#the offices are around the same distance from my house but one is much more comfortable and overall nice

[spacebell]

so either I am very chill (with some things) or I let people walk all over me

[suguann]

SAY YOU'RE MINE—GOJO SATORU.

✎.You shouldn’t elicit his attention more than any other Omega at the party—he doesn’t remember inviting that many—but he’s wondering how he let you slip by. | wc. 1.4k+

tags. fem!reader, age-gap, very shy reader, exhibitionism, reader wears glasses, a/b/o, 18+ only

masterlist

The big, awful truth nobody tells you about hosting your fortieth birthday is how the shine of the day wears off once you see your friends and acquaintances laughing with their loved ones, talking about their kids, showing off pictures of newborns swaddled in soft linens, and making plans for upcoming holidays. 

Gojo sips his drink, pretending to understand. He’s never given much thought to settling down, to take an omega as a mate and fill his big empty house with the sounds of pealing laughter and little feet racing down the many halls.

Forty years old, and he’s ready to admit that living the life of a bachelor doesn’t hold the same appeal as it once did. That returning from a two-week-long business trip might be better if there were somebody to go home to.

Forty years old.

Instead of cozying up in the living room with a family he longs to have, he’s going to spend the rest of his night picking up plates and champagne flutes after everyone leaves because he forgot to hire a cleaning company—all alone in his big empty house, wondering if his secretary remembered to pick up his dry-cleaning for the week.

An unmated Alpha—the reminder chafes as much as the fact he’s getting older.

He finally understands why his late aunt divorced and got married again twice in the same year, why people buy nice vacation homes on white sandy beaches that make the crow’s feet around their eyes worse, and spend too much money on sports cars even though they stay parked for three-fourths of the year. He gets it now.

It’s more or less an epiphany of a sad, pathetic truth that he swallows down with something cold and bitter.

In the middle of his backyard, standing between his neighbor and his pregnant wife, Gojo wishes he were anywhere else. Inviting everyone he knows within driving distance no longer seems like the well-thought idea he’d presumed it’d been.

He makes a few more rounds around the garden before sneaking inside, escaping another conversation about engagements and wedding dates to hide away in his study.

That’s until he sees you out of the corner of his eye, looking through the bookcases in his living room.

A pretty slip of a girl in your modest cocktail dress and wide-framed glasses slipping down the slope of your nose. An Omega, alone, just like him; your clean, sweet, floral scent sticking to the back of his throat like syrup until it settles in his stomach. Enough to make him dizzy.

You shouldn’t elicit his attention more than any other Omega at the party—he doesn’t remember inviting that many—but he’s wondering how he let you slip by. Not that it really matters because his back straightens, no longer wallowing in self-pity, and he studies you with interest.

After a few moments, you finally glance his way, only for you to hastily return your attention to the book you pulled down from the shelf. Cute.

Gojo adjusts the tie around his neck and feels his lips twitch.

“Sorry,” you say softly, long lashes fluttering against the top of your cheeks. “I didn’t mean—I was only—My friend invited me, and she—”

You are too busy working yourself up over an explanation that you don’t notice when he sidles up next to you and reads over your shoulder. "I have more in my office if you want to take a look.”

“E-excuse me?” You make this breathy, choked sound and peer up at him from under your lashes. This visibly timid type of girl who bashfully looks away at the sight of his smile. For some reason, that makes his mouth go dry—makes his teeth ache. 

It’s rare to be so driven by instinct and rarer to actually listen to that instinct.

“Books,” he says. “Do you want to see them?”

His words take a second to sink in, and he smiles when he sees liquid clarity in your eyes. You blink owlishly, scent spiking, pleased. He stands there patiently, finding how you start rambling endearing, a slight, private grin splitting across his face—silently amused.

He thinks you'd bolt if it weren’t for the fact that he’s probably standing much too close, trapping a mouse by the tail.

“I–I g-guess,” you finally stutter.

It’s too easy: You letting him usher you up the stairs toward his office. 

If Gojo were a better person, a less lonely Alpha—a better man—he might feel bad for how well it works.

