietly and then a third finger pushes into your cunt, “There you go, baby, take my fingers just like that.”

               You want to tell him you’ll do anything if he keeps talking to you in that tone but words seem to be eluding you at the moment.

               Seonghwa’s fingers are buried as far as they can go in you. He fucks you with them slowly, letting you recover from your orgasm. You can hear how wet you are.

               “Such a tight little hole. You’re going to be stuffed with my cock,” Seonghwa continues quietly, “But you’ve been…you’ve been thinking about that anyway, haven’t you?” He sounds a little shy with the question, as if he’s seeking affirmation and is hiding it behind dirty talk.

               “Y-yes,” You breathe out as his speed slightly increases.

               “Been thinking about my cock in you?”

               “Yes,” You repeat and his fingers feel so good that when his tongue goes back against your clit, you groan, your hand suddenly in his hair, gripping it in such a way that you can hear him grunt in approval, “Ever since I heard the rumor,” You admit.

               Seonghwa’s fingers move faster now. He doesn’t respond since he is too busy sucking on your clit in a way that makes your brain feel as if it is melting. Every few seconds he stops to wiggle his fingers inside you before resuming fucking you with them. You think you might be moaning his name – or it might be literal gibberish, you aren’t exactly sure. But Seonghwa doesn’t stop, just makes noises of approval when your hips buck and your grip on his hair tightens.

               Somehow, you’re going to cum again already. The entire situation feels a bit ridiculous: that someone you looked over a thousand times due to how nerdy he is can make you cum like this, that you never want him to stop because it feels too good, and that you’re about to finish all over his face.

               But you do, your climax just as intense as the one prior. Your back arches as you cum, enjoying how your juices coat his fingers as his tongue presses against your overstimulated clit. You’re suddenly grateful that your bedroom wall isn’t shared with a neighbor because you’re making way too much noise.

               Breathless, your eyes close as your orgasm winds down. Seonghwa removes his fingers and you can hear him sucking them clean loudly. Your legs hang off the bed. You feel fucked out and you haven’t even started yet.

               But it is the sound of Seonghwa unzipping his pants that finally makes you prop yourself up again. Seonghwa tugs his pants down his hips, exposing the top of his boxers. His hair is a mess from you gripping it and his face is smeared in your cum but he doesn’t seem to care. Good thing we took his glasses off, you think hazily.

               His pants hit the floor, leaving him in just his boxers. The bulge strains against the fabric and when he finally pulls them down and his cock springs free, you realize 1. The rumor was true and 2. Seonghwa was correct in trying to prepare you for him.

               “Fuck, okay,” You don’t realize you said this aloud until Seonghwa looks embarrassed.

               “We don’t – I mean, if it’s too much,” He stammers out.

               You can only stare at him incredulously at such a suggestion which only deepens the colour across his cheeks. You lean forward, curling your hand softly around his girth. He inhales sharply at the touch. Your hand looks positively small against the size of his cock. You aren’t even sure how much of it you could fit in your mouth but fuck if you aren’t going to try.

               Sitting at the edge of your bed with Seonghwa in front of you, your head tilts back to look up at him. He looks pretty, you realize while staring at him. You supposed he was always pretty but you never took much notice of it due to his clothes and big glasses. It seems laughable now to think he has spent all this time wandering around the office and you’ve been clueless to what he’s like…including in bed.

               Working up salvia in your mouth, you spit it out onto his cock, smearing it across the shaft. He exhales, eyes closing as you stroke him. You take the tip of his dick in your mouth, your tongue circling the tip slowly. Seonghwa groans softly as you take more of him. Your mouth opens wider to accommodate his size but it’s obvious from the start that you’re not going to be able to fit all of him. He seems to sense this because his eyes open, looking down at you.

               Even so, your tongue presses against the underside of his shaft as you suck his cock. Drool quickly pools at the bottom of your mouth, spilling out at the corner of your lips. You are still looking up at him, admiring the way his facial expressions subtly change with each movement. He looks sexy, you think, in that messy, turned on sort of way where his calm and pleasant exterior is quickly being destroyed.

               He makes a small whine in the back of his throat when you let his cock slip out of your mouth, covered in your drool and his precum. But when you slide back onto the bed and gesture for him to follow, he doesn’t waste a second.

               Seonghwa’s body presses against yours as the two of you kiss. Your hands are on the back of his neck, the kiss a mess of cum and spit. One of his hands is squeezing your tit, groping you as your legs wrap around his waist. You can feel his big dick pressing against your pussy. You whimper in his mouth, a quiet plea for him to fuck you.

               The kiss breaks. Seonghwa’s lips are slightly swollen from all the kissing. You realize at some point you must have bitten down on his bottom lip.

               “We’re gonna go slow,” He murmurs, “And if it’s too much, just tell me.”

               You nod although you have never been this determined in your life. Even the long hours at the office cannot compare to the determination of getting his big dick in you.

               He adjusts his position, his cock pressing at your entrance. Carefully, Seonghwa pushes forward. Loosening you up earlier combined with drooling over his dick helps because you can feel the head of him enter easily. He slowly continues, giving your pussy time to get used to how thick and large he is.

               It doesn’t take long to feel stuffed, your walls stretched out around his cock. Whenever your pussy tightens, Seonghwa stops. His breathing is shaky and you’re sure the only thing he wants to do is fuck you into the bed but he holds back.

               You’re actually feeling pretty accomplished. In fact, the entire thing was easier than you had been expecting –

               “Okay, that was halfway,” He says, and you can only stare at him.

               “What?” You reply, feeling as if you couldn’t take another inch, “I thought…”

               He grins, quick as a flash, before going, “You thought that was all of me?”

               “I mean, I feel…uh, pretty full,” You say bashfully, “I just assumed…”

               Seonghwa brings his body close to yours, his arms sliding underneath your back. Pressed against him, your legs tighten around his hips and another half an inch slides in. You gasp a little in surprise, your pussy tightening.

               His lips are near your ear and he whispers, “Relax for me,” When you do so, he moves his hips ever so slightly so you can take more of him, “There you go, baby.”

               You shiver, your hands gripping his shoulders as he sinks deeper into your cunt. Your pussy is absolutely stuffed and you can’t imagine fitting more of him inside you. But it also feels amazing, your entire body warm from the pressure of his cock.

               “Fuck, you’re so tight,” Seonghwa grunts, going still for a moment, his head lowering and his hair brushes against your jawline, “Does it feel okay?”

               ‘Okay’ doesn’t seem like a good word to even describe how it feels for him to be inside you. Your fingers dig slightly into his shoulders as you reply, “Don’t stop.”

               More of his cock slides deeper. You wiggle your hips experimentally, seeing if it helps. It does as more of his girth stretches out your cunt. Seonghwa sharply inhales, his hands pressed hard against your back to stop himself from bucking his hips.

               You randomly think about all the times you’ve seen Seonghwa in the corner of your eye at the office, barely paying him any mind. He was just walking around work with a gigantic dick and I had no idea. If he hadn’t fucked that random regional manager, I still wouldn’t know.

               “Seonghwa?” You ask in a shaky voice.

               Seonghwa stops for a moment, pulling away from your neck to look at your face. “Everything okay?”

               “Y-yes.” For some reason it’s harder to ask the question when he is looking at you. “You ever sleep with anyone else at work?”

               “No!” He refutes quickly, “Did someone say I did?”

               “No, no, I was just…wondering,” He is looking at you curiously so you keep going, “I was just thinking about how long we’ve worked together and that I didn’t – I mean, never heard anything about you having a big dick until that manager at the conference.”

               “Right…” Seonghwa says slowly, clearly not following your train of thought.

               You gingerly reach upwards to sweep his hair out of his eyes. He takes this chance to rock his hips slightly, more of his cock entering your tight hole to make you gasp.

               “Just was thinking like…if I had known earlier. That’s all. But if you had slept with someone at work, it might’ve gotten around. Before now.”

               Something shifts behind Seonghwa’s gaze and he laughs softly before curling back around you. He is slowly rocking his hips now and with one final push, you inhale sharply, feeling as if you’re going to burst.

               “There,” He mumbles against your skin, “You took it all.”

               It seems ridiculous to feel so pleased but you do. Seonghwa doesn’t stop his small movements. His teeth gently bite down on your earlobe and then he speaks again. “Are you saying you would’ve tried fucking me earlier?” His voice is low in your ear, tingling down your spine.

               “Yes, I think so,” You mumble.

               “Would’ve let me bend you over my desk?” He continues and the words combined with his dick are making your head go light, “After everyone else leaves, you would’ve pretended to need my help for something? And by the end of the night, you would have my cock stuffed in your tight hole, letting me fuck you until you were dazed and drooling?” As he talks, he continues to rock his hips, very steadily increasing the speed as your pussy gets used to being stuffed full of him.

               The mental image is a vivid one. Hearing Seonghwa talk so dirty is turning you on even more. You curse quietly as your lips find his. There is nothing timid about this kiss, a sloppy and lustful mess as he begins to actually fuck you now. Your pussy is squeezing him so hard that you aren’t sure how he’s not cumming already. He can barely fit in your cunt but you’re so wet it doesn’t seem to matter.

               When the kiss ends, your lips are still touching so each word of his next sentence feels like a soft kiss. “And then by the time I’m finished unloading in your cunt and you manage to stand up, I can see that you drooled all over the papers I keep on my desk because every single thought in your head is wiped clean from my big dick.”

               Fuck, who taught the nerd to dirty talk? You think distantly. His thrusts are about as fast as he can go now without hurting you. Your pussy is not used to something this large but it doesn’t seem to be negatively impacting Seonghwa’s enjoyment. Your legs tighten around his waist as you try to move your hips to meet his. Seonghwa shifts his hands downwards, gripping your ass through the skirt now so he can drive his cock deeper.

               The angle change means he’s hitting your sweet spot now. You’re groaning and gasping out his name as your juices spread all over his cock and out of your hole, being squished out of you from how big he is. Seonghwa’s eyes are closed, chasing his own orgasm as your third one of the night draws closer.

               Your fingernails dig into his back, feeling his muscles move underneath your hands. He isn’t even fully thrusting, mostly rocking his hips at the highest speed your cunt can take. But he’s so big and you feel so stretched out around his girth, combined with the angle, and it doesn’t take much longer for your climax to hit.

               Your pussy tightens around Seonghwa’s cock and he groans, biting down on your neck hard enough to leave a mark. You can feel him spilling out inside you, the way he’s making a mess in your cunt. It leaks out around his length because there is so much of it as the two of you cum together in a blur of noise and skin against skin.

               Afterwards, Seonghwa carefully untangles himself from you, pulling out slowly. Your entire body feels like jelly as he plops down on the bed next to you, trying to catch his breath.

               Well, you think, I guess I’ve figured out the entire rumor is true.

*

               Seonghwa’s heart rate has slowed. You can tell because your head is resting on his chest. You are feeling sleepy and content which is the only reason you allowed yourself to snuggle up to him. It doesn’t matter that his fingers feel nice trailing along your neck or that he is warm and comfortable. It also doesn’t matter that you like how his toned stomach feels underneath your own hand. You’re just too tired to move off him.

               Seonghwa has been talking about how he cosplayed as Anakin Skywalker at some convention two years ago with his friend, Mingi. His entire friend circle sounds like the nerdiest group of people on the planet. But there’s a happiness whenever he talks about his time around them, something that you cannot relate to, given that everyone got cut off for your career.

               But you enjoy the lilt of his voice and the steadying presence of his body. If he was my type, he would be boyfriend material, you think, refusing to entertain any other idea that your brain might be trying to show you.

               “Are you listening?” Seonghwa asks quietly, breaking you from your thoughts.

               “Yes,” You reply, wiggling down against him with a yawn.

               “You know who Anakin is, right?”

               “Yes,” You are mildly affronted, “He’s the guy who taught Vader.”

               “No, that’s Obi-Wan,” He sounds vaguely mortified, “It’s fine.” You aren’t sure if that is directed at you or himself.

               “I wanna see this cosplay.”

               “I have pics on my phone but please don’t make me get out of bed. I can show you another time.”

               “But if you get out of bed, I can check out your butt.”

               Seonghwa makes a strange squeaking noise of embarrassment. You tilt your face upwards to look at him. The two of you had cleaned up a bit after having sex but his cheeks seemed to have a permanent red hue to them. You find it endearing.

               “Can I ask you something?” You want to see how red he can get. “Where did you learn to fuck like that?”

               The colour on his cheeks deepens. He squirms a bit, unable to look at you directly. “W-what?”

               “Where did you learn to fuck like that?” You repeat, taking great pleasure in Seonghwa’s nose scrunching up for a second. “I mean, sure the big dick is just bestowed upon you. But the pussy eating and the fingering and then making sure it’s not uncomfortable to take someone of your size and –”

               “Okay, I get it,” He squeaks out, his face pleasantly red, “I get it.”

               You drop the conversation, enjoying how flustered he looks. You lower your head back down onto his chest, yawning a little, eyes closing.

               “I’m ah…glad that you like how I…do things,” He says and you can hear his accelerated heart rate in your ear.

               “Do you date a lot?” This is just you being curious.

               “Sometimes. My last relationship was maybe a couple of years ago. It just didn’t work out. She wanted to move and I wanted to stay here. Ever since then, I usually just go on some casual dates here and there. Sometimes, it leads to sex. There was a woman about eight months ago that almost turned into something but in hindsight we just liked sleeping together a lot. It became all we did when we hung out so it didn’t feel like we really knew one another. But you’re the first person I’ve done this…friends with benefits thing.”

               “Right,” You mumble, disliking the weird twist in your stomach when he mentioned ‘friends with benefits’.

               “What about you?”

               “No. No time. My last relationship was four years ago. Sometimes I do a one night stand or a hook up here and there. But I’ve just been so busy with work that I think everything else sorta got sidelined.”

               Seonghwa chews on this for a moment before asking, “Do you regret that?”

               “I never did until recently. It feels like I’m regretting everything lately.”

               “Including work,” He states this as a fact.

               “Yeah, I guess so,” You brush it off, “But I don’t want to talk about work right now.”

               “You’re not regretting…uhm…”

               At this you laugh. “No, I am not regretting fucking you.”

               Seonghwa relaxes underneath you. Sleep is tugging on you for attention now. You hold onto Seonghwa tightly, too tightly and if you weren’t so tired, you would be telling yourself to pull away, turn on your side and fall asleep. But he still makes you feel safe and you’re too tired to push that away.

               You fall asleep against Seonghwa like that, with his heartbeat in your ear and his body against yours.

PART THREE HERE.

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[dontexpectmuch]

rúben dias x reader

summary: now that rúben and you are somewhat familiar with each other, fate always finds different ways to make your paths cross. say goodbye to the weird-neighbors-era and welcome the new-friends-era.

[part one]. part two!