It’s no small thing to work the tiny zipper at your back and watch your dress pool around your feet. He barely gets the top three buttons of his shirt undone before you are—delightfully, inexplicably—up on the tips of your toes, timidly pushing your hands through his hair, mewling into the hollow of his throat, close to where his gland sits.

By the time he has you pressed against his office window, you’re this flustered little mess with crooked glasses, fingers streaking the once pristine glass to keep your balance, and breasts sticky and wet with spit.

“Good girl,” he mutters, pulling back to look down at where he’s splitting you open. “Such a good little Omega for me, aren’t you?”

You don’t answer, and he crowds you closer to the window, grasping your chin and tugging your head up until you’re looking at him upside down. He squeezes your cheeks together, your pouty, supple lips pushed out, and kisses your mouth, tasting you—unimaginably sweet.

“Tell me—tell me what a good girl you are,” even though he knows you can’t with his fingers pressing into your cheeks, but you try anyway.

“U-uh but—people c-can see.” 

The base of his cock tingles as he catches a line of drool spilling from the corner of your lips. He makes a soft noise in the back of his throat, soothing, and you steadily melt against him when he slips that same finger underneath the elastic of your underwear, lightly nudging your clit with the tip of his finger until you’re shivering beautifully again.

“That’s it. Don’t worry about them,” he coaxes lightly, but it comes out muffled because he says it with his mouth wrapped around the gland at the base of your neck, teasing himself with something he’s never allowed himself to have. Not yet. “Just you and me, okay?”

Gojo doesn’t let up until your back arches and shoulders tighten, his knot caught inside your cunt until all he can do is grind the tip of his cock against that spot that makes you squirm and whine. 

He smiles to himself when you hide behind your hands after realizing you ruined his pants, and he carefully falls back into his office chair, pulling you with him so you’re both looking out across the garden, where his guests walk around wholly unaware of the breathtaking little Omega who made his birthday worthwhile.

“You’re a dirty little thing, aren’t you?” he muses, taking great pleasure in the way you start stuttering again.

On his forty-first birthday, he doesn’t throw his own party but still hides in his office, his pretty wife in his lap, flustered because he never turned the lights off this time. If anyone happened to walk by on this side of the house, they’d be able to see everything—his omega, soft and swollen from a piece of him taking root inside you.

Families are about making traditions, he thinks, and he’d like to start a few traditions of his own; leaving his party to fuck his wife in the quiet of his office being one of them.

[alphabetboyluvr]

landslides - 001 | goldrush - jjk

part title credit: goldrush - taylor swift

everybody wonders what it would be like to love you... i can't dare to dream about you anymore... it never will be...

pairing: officeworker!jungkook x female reader (coworkers)

premise: jungkook asks you to dog sit over chuseok. he doesn't ask you to steal the empty spaces in his head, the dreams he's yet to have, nor the idea of you always just being 'you' to him - and yet, like a thief in the night (with his own damn dog as your accomplice), you do.

warnings: fluff more than angst, but it's not clean cut - there's also a touch of smut. office worker jk, fuck boy (but kind!) jk, mentions of his workplace escapades, oc is dating mingyu (yay), oc sorta fancies jk (boo), solo masturbation (m), vivid thoughts of shagging (jk is a perv! wow! unlike me to write him as randy bastard!), lots of facetime calls, oc and jk are fundamentally flawed as a pairing, genuine friendship, daddy kink? ig? but like kinda sweet?, jungkook has a complex brain house and you've been banished to his annexe!! he also has a thing for claw clipped hair lol

wordcount: 6.8K

note from holly: so... i dogsat (? idk if thats a word) for my friend last chuseok and this was the result hahahaha. my friends dog (boba <3) is so tiny and small!! but i've always been a big dog girlie so bam was fun to write. i really love this one and have recently found all of my old notes from around that time detailing the rest of the couples lives, so pt. 2 is in progress.

minors dni // cross posted to wattpad

Bam notices the storm roll in before you do. His ears twitch, head lifting from its rested perch on his paws.