**

rúben rocks back and forth on his heels of his feet, his eyes once again looking down at his watch as he stands in front of the closed elevator doors. he would like to call himself a calm and collected guy, someone who rarely gets nervous. the last time he felt anxious was when he was about to walk onto the field of the champions league final, and even then he was able to keep cool rather quickly.

that’s why he cannot understand why he felt so nervous about you not standing in front of him like you usually do. when he opened his door this morning, he expected to see yours open as well, like it always does. rúben is a man of routine, and even though you are no direct part of his routine, he still felt a bit thrown off. it’s 5:25, you should be here by now, looking at the ground tiredly as you two wait for the elevator in silence.

should he knock on your door?

rúben shakes his head at that thought and walks into the elevator that now has arrived, pressing the button to the lobby as always.

he doesn’t know what your routine is like, he has no right to think anything about it. however, it would be a lie to say that he wasn’t concerned. what if something happened to you? he is your neighbor, being neighbors means to look after one another, that’s what is mother taught him after all.

as the elevator arrives at the lobby, rúben steps out, his steps confident and calculated like they always are. just as he is about to reach the door towards the garage, he hears hasty steps from behind him, followed by someone cussing under [/over] their breath. curiously, he looks over his shoulder and sees you, hair a mess and arms full of books, as you sprint down the stairs. you are in such rush that you won’t even look at rúben, most definitely because you didn’t see him there to begin with. his eye follow you as you beeline towards the exit of the building, your sweet perfume leaving a trail behind you that hits his nose.

shaking his head in amusement, rúben uses his keys to open his car, the sight of your tired self making him chuckle to himself.

he should definitely ask you if everything is alright later.

the rest of his day is rather unspectacular, the same as always, he’d say. today was media day, therefore he isn’t as tired as he normally is. joking around with his teammates and answering some questions about the team and his performance is always a pleasure.

now, comfortably sitting on his couch in his living room, with the lights dimmed down and the tv quietly flashing different images of the portuguese program that he enjoys to watch from time to time, his thoughts wander back to you.

are you home already?

rúben knows that you get up early in the morning and return home late. paying so much rent for the flat, one might think that there are thicker walls separating the rooms. he hears your alarm every morning, a signal for him that he had to get up half an hour later. and the closing of your door every evening showed him that you had finally returned. even though the two of you had never had a conversation until yesterday, he still noticed all these things. he found out that you lived alone from the landlord, and ever since then he paid your return home a bit more attention. that’s that protective nature in him, he’d reason, not because he is creepy or anything.

just as he was about to turn up the volume of his tv, his ears picked up the sound of keys, a door being opened and closed soon after. this time louder than usual.

must have been a tiring day today.

rúben puts down the tv remote and sits up, pondering whether he should pay you a visit or not. maybe you wanted to stay alone, the day must have been tough for you and he didn’t want to bother you. but on the other hand, he, too, liked it when he had someone to vent to after a long day, maybe you needed just that.

as his eyes wander around his flat, lost in thought, he spots your plate on top of his counter. he could give it back to you and ask you about your wellbeing.

yeah, he’ll do that.

nodding to himself, a new sense of determination fills his veins as he gets up. he grabs the plate and a new pack of biscuits as a ‘thank you’, before he leaves his flat. five big steps later he already stands in front of your door. taking one last deep breath, rúben gently knocks on your door, taking a tiny step back as he waits.

looking at the ground, he hears the door open and is met with a tired looking you, wearing your evening clothes and glasses on top of your nose bridge. you look at him with wide eyes, unsure of what to say, so rúben, the confident man he is, speaks up first.

“hello, neighbor.” he smiles as he watches your lips curl into one as well, leaning against the doorframe.

“hey, neighbor.” your voice is like how you felt, tired and strained. it didn’t take a detective to see that you are not feeling all too well.

rúben lifts your plate with the biscuits towards you, which you gladly accept, “i wanted to give you the plate back and, you know, check up on you.”

rúben could see your eyes soften at his words and the tension in your shoulders slowly disappear, “thank you, rúben. really.”

then, there is a moment of silence shared between you two. it didn’t bother rúben if he is being honest, however he also doesn’t want you to be uncomfortable. so, he searches for something, anything, to say, just to fill the void.

“i didn’t see you this morning, everything okay with you?”

your mouth opens, forming an ‘o’ as you straighten up a bit, “well,” you scratch your arm, “i missed my alarm this morning. guess i was too tired to set one yesterday.” you shrug, smiling softly at him.

“happens to the best of us.” he tries to make you feel better, knowing how annoying it can be to miss your alarm for work.

you playfully roll your eyes, “yeah, sure. but you don’t seem like someone whom this might happen to.”

rúben mockingly gasps at your words, “what is that supposed to mean, eh?”

“you know what i mean.” you begin, pushing yourself off the frame to put your hands on your hips, “you always look so well kept together and ready to start your day no matter how early it is. i bet you’ve never missed any alarm ever.”

your statement was true, rúben never missed his alarms. but he wouldn’t admit it, yet. can’t let you win this easily.

“how would you know.” he smirks down at you, his built body leaning towards you.

you shrug, “i just know.”

he laughs at you, pleasantly surprised how easy it is to hold up a conversation with you, no matter what the topic is.

rúben nods at you one last time before bidding his goodbye, he doesn’t want to keep you up any longer, “i’ll see you tomorrow, this time you’ll be there, no?”

“i only missed my alarm once, rúben.” you groan at his teasing, “but yeah, i’ll be there.”

he smiles at you, which you return, before officially leaving you at your door to step back into his flat.

———

the following days consisted of the same routine rúben was used to. waking up, getting ready and leaving his home at the same time as you do. greeting each other with a tired smile as you wait for the elevator to arrive and then continuing with your day.

however, each day you two exchanged more words with one another. suddenly, the tired smile turned into a quiet ‘good morning’, your voice raspier than usual, rúbens voice deeper and his accent stronger.

he finds it amusing how he only ever sees you like this, tired and ready to go to bed as soon as you leave it. but when asking you about your profession, your eyes sparkle in a way that he was all too familiar with, having that same spark when he talks about football. he wonders what it would be like to see you on a day where you did not have to get up so early, where your face wore a relaxed smile instead of a tired one.

but he doesn’t say anything, wanting to respect your personal boundaries and such. the silence you share during your ride down in the elevator turned into a quick update about the plans for the day each of you had, rúben couldn’t tell why, but that small talk became one of his favorite parts of his morning routine. yes, indeed. he now considers seeing you every morning as a part of his routine, even though he would never openly admit it.

that’s why he feels so monotonous now as he takes the elevator to the hotel lobby him and his team are staying at for a few days. having away games meant traveling to that location a few days ahead to be prepared, meaning he is stripped away from his usual routine. and rúben greatly detests being unable to perform his usual activities.

yes, he used to say that you are no direct part of his routine, but every morning he realizes how much he depends on your alarm that goes off before his. how much it lifts him up to see you so tired, making him feel better about himself [in a good, friendly way, of course.]

arriving at the lobby, he lets out a small sigh before moving on with his day, hoping to make the best out of it.

the days pass by faster than he thought, and as his body finally hits the comfort of his own bed, he lets out a relieved breath, grateful for this moment. he stays quiet for a bit, secretly hoping to hear something from your side. to his disappointment, there was nothing he could hear, meaning that you were still at work.

and so he gets up again to unpack his clothes after the successful game, not wanting to put this task off.

———

“raios me fodam…” rúben cusses under his breath as his eyes dance around each object that is in his fridge. he knew that he should have gone grocery shopping as soon as he got back from the game, because now he has no onions or other important ingredients to make himself his comfort food.

he looks at the digital clock on his wall, 19:33. would you be home by now? he didn’t hear anything from your side, you most probably-

a knock at his front door pulls him out of his thoughts, and he immediately closes the fridge. he opens the door and is met with the sight of you, this time in a rather fashionable outfit instead of your usual work attire. your hair also looked different, but a good different, he notes.

as you see rúben finally open the door, you let out a relieved sigh, “finally.”

he sees your shoulders relax, an amused smile creeping onto his lips, “finally?”

you nod, crossing your arms in front of your chest, “yes, finally. where have you been?”

rúbens eyes widen at your question, and when you yourself finally register what you just asked the man in front of you, you immediately start and try to explain yourself, “i, uh, i meant it as in, i didn’t see you in the mornings for a few days and when i knocked at you door, nothing happened and i was con-“

“i was away for work, i’m sorry.” he interrupts you, a warm feeling taking place inside.

so you were concerned about him? and knocked at his door every time you came back from work?

you scoff to yourself and shake your head, “i should have known, sorry.”

rúben can’t help but smile, “thank you, really. it is nice to know that you noticed.”

you copy his smile and shrug, “yeah, well. we are the closest to one another here. i have to look after my neighbor, okay?”

rúben is about to reply when he suddenly remembers his near to empty fridge and his empty stomach, and now that you are home,

“i’m sorry, but do you perhaps have onions and garlic at home? i forgot to go shopping.”

you immediately nod and take out your keys, signaling him to follow you, “yeah, come with me and choose anything you need.”

without wasting any second, he puts on some slippers and immediately follows you to your door where he takes off his slippers as soon as he enters the flat. it is his first time here, he notices, and he could already see some differences between both sides.

you entryway is rather small, only a few shoes lined next to each other, a mirror hanging on the wall and some pictures of you and other people.

maybe friends and family, he’ll ask about that one other time.

compared to his white walls, yours were in a calming beige color and your flat in general was decorated in warm tones, whereas he has a more cool tone going on. your living room is separated from the kitchen, but also a bit smaller than his in general.

he follows you to your kitchen, where you open your fridge and show him a drawer with other ingredients in it, “please take anything you need, i know how annoying it can be to come back home from a trip without anything to eat.”

your voice is soft and kind, and rúben can’t help but listen to you. so, he takes what he needs in order to make some nice arroz de pato, something that reminds him of home.

you leave the kitchen to take off your jacket, returning a minute later, “do you want anything to drink?”

“no, thank you, really. i don’t want to hold you up any longer.” he shakes his head and closes the fridge after he has found everything he needed.

you roll your eyes, “you don’t, no worries.”

rúben walks towards the front door and puts on his slippers, turning to face you as he steps out of your flat, “thank you so much, i am usually better organized than this.”

you tilt your head to the side and smile, “it’s fine, rúben, really. that’s what having neighbors is for. have a nice time cooking.”

he thanks you one last time and returns to his own home, happy to be able to finish what he has started. he looks down at his hands as he closes the door behind him, unsure of what to feel. at times, even though it was hard for him to admit, rúben did feel lonely. sure, he had his friends that lived close to him, the people he met here in england and the nice company of a few women here and there, but never someone that was close enough to him, that actually cared about his well being like that.

he isn’t someone to get sentimental because of such things, but he appreciates it, appreciates you, for being there for him. even now, when he suddenly asked you for some ingredients. you habe just returned from work, or at least he thinks, and immediately helped him when he asked.

rúben hums to himself as he walks back to the kitchen area, wanting to finish what he started. maybe one day, as a thank you, he could invite you over to have a nice meal together. he bets you wouldn’t mind.

———

rúben is greeted by your tired smile as he opens his door the next morning. he returns it and can’t help bit let his eyes wander down your outfit.

it looks nice, he thinks to himself as he comes to a halt a step behind you, patiently waiting for the elevator. he is used to seeing you wear some baggy jeans and a simple top, a trench coat on top and your usual black shoulder bag. not that you looked bad before, but now, with some other accessories and color matching choices, your outfits look even better.

“you seem motivated.” he starts the conversation as the two of you step into the elevator, his hand moving towards the button.

you let out a breath chuckle, “yeah, i try to manipulate myself like this. kinda like you do.”

rúben raises his eyebrows, “like i do?”

“yeah, you always look so motivated, mist be because of how you dress and all that.” a tiny yawn escapes your mouth, which you try to cover with your hands, “well, it does help me, a bit.”

the elevator door open once more and the you of you step out. this is where your ways usually split up, him walking towards his car and you to the next underground station. rúben knew that you work for the university, though he just realized that he never asked you where you really had to go to. he perhaps could offer you a ride there, if it was on the way.

“you look motivated.” he confirms, and as he wants to open his mouth to ask you where you had to be, he gets interrupted by your quick ‘goodbye’, followed by something about how you needed to catch the tube or whatever.

he watches you as your figure disappears behind the doors and makes a mental note to himself to ask you about it later.

and that is exactly what he did later that evening. with a plate of freshly baked pastries in his hand [not his doing, he could never], and two bottles of his favorite drink, he knocks on your door half an hour after he had heard you open and close it.

at first he thought that he might come off as clingy, which he is absolutely not. he doesn’t know why, but suddenly he searched for different reasons to talk to you. it must really be because of how alone he is in this building. every other resident in here is either old or a married couple with kids, which, don’t get him wrong, he loves children, is not his preference when looking for friendship. so, now that he found you, his neighbor that is in his age range, he feels like he finally has a friend he can be with and feel normal with.

you know what he does for work, you are also a football fan, yet you never told him which club you support [you didn’t want to break his heart, your words, not his.] but, you simply didn’t care that he was a professional footballer. and you never asked him about it either, something that just feels so refreshing to rúben at the moment.

he smiles at you and holds up the things in his hands when you open the door, a surprised look painting your features.

“want to have a little chat, neighbor?” rúben asks you, stepping forward when you nod and open the door for him to enter your home.

“what a nice surprise, rúben.” you lead him to the living room, quickly folding the blanket you were cuddling with before he came and putting it away, “if i knew i would’ve prepared something for us.”

rúben waves his hand after he places the plate and the drinks on your table, “no need, i already brought us something.”

you smile and gesture to him to take a seat, telling him that you’re getting some glasses for you two and some other snacks you can find around the house.

“what’s the occasion? not that there needs to be one, but, eh, y’know.” you sit down on your couch and lean back against it, eyes looking at rúben who also makes himself comfortable.

rúben thinks back to this morning and what he wanted to ask you. now throughly thinking about it, he could’ve just asked you about it the next morning, instead of inviting himself into your home and crash your [appearently nonexistent] evening plans.

“i just wanted to talk to you a bit,” he chooses to say instead, “we haven’t seen each other in a few days.”

you tilt your head at bis words and flash him with your warm smile, “thank you, rúben, that is so nice of you. sorry for not reaching out earlier.”

you lean forward to take a croissant from the table, taking a bite from it and groaning at the delightful taste, “these are amazing.”

he laughs at you and takes a sip from his drink, eyes never leaving yours, “how was work?”

“eh,” you shrug, “like always, i’d say. the new semester starts soon, therefore we need to prepare all that research stuff and such.” you explain, sitting up slightly, “one quick question.”

“shoot.”

“aren’t you on a diet?” you finish your croissant and try the new drink, surprised that you actually like it.

rúben sighs, chuckling slightly, “how’d you know?”

“you’ve been eyeing me eating up that croissant like i’m doing something illegal.”

“well, it is unhealthy.” like the true athlete rúben is, even on a casual evening like this, he decides to stick to his diet plan, not really fond of sidetracking.

“so you make me eat it? wow, one might think we were becoming good friends.” you sarcastically roll your eyes, causing rúben to laugh.

“i was trying to be nice!”

“trying to poison me, you mean?”

after that the evening continued with loads of teasing and various topics discussed between you two. but this is what always happens when the two if you find the time to have a longer conversation, both of your work and lifestyle being so different from each other’s that it creates loads of space for a story time no matter what the topic is. rúben loves talking anyway, he always has something to share, and you seem like someone who doesn’t mind listening to his longer stories.

later that evening, when rúben decides that he has bothered you enough to, he wishes you a good night by your front door, thanking you for the nice evening.

“by the way,” just as he was about to step into his home, he turns around, making you halt your movement of closing the door behind you, “can i have your number? you know, for emergencies.”

smooth.

“of course, i didn’t think about that.” you immediately step forward and hand him over your phone.

rúben quickly types in his information, wishes you a good night, for real this time, and disappears into his home.

———

and after that, your small talk inside the elevator isn’t the only part that rúben now counts as a part of his routine.

the random text messages you guys would send each other, at first only once a week, turned into daily check ups and updates with each other. now, whenever rúben goes to an away game, he lets you know but sending you a quick message, followed by a picture of the airport.

and you, too, started to send him pictures following your text messages. whether it was from the laboratory or of a meal you cooked, somehow, rúben and you always found something to talk about.

and it doesn’t end there.

he doesn’t know how or why, but rúben also finds himself spending many more evenings in your home, drinking tea together or sharing a nice meal. at times, you don’t even bother asking why he was there anymore, you just open the door and move back to what you were doing before he knocked, and rúben just opens his laptop on your couch to finish his own stuff.

i one might think that rúben and you were slowly falling into the pattern of a couple, he would object such statement whatsoever. for him, this is exactly how he is with his other friends. him and his friends didn’t need to talk all the time to have a good time, something about just being in each other’s presence was enough. and that same feeling also took over your and his friendship, or at least he thinks like that.

you two never really established what you were, whether it is being good friends or simply neighbors that could stand each other really well. rúben at times thinks that you don’t have the heart to tell him that he might annoy you with his constant visits. and you must be a mind reader, because just as he is closing your fridge after he took out some organic drink, you turn around on your chair that is placed in front of your desk, you chin resting on your hand and eyes looking at him.

“i really appreciate you, you know?” your words sound quite genuine, your voice soft and warm.

your sentence is rather short and doesn’t hide anything, yet it hirs rúben with auch a force that he has to tighten his grip around his drink, or else it might fall out of his hand.

his brown eyes widen and his adams apple bobbed as he tried to swallow his spit, something, anything at this point, to help him form words. he feels heat rise in his neck and to his ears, your words affecting him more than he ever thought.