“What’s up, baby? Hey?” You coo, his sudden shift obviously prompted by something. His snout begins to twitch, too, and his bottom lip shakes as a small growl vibrates from his throat. His eyes are on the window, stalking the clouds as they roll past. “Hey.”

You sit up a little straighter to lean forward and scratch behind his ear. He leans into it, but doesn’t take his eyes away from the sky.

“You see the rain, huh?” You hum, looking between the pup and the window ahead. You can’t place it yet - it’s too far in the distance - but you find yourself coming to sit beside him. He doesn’t lean up against you like he usually does. Just continues to lightly growl.

There’s no threat behind his noises, no malice - he’s just shouting back at the thunder you can’t hear. When you see a bolt of lightning flash in the distance just beyond the city skyline, you know that it won’t be long until Jungkook’s apartment block is drenched in the weather.

It’s just gone midnight when he calls. His face is a little puffy, smile a little lopsided.

“Hey Bammie,” he coos into the camera. You’ve got it angled down to where the pup is resting his head on your knee, peacefully unwinding after his long walk. Bam doesn’t stir at Jungkook’s voice, so he tries again. “Bammie?”

The way he elongates his puppy’s name is sweet - a tone of voice reserved only for his most trusted companion. He sure as hell has never spoken to you like that.

“Sorry, bud,” you say as you lift the camera up to your face. He’s pouting. “I don’t think the vibrations sound the same through the phone.”

“I miss him,” he says not even caring to acknowledge your thought process. “Is he okay? Was he good on his walk?”

“He’s all good,” you smile. “Best boy in the world. None of the other dogs you mentioned were down at the park, so it was just us two.”

He nods into the camera and purses his lips. “They might all be away. Visiting family.” He rolls over in his bed and lets out a yawn. “How’s the apartment? Got everything you need?”

You nod back. “All good. Might have eaten my way through your cheese stash already. I’m gonna shower then head to bed in a minute.”

“Make sure you leave the bathroom door open a little,” he says. “He’ll whine if not.”

“Will do.”

“Thank you,” he says. “I really appreciate you doing this. He hasn’t been too much work, has he?”

“He’s good as gold,” you say as you switch to the back camera. The view is serene, and Jungkook’s lips instantly settle into a smile. Bam is up on the sofa with you, snuggled against your lap. The skyline twinkles through his window, the reflection of his mood lamp obscuring some of it - but he’s quietly pleased that you’re using it. It’s how he normally winds down, too. Main lights off, galaxy on his ceiling. Must make Bam feel a little more at ease. You go to scratch behind his ear, and he huffs a little, all content and cosy. “Thanks for asking. He’s never too much work. You trained him well.”

“Hmm,” Jungkook hums. “Could have trained you a little better, though.”

He laughs when you switch the camera back to your face, mouth open, brows knitted together. “Me?!”

“Yes, you,” he grins now but tries to hide it; to restore the stoicism to his face. It doesn’t work. “What did I tell you about the sofas?”

You purse your lips together as if you’re not smiling. He’s got you there, admittedly.

“Look, he’s just so cute!” Despite the fact you’ve turned the camera back onto Bam, Jungkook can tell you’re pouting. “How could I say no?!”

“Easily!” Jungkook laughs. “That’s how he became so well trained! I leave for one night and-”

“Shuuuush,” you laugh, and when the camera switches back to you, Jungkook can’t help but let his smile persist. You look tired, and so does he, but there’s something about the call that has made you forget all about the fact you were planning on going to bed soon. “My swamp now. My rules.”

“My swamp,” he protests, but the look on his face is so saccharine that you can’t take him seriously. He thinks the same could be said for you. “Anyways, it’s late. Go get your shower. If you need more towels, there are some in the cupboard by the boiler. Don’t forget to turn the vent on - it’s the switch next to the light.”

“Alright, will do,” you nod and then yawn. Bam pricks his head up. “Hey baby,” you speak to him. “Did I wake you?”

“Show me him.”

You switch the camera around to where you’re scratching at Bam’s ear. He leans his head into the scratch, thoroughly enjoying it, your long nails far scratchier than Jungkook’s. It’s not the same - Jungkook is far stronger, so is a little rougher which suits Bam just fine. Still, he likes your scratches better than no scratches at all.

Jungkook whines. “I miss him.”

“He misses you, too. Want me to call in the morning?”

Jungkook shakes his head. “We’re up early tomorrow, heading over to Haedong Yonggungsa in the morning. Probably be up before you. Send me pictures though.”

“Will do. Night, buddy.”

“Night gremlin,” he smiles, and then begins to coo. “Night Bammie. Daddy misses you.”

He wishes you wouldn’t look at him in the way that you do when he says that; lips turned upwards at the very corners, dimples pressing into your cheeks, eyes bright.

“Shut up,” he says, but you’re already laughing.

“Daddy.”

“I am his dad!”

“Daddy.”

“Oh my god, fuck off,” he laughs. “Have nightmares, gremlin.”

“Sweet dreams, Daddy.”

“Fuck off!”

You hang up before he can protest your taunts any more, though he does text you one final ‘fuck off,’ and a reminder that you can bolt his front door if it will make you feel safer.

His apartment is in a high-rise, and his neighbourhood is far nicer than yours. You do the bolt up regardless, and think that it’s sweet that he considered your comfort enough to remind you about it.

Bam sits by the sliding door of the bathroom, the tips of his paws just teetering over the line of the door frame. He rests his head on his legs, snout angled towards the hallway. It still makes you feel a little weird. You don’t really want a dog watching you shower, even if he is a dog and has no real understanding of what’s happening - so you turn your back to him and just reassure yourself that Jungkook showers with the door open wide.

It’s a funny thing, to think about your co-worker’s showering habits. Not one that you’ve ever thought to indulge in before - but Jungkook would go ballistic if he heard you refer to him as your ‘co-worker.’ You’re friends. Pretty good ones, at that.

You’re level players at your company; earn the same wage, hold the same rank. There’s not really any competition between the pair of you - you work in different departments - but are often paired together when the two sections merge for joint projects. You make for a good team.

Over the years, you and Jungkook have also learned that you’re a highly capable team when it comes to playing beer pong against your colleagues on Friday nights, and at the mixed-doubles tennis tournament that your company insists on you participating in every year. It’s either that or be on the Christmas Party Planning committee, and you know which you’d rather do.

Thinking about tinsel in August? No, thank you.

There is however one crucial flaw to your partnerships: how you live your lives. How you manage your money.

See, Jungkook is frugal. He makes big investments - his apartment, his cars, games consoles, Bam. Doesn’t spunk his cash away on the small shit. His apartment is in the heart of the city, only a few floors from the very top. He gets a birds-eye view of the world around him. You don’t even want to imagine how much his deposit cost.

Probably more than you have in your savings. You do spunk your cash away - on the small shit, no less. Clothes, cafes, that sort of stuff. Nothing that holds permanence. It frustrates Jungkook to no end. He thinks you could have a better life if you just used your money wisely - but you’re happy in your slightly cramped apartment, happy when the serotonin of a shopping spree boosts your mood, happy when you’re laughing with your friends over coffee and cake.

You wouldn’t be happy if you felt restricted. You think that Jungkook is.

He disagrees. He has enough in the bank to buy whatever he wants. He has financial freedom.

But there’s a difference. You’re both free in your own ways.

It’s for that reason you’d never work as a couple. Would infuriate one another far too much. Everyone who is close to you both knows this; how badly suited you would be. They’ll joke about all of the women in the office trying to get their mitts on Jungkook - even the married ones - but not you.

It’s funny because they’re right. Everybody wants him.

He collects stars from their eyes and accumulates them in his own. The girls blush and giggle about how he looks at them with galaxies, but they don’t realise what a thief he is. Don’t realise he’s stolen their shine, and incorporated it into his own. A spotlight follows him, and you enjoy watching the show unfold with an amused grin whenever a new secretary catches his gaze for the first time.