“thank you,” he begins, yet there are no words in bis mind at this moment that could help him put his own feelings into words.

you speak up again, your eyes resembling stars even though the lights around you are dimmed, “no, for real. it can be a bit lonely at times because of work. i get up early and return late, not many friends of mine would still come and visit me in the evenings.”

rúben relates to your explanation quite well, he too at times felt lonely at home. even though he was surrounded by his teammates all day long, at times he really wished to have someone to talk to after work. someone to share his thoughts of the day with. rúben realizes that fie the first time ever, someone has left him speechless, and he genuinely does not know how to react.

“no, thank you, i mean it.” he tries to get ahold of himself, “i thought that i annoy you, but,”

“no, never.” you shake your head.

even though there is music softly playing in the background, since you hated to be left alone with your thoughts [whatever that meant] the only thing rúben could hear right now is his heart in his ears, forcefully beating against his rips.

he starts moving towards you and decides yo sit in your armchair that is places next to your desk and your own chair, leaning forward to put his elbows on his knees. his eyes stay focused on yours, holding a conversation of their own that he wouldn’t dare to put into words.

“i understand, and i feel the same.” he says, his usually sharp features somewhat looking soft under the dimmed lights.

and in that moment, rúben realized that he finally found a friend, dare he say a friend for life.

———————————————

i refuse to proofread so u have to deal with it 🫶

100 comments and ill ask rúben out publicly 🤗

[skbeaumont]

Texas Heat | Joel x Reader

Chapter 4 – The Barbeque

Series masterlist

Chapter Summary: Saturday brings a barbeque, a whole lot of flirting, and a perfect storm of tension that might just push you and Joel to the brink of something new. Rating: Mature Tags/warnings: flirting, sexual tension, smut, age difference (reader is 25, Joel is 37), AU!No outbreak. Word Count: 3.1k

Taglist: @mysterialee@amyispxnk @ghostofzion-blog

The Texas heat is almost unbearable even when you wake at just past seven the next morning. Laying in bed,  you can still feel the ghost of Joel’s hand against your jaw, the gentle way his fingers tangled in your hair, the delicate fan of his breath mingling with yours. The memory keeps you in bed a little longer, has you pressing your own hand beneath the waistband of your shorts. You come hard to the thought of Joel’s expression as he looked at you from the doorway of the garage, the intoxicating pull of his eyes. You wonder how his fingers – that trailed so dexterously across your cheek not twelve hours ago – would feel pressed against your core, if they would dip inside you, laying pleasure upon pleasure as he watched you with that same dark, intense expression.

Eventually, you force yourself to get up and dress. You pull on the bikini your brought with you – white, with sculped edges and long ties that you double knot – and then don your favourite sundress, one that you’ve been saving for a special occasion. Examining yourself in the mirror, you can’t help but feel a little nervous, your stomach squirming uncomfortably. Last night, Joel had been seconds from kissing you, his hands tangled in your hair, pulling you up to meet his hungry lips. And God, the thought of it makes your toes curl, your thighs press together.

But there’s anxiety there, too.

It’s been months since you broke up with your boyfriend back home, the same one you’d been with throughout your entire time at university and the gap years between. The thought of starting something new with someone else feels terrifying in so many ways. What if Joel decides he doesn’t like you, or want you? What if he’s hesitant, or unsure, and it ruins all of the hard work you’ve done over the past few months, convincing yourself you’re deserving of love and affection?

You close your eyes against the image in the mirror, refusing to let yourself fall into old habits of self-criticism, and take a long, deep breath, letting it out slowly. You focus on thinking about Joel’s easy smile and his calloused, warm hands. You think about his broad, strong shoulders and the dark lock of hair that always falls across his forehead. The nerves die away a little, replaced by anticipation and excitement. You open your eyes again, look yourself in the eye and repeat the words Diana said to you on Wednesday. “Flirt your ass off.”

Five hours later finds you and Danny lugging a slightly rusty beer cooler over to the Cuthberts’. Theirs is the biggest lot on the road, a sprawling house surrounded by a flawlessly mown front lawn and backed by huge garden, complete with a patio – almost certainly larger than your entire flat back in London – and a tiled, picture-perfect swimming pool. You let out a low whistle as you and Danny round the house into the garden, taking in the two-tiered, five-grill barbeque in the centre of the patio and the array of chairs, sofas and tables laid out on the decking. There are no other guests yet, but you find yourself searching Joel out anyway, peering around the potted palm trees and oversized plant pots.

Mr Cuthbert, a large, jovial man in a bright Hawaiian print shirt, slaps Danny convivially on the back and introduces himself – “call me John”, he says, offering you a wink which you steadfastly ignore.

You and Danny put the beer cooler in a shady part of the patio and help John fill it with the beers from his drinks fridge – a separate appliance than his usual fridge, he proudly informs you as he hands you bottles of wine, premixed cocktails, sodas, and beers. By the time you’re done, a few guests have trickled into the garden, all carrying more drinks and food.

Slowly, the garden and deck fills up with neighbours and friends. You stand near the kitchen in the shade, leaning against the cool stone of the house, your eyes fixed on the gate, watching with anticipation as each newcomer arrives. You hear Sarah before you see her or Joel, catch the end of a shout of her infectious laughter as the two of them come into the garden.

Joel’s in tinted sunglasses that reflect the garden back at you, his hair brushed back from his forehead, dark and thick and streaked with a few errant greys. He’s wearing a loose-fitting linen Henley and a pair of shorts that show off the tanned vee of collarbone and chest, the bottom of his thick thighs. He says something to Sarah, points her in the direction of a group of similarly-aged kids and she darts off, leaving Joel to survey the garden. When his eyes find yours – or rather when his sunglasses reflect your own figure – he breaks into an easy sideways grin, holds up one hand in greeting.

You told yourself you would play it cool, ease into the flirting, but before his hand has even returned to his side you’re darting towards him, sidestepping a toddler and two middle aged women. He meets you halfway across the garden, taking large steps that cover the distance to the deck easily.

“Hey,” You say when you meet.

“Hi.” He replies, and he draws his sunglasses up off his face to rest on the top of his head, his smile crinkling the corners of his eyes as he does.

“I’m disappointed,” You say, gesturing at his shorts and shirt, “I was promised a toolbelt and workmen’s boots.”

He laughs at this, a deep, throaty chuckle that comes right from his chest.

“Toolbelt’s just at home, if you want me to go and get it.”

“Maybe later.” You reply, smirking.

“You want a drink?”

“Sure.”

You follow him to the beer cooler and watch as Joel plucks two bottles out of the icy water, opens the tops with one hand. The simple gesture shouldn’t be so goddamn attractive, shouldn’t make blood rush to your cheeks and heat pool in your belly, but it is and it does. He hands you one of the beers, and your fingers brush his warm knuckles as you take it. The corner of Joel’s mouth twitches in response, his eyes flashing in the bright sunlight. You can feel the blush hot on your face just from these tiny, pathetic touches, slick already pooling in your core, dampening the bikini bottoms under your sundress. You clear your throat and Joel nods to a quiet corner of the deck where a loveseat lies unoccupied. You follow him to it, sink into its plush cushioning. Joel sits beside you. He's so broad that he takes up more than half of the sofa, his shoulder bumping against yours as he settles. You both look out over the garden, at where Sarah and the other kids are having an intense discussion in a tight cluster.

“She really enjoyed that math lesson you gave her,” he says, musingly, “won’t stop goin’ on about it. Never seen her so keen to be over at Connie’s before, either.”

“She’s really bright.” You reply, turning to him.

“No idea where she gets that from.”

You roll your eyes at him, cross one leg over the other, watch as Joel follows the movement with his eyes, drags his gaze up your bare thigh to the hem of your dress.

“’s a nice dress,” he says, the drawl of his accent stealing away the first syllable.

“Thanks. I’d been saving it for a special occasion.”

“This a special occasion?” He asks, gaze flicking from your bare thigh to your face, the trace of a mischievous smile playing on his plush lips.

“You tell me.” You reply, letting your own mouth curve into a grin.

There’s a splash from the pool and you both turn to see Sarah emerging from the water, face cracked into a wide smile as her friends jump in after her. Joel shakes his head, laughing.

“Always gotta be the first one in.” He says, and you laugh too, watch as Sarah splashes another girl.

“You going in?” You ask, as a few adults start sitting at the side of the pool to dip their toes in and slowly climbing in after the kids. “Not a chance.” He says, “I ain’t a swimmer.”

“That’s a shame.” You say, standing up and pulling the sundress up over your head, “Would’ve been nice to have some company.”

Joel’s eyes travel over your body, taking in the curves of your breasts and waist, the swathes of bare skin. His gaze makes you feel self-conscious, but his expression is awe-struck, reverent, like he’s looking at something sacred. His pupils are blown wide despite the bright sunlight, cheeks reddening. The hand clutching his beer is white-knuckled, the other twitching where it rests in his lap like he wants to reach out and trace the path of your curves. He swallows, Adam’s apple rippling in this throat.

“I’ll be jus’ fine watchin’, darlin’.” He says, his voice hoarse.

You waste no time sliding off your sandals and darting towards the water. It’s immature, maybe, but you’ve never been able to resist diving headfirst into water. The pool is cool, fresh: perfect in the intense Texan heat. Sarah giggles as you resurface, splashes you with a back hand. You spend the next half-hour messing about with her, having handstand competitions and lying on your backs to float idly. Every time you let your gaze wander to where Joel is sitting, he’s watching you, his expression intense. He looks away the first few times you catch him, but after the fourth time he lets himself watch you, raises his beer to his lips and takes a sip. When he draws the bottle away, there’s a droplet on his lip. His tongue darts out to catch it, and you have to press your legs together in the water to dull the ache. This man, you think, watching him wipe his mouth with the back of one large hand, veins standing out on his toned forearms, is going to be the death of me.

After a few more minutes you’re starting to feel the cold, fingertips wrinkling in the water. You float over to the side of the pool and push yourself up onto the side. Droplets run down your stomach and legs as you stand up, goosebumps rising in their wake. You turn to look for where you left your bag and towel, but suddenly warmth is engulfing you, a soft, fluffy towel wrapped around your shoulders.

“Here,” Joel’s voice from behind you, his hands on your shoulders, draping the towel over you.

“Thanks.”

He steps back, lets his hands fall back to his sides.

“Water nice?” He asks, as you start to pat yourself dry.

“Refreshing,” You reply, looking up into his face.

“Looked it.” He’s standing close to you in the busyness of the garden, people milling around you both.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. Looked… good.” He swallows again, tendons in his neck shifting. You want to put your lips to the flesh there, bite down onto rough skin, lick the stubble covering his jaw.

“I should go and get changed,” you say, nodding towards the house.

You step around him, start towards the kitchen door, turning to look behind you as you pick up your bag from where you left it by the beer cooler. Your eyes meet and the heat in his is almost palpable, rolling off of him in waves. You feel his gaze follow you as you step through the door into the cool air of the kitchen. Inside, you find the Cuthbert’s downstairs bathroom, shut the door behind you and lean back against it, your head spinning, heart pounding.

By the time you’ve changed back into your sundress, food is being served. You take a paper plate and let John load it up with chicken and a burger from the grill, then go and find a seat at a table with Danny, Connie, Joel and Sarah. You slide onto the bench next to Joel, letting your thigh brush against his and offering him a chaste smile when he raises a single eyebrow in response.

“How’s work, Joel?” Danny asks, swiping a blob of ketchup from his cheek.

“Oh, fine, thanks. Busy, at the moment.”

“Tommy alright? Not been getting into any more trouble?”

Joel laughs at this, shaking his head as he replies, “No more’n usual.”

Danny offers an understanding nod in response, and Sarah giggles, catching your eye across the table.

The rest of the afternoon passes in a happy, hazy buzz of food and conversation. Joel remains beside you, your legs pressed together on the bench seat. At some point, as Danny regales you all with a story of a traffic incident he witnessed last week, Joel stretches out, raising his hands over his head. When he brings them down, he lays his arm along the back of the bench behind you. You lean ever so slightly into him, imagining how it would feel if he slipped his arm down from the wood onto your shoulders. When you lean your head back to look up at the clear sky, you let it rest on his forearm, feel the heat of him seep through the hair at the nape of your neck through to your skin. The garden has started to empty now; the sky is slowly turning a pale, picture-perfect pink as the evening draws in. Danny lets out a long, steady sigh and pushes himself to his feet.

“We should get back to Nana,” he says to Connie, who nods and stands, “but you stay on as long as you like.” He adds to you, helping Connie pull on her cardigan.

You and Joel wave them off. Sarah leaves too, tired from the day, a little bored now the other teenagers and kids have left.

“Shouldn’t stay too much longer,” you say, looking around at where Mrs Cuthbert is collecting glasses up.

“No,” Joel agrees, but neither of you move.

His arm is still across the back of the bench, your neck now leaning against it. He flexes his hand, lets the tips of his thick fingers trace the skin on your bare shoulder, pulling up the strap of you sundress where it’s fallen down. The feeling of his hands on you is exhilarating and you shift in your seat, subconsciously begging him to keep touching you, to let his hand trace your shoulder to your collarbone, to dip down beneath the neckline of your dress to your bare breasts. He doesn’t, of course – there are still plenty of people in the garden – but he does leave his fingers where they are, just resting against your shoulder. Minutes pass. The tension between you seems to be building irreversibly, all the flirtatious banter and playful teasing from earlier gone, replaced by heavy silence and a kind of buzz in the air that makes the hairs stand up on the back of your neck.

Joel clears his throat after maybe ten minutes, runs his free hand up the leg of his shorts, wiping his palm which, if he’s feeling anything like you, is sweaty with a heady combination of anticipation and nervous energy.

“Should get back.” He says, his voice low, face turned to you so that the words are said against the shell of your ear.

“Yeah,”

This time, you both move as one. You stand, slipping the strap of your bag over your shoulder as you do, while Joel picks up his sunglasses from the table and slides them into the vee of his Henley. You both call hasty goodbyes to the Cuthberts, thanking them for the food and hospitality. And then you’re leaving the garden, stepping out of sight of the deck into the small alley between the house and the fence. You’ve hardly taken more than two or three steps before you both break.

Joel rounds on you as you grab him by his shirt. Crowding you against the wall of the house, he fists a hand in your hair and draws your mouth up to his. The kiss is frenzied, passionate right from the moment your lips meet. He groans from somewhere deep in his chest, licks his tongue into your mouth, his teeth grazing your lips, bruising them. His hand caresses your jaw, fingers spanning your face, cradling it as he kisses you. It’s intoxicating. You reach up to thread your fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck, pushing yourself up onto tiptoes to card them through his curls. You moan into his mouth, let your tongue lick into his mouth, his stubble tickling your face, harsh and scratchy in contrast to his soft lips.

He pulls back, rests his forehead against yours, both of you panting.

“Do you have any idea what you do to me?” He whispers, leaning down to place open mouthed kisses on the underside of your jaw. “I can’t stop thinking about you, I can’t sleep, I can’t concentrate.”

“Joel…” It’s all you can say as he nips at your collarbone, runs his fingertips down your sides, hands searching out the flesh of your ass, pulling you to him, bending so that he can slide one thick thigh between yours. The movement brings his hips flush with yours, the line of his hardening cock pressing into your stomach, sending a jolt of pleasure through you. You grind against him, pressing your cunt into his thigh, seeking out friction. He hisses into your open mouth as he drags his hips against yours, cock trapped between your rutting bodies – a hot, thick line against you.

“Tell me to stop and I will,” he breathes, nipping and pecking at your lips, dragging a hot hand up your side to squeeze your breast.

“Please don’t stop,” You reply, gasping as his fingers find the hard nub of your nipple and pinch, pleasure coursing through you like adrenaline.

The whole thing is ridiculous: you’re pressed against the wall of your neighbour’s house, Joel’s hands mapping out the curves of your body as he kisses you. Anyone could see, anyone could come round the path from the garden but neither of you seem to be capable of caring. The dam has burst and it’s all you can do to cling to each other, rocking your hips together, seeking out friction. It’s only when you slide a hand between your bodies, seeking out the hard line of Joel’s cock that he pulls back. His lips are swollen, eyes entirely black in the low light.