It’s not intentional. You don’t think Jungkook realises he does it. In fact, he hadn’t realised that it was such a pattern of behaviour until the midnight squalor of a dive bar had you talking about office conquests, and how the photocopier room had seen his bare ass more than it had seen toner changes.

“Shouldn’t shit where you eat, Jeon,” you’d grinned.

“Firstly, that’s a horrible phrase - and secondly, it takes two to tango. They’re just as much to blame as I am.”

But they’re not. He’s the only repeat offender.

“And anyways,” he had deflected, sinking down the final dregs of his beer. “Don’t act like you’re some kind of saint. Everyone’s fucked a colleague at least once.”

You’d just raised an eyebrow.

“You’re telling me you haven’t?”

“Like I said - shouldn’t shit where you eat, Jeon.”

Now, if he’d have said housemate, you would have folded. Downed your drink. Ordered a repeat round.

Something about a shared space - domestication - really gets you. It’s joint laundry loads, shared dinners, movie nights; grocery shopping, D.I.Y. furniture, arguments about who gets the bigger room. More often than not, it never matters, ‘cause you just end up staying in theirs.

You live alone now. After the third time, you knew better than to let yourself fall into the trap once more.

He learns about your affliction a few months later, and goes on tease you relentlessly.

In fact, he mentions it when he propositions you a few weeks before Chuseok. You had both spent the last couple of holiday periods overworked, slogging through the festivities. For the first time since either of you can remember, your workload has eased up.

You’ve already told him you’re planning on doing sweet, sweet fuck all. You’ve told your family you will be working, because you just want to finally breathe for a while; stay in with a tub of ice cream and your favourite films. Speak to no one. Do nothing.

“I’ve got a favour to ask you,” he had said as he approached your desk before the end of the day. It was a Friday, but you weren’t heading for after-work drinks with the usual suspects like you typically did. You had a date, instead. A third one with the same guy - Mingyu - which felt like a miracle. Even Jungkook was a little shocked that the poor guy wasn’t sick of you.

“Go on,” you had mused as you checked over your to-do list for the following week.

“You gotta promise me something first.”

“Promise you what?”

“That you won’t fall in love with me.”

You’d swatted him away the ruler on your desk, and told him to get his head out of his ass. “Been able to resist your charms this long, Jeon. Give me some credit.”

“It’s only ‘cause you know I’d reject you, you little gremlin.”

“I thought you wanted a favour? Funny way of going about it.”

“Sorry, sorry. You’re right,” he had conceded with an apologetic smile. “Forgive me.”

“What do you want?”

“How would you feel about potentially staying at mine over Chuseok to look after Bam? My parents want us to head down to Busan for the weekend and see relatives seeing as I’m finally free and know it’s a big ask but I-”

“Oh my God, yes?!” You had smiled so wide Jungkook thought you might fracture your jaw.

You love Bam.

In fact, he might just be your favourite thing about Jungkook.

Occasionally you walk him with Jungkook on the weekends, when you’re both hungover and need to get out of a slump. You’ve grown up with pets, but moving to the city in your early twenties to pursue your career meant apartment living.

You’re a rural girl deep down, and would never want to keep a pet in a high rise.

Jungkook manages it, but he goes home at lunchtime to walk Bam during the winter. In the summer, when it’s too hot, he goes home at lunch regardless, to lounge around with Bam under the air con.

Sometimes, you go with him. Bam is always pleased to see you.

Jungkook lied and said he asked around because he didn’t want to inconvenience you.

Truth is, he wouldn’t have trusted anyone else with his baby. He’d never spent a night away from Bam. Hated the idea. Despised it, in fact. He would have just taken Bam with him to Busan, but didn’t think it would be fair to force him on the journey from Seoul.

Over in Busan, when Jungkook hangs up, the conversation isn’t over. It continues in his head.

“Hey, wait…”

“Mhhm?”

“You just… look nice tonight, that’s all.”