“We can’t do this,” he says, “not here.”

And then you’re both laughing, the absurdity of the entire situation overcoming you. When you calm down, still breathing heavily, Joel draws your face between his hands and presses another kiss to your lips.

“I want to,” he says, stroking his thumb along your cheekbone, “Jesus, I don’t think I’ve ever wanted anything more.”

“Me neither,”

“Sarah’s staying at Tommy’s on Friday.” He says, “Come over. I’ll cook dinner, or take you out. I’ll treat you right, like you deserve.”

“Friday?” You say, “That’s a long way away.”

You push yourself onto tiptoes to kiss him again, draw his bottom lip into your mouth and he groans against you, his hips canting forward so that his cock drags against your hip.

He pulls away, rasps, “Shit, darlin’. You’re making me crazy.”

“I’ll be over on Tuesday, for Sarah.” You say, “I’ll stay until you get back from work.”

“You make it really hard to say no.”

“Then don’t say no.”

“Okay. But I’m taking you for dinner on Friday too. Don’t say I don’t know how to treat a woman.”

“Joel Miller, I don’t think anyone could ever say that.” And you press another kiss against his lips, smiling into it.

When you get home a few minutes later, your lips bruised and your head buzzing, there’s already a text in your inbox.

I’ll leave the toolbelt on for Tuesday. J

[ellieluvr420]

Friends? Never. Pt.2 (Ellie Williams x reader)

SYNOPSIS: You and Ellie had been bitter enemies for years now but before that you were best friends. You had always planned to be roommates one day but when that becomes a reality the situation isn't exactly how you both imagined it.

You walk back into your home with your arms full of groceries, you had went out as soon as you woke up taking advantage of Ellie's inability to wake up early. As you walked past her room you could hear her snoring through the door and made a mental note of it to tease her about later. You're putting away everything you had bought when a small scuffle makes you jump and spin only to see Ellie holding one of the cans you had grabbed.

"Jesus christ you scared the shit out of me, need to put a bell on you." She chuckles but her face drops as you storm over and snatch the can from her hand. "See all of this, this is mine. So don't touch." You speak to her in a patronising tone as if she's a child and smirk as she rolls her eyes.

"That's a funny way of saying good morning."

"It's not a good morning though is it? Because I'm standing here talking to you." You fake a gag and giggle to yourself as you continue putting everything away.

"You know if you weren't so infuriating you might actually be able to get someone to date you. Just a tip."

"You know, you give me so much shit for being single Ellie but I don't see you with anyone. Why aren't you dating anyone? Oh wait I know, because of your personality!" You gasp in faux shock and she chuckles dryly.

"There's a difference between being single and a virgin and just being single." You scoff in disbelief at her words.

"You seem really interested in whether I've had sex or not Ellie, if you want to know just ask." You purr as you stalk over to her, the blush creeping up from her neck to her cheeks has you holding back a giggle. She stays quiet as you continue sauntering over to her until your face is inches from hers. "I've fucked plenty. Ask Dina if you don't believe me." You smirk as you pat her shoulder and begin walking away.

She storms after you and grabs your arm again to spin you around to face her. "You say my personality is so bad but do you even hear yourself?"

"Right I'm worse than you, is that why no one wants to patrol with you?" At your words her face changes into a look of defeat and she gently releases your arm from her grip. Guilt washes over you as you had never seen her actually be affected by your words.

"Wait I didn't mean that. I was just trying to piss you off, you're really good on patrol, it's all anybody talks about after working with you." You watch in horror as her face falls into her hands and you hear the sound of small sniffles. You pause taken aback until the sniffles turn into fits of laughter as her face rises from her hands showcasing a victorious grin.

"HA! Oh my god you should see your face right now. Nice to know what people really say about me." You're completely frozen as you just stare back in shock. "I'm not surprised though, I am good." She smirks and you roll your eyes. "Do you even patrol? I've never seen you before."

"I do but I think Maria has kept us as separate as possible unsurprisingly." You chuckle to yourself and for once she joins you.

"I'm shocked she even lets you patrol, she wasn't keen on me starting."

"Yeah I mean she didn't at first, she put me on shifts at the nursery when I turned 16 and I was ready to hang myself to be honest. She only let me start patrolling when she watched me knock Bill out at the Tipsy Bison."

"You knocked Bill out? Fuck off." She cackles at the image that pops into her head and your cheeks heat at the sound. You hadn't heard her actually laugh at something you said since you were friends, you almost thought you were hallucinating.

"I can't believe I'm actually saying this but I'm impressed. That takes some skill he's huge."

"Yeah skill and some serious rage. God he's a dick. I think he learnt his lesson though because he hasn't been bothering any other girls with his wandering hands and he won't even look at me these days."

"He touched you?" Immediately her tone went serious and her eyes went dark.

"I guess, he put his hand on my back as he was chatting me up but then his hand was no longer on my back and a lot more on my ass, are you actually shocked?"

"Well no I guess not but that's still shitty."

"Eh gave me an excuse to hit his smug face so you know." You smile trying to show her that it's fine but she doesn't return it. "Anyway I need to shower so er... I'm gonna go do that."

"Don't forget your towel!" She yells and you sigh as you continue to the bathroom.

You’re making yourself some lunch, a sandwich, some strawberries and some tinned peaches, the fruit in Jackson was always so good because it was fresh unlike most things so you bought as much of it as you could, especially strawberries, they had been your favourite since you were little. You hear the muffled sound of the tv Ellie had brought from hers and been gracious enough to put in the living room and the quiet mumbles of her likely talking at the tv, your curiosity peaks as you're listening so you decide to just go sit down and watch with her.

Ellie tore her eyes away from the screen when she felt you sitting down onto the couch next to her, she gazes at you as you don't even look at her instead choosing to remain quiet with your focus on the film she was watching.

You feel Ellie's eyes boring holes into the side of your head so you glance at her and her eyes immediately dart back to the film, you stifle a giggle and put your plate down next to you on the couch so you can eat your sandwich.

You're engrossed in the film when you see Ellie sneaking one of your strawberries in your peripheral vision. "Erm excuse you."

"Oh so she speaks!"

"For someone that doesn't want to speak to me" You echo her words from yesterday. "You sure throw a fit when I don't speak to you."

"Shhhh whatever, you're ruining the movie."

You scoff but a small grin grows on your face before you can stop it. "You can have the other half of the sandwich if you want."

"Wait... like for real?"

"Yeah."

"Oh... Okay thanks." She snatches it up and immediately starts inhaling it, you go back to watching the film until you reach down to grab a peach slice and brush over Ellie's fingers. You jolt back with a hiss as you're stung by an acute electric shock.

"That did not hurt."

"Yes it did, just focus on the movie and stop stealing from me you thief."

"If the shoe fits." She grins and you sigh focusing your attention on the tv once again, Ellie watches as you watch the film to see how you react to it as she continues sneaking strawberries and peaches alternately.

"How did they put the dinosaurs in it? Were there dinosaurs when this was made? That doesn't sound right."

"How have you never seen Jurassic Park before?"

"Oh leave me alone, my parents never let me watch films."

"Oh right... yeah. Joel said there weren't dinosaurs it was like fake ones put into the scenes or something."

“Hm that’s cool.” You both sit quietly until Ellie begins explaining all about the dinosaurs and the film, she’s so engrossed she doesn’t notice your replies becoming quieter and less frequent until she feels a small weight pressing on the corner of her shoulder. She looks down to see you dozing and chuckles at the gentle snores she hears.

“Wow am I really that boring to you?” She whispers to herself lightheartedly as she moves the plate from between both of you before scooting closer so you could lean on her more comfortably. She rests her legs on the coffee table in front of you both and slouches as she focuses on the movie once again, her breath hitches when you shift nuzzling into her, brushing your right hand over hers where they rest on her hips.

Your eyes flutter open and as your eyes readjust to the room that was glowing from the golden sun that blankets Jackson around 4pm every day, you notice the weight of Ellie's head resting on yours and the steady rise and fall of her shoulders that you were leaning on. You couldn't even remember feeling tired but here you were, your breath hitches when you feel Ellie stirring and in sync you both jolt up with matching stunned expressions and an inability to make eye contact. You take a deep breath and sigh.

"Sorry about that."

"Oh it's okay but if you wanted me to shut up you could have just said that." She smirks and you chuckle.

"I'll remember that for next time." As you say this you look down and see a tiny dark spot on the shoulder of Ellie's grey t-shirt, your face twists into an expression of horror and she follows your eyeline before laughing.

"Oh my god you dribbled on me! Damn you were really napping, I wasn't gonna tell you this but you were snoring too."

"Shut up I was not."

"Hate to break it to you but you were." You cover your mouth and shake your head in disbelief as she laughs.

"You're horrible."

"I'm only telling the truth." You huff and chuckle as you stand and begin walking out of the room, you wanted to sit by your window where there was an almost constant breeze and read your book.

"Where are you going?"

"My room. I'm too hot I need to sit by my window in my underwear to cool down."

"Ohhhkay... erm... have fun." Her voice cracked a little as she spoke and she grimaced.

"Thanks?" You pull a confused face at her before walking off leaving her to kick herself for how awkward she had suddenly become, this was not normal for her around you, she hadn't been that stupid since you were best friends. Her face burned, her fingertips tingling as her stomach churns, all of a sudden she can feel the heat you were complaining about as she rushes to the bathroom for a cold shower.

She jumped in holding the wall to keep balance and immediately screeched at the temperature, her muscles tensed and she felt the tingle that signalled her nipples pebbling, she breathed a shaky sigh of relief as she felt her body returning back to normal despite the freezing water and she dipped her head under to let the water run over her face too. She stayed under the ice cold water until you were no longer at the forefront of her mind before she raced back to her room and threw herself down on the bed with a huff. She doesn't make a move to dry herself or get dressed, she just lays there succumbing to the thoughts that were racing around her mind at lightspeed.

“Hey there’s pasta down here if you want some?” Ellie calls up to you, your ears pricked at the statement and you rushed down to the food that was beckoning you with its smell.

As you walk into the kitchen to see Ellie sitting at the table scooping the pasta into her mouth you can’t help but smile.

“Smells good.”

“Thanks.” You dish yourself some up and sit opposite her at the small dining table, you each exchange an awkward smile before devouring the cheesy tomato pasta Ellie had made. “I’ve got more of the jurassic park films if you want to watch another one once we’re done.”

“There’s more?”

“Yeah there’s so many it’s awesome.” You chuckle at the girl before sighing and shaking your head.

“As much as I’m tempted I should probably get an early night, I’ve got patrol first thing tomorrow.”

“Seriously?”

“Yeah?”

“what route?”

“Errrr up by that little town and all the mountain cabins.”

“Oh my god.” She sighs and laughs as you grow frustrated by her off putting behaviour.

“what?”

“Maria’s put us on patrol together too.”

“You’re joking.”

“Oh come on you’re not mad, I know you can’t get enough of me.”

“Every time I think you can’t be more wrong you actually shock me.” She grumbles at you with a small grin creeping onto her cheeks as you continue eating in comfortable silence. Once you had finished Ellie offered to tidy up so you could go to bed and you were more than happy to take her up on the offer. Within minutes of your head hitting the pillow you fall into a deep sleep.

“What you doing out here?” Ellie’s soft voice sounds behind you and you spare a glance at her over your shoulder, she’s wearing a white tank top and some checkered boxers as she stands at the back door observing you.

“Couldn’t sleep. Why are you up?”

“Erm… I heard you, are you okay?” Your stomach churns at her words. When you had woken from your dream with wet cheeks and gasping, choking breaths you had hoped you hadn’t woken her up, now as she comes to sit next to you on the edge of the decking you feel guilty knowing you had.

“Yeah I’m fine, sorry.”

“It’s okay, I have nightmares too, I punched Joel one time when he tried to wake me up from one.” You belly laugh at her words and she joins you feeling relieved to see you’re okay. “Do you wanna talk about it?”

“There’s not much to say. Sometimes I dream about when I came out to my parents, always makes me feel unsettled even though it was two years ago and I haven’t really seen them since.”

“So they didn’t take it well?”

“That is the understatement of the year.” You chuckle dryly and she grimaces.

“Sorry.”

“Stop saying sorry, I should be apologising to you.”

“Why?”

“Because I cut you off without a word just because my parents told me I had to.” It wasn’t as simple as that, you had fought them until you physically couldn’t anymore. “You didn’t deserve that, I’m really sorry.”

Ellie pauses, she wasn’t expecting you to be so outright, her heart breaks a little as she watches your slouched figure, she couldn’t imagine how hard it had been for you.

2 YEARS AGO

“GET OUT OF MY HOUSE!”

“wait Dad please I’m sorry, I’ll fix it, I’ll- I’ll do anything please don’t do this.” You begged and pleaded as your voice grew hoarse from sobbing, it was no use as he continued throwing your belongings out your bedroom window. He grabbed the picture frame that housed a picture of the three of you and threw it at you, it smashed against the wall as you ducked to miss it and you collapsed onto the ground in devastation.

“I’m sorry I’ll do better.”

“Get out and don’t ever come back. I don’t have a daughter anymore.” You pleaded with your mum as you stared up at her standing in the doorway but she just turned and walked away. You felt utterly defeated as you just laid your head on the floor as more tears streamed down your cheeks.

“I said get out!” He grabbed you by your hair and yanked you off the ground, tearing you down the stairs before you could get on your feet and chucking you out of your home you had lived in since birth so you landed on your back, the door slams as you lay there winded from the impact of the fall and continue to sob until there’s no more tears to be shed.

PRESENT

“Wait here!” Ellie mutters before scurrying off, she returns with a small metal tin as you watch in curiosity. Your eyes widen when she pulls out a joint and you can’t help but giggle.

“Oh my god you are saving my life.”

“Always keep some for emergencies.” She says with a smug look on her face as she lights it before holding it out to you.

You both share the joint until it’s all gone and the noise of the woods was just a distant humming as your vision became hazy. You look over to Ellie to see her squinty, pink eyes looking back at you already with a look of pity.

“Don’t look at me like that I’m fine.”

“I’m sorry your parents suck.”

“Thanks. We should probably try and go back to sleep.”

“Yeah.” At her agreement you stand as you offer her a hand to help her up, she follows you upstairs until you both walk past her door. You turn to her with a puzzled expression and her eyes remain planted to the floor. “If you want I could sit with you until you fall asleep, I’ll wake you if you start looking like you’re dreaming again. You can punch me too if you really want.”

You chuckle and nod as you continue walking to your room. “Yeah, I’d like that, thank you.” She doesn’t reply, simply following you to your bed where she climbs in next to you. You lay down immediately feeling sleepy once again and she sits with her legs out and crossed over each other as you get comfortable. She sits and watches you until she hears the faint soft snores of your slumber, she admires the peaceful look on your face as she brushes a stray hair out of your face before turning her attention to the book on your bedside table once again. She opens it from the beginning and starts to read until her eyes droop and her body becomes heavy. She falls asleep with the book still open in her lap as the sound of your breathing stills her mind.

tags: @radioheadfan699 @readbydayana @emiliabby

[futurewdclandonorris]

Home | George Russell⁶³

Pairings: George Russell x fem!bestfriend!reader

Word count: 8316

Summary: it's been a week since George and you separated. One night he unexpectedly returns, but has enough time passed for everything to go back to normal?

Warnings: angst angst angst, fluff, more angst, but then even more fluff

A/N: Finallyyyyyy part 5 is here!!!! First of all, I want to thank everyone for reading, following, sharing, loving and supporting this mini series. I've had the time of my life writing this, something that's been brewing inside me for too long and I'm happy this platform allowed me to share it and for it to be so well received. Even if some of you called me evil for the things in part 4, but hey, I tried to make the plot interesting and unpredictable as much as I could. It would be boring if everything always ended in the same way, would it not? With that being said, I hope I manage to buy your forgiveness for the awful things in this FINAL part of bsf!George series! ♥♥♥ P.S. This song was a great inspoooo, you can thank it for getting this part

Previous part

George wasn’t mad at you. No, he was mad at himself. Mad at how his heart had betrayed him and at how he had let himself fall for someone he knew he couldn’t have. He should’ve been better at taking care of you last night, at keeping his feelings in check. He couldn't believe that he had let his feelings spill out like that, knowing deep down that it might push you away. And alcohol was no excuse. He just should’ve known better.

He stepped out of the building, the cold morning air biting at his skin, and walked towards his car, his mind filled with you. He couldn't bear to look up, couldn't bear to see the window where you stood, the image of your pained expression etched in his mind. George clenched his fists, fighting back the tears threatening to spill over once again. He had never felt so helpless, so lost.

His hands gripped the steering wheel tightly, his knuckles turning white. He tried to steady his breathing as he replayed the scene in his mind over and over again. The look of shock on your face, the pain in your eyes as you pushed him away. How could he have been so foolish to think that confessing his love would solve everything? It only complicated things further, driving a wedge between the two of you.

“Dammit!” he hit the steering wheel out of frustration. He wanted to run back and knock on your door, to beg for a chance to make things right, to plead with you to give him another opportunity. But he knew deep down that he had to respect your space, your need for time to sort through your emotions. He couldn't bear the thought of causing you more pain by being any more selfish and demanding your immediate attention.

And there was no time either. Race week had started and he had to go home and pack if he meant to catch the evening flight. The further he drove from your apartment the more he felt like he was getting away from a future he had allowed himself to envision with you.

When he finally reached his apartment, he sat in his car for what felt like an eternity, staring blankly ahead. The thought of packing for the race seemed inconsequential now, a triviality in the face of the emotional storm raging inside him. But he knew he had to keep moving forward, even if every fiber of his being wanted to turn back and fight for you.

The apartment felt empty and cold, mirroring the ache in his chest. He mechanically packed his bags, his movements robotic as he tried to push down the torrent of feelings threatening to overwhelm him. The sweater you had borrowed from him lay crumpled on the bed, a painful reminder of what had transpired between you.

As George zipped up his suitcase, he paused, his hand hovering over the sweater. With a determined glint in his eyes, he picked it up and folded it carefully, tucking it into a corner of his bag. It was a small reminder of you, a piece of him that he couldn't bear to leave behind. It was the second best thing if you don’t show up on the track like it was planned as well.

The drive to the airport was a blur, the city passing by in a haze as George wrestled with his inner turmoil. Should he have fought harder? Should he have just left without a fight? The questions swirled in his mind, each one stabbing at his heart like a jagged knife.

He barely remembered checking in for his flight, the motions automatic and distant. The loudspeaker announcements and bustling crowds at the airport seemed to fade into the background as he found his seat on the plane and as the engines roared to life, propelling the aircraft down the runway, George's mind was still consumed by thoughts of you.

The plane ascended into the sky, leaving behind the city where his heart remained tangled with yours. He stared out of the window, watching the landscape below shrink into miniature shapes. The distance between him and you grew with each passing second, yet he couldn't shake off the feeling that a part of him was left behind, anchored to you.

The flight attendant interrupted his reverie, offering him a drink with a polite smile. George instinctively accepted, taking a sip of the lukewarm coffee but hardly registering its taste. His mind was a whirlwind of emotions, regret and longing mingling with uncertainty about what the future held for him and for you.

He made a silent promise to himself, a promise to give you all the space you needed while also holding onto hope for a future where your paths might converge once again.

-

You spent the whole week thinking. Wondering. Realizing. You barely left your apartment or moved from that one spot on your couch. You couldn’t enter your bedroom without being reminded of George, the memories of his presence lingering in every corner. The faint scent of his cologne still clung to the air, a painful reminder of the intimacy you had shared.

It wasn’t just your bedroom. Your whole apartment was full of him. Starting from the clothes that were piling up every time you had borrowed something and never returned. They were now neatly folded in his section of your closet.

The books he lent you, with his notes scribbled in the margins, were scattered on the coffee table. You picked up one of them, running your fingers over his handwriting, feeling a pang of nostalgia for the easy camaraderie you shared. But now, everything felt tainted by the confession he had made, by the emotions that had spilled out into the open and shattered the already fragile balance between you.

In the kitchen, he had his mug he always used and you didn't let anyone else touch it. “It is George's mug,” you would say. At the time you didn't think anything of it, but was it normal that friends had such possession over each other's items? Not that you were just friends, though, were you? The events of that night had made it abundantly clear that there was a depth to your relationship that extended beyond mere friendship. But where did that leave you now? Confusion clouded your thoughts, making it hard to see a way forward.

Maybe the worst part was that he even had his own toothbrush in your bathroom. How often did he crash that he–or you–needed to buy one? Next to it was his razor. No, that was definitely the worst. He shaves almost every morning and you found yourself wondering how many times had he stood in your bathroom, meticulously shaving before a big race, the sound of the blade scraping against his skin, a familiar background noise in your shared space? How many mornings had you watched him from the doorway, a warm feeling blooming in your chest at the sight of him so vulnerable yet so achingly familiar? It was a mundane yet intimate act that now felt like a distant memory, a relic of a time when things were simpler between you.

The realization that George had seamlessly become a part of your daily routine hit you like a ton of bricks. How could you go back to your normal life without him now that he had made himself so at home in your space?

The signs. They were all over. And you were blind. Too blind. Maybe even deliberately so. Standing there, you realized it was like you did everything backwards. First it was like he lived there, was your lover, friend and now a stranger. Isn't it how it always ends though? Ultimately with every ending, a person you part with becomes a stranger. Maybe not literally so, but the person you knew turns into someone you don't recognize anymore and that's what leads to a break up.

Not that you and George were completely over, far from it, but that's what happened when he confessed his love. You couldn't recognize him as your friend anymore. That wasn't your friend, couldn't be.

You moved through your apartment like a ghost, your steps heavy with the weight of sorrow. Every corner held a piece of George, a piece of the life you had built together without even realizing it. How could you have been so blind to the depth of his feelings for you? How could you have missed the signs that now seemed glaringly obvious in hindsight?

The toothbrush in the bathroom seemed to mock you, a symbol of the intimacy that had grown between you and now lay shattered at your feet. Frowning, you went to the kitchen and pulled out a cardboard box out of your pantry. You started shoving each and every of his belongings into it.

The once familiar space of your apartment now felt foreign and cold, stripped of the warmth and comfort that George had brought into it. You couldn't bear to look at the empty spot in the closet where his clothes used to hang or the blank space on the coffee table where his books had once been. It was as if he had never been there at all, as if all of it had been nothing but a figment of your imagination.

You sealed the box shut and left it by the front door. You’ll send the stuff back. Or throw them away if he doesn’t want them. Either is good. But not just yet. You wanted to hold onto them just for a little while longer. You sat on the floor next to it, buried your face in your hands and finally allowed yourself to cry.

-

George busied himself with media stuff and training. His days were a whirlwind of interviews and practice sessions, leaving no solitary moment to spend lost in thought. He threw himself into his work and training with a fervor that bordered on obsession. Every spare moment was filled with activity, leaving no room for the thoughts of you that threatened to consume him. Or so he thought.

“Okay, that’s it.” his trainer announced. “We’re done for today.”

“Aw man, I was just in the zone,” George protested, a bead of sweat trailing down his forehead.

“I don’t know what zone you were in, but you were definitely not focused. Your mind is somewhere else today. Like it was yesterday, and the day before.” the trainer replied, eyeing George with a knowing look. “I need you here, present.”

“Don't know how much more present I can be, I am literally here,” George frowned.

“Physically you are, but I need you mentally,” the trainer said and touched the side of George’s head. “I don’t mind training with you twice or even three times a day, but it’s obvious you’re running away from something.”

George's facade cracked, a flicker of vulnerability betraying the stoic mask he wore. He knew he couldn't keep up the charade any longer, not with his trainer's penetrating gaze boring into him. With a heavy sigh, he slumped down on a nearby bench, running a hand through his sweat-dampened hair.

“I told her,” he confessed, the words tumbling out like a dam breaking. “I told her how I felt, and she... I don’t know how to fix it.”

His trainer sat down next to him, a reassuring hand on his shoulder. “So you finally confessed.”

“I didn’t mean to. It just slipped. We were having a fight because-”

“Because?”

He stopped, the memories flooding back in a rush. The fight replayed in his mind like a broken record, the sharp words and raw emotions still fresh in his heart. He took a deep breath, steeling himself before continuing.

“We got drunk and did something we shouldn’t have. We, uh, slept together. And it's not just that. There were things that happened even before...”

He felt his trainer's gaze studying him, waiting for the rest of the story. George hesitated, unsure if he should reveal more. But the words spilled out before he could stop them.

“It wasn’t just a mistake, though,” George admitted, his voice laced with regret. “I’ve been in love with her for a while now, you know that. I thought maybe she felt the same way, but when I told her...” He trailed off, unable to articulate the ache in his chest.

“She pushed me away,” George revealed, his voice barely a whisper. “Told me she didn’t see us that way. And now everything is so messed up between us. I don’t know how to fix it.”

“But she didn’t call it a mistake, did she?” His trainer's question hung in the air, heavy with meaning. George looked up, his eyes meeting the trainer's intense gaze.

“No, she didn’t,” George replied, a hint of confusion in his voice. “She just...said we needed space. That she needed space.”

His trainer nodded thoughtfully, absorbing George’s words. “Sometimes, space is what’s needed to gain a better perspective on things.”

George let out a heavy sigh, rubbing his temples as if trying to ease the tension that coiled within him. “I just can’t shake this feeling that I’ve ruined everything. That I’ve lost her completely.”

“You haven’t lost her, George,” the trainer reassured him, his tone firm yet gentle. “Sometimes, taking a step back is what you both need to figure things out. Give her the space she asked for, but don’t lose hope. Love has a way of finding its way back to where it belongs.”

George looked up at his trainer, gratitude shining in his eyes. “I’m sorry to burden you with all this. Thank you for listening.”

“Don’t apologize, G, that’s what I’m here for. Not only to care about your body, but also your mind.” The trainer patted George on the back, a reassuring smile on his face. “It’s good to get it all out in the open. Now that you’ve told her how you feel, the ball is in her court. Give her some time to process everything, and in the meantime, focus on yourself. You can’t control how she feels or what she decides to do, but you can control how you handle this situation.”

George nodded, the weight on his shoulders feeling a little lighter with his trainer’s words of wisdom.

“Now go back to your room, take a shower, relax. And remember, this too shall pass. Tomorrow is a big day and she would like you to do good.”

George nodded in understanding once more, a sense of calm finally settling over him.

-

You never had to face any challenges alone. You always had George by your side and together, you could conquer anything. But now he turned into one of those challenges and you had to figure it out on your own. You knew deep down that the space was necessary, that you both needed time to think this through and figure out what you truly wanted in order to move on.

The familiar sounds of the city outside your window seemed to echo the turmoil in your heart. Each passing day felt like an eternity as you grappled with the weight of your decisions and the ache of George's absence.

You found yourself reaching for your phone multiple times throughout the day, your thumb hovering over his contact name before pulling back at the last second. You wanted to call him, to hear his voice and to mend the broken pieces between you two. But something always held you back. Not just yet.

You busied yourself with mundane tasks to distract yourself from thoughts of George, but his absence lingered like a ghost in every corner of your home.

A notification went off on your phone, reminding you of the race weekend approaching. If everything were right, you would be packing your bags and catching a flight and not choking on your tears in the living room, clutching your phone. The reminder only served to intensify the whirlwind of emotions already swirling inside you. You should’ve been there with him, cheering him on and supporting him through the highs and lows of the weekend. But now, the distance between you felt insurmountable, a chasm of uncertainty and unspoken words.

You missed him more than words could express, more than tears could convey.

On Saturday, you turned the TV on and watched the qualifying session even though you promised you wouldn’t. It would only torture you more. But you felt obligated to support him even from a distance, thinking that maybe, just maybe, he would feel the warmth of your encouragement seeping through the miles that separated you.

The cars raced around the track, their engines roaring like thunder in the distance. You couldn't help but watch, your heart heavy with a mix of longing and regret. Each turn they took on the screen mirrored the twists and turns of your own emotions, the unpredictability of the future weighing heavily on your mind.

As you watched the cars speed by, a flash of black caught your eye. It was George's car, unmistakable even from a distance. Your heart leaped into your throat as you saw him maneuvering through the pack with skill and determination. Despite everything that had transpired between you, a part of you still held out hope for a future where you two could find your way back to each other.

But now, as you watched him from afar, a sense of regret gnawed at you. You should have been there beside him, sharing in his triumphs and soothing his defeats. Instead, you were stuck in this limbo of unreliability and self-reflection.

The qualifying session seemed to pass in a blur, the cars flashing by like ghosts on the screen, but George’s final lap had you holding your breath. When his time flashed on the screen, you let out a heavy sigh. It was a good time, but not good enough to qualify on the front. You couldn’t help but think that maybe if you had been there, things would have turned out differently. A pang of guilt tugged at your heart as you watched George’s disappointed expression on the screen. You wanted to reach out to him, to comfort him, but you knew it was impossible.

You turned the TV off. The weight of your decision to give each other space settled deeper in your chest as you stared at the blank screen, the remnants of George's image still burned in your mind. The silence of your apartment felt stifling, suffocating you with its emptiness. You knew that you needed to make a decision soon, to either reach out to George and try to mend what was broken or to continue down this path of separation and solitude.

The following day, you woke up with a heaviness in your chest. It was race day. Would George be able to focus on the race with everything that had transpired between you two? Would he be thinking of you as he navigated each turn and straightaway? Is he even thinking of you?

As the race time drew near, you found yourself pacing around the apartment, unable to sit still. Your phone lay on the coffee table, silent and untouched. In normal circumstances, you would send him a message of encouragement, a simple "Good luck" to let him know you were thinking of him. But now, the words stuck in your throat. You didn’t want to give him false hope in case you needed more time before you finally talk. No, it was better this way.

The sound of the commentator's voice filled the room, announcing the start of the race. You couldn't bring yourself to look at the TV this time, the thought of watching George out on the track without you by his side in this situation too painful to bear. Instead, you stood by the window, staring out at the city below as if searching for some semblance of clarity in its bustling streets.

Minutes felt like hours as you waited, each passing second heavy with anticipation and anxiety. Finally, the roar of engines reached a crescendo, signaling the end of the race. Your heart raced alongside them, unsure of what news awaited you.

You turned to the TV, your hands trembling as you searched for George's name amidst the list of racers. When you finally found it, your heart dropped. He was in the top 10, he scored points, but you knew it was not the result he wanted.

You couldn't help but feel responsible, as if it was your decision to give each other space that had kept you both from achieving satisfaction and now you had to live with the consequences. A tear rolled down your cheek as you thought about what could have been if you had chosen a different path.

In the quiet moments that followed, you realized that you had set yourself on this course of action alone, but you had no idea where it would lead. You needed to take a deep breath and figure out what you wanted from this arrangement, and whether it was possible to have the life you both deserved with each other.

-

You were getting ready for bed and it was around midnight when you heard a knock on your door. You frowned, thinking who could it possibly be at this late hour or if to even open at all. With cautious steps, you made your way to the door, a sense of apprehension tightening your chest. As you reached for the doorknob, you paused, gathering your courage before swinging the door open.

You expected a neighbor, or anyone else, but standing before you, illuminated by the dim light filtering in from the hallway, was George. His usual confident demeanor was replaced by a vulnerability you had never seen before. His eyes, usually bright, now held a mixture of sadness and longing as they met yours.

“I could’ve gone to my apartment, but it is cold and empty and I wanted to… come home.” George's voice was barely above a whisper, the words heavy with emotion.

You stood there, stunned by his unexpected presence, unsure of what to say or how to react. The air between you crackled with unspoken words and unresolved feelings, the tension palpable in the space that separated your bodies.

“But I see now that was a mistake. You clearly—” but as he reached to take his bag, you stepped forward and wrapped your arms around him, catching him off guard.

“You’re home,” you murmured against his chest, holding him tighter.

George hesitated for a moment, unsure of how to respond to your embrace. But as he felt the warmth of your arms around him, the weight on his shoulders seemed to lift, and he slowly returned the hug. The barriers that had kept you apart for so long melted away in that single embrace, leaving behind a sense of relief and an unspoken promise of forgiveness.