He thinks you’d blush. Would tell him to lay off the soju. Accuse him of getting too drunk for a family get-together. He’d let you. Would take the beating of your false accusations, because it would be far easier than admitting he’s not had a single drop.

He thinks of the hug he’ll give Bam when he gets home; how wild his tail will waggle, how he’ll jump all over the place, and how you’ll be giggling. In his mind, you’ll be smiling just as wide as he is.

You’d stay for dinner. Jungkook would order from your favourite place to say thank you. Bam would snuggle up to Jungkook - on the sofa - and you’d be on the other side, stroking his back. He’d be happy. Bam, not Jungkook. But also Jungkook. Hopefully you, too.

When the time would approach for you to go home, you’d offer to help. Rinse out the containers. Hair up in a claw clip, t-shirt off your shoulder like it so often is.

Jungkook doesn’t notice, but his hands begin to trail down his body as he thinks of you. His phone is still on his chest, rising and falling with every beat of his heart. The tips of his fingers stroke against his skin.

He thinks of you laughing with him about something inconsequential. You’d flick water in his direction when he’d make some joke at your expense. It’d all be in good humour.

But then he’d flick some back at you, and water war would break out. Bam would run excitedly between the pair of you, Jungkook chasing you around the kitchen island with wet hands - and you’d do the exact same back. You’d flick water over the counter, tap still running and he’d call you a gremlin.

There’s a smile on his lips as he thinks of his. His hands roam further south. He’s ticking at his abdomen. It’s nice. Feels calm. He likes to engage his senses when he thinks of scenarios like these. Makes it feel more real.

But then he’s thinking of your shirt and the fact it’s white.

And then he’s imagining catching up with you, holding you captive as he angles the tap towards your face. You’ll be shrieking and scrambling to get away, Bam by your feet, Jungkook laughing.

He’d relent, but only enough for you to twist to face him.

Jungkook’s fingers are by his thighs. Stroking. Caressing. He’s avoiding his cock. Knows it’s firm. His index finger spreads to his balls. Teases.

And then he thinks of your body pressed against his torso, your ass to the counter.

You’d both be soaked.

He’d look at your lips. Look in your eyes. Feel your chest against his. He’d swallow hard.

It’s at this point he forgets about Bam in the scenario. It’s just you and him.

His palm rests over the length of his cock. Presses down. His hips roll.

He’d tell you that you’ve made a mess. You’d tell him to clean it up. His heart would be racing. So would yours.

And it’s funny, because his heart actually is. It’s beating so fucking hard in his childhood bedroom, that he thinks his parents must be able to hear it through the walls.

He’s in a far-too-firm single bed, but in his head, he’s with you in his kitchen.

He begins to grip his cock, long fingers wrapping around his shaft. He pulls up. Pushes back down. Says your name. Whines.

He doesn’t even really realise he’s doing it.

Just thinks about you.

Thinks about the way it would feel to sink his lips into yours; the first bite of a forbidden fruit. Thinks about that quick tongue of yours, and if it would be just as quick to find its way into his mouth. Thinks about your manicured nails that Bam loves so much, and how they’d scratch against his scalp instead. Thinks about the way his hips would rock against you, kind of like they are now; pulsing beneath his duvet.

His mind jumps. Skips the foreplay. Doesn’t mean to - but the thoughts are intrusive. Insidious. Insatiable. He can’t help it.

He pushes up into his hand. Pauses. Waits out the feeling. Retracts. Repeats.

In his head, it’s you that he’s pushing into.

The sensation is entirely different, granted, but - fuck - he hasn’t gotten himself off all week and hasn’t had sex in far longer, so it all feels the same to him.

He hasn’t worked out the mental logistics.

His imagination is jumping from the kitchen to his bedroom and then back to the kitchen again. Can’t decide where all of this is happening - and then suddenly, he finds himself railing you in the utility room.

You’re perched above the washer, held in place by him. He can smell the laundry detergent. He’s got spotlights in the room, but they’re turned off. Only lights from the hallway and the city skyline illuminate you.

It’s obscure. The shadows in his head conceal you a little. He’s gripping your waist beneath your shirt. The baby gate which keeps Bam out of the laundry room is closed.

You’re not talking, just fucking, fucking, fucking and -

“Fuck,” he whines, hand is jerking at his cock, heart rate stuttering.

He shouldn’t be thinking about you like this.

Shouldn’t let his mind jump again to a point where you’re fucking naked, and your sodden shirt is on a pile of yet-to-be-done laundry.

But then it jumps again, and one of his towels is on the floor. He’s laying down, back against it. The same position that he’s in now in his childhood bedroom - but he’s thinking about you. The silhouette of your body. The warm curves of your body. The way you bounce on his cock and then-

Oh god, it’s torture the way his cock throbs. Pre-cum leaks from his tip as his speed builds. It’s just a fantasy. Nothing more nothing less. But it’s you. And then he’s thinking about pulling you down for a kiss, and the scent of your perfume and the way you’d moan into his mouth and then his legs are shaking, torso tensing.

He’s taking it too far. Too fucking far. You. Fuck. He can’t. But he doesn’t stop. Just keeps going. Fucks his hand like it’s your pussy.

He’s pulling himself closer, closer, closer, and then he thinks about your voice, and the way you called him Daddy, and he can’t help himself. The pressure that releases in his stomach is catastrophic. Jungkook mewls your name. Calls you baby. Unloads all over himself. White hot cum paints his belly. Seeps into his belly button. Makes a mess of his hand as he coaxes the last few ropes out. It’s been a while since his last nut, but the amount he produces is not fucking normal.

It rolls down the side of his toned torso, Jungkook swallowing harshly as he tries to regulate his breathing. He doesn’t think he can. Doesn’t know what to do with himself. Just kind of lays there. Curses. Knots his brows together. Is frustrated with himself.

You’ve been friends for years. He’s never done anything like this before. He chalks it up to nothing more than him just being a little too horny for his own good. Cleans himself off. Puts his phone on charge. Berates himself for being a piece of shit. Spends a good ten or so minutes staring at the ceiling with an empty head before he falls asleep.

And it’s funny, because when you wake up in the morning, panties damp, the dream you had about Jungkook railing you in his own damn bed, you find yourself looking across the space where he usually sleeps. You reach ouch. Stroke the emptiness. Curse. Spend the rest of the day unbearably horny. It frustrates you. Makes you snappy with Jungkook when he calls.

He asks if you’ve seen Mingyu. You tell him no. He says maybe you should - but makes sure to add, “He’s still not allowed in my apartment.”

“I’m not gonna bring anyone into your space, Jungkook.”

It’s something he knows, and something he trusts you not to do, but he’s still reinforcing boundaries. Making sure that there are still some left. He thinks that if he pushes you closer to someone else, it will sort his brain out. Alleviate him of the guilt that he’s feeling.

But you don’t see Mingyu.

When Jungkook calls again that evening to find you walking Bam alone, he’s pleased. Doesn’t want some guy you’re fucking anywhere near his most prized possession. Bam, that is. Not you. But now that he thinks of it, he finds he doesn’t want Mingyu anywhere near you, either.

“Good day?” You ask, voice a lot lighter than it had been earlier.

Jungkook nods, but he doesn’t really smile. “I miss Bammie.”

You pout. “He misses you too. He’s gonna be so excited when you get home.”

The camera switches to the back camera so he can watch Bam bound along the path. He’s on his lead, snout sniffing in all the flowerbeds. It’s dark out, but there are enough lights on the trail for him to be able to see clearly.

“How is he? Eating okay? Going to the bathroom okay?”

“Eating like a champ, and producing shits to confirm that,” you say flatly. It’s definitely your least favourite part of animal ownership - but the reward is so much greater than having to pick up shit off a sidewalk.

“That’s my boy,” Jungkook grins, before turning his focus to you. “You all good? Seemed a little stressed earlier.”