“I missed you,” you choked out, your voice barely audible. “I missed you so much, George.”

His response was to hold you tighter, as if trying to erase the distance and time that had separated you.

“I missed you too,” George whispered, his voice shaking with tears he was holding back. “I missed you every single day.”

The silence that enveloped you was no longer suffocating but comforting, a space where words were no longer necessary to convey the depth of your feelings for each other.

After what felt like an eternity, George finally pulled back slightly, his eyes searching yours for any sign of hesitation or doubt. But all he found was a deep-rooted affection and a silent plea for a fresh start.

“Come in,” you finally said, whipping away little tears and moving aside.

George stepped inside, his eyes never leaving yours as if searching for any hint of uncertainty. As he walked further into the apartment, you couldn't help but notice how the dim light from the hallway accentuated the lines of weariness on his face, lines that spoke of sleepless nights and unanswered questions.

You led him to the living room, both of you enveloped in a cocoon of silence that felt both heavy and fragile. George sat down on the arm chair, his hands fidgeting with the straps of his bag, while you perched on the edge of the couch, unsure of what to say or do next.

“Are you hungry? I can make you something quickly—”

“No need,” George interrupted, his voice soft yet firm. You nodded, another silence falling among you.

“No offense, George, but you look awful,” you couldn't help but blurt out, the words slipping from your lips before you could stop them. George's head shot up, surprise flickering in his tired eyes, before a hint of amusement crept in.

“I haven’t slept in days, y/n,” he replied as he leaned his head back and closed his eyes.

A pang of guilt twinged in your chest at his admission, but also relief that you weren’t the only one having nights with little to no sleep.

“I understand,” you said softly. George nodded, his expression a mix of exhaustion and relief at being back in your presence.

“You know what I’m the most tired of?” he didn’t wait for your answer. “Being apart from you.” he opened his eyes and met yours.

Tears welled up in your eyes at George's heartfelt confession, his words echoing the sentiments you had been carrying in your own heart all this time. You reached out a trembling hand to brush a lock of hair away from his face, your fingertips lingering on his cheek as if trying to memorize the feel of his skin.

“I’m sorry for what I put us both through—”

George placed a finger against your lips, silencing your apology. “Y/n,” he called, his tone warning. “I’m tired.” his eyes darted to your lap and then back to your eyes again and you understood.

“Okay,” you said softly. “We’ll talk in the morning. Come here now.” you pulled yourself on the couch and patted your thighs, making room for him to lay and rest his head on your lap.

You ran your fingers through his hair, the simple act bringing a sense of peace and familiarity that had been missing in both your lives for more than long.

In the soft glow of the lamp beside the couch, you sat together in silence, the rhythmic pattern of your fingers against his scalp creating a soothing lullaby that seemed to calm the storm raging within both of you.

“Did you watch the race?” he murmured.

"Yes, I did," you replied softly, your voice barely above a whisper. "I watched it all."

George let out a heavy sigh, the weight of his exhaustion evident in the slump of his shoulders. "So you saw me messing up," his voice tinged with regret.

You continued to run your fingers through his hair, offering him comfort in your touch. “You didn't mess up. You did well, George. Top 10 is nothing to be disappointed about. I’m proud of you.”

A small smile tugged at the corners of his lips as he closed his eyes, basking in the comfort of your touch. “I wanted more,” he admitted softly, a hint of frustration seeping into his words.

You smiled, somehow finding it unusual he wanted to make a small talk out of his race. He never wanted to do that if he wasn’t satisfied with the results. But everything was better than talking about you two at the moment, you guessed.

“You always want more, George,” you replied, a teasing lilt in your voice. “But you gave it your all out there. That’s what matters,” you reassured him, your voice gentle and soothing.

George let out a contented sigh, his body relaxing against yours. The weight of the past seemed to lift off his shoulders with each passing moment spent in your embrace. He turned his head slightly, looking up at you with a mix of gratitude and longing in his eyes. "Thank you for letting me come back," he whispered.

A wave of tenderness washed over you as you gazed down at him, seeing the vulnerability and sincerity in his expression. Without a word, you leaned down and pressed a gentle kiss to his forehead, a silent promise of forgiveness and understanding.

As George closed his eyes, a sense of peace settled between you, the weight of past grievances slowly lifting.

“Tell me what you did without me. I want to listen to your voice,” he said, his words trailing off as sleep began to claim him.

You smiled softly, a warmth spreading through your chest at his request. But how were you to tell him about all the days spent missing him, about the hollow ache in your chest that only his presence could fill, about the countless moments when a simple sight or sound would bring back memories of him flooding into your mind. How could you convey the depth of your longing, the way his absence had left a void in your life that no amount of distractions could fill? How were you to tell him that the most you’ve done in the week was pack his things in a cardboard box that was still by the door?

But you knew George needed to rest, to find solace in the peaceful refuge you offered him. So, you began recounting mundane details of your days, from the way the sun cast golden hues through the windows in the mornings to the sound of rain tapping against the roof on lonely nights. You spoke of small victories and minor setbacks, all the while keeping your voice soft and soothing as he drifted off into a much-needed slumber.

As George's breathing evened out, you continued to stroke his hair gently, feeling the rise and fall of his chest against your thighs. The apartment was quiet, the only sound was the soft hum of the refrigerator in the kitchen.

You leaned back against the couch, your thoughts swirling with memories of the time you had spent apart. The ache of missing him had been a constant companion, a dull throb in your heart that no amount of distraction could alleviate. And now that he was here, lying in your lap once more, you were at a loss for how to bridge the gap that had formed between you. But that will have to wait till morning.

With a heavy sigh, you shifted slightly on the couch, careful not to disturb George, and closed your eyes.

-

A motion woke you. You were moving, but not of your own volition. As consciousness slowly seeped back into your mind, you realized that the movement was not yours alone. Someone was carrying you, their arms wrapped securely around your body. Confusion and fear jolted through you as you tried to make sense of the situation.

Opening your eyes, you found yourself met with darkness. The soft glow of the lamp by the couch was nowhere to be seen, leaving you disoriented in the black void surrounding you. The arms holding you tightened slightly, a silent reassurance in their grip.

"George?" you whispered, the word barely audible even to your own ears. A shiver ran down your spine as the silence stretched on, broken only by the sound of footsteps echoing in the dark.

A voice, deep and familiar, cut through the void. "It's me," George whispered, his warm breath tickling your ear. You could feel his heart beating steadily against your back as he carried you towards the bedroom.

You wanted to protest, to insist that he didn’t have to go through the trouble, but the comfort of his embrace and the rhythmic sway of his movements lulled you into compliance. You buried your face in the crook of his neck, breathing in his familiar scent that brought a sense of peace unlike anything else.

Before you knew it, you found yourself being laid down gently on the soft bed.

"I'm sorry for waking you," he whispered, his voice tinged with regret. "I just couldn't bear to leave you there on the couch."

You reached out a hand to find him in the darkness, intertwining your fingers with his as a silent reassurance that it was alright.

“Stay with me,” you breathed.

George's hand tightened around yours, his touch grounding you. “No, let’s not repeat past…” he trailed off, not wanting to call it a mistake. “I’ll sleep on the couch.”

“Then let me sleep on the couch, you can stay here—” you insisted, the words slipping out before you could second-guess them. You sat up, the covers pooling at your waist, and made to move off the bed. But George’s hand on your arm stopped you, his touch gentle yet firm.

“No,” he murmured, his voice holding a note of determination that brooked no argument. “I’ll be fine. Go back to sleep.” he kissed your forehead and left the room.

-

You woke up to the first light of dawn filtering in through the curtains, casting a soft glow over the room, the events of the previous night almost feeling dreamlike. That’s when your eyes shot up and you bolted upright in bed, the bed sheets slipping off your body as you stumbled out of bed and ran to the living room almost tripping over your two feet.

You leaned against the doorframe and breathed a sigh of relief as you spotted him sleeping still on your couch. It wasn’t a dream. He was really there. Silently, you made your way over to him and sat down in the arm chair beside the couch.

You took in the sight of him. He was sleeping on his stomach with mouth slightly parted, stretched out with his whole length that his feet were dangling over the armrest. His hair was tousled, and the early morning light painted a golden hue over his features, highlighting the faint stubble on his jawline and the way his eyelashes swept against his cheeks.

The blanket he found was too short to cover his whole frame and the decorative pillow he used as a makeshift headrest had slid slightly to the side. You couldn’t help but smile at the sight, a surge of affection welling up inside you as you watched him sleep so peacefully.

For a moment, you allowed yourself to simply be in his presence, to take in the quiet intimacy of this shared space. The distance that had seemed insurmountable in the past now felt like a small gap waiting to be bridged. With each rise and fall of George’s chest, you felt a renewed sense of hope blooming within you.

“… You’re staring.” George murmured without opening his eyes.

You immediately turned away, a blush creeping in. “I was not.”

“I could feel the intensity of it, even with my eyes closed.” you could hear the chuckle in his voice.

“Sorry,” you mumbled, feeling the heat rising in your cheeks. You shifted in your seat, trying to appear nonchalant as you averted your gaze from George’s sleeping form.

“It’s okay,” he said softly, his eyes still closed. “I don’t mind.”

You risked a glance back at him, finding his lips turned up in a small, lopsided smile. The warmth in his expression eased the tension coiled within you, and you couldn’t help but return his smile.

“Hey, y/n, look at me,” he said and your eyes finally met, making you suck in a deep breath. “Good morning,” he smiled.

“Good morning,” you replied. “Did you sleep okay?”

“I did,” George answered, pushing himself up into a sitting position on the couch. He stretched his arms above his head, letting out a contented sigh.

"You should have slept in the bed," you said, unable to keep the words from spilling out. "I could have taken the couch."

George shook his head, a small smile playing on his lips. "I'm fine here," he assured you, his voice warm and gentle. "Besides, I've slept on worse during my travels."

You shook your head, but chuckled anyway, the tension ebbing away as you let yourself relax into the moment.

“Do you… Do you want to stay for breakfast? I could make us something to eat,” you offered, a flicker of hope dancing in your eyes.

George’s smile widened, his gaze meeting yours with a softness that made your heart flutter. “Yes, I would love that, y/n,” he replied, gratitude shining in his eyes.

“Great!” You rose from the arm chair, a newfound sense of determination fueling your steps as you made your way to the kitchen. The familiar sounds of George following behind you brought a smile to your lips, the simple act of sharing a meal together filling you with a warmth that you hadn’t felt in a long time.

“I’ll just wash up while you prepare the food,” George offered, rolling up his sleeves as he headed towards the bathroom to freshen up.

The sound of running water mingled with the clinking of dishes as you set about gathering ingredients for breakfast.

As you cracked eggs into a bowl, a sense of contentment washed over you. George’s presence in your home felt right, like a missing piece clicking into place. The aroma of sizzling bacon filled the kitchen, punctuated by the rich scent of freshly brewed coffee. But the magic of the morning was disrupted when George called for you.

“Um, y/n, did you throw away my toothbrush?”

You froze mid-crack, the eggshell slipping from your fingers and landing in the bowl with a soft splat. The box.

You quickly wiped your hands on a kitchen towel and rushed to the bathroom, where George was standing with an open toiletry bag in his hand. “I thought I left my toothbrush here,” he said, a puzzled expression on his face.

Your heart sank as you remembered how you packed all of his things into a cardboard box and put it by the front door, looking to erase any trace of him from your apartment. The guilt washed over you in a wave, knowing that you had acted rashly in a moment of hurt and confusion.

“George, I…” you began, but the words caught in your throat. How could you tell him that you had packed up his belongings, fully intending to remove every trace of him from your place? The silence stretched between you, thick with unspoken regret and heartache.

George’s expression shifted from confusion to understanding, his gaze flickering with a mix of disappointment and resignation. “You were going to send my things back,” he stated quietly, more as a statement of fact than a question.

You nodded wordlessly, unable to meet his eyes as shame burned hot in your cheeks. “I-I’m sorry,” you stammered, the weight of your actions crashing down on you with full force. “I shouldn’t have—”

“It’s okay, y/n,” George interrupted gently, his voice soft and forgiving. “I understand why you did it.” He reached out to place a comforting hand on your shoulder, his touch grounding you in the midst of your turmoil. “I know things have been difficult between us, but we can talk about it. We can figure this out together.”

Tears welled up in your eyes as you finally dared to look at him, seeing the sincerity in his gaze that mirrored the ache in your own heart. “I never wanted to push you away,” you whispered, the words heavy with regret. “I just… I didn’t know how to handle everything.”

George’s thumb brushed away a stray tear from your cheek, his touch gentle and full of understanding. “We both made mistakes,” he admitted, his voice tinged with vulnerability. “But it doesn’t mean we can’t try to make things right.”

A surge of hope blossomed within you at his words, a flicker of light in the darkness that had clouded your hearts for so long. But all of a sudden, the apartment smelled of burning.

“Oh my God, the bacon!” You bolted back to the kitchen, where smoke billowed from the skillet on the stove. The once-crackling bacon lay charred and forgotten, a victim of your distraction. Frantically waving a towel to disperse the smoke, you turned off the burner and opened a window to let the acrid fumes escape.

George followed you into the kitchen, a chuckle escaping his lips at the sight of the burnt bacon. “Well, I guess breakfast is going to be delayed a bit,” he remarked, his eyes crinkling with amusement.

You couldn’t help but join in his laughter, the tension that had gripped your heart moments ago loosening its hold. “I promise I’m a better cook than this,” you said, a sheepish grin on your face as you cleared away the charred remains of breakfast.

“I have no doubt about that,” George replied, stepping closer to you and taking the towel from your hands to help with the clean-up. The simple act of working together in harmony warmed your soul, a silent understanding passing between you as you moved around the kitchen in tandem. Once the cleaning was done, you both settled at the small kitchen table.

“Stay here, I’ll be right back,” you said, rushing to the corner by your front door.

You returned with the cardboard box that held George's things, feeling a mix of apprehension and determination.

“All your things are in here,” George watched as you placed the cardboard box on the table, his expression unreadable as you spoke. Silence enveloped the kitchen, broken only by the distant sounds of traffic outside. Talking about packing his stuff was one thing, but seeing that you actually did it was another. You held your breath, waiting for George’s response, unsure of what to expect. Would he be angry? Hurt? Disappointed?

Slowly, George reached out and lifted the lid of the box, his gaze flickering over the contents within. His fingers brushed against familiar items—a toothbrush, a worn paperback novel, a battered travel journal, a familiar beanie, the softly knit fabric a testament to the countless times he had worn it on chilly nights—as if seeking reassurance in their presence. 

George's eyes flickered between the contents of the box and your face, searching for any hint of what was to come. Your heart felt heavy with the weight of your actions, the fear of rejection looming over you like a storm cloud ready to burst.

“I never should have tried to erase you from my life like that. It was a mistake and I’m sorry.” you said. “You can have everything put back or take them with you. It’s your choice now. If it’s the latter, I’ll understand—”

“What do you want?” His voice was soft, but the question echoed loudly in the space between you. What did you want? It was a simple question with a million answers, each one more complicated than the last.

“It doesn’t matter, it’s not up to me—”

“It matters to me,” George interjected, his gaze unwavering as he met your eyes. “I need to know what you want. Not what you think I want to hear, but what you truly desire in your heart.”

Blinking away the tears that threatened to fall, you met his gaze. “I want you back. All the time, everyday.”

George's expression softened, a mixture of relief and hope shining in his eyes. Without a word, he reached for your hand and pulled you onto his lap. You didn’t protest. The gesture was both familiar and foreign, the warmth of his embrace wrapping around you like a lifeline.

“I want that too, y/n,” George said softly, his voice filled with sincerity. “I want us to try again, to work through our problems together and rebuild what we had.” he rested his chin on your shoulder, arms wrapped tightly around you as you leaned into him.

“I was so scared, George. When you confessed—”

“Look, we can pretend I never confessed if it means we’ll stay—”

“What?! No! You can’t just take back your confession! That’s such a cowardly move and the least I expected from you, George William Russell!”

George's eyes widened at your outburst, surprise flickering across his face before giving way to a mixture of amusement and affection. His grip on you tightened briefly before he loosened it, allowing you to turn around and face him. You could see the humor dancing in his eyes as a smile tugged at the corners of his lips.

“Oh no, you pulled the middle name card and now I’m terrified.” A chuckle escaped George’s lips, the tension between you both dissipating with each shared smile.

“I had to. I will not allow it. Especially not when I feel the same way towards you.” your admission hung in the air like a fragile thread, waiting to be strengthened or severed by the response it would elicit.

George’s eyes widened at your words, his eyes searching yours for any hint of doubt or uncertainty. “Eh… fucking pardon?"

“I’m in love with you too, George William. I mean it.” you even surprised yourself how easy it was to say it. You didn’t feel scared anymore. If anything, you felt invincible.

But seeing the look on his face made you doubt. You held your breath, waiting for his response, the silence stretching between you like an impassable chasm. What if he didn’t love you like that anymore? What if the space you have asked for helped him get over you? He did try to take back his confession.

Slowly, a smile spread across his face, breaking like the dawn after a long night.

“I… I don’t even know where to begin,” George murmured, his voice thick with emotion. “I never expected…” He trailed off, at a loss for words as he reached up to cup your cheek, his touch gentle and reverent.

You rested your forehead against his, sighing in relief. “Time apart helped me open my eyes. I realized how much you mean to me, that I was so lost without you. I tried to fill the void your absence left with distractions and busyness, but nothing ever felt quite right. It was like a puzzle missing a piece, incomplete no matter how hard I tried to force it together. But now, with you here in front of me, holding me close and looking at me like I'm the only thing that matters, I finally feel whole again.”

George’s eyes shimmered with unshed tears as he listened to your heartfelt words, his thumb gently caressing your cheek. The weight of the past lingered in the air between you, but the warmth of your confession enveloped you both like a comforting embrace. In that moment, all the uncertainties and fears melted away, leaving only the truth of your feelings shining bright.

“I love you, y/n,” George finally whispered, his voice filled with sincerity. “I never stopped loving you.”

You captured his lips in a tender kiss, pouring all your love and gratitude into the simple act, catching him off guard. But quickly, he kissed you back, burying his hands in your hair to pull you even closer.

It was a kiss filled with longing, with promises of a future together, of rediscovered love and unspoken apologies. The world outside faded away as you melted into each other, the taste of forgiveness and hope on your lips. The box of George’s things lay forgotten on the table, a silent witness to the reunion that had unfolded before it.

As you pulled back, George cupped your face in his hands, his gaze searching yours with a depth of emotion that took your breath away. “I want to make things right between us, y/n. I want us to rebuild what we had and create something even stronger. Will you give me that chance?”

There was no hesitation in your response as you nodded, a smile of pure joy lighting up your face. “Yes, George. I want that more than anything.”

You leaned in to kiss him again, but his stomach rumbled loudly, breaking the tender moment with a burst of laughter from both of you. George’s cheeks flushed with embarrassment as he sheepishly rubbed his stomach, a playful glint in his eyes.

“I think that’s a sign we should probably eat something,” he said with a chuckle.

You nodded, feeling your stomach join in with its own protest. “I think burnt bacon is off the menu for this morning,” you replied, teasingly.

George laughed and stood up, pulling you along with him. “Let’s order in. I’ll make sure this time it’s something edible.”

“What’s wrong with my cooking?”

George raised an eyebrow at your question, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “Your cooking is charming. But let’s just say I prefer my bacon a little less… crispy.”

You playfully swatted his arm before following him to the living room, where the two of you settled down on the couch with your favorite takeout menus spread out. As you leaned against George’s side, the scent of new beginnings lingering in the air around you, you couldn’t help but feel grateful for second chances and the love that never truly faded, no matter how much time had passed. Together, you began planning your first meal as a couple, laughter and joy filling the space that once held only precariousness and regret.

And as you listened to George’s easy banter and felt his fingers interlaced with yours, you knew deep in your heart that this time, everything would be different. This time, you both were ready to face whatever challenges came your way, hand in hand, knowing that you’ll always have each other.

[sugurufic]

Yello idk if your request are open but I'm into Gojo and Geto and wanted to ask what are their reaction with a clingy,paranoid and snuggle SO?

Like they're SO loves to cling at them in the morning by the waist with their legs wrapped or holding their hands everything they walk together ❤️

Thank u and sorry for disturbing you

Them with a clingy SO (separately) Gojo

I think Gojo would enjoy a clingy SO, and might just return their clinginess. It’s endearing to a point it’s annoying everyone around them. If his partner wants to touch him or have contact with him all the time, he’s gonna make sure that you guys are touching in some way or the other - be it a hand on your back or your knee, holding hands or the other way around your hand on his back or on his knee or on his arm as you go about mundane tasks. Hugging him from behind as he does anything around the house, following him like a tail. I can definitely seeing him returning the same energy - his head on your shoulder (or the top of your head, if you’re short) while you’re throwing the clothes into the washing machine or cooking something. 

I imagine him setting up the alarm a little 15-20 mins prior to the time you guys have to wake up just to get in some extra sleepy cuddles and enjoying each others warmth.

In case you can’t be together physically, you guys would always text each other little updates of the day - even the most mundane things like drinking water (it’s a lot for some of ya’ll dehydrated folks, i’m aware), or trying a new workout routine, or reaching your destination… you get the point.

Even if you aren’t doing things together, being in the same room or sitting on the couch together with your thighs touching as you do your own work or scroll through your phone. It’s a comfortable silence. Sneaking in cuddle sessions during break times that might just extend a little long if either of you is feeling needy, randomly leaving kisses on the cheeks, neck, knuckles or even each other’s palms. 

He likes that you need him just as he needs you, that you are a person he can always depend on in case of any turmoil. If you are a grade 1 or special grade sorcerer, it’s like cherry on top because you can also understand the pressure on him to be the strongest, the protector of all without him having to say too many words. I feel like during the extra snuggle time he would be the most vulnerable and open to you, talking about his struggles with loneliness (satosugu breakup as well), his unfiltered opinions about everyone, his fears, his declarations of love. 

Gojo is brash, and he can be like that with his partner at times, but that wouldn’t be intentional - and I feel like he’s the type to apologise with kisses and hugs with his sincere words of apology.

Gojo with a clingy SO is perfect 10/10

Geto

Geto is the charmer of the two, he has an expansive vocabulary and knows how to use it well. I feel like he’d enjoy having clingy SO as long as they aren’t too clingy in public. Teen!Geto will love a clingy SO, but Cult Leader!Geto has an image to maintain and you don’t get to be clingy with him during long hours of the day - barely any texts or calls, although you will have way too many pictures with him - of him kissing you, you kissing him, of your hugs, of you holding hands.

Talking about Teen!Geto - he’d be flattered to have to cling to him for emotional support - be it holding hands, constantly texting you, accepting and giving kisses. He loves the way you love him, how your snuggle sessions just manage to slip past the curfew time, how you linger in his arms for a good while before waking up.

He’d be just as clingy if either one of you was about to be sent on a mission, with too many kisses all over and hugs that you melt right into and cuddles with all limbs crossed over. It’s like you are trying to become one person, never wanting to leave with the uncertainty that being a sorcerer brought. Same would be after returning from missions - following the other with at least pinkies intertwined while reporting or getting freshened up.

PICTURES! He’d send pictures if he’s the one on the mission, and if you’re the one sent on a mission he’d be glues to his flip phone like it’s your hand - immediately responding to any of your updates or pictures.

Cult Leader!Suguru loves spending time with his family, who loved them just as much. You are a part of that family, but he loves you differently. If it’s just his family, he doesn’t mind you being clingy at all. In fact, he might even encourage you sitting close to him, or on his lap, or with his arm holding you close. It’s like he's trying to save your touch for later when he’s busy conducting sermons to invite newer monkeys to get their money. 

When it’s just the two of you, these snuggle sessions might turn into moments of shared vulnerability, a confession of fears and plans and desires, and just recharging social batteries. It’s his favourite part of his day, and he absolutely loves it when you plead him in the mornings to stay a little longer - he’ll tell those monkeys that he was having a vision that he had to listen to - and they believe his pretty words pretty easily.

You having his location on your phone doesn’t phase him at all, because he has your location with him all the time. He loves knowing that you want to be with him at all times, but this is the best you two can do sometimes. Facetime whenever possible, texts full of longing when the separation is too long. Having a small sample of each other’s perfume to spray on pillowcases pretending to be the other one - falling asleep on facetime.

Geto with a clingy SO is cute, but might not be able to respond to your clinginess all the time so 7/10

A/N: thank you for this ask, i loved writing this!

[cjgladback]

I went to my first fiber festival this past weekend! Hoosier Hills Fiber Festival; if I'm still in this state come June next year, I'll probably be back and would love to meet anybody else there. Socializing/hanging out/talking to people without feeling like I was obstructing Real Customers was the one thing I missed, though I didn't really get to any of the free lectures so maybe that's where I could've met some people. Since it was an unknown situation with a lot of people and nearly an hour drive each way, I strategized to make sure I'd go:

First day, I signed up for a couple volunteer shifts. Absolutely a recommended strategy.

Got to be helpful!

They happened to have goodie bags, to help me justify the gas and time (I now have a nice tape measure to replace the one that's been vacationing with a missing sewing kit for a couple years and a lasercut wood two-inch gauge window that might help me with consistency versus my suboptimal practice of just trying to knit perfect squares when swatching in pattern)

I got to learn things about the layout and schedule I wouldn't know to ask when answering questions and acting as a gofer -- especially true working two different locations

And of course, some people were pretty much guaranteed to be happy to see me!

Second day, I signed up for a workshop in the morning so I'd be there and able to shop for anything I needed at the end. Ombre yarn dyeing was the class! It's acid dyes, something I'm several years off from wanting to get into enough to commit to dedicated cookware, full pots of dye powder, etc. The room with the workshop was a barn that had plenty of outlets--but they did not represent plenty of breakers. So there weren't quite enough functional heating elements for the class to have sufficiently cooked our yarn before leaving, and I did need to risk a giant stock pot at home for three batches of four jars, almost-simmering in a water bath for thirty minutes each, of the yarn that hadn't proven it was done (all but the two palest greens). I was a little worried the delay/drawn out heat situation would affect the results but if it did it wasn't much; I got pretty much exactly what I was hoping for with my two color gradient and the single is great too!

The single dye gradient is the color Moss, which did some interesting things with the red portion separating out once they were heated. Every skein has redder blotches, so I'm not bothered about any inconsistency -- if anything it'll help my finished product camouflage stains. Though it was definitely a surprise for me and the other Moss user in the class when our first yarn to have exhausted the dye was the complementary color to what it went in as.

The two color gradient used Rhodamine Red on one end, which was one end of one of our instructor's samples where she chose a cool-green for the other end to show how multi-component dyes mix less predictably than most paint. (It was kinda like shading with markers where you can still see washes of the pink and green in what you squint at and call a grey-brown.) The other end was Cantaloupe, which was one of the maybe three colors she didn't have a sample cut of yarn for. But she described it as the flesh of a perfect ripe cantaloupe and obviously I had to see that, and it sounded like it would be fairly guaranteed to combine nicely with the magenta while being just enough around a bend in the color wheel to be interesting--warm orange versus cool pink. As I said, it turned out pretty much exactly as I was picturing. Not anticipated was how much the jars looked like they were full of some delicious dragonfruit-mango beverage. Were I still a barista I'd be trying to recreate this for my shift drink.

Image descriptions under the cut.

[ID: Five images following fourteen small skeins of sock yarn dyed in individual glass jars, in two gradients. One gradient is six skeins from a medium forest green through a pale creamy pink, the other is eight skeins from a vibrant yellow orange through an even more vibrant magenta. The first photo is inside under fluorescent lights, showing the 32oz glass canning jars with metal lids and rings, full of dye and yarn on a table at the end of the class in which they were filled and heated for a short time.

The next two images are animated gifs. The first gif is two frames showing the finished dye jars sitting in grass, with their yarn and with it removed. The green gradient left only transparent blue color in its jars, and most of the pink to orange gradient's water looks more orange without its yarn, aside from the third and fourth jars from the orange end, which shade toward a neon lilac with the peachy pink yarn removed. The second gif is a view of the inside of the bright green wash bucket, with just the pink-orange yarn in it, then all of them mixed up, all as they were after a soak with the rust-brown water, in the first rinse, and that rinse water alone showing its transparent but still brown tint.

The last two photos show the gradients lined up along a weathered wooden bench on the side of a deck. The first photo has the wet piles of yarn bundled in front of each of their respective jars with remaining dye. The final photo has the clean, dry yarn wound into center-pull balls and still vibrant in the direct sunlight. End ID]

[whereforarthur]

Am I a Burden to You?

Request: arthur’s been working a lot and y/n misses him, she brings this up and he gets angry and calls her ‘clingy’ before realising he messed up and making it up to her (angst —> soft)

- Anonymous

Pairing: Arthur Hill x Gf!Reader

Word Count: 2.1k

Category: Angst with a happy ending

*****

The room was filled with a heavy silence, only occasionally pierced by the distant hum of a passing car. Y/N sat cross-legged on the floor, her eyes glued to the laptop screen as she replayed Arthur's latest video for the umpteenth time. His laughter, usually a soothing melody that filled her heart, now echoed hollowly around the emptiness of their apartment. She hadn't seen him in days, his work schedule swelling like a tide that had swallowed their plans whole. The aroma of cold coffee lingered in the air, a stark reminder of the mornings they used to share, chatting about their dreams before the day's responsibilities washed over them.

Her phone buzzed, startling her. She glanced at the screen, expecting a message from Arthur, perhaps a simple "Miss you," or "Can't wait to see you tonight." But it was just another notification from his YouTube channel, announcing a new collaboration with a fellow musician. Her heart sank. The screen flashed with images of him smiling with his friends, seemingly unfazed by the void in his personal life. Y/N felt a sting of sadness, realizing she had become an afterthought in his whirlwind of success.

With a sigh, she decided to confront him. It was time to voice her concerns before the distance grew too wide to bridge. She picked up her phone and called Arthur, her heart pounding in her chest. He answered on the third ring, his voice a blend of surprise and fatigue. "Hey, what's up?"

Y/N took a deep breath, trying to keep her tone light. "I just wanted to check in, see how your day's going."

Arthur's sigh was audible over the phone. "Yeah, it's hectic as usual. The music video's almost done, but the director's a bit of a nightmare."

"That sounds…challenging," she offered, trying to keep the conversation afloat.

"More than you know," Arthur replied, his voice tight with frustration. "Look, I'm just really busy right now. Can we talk about this later?"

Y/N felt the rejection like a slap in the face, but she pushed on. "It's just that…I miss you, Arthur. You've been working non-stop, and it feels like we're living separate lives."

There was a pause, and for a moment, she thought he might have hung up. But then he spoke, his voice laced with a hint of annoyance. "I'm sorry, but you know how important this is to me. I can't just drop everything because you're feeling clingy."

The word 'clingy' hit Y/N like a knife. She felt her cheeks flush with a mix of anger and hurt. "I'm not being clingy," she said, her voice strained. "I just miss spending time with you." She looked around the room, her eyes blurring with unshed tears. The apartment, once a sanctuary of their shared memories, now felt like a cold, empty stage where she was just a prop in Arthur's one-man show. The anger grew, a slow burn that began to consume her. She knew she wasn't being clingy, just expressing her love and missing her partner.

"You're always working," she continued, the words tumbling out before she could stop them. "We never do anything together anymore. It's like I'm invisible."

Arthur's tone shifted, now laced with defensiveness. "Invisible? That's not fair. I'm just trying to build a future for us. You know how much this means to me."

"I do," Y/N said, her voice quivering. "But I need you to understand that I need you too. It's not just about your future, it's about ours."

Arthur's silence stretched for a painfully long moment before he finally spoke. "Look, I'm sorry if it feels that way. I didn't mean to hurt you."

Y/N took a deep breath, trying to gather her thoughts. "It's just…it's not nice to be called clingy," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "It makes me feel like I'm not enough, like I'm just holding you back."

Arthur's voice softened. "That's not what I meant. I know you're not holding me back. You're the best thing that's ever happened to me."

Y/N's grip on the phone tightened. "Then why do you keep pushing me away?" she asked, her voice cracking.

"I'm not pushing you away," Arthur said, sounding genuinely surprised. "I just need some space to breathe, to focus on my work. I thought you understood."

"I do understand," Y/N said, her voice thick with unshed tears. "But I miss you. Can we talk about this in person?"

Arthur's sigh was a heavy gust of wind through the phone. "Alright, I'll be home in an hour. We can talk then."

The wait felt like an eternity to Y/N. She paced the apartment, her thoughts racing. The clock ticked away the minutes, each second a pebble thrown into the river of their relationship, creating ripples of doubt and frustration. She busied herself by lighting a few candles, hoping the warm glow might ease the tension that had settled in the room. The faint scent of vanilla filled the air, a stark contrast to the coldness that had seeped into their lives.

Finally, the door swung open, and Arthur stepped inside, his eyes weary, his shoulders slumped. He dropped his bag to the floor, and she rushed over to greet him, wrapping her arms around his neck. For a moment, he stiffened before relaxing into her embrace. His arms circled her waist, and she felt his chest rise and fall in a deep, tired sigh.

They sat down on the couch, the candlelight casting a soft glow across their faces. Arthur looked into her eyes, searching for the words to explain his absence. "I'm sorry, love," he began, his voice thick with regret. "I know I've been distant. The pressure's been getting to me."

Y/N nodded, her eyes brimming with unshed tears. "It's okay," she murmured. "I just miss you."

Arthur's gaze softened, and he gently brushed a stray lock of hair from her face. "I miss you too," he admitted. "But I didn't mean to make you feel like you're not important. You are. You're everything to me."

Y/N leaned into his touch, her heart aching. "It's just hard," she said, her voice trembling. "I want to support you, but it feels like you're pulling away from me."

Arthur took her hand, his thumb tracing comforting circles on her palm. "I know, and I'm sorry," he said, his eyes sincere. "This isn't what I wanted for us. I guess I've been so caught up in my work, I didn't realize how much it was affecting you." Arthur took a deep breath, preparing to dive into the depths of their issues. "I've been thinking," he began, "maybe we should set aside some time, just for us. No work, no phones, just… us."

Y/N nodded, a glimmer of hope sparkling in her eyes. "That sounds perfect," she said. "But you have to actually stick to it. I can't keep being the one to remind you."

Arthur squeezed her hand, his gaze earnest. "I will," he promised. "Because I do miss you. And I don't want to lose you."

The conversation continued, the air in the room slowly shifting from tense to hopeful. They talked about their schedules, making plans for date nights and weekend getaways. Arthur listened intently, nodding and agreeing, his eyes never leaving hers. For the first time in what felt like an eternity, Y/N felt seen and heard.

As they sat there, the shadows of the room grew long with the setting sun, painting the walls with a warm, comforting glow. The silence that had once felt oppressive now felt like a blanket, wrapping around them as they leaned into each other. It was a silent promise, a vow to work on their relationship, to find a balance between career and love.

Y/N laid her head on Arthur's shoulder, his heartbeat a steady rhythm beneath her ear. He wrapped his arm around her, holding her close. They sat like that for a while, basking in the quiet understanding that had been so elusive lately. It wasn't a perfect fix, but it was a start. A step towards rebuilding the connection that had been frayed by time and neglect.

"How about we start with tomorrow?" Arthur suggested, his voice a gentle rumble against her cheek. "I'll clear my schedule, and we can do something together. Just you and me."

Y/N lifted her head to look at him, her eyes searching his for any signs of hesitation. Finding none, she smiled, a genuine one that reached her eyes. "I'd like that," she said, her voice a soft whisper.

They spent the rest of the evening planning their day together, the weight of their earlier conversation lifting with every shared laugh and whispered secret. Arthur's fingers danced over the screen of his phone, setting reminders and moving meetings, his determination to make it work palpable in every tap and swipe. They decided on a picnic in the park, followed by a visit to the art gallery, a place they'd talked about going to for months but never found the time.

*****

The next day dawned bright and clear, the kind of London morning that made the city feel alive and full of promise. Arthur woke up early, his heart fluttering with excitement. He had a surprise in store for Y/N, something to make up for the lost moments and the harsh words. He dashed to the kitchen, the aroma of freshly brewed coffee filling the air as he prepared a breakfast tray with her favorite croissants and a bouquet of wildflowers picked from the local market.

When she woke up to the smell of breakfast and the soft knock on the door, Y/N's eyes lit up. She padded out to the living room, her pajamas rumpled and her hair a mess, but she had never looked more beautiful to Arthur. He watched as she took in the sight before her, the surprise and joy washing over her features. "I know I said I'd make it up to you," Arthur said with a hopeful smile, "but I wanted to start today."

They sat together on the couch, the morning light spilling through the windows, casting a warm glow on their faces. They talked and laughed, sharing stories of their days and dreams for their future. Y/N felt a weight lift from her chest, the warmth of Arthur's love surrounding her like a cozy blanket. As they finished their breakfast, Arthur handed her a small, beautifully wrapped box. "This is just a little something to say I'm sorry," he said, his eyes twinkling.

Inside the box was a necklace, a delicate chain holding a single pearl. It was simple, but to Y/N, it was perfect. "It's beautiful," she whispered, her eyes shining with unshed tears. "Thank you."

They kissed, a gentle brush of lips that held the promise of more to come. The picnic in the park was everything Y/N had hoped for, the air filled with the sweet scent of blooming flowers and the distant sound of children playing. They talked and laughed, their words mingling with the chirp of birds and the rustle of leaves. Arthur had even packed her favorite sandwich, and she watched as he took a bite, his eyes never leaving hers.

As the afternoon sun began to set, they strolled hand in hand towards the art gallery. The promise of a quiet afternoon surrounded by beauty and culture was exactly what their hearts needed. The air between them was light, the tension of the past few days replaced with a gentle excitement for the future.

In the soft light of the gallery, they wandered from painting to sculpture, their conversation a gentle symphony of shared thoughts and feelings. Arthur paused in front of a particularly striking piece, his gaze thoughtful. "This reminds me of you," he murmured, his thumb brushing the back of her hand.

Y/N looked up at him, her heart fluttering. "How so?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

He turned to her, his eyes full of love. "It's full of color, of life, even in the shadows," he said, smiling. "It's complex, beautiful, and makes me feel something deep inside."

Y/N felt her cheeks warm as she leaned into him, her heart swelling with love. "Thank you," she murmured, her eyes shining. "You make me feel seen."

The rest of the day passed in a blur of art, music, and shared moments. As they walked home, the setting sun casting a warm glow over the city, Y/N knew that they had turned a corner. The future was uncertain, but for now, she had Arthur by her side, and that was all she needed.

[puppyguppy]

It’s a quarter-past two in the morning, according to his phone, when Shouta finally makes it home. And by that, he makes it to his front door, where he angrily mumbles and fumbles with his keys, and then boots. There’s two text messages: one from Hizashi, calling him a party pooper of all things, since apparently, they’re still in high school, and one from Nemuri, asking him to text once he got home safely. He ignores Hizashi, but sends Nemuri a quick sleeping cat emoji, which he believes to be good enough proof that he did indeed make it home safely, and is quickly heading to the safety of his bed, instead of the streets. He then locks his phone and heads to his bedroom, not sure if the sour taste in his mouth is more from alcohol or frustration. They’d tried to hook him up.

And she’d been…cute enough. Sarcastic, all smiles and giggles, and a bit overly-familiar all too fast; though, he couldn't be sure if that was just because she was tipsy, or...just how she was. She reminded him of both his friends, of Nemuri and Hizashi somehow combined, so he could see why they’d picked her. But, that was just the thing. They’d picked her. And he’d picked you. 

He preferred to have his friends as two separate entities, and as friends.

He also preferred you, but since he can't have that, he’ll take the early night in to sulk instead. 

He sighs something close to a growl to himself, and slams his bedroom door shut with a little too much force. It shakes the walls, an almost visible representation of how he feels like he suddenly might just shake apart. He loves his friends, dearly and dumbly, but they'd gone and scratched at hardly healed scars again. Pricked at his heart with the best of intentions, and forced him to walk home with internal bleeding. It hadn't been that long, not for him, but apparently it’d been too long for everyone else. (In reality, it'd been months. Almost as many to be considered closer to a year. Yes, he knew the exact amount of weeks, days, and he could probably whittle it down to the exact minute you’d left him. But he tries not to do that...anymore.)

But they act like he hadn't been single before you. They act like he can't be single after you. Like they’d gotten so used to the idea of you, as in plural, as in the both of you. And yeah, he’d been pretty damn used to it, too. But, you’d made your choice. Left him alone to fall back onto his bed, still fully clothed, and with his palms pressing spots into his eyes. Better spots than the after image of you. You, and all the dirty little things you’d do, on a night such as this. When the night air was made that much cooler by the heat beneath, and then between, your bodies. Fuck, you were so soft. Malleable, moldable through the knead of his fingers. Foldable beneath his hands, bendable to his hot, heavy breath, snappable – you’d been so damn breakable, and yet. Shouta had been the one left in pieces, shattered but quickly stuck back together; a haphazard kintsugi of human soul and binding cloth. The same binding cloth he used on patrol, in missions, against villains, and the same binding cloth he’d used on you, to tie you up, and hold you down. You’d asked for it, begged for it, like some nights you couldn’t control your fight or flight, but you knew you wanted to stay, and so he took that choice away from you, cradled it in careful claws, and made you stay. Like a wounded, doomed animal, pupils blown and heart hammering as he licked it all away. Your tears, your sweat, your sounds, your cum. He’d soothe it all away with his tongue, animal instinct begetting animal instinct, and then you’d thank him, and he’d have to close his eyes and count to ten before untying you. The things he’d wanted to do to you, the things he would’ve done for you – his little shadow. Against his better judgement, he’d fallen for you. But, he’d considered it safe enough. Considered you safe enough. Easy enough to hide away from danger, but then you’d implied he was the danger, and. Well. Maybe he was. It’d hurt to hear, but as he lays there and thinks about it, thinks about you – the shape of you, the taste of you, the weight of you, the audacity of you, he’s not sure what’s stronger. The hunger, or the anger. To think that he’d ever hurt you, that he could ever hurt you, outside of your consent and beyond your means? He had never, could never, would never. Never, ever. And he could prove it to you, if he wasn’t trying to respect your boundaries. It’d be so easy for him to find you. He knows who to ask, he knows where to look – hell. He could probably sniff you out. But he hasn’t, and he won’t. Not if you think you’re safer somewhere else, happier with someone else. But fuck, he’d been happy with you. With the way you’d curl around him, while he curled inside you – Amongst other things. Much more wholesome things. Things that his friends had teased him about, and things that were just a little too hard to remember right now with the way his cock throbbed in the confines of his jeans, as if calling out to you. As if he could take it out, and the heat of it, the scent of it, would work as well as a Siren’s song; precum dribbling down like a mermaid’s tear, lonely, longing only in the way that a monster can.

His hands end up in his hair, fisting locks free from their hair-tie in a fit of - of feelings. He scrapes nails against his scalp, filled with the fleeting desire to split his skull open and let all his memories spill out, like a fever was once thought to be spilled with blood. It hurts, it hurts, how much he wants; his head, his heart, his cock. Wants you back. Back where you belong. Beside him, beneath him – the booze were a bad idea.

He rolls over with a groan, the room churning just as much as the desire and despair in his stomach. He thinks about finding you. He thinks about kicking down your door, about dragging you down and pinning you to the floor; he thinks about your fingers digging in his chest, about you screaming no, no, no but only as a precursor to don’t stop, don’t, oh no, no, no! He thinks about how you’d let him, because you always did. You wanted it, you wanted this, and he never once hurt you. You claimed to have been afraid of him that night, but no. He knows better now, even if it took this long for it to sink in. You weren’t afraid of him, but of yourself. And what you wanted. All he ever did was give.

And now he wants to take.

He thinks about what you took.

He licks his teeth, pants, and glares off into the distance between his hands and wherever you are. Hands he white-knuckles into his sheets, while his hips shift in a lazy, subconscious jerk. He thinks about feeling alive again, and fishes his phone back out of his pocket. The light burns his eyes for a second, but that’s fine – he can find what he’s looking for with just a few memorized taps of a finger. And then he hesitates, that finger hovered over an open app, while his hips stuttered and still the rhythm they’d started grinding down against the mattress.

When he finally taps the screen again, it pops up with a map.

It pops up with a location.

It pops up with exact coordinates.

He reaches for his binding cloth.

He shouldn’t have let you go.

And that’s just the thing. You didn’t know he’d let you go.

[bubbles-for-all-of-us]

Can you do a grumpy ii in spin check or smth? He deserves more loving. Thx!

This also has interactions with other members. Hope you will like it!

Code: cranky little man

“Code: cranky little man. Help.” was the message you received from IV about an hour after the rehearsal had started. And quite frankly you weren’t all that surprised considering that II was already grouchy in the morning before he left. Meaning that you had practically dragged him out of bed, bribing him with homemade dinner once he got back.

“What have you done now” you fired back, knowing that as much as they loved each other they also had a passion for pissing each other off. “I’m offended that you’re blaming me”, was all IV responded with before another notification dinged. This time a picture of your boyfriend with his face first on his drums graced your screen. A slight chuckle slipped past your lips as you quietly saved the image. “Leave my eepy baby alone”, you typed back quickly. Shaking your head you reached for one of II old shirts before throwing little things you might need into your purse.

“Maria, Joseph, and the donkey”, III raised his arms in the air when you made it to the studio thirty minutes later, “The savior is here”. You cackled, placing bags with food and drinks to the side, “Forgot the halo boys, my apologies”, you snickered. “I smell food”, IV practically chirped rubbing his palms together, before digging through the options available. “Hey, share”, you pointed a finger at him, making him lift his hands in surrender, “Yes, Mom”.

You just shook your head at him before grabbing the biggest cup of coffee planet Earth had seen, “Four shots, no sugar”, you muttered, setting the drink next to Vessel who reached out an arm to pull you into a side hug. “You’re the best”, he mused before turning back to the sheets with lyrics.“Bringing offerings like a good girl”, IV whistled, popping another fry into his mouth. “Oj, pipe it down”, II grunted stepping back into the room.

“What are you doing here?”, a slight frown crossed his features. Not the kind that suggested that you were unwanted there. More a surprised one, since you both had agreed that your personal life should be separate from the band's life. “Thought I would pop in to surprise you”, you smiled at him but he only tilted his head to the side, clearly not buying any of it.

“Okay, maybe I got a code red from someone”, you admitted with a slight shrug. “Fucking snitches”, II muttered under his breath before reaching out for you. Wrapping his arms around your shoulders. You could feel the tension in his body even from such a small action. “What’s wrong?”, you whispered, leaning in to press a loving kiss on his neck. “Nothing”, he shook his head but just glared at him, “Yeah, you are lying through your teeth”.

II stayed ridged for a moment. Running through his thoughts in his head before letting out a sigh, “Just not my day, nothing sounds good”. You hummed at his words, running a hand up and down his back.“How’s your wrist?”, you asked so casually and the slight shock on your boyfriend’s face was understandable. “How did you…”, he cut himself off with a shake of a head.

“I’ll tape it for ya, come on”, you tapped his back a couple of times before pulling away and reaching for your bag. “You were rubbing it this morning…”, you pointed out, reaching for his hand. “That’s what she said”, III snickered, of course making IV laugh as well. “You’ll be eating drumsticks lads”, II grunted shooting them an annoyed look. But you just snickered alongside them, carefully taping the tender wrist.

“How does this feel?”, you looked up, making sure you hadn’t wrapped it too tight. “Good, a lot better”, II agreed with a sigh, “Thanks, bub”, his free hand rubbed the back of your thigh. “You’re more than welcome”, you mussed, leaning in to kiss his lips a couple of times. “Sit with me while i play”, he mumbled against your lips, both hands pulling you deeper into him as he held onto your hips. “I don’t want to bother you or the boys”, you muttered. “As if you could”, he needed forward pressing his head into your chest.