Jungkook’s expression doesn’t change when the front camera flips back to you, but he finds his heart racing again. When you turn your head to check the car that’s driving past, he notices your hair is up with a claw clip. Just like it was in his… thoughts about you the night before. He likes how attentive you are - how you checked the source of the noise. You’re protective. Follow your instincts. Thinks you’re the best person he could have asked to look after Bam.

“I’m all good,” you say, and you really are.

“I know it’s not exactly the relaxing Chuseok you were planning-”

“Jungkook, it’s fine,” you smile. “It’s been nice. I like Bammie far more than I like you.”

“Understandable.”

You both smile, and Jungkook begins to babble about his day, telling you stories about his parents, and his weird cousin who never knows when to not say inappropriate things, and the aunt who keeps trying to set him up with all of her friends’ daughters.

“Don’t shit where you eat,” you remind him. “Sounds too close to home. Your auntie would never be out of your business.”

“I know, I know,” he rolls his eyes. “And hey - it’s been, like, a year since I last did that! Cut me some slack, gremlin. Anyways, Mingyu works in our building. You’re basically shitting where you eat.”

“I’m actually… I think I’m gonna cool things off with him.”

“Oh?”

“It’s like not a big deal. I’m just not really feeling it.”

“I’m sorry.”

“No, you’re not.”

“No, you’re right. I’m not,” Jungkook admits, but is sombre as he does so. He remembers how happy you’d seemed after the first few dates. “But I am sorry that you haven’t found the right guy yet, gremlin.”

“Who knows, maybe I’ll find the love of my life at the dog park tonight.”

“You are not allowed to use my baby as a flirting tactic.”

“No?”

“No.”

“Too late - I’m already here and there is an absolute DILF. Byeeeee.”

“Wait, no-”

You hang up before he can finish, with a grin on your face to rival a Cheshire cat.

The park is empty. Not a single DILF in sight. You ignore his call when he rings back. Will let him sweat it for a bit.

Jungkook lies awake that night.

Doesn’t do much.

His family are still chatting in the sitting room, but he can’t draw himself away from the sanctuary of his own private space, where your voice is still echoing around the room. He’s starting to understand why you’d been craving your space so much for the holiday period.

He doesn’t wanna have to return to the room with a false smile, and a feeling in the pit of his stomach that could rival the ache of getting the ferry across Busan harbour during monsoon season.

Doesn’t want to form cognitive thoughts that distract him from his mindless reflections of you.

Jungkook’s mind works like a house, and right now he’s in the annexe.

He rarely ever goes in there.

Finds he gets too comfortable and neglects the rest of the house. He’s got a garden to tend to, a kitchen to clean, and beds to make - but why would he leave the annexe when it has everything he needs? He’s comfortable there.

It’s normally reserved for the hyper-fixations he’s trying not to fixate on. He locks them away. Hasn’t really visited since he got hooked on GTA5 when he should have been studying for the University Entrance Exam. It’s still there, and he knows better than to pop it in his games console - but there’s someone else on the couch, now. It’s not just him in his mind-annexe. Someone’s in his space. He daren’t let himself go further into the room.

In fact, he’s desperately trying to jump across to the main house. Get himself out of the thoughts that are gonna consume him. He needs to close that God damn door.

But he watches the figure like a car crash. He’s scared. Unable to look away.

Not for fear of it being a monster hidden in the depths of his mind.

Quite the opposite, actually.

Monsters don’t wear their hair up with butterfly-shaped claw clips, or let the clasp of their necklace trail down their spine like that. Monsters don’t twist their back out of habit just to make it click. Monsters don’t spend their days doodling in a journal like the figure on his couch is doing.

But you do.

An iteration of Bam rests up against Jungkook’s leg in his mind, nose wet, tail lightly wagging, so he puts his hand on his pup’s shoulder for comfort. To support him. To guide him away from the annexe and back into the damn main house.

“C’mon,” he says to Bam, expecting him to leave. Expecting him to follow his commands.

It’s his head, after all - but Bam doesn’t heed his commands. Instead, his claws click against the hardwood floor and towards the figure on Jungkook’s couch. A palm outstretches, and Bam leans into it. Hums in content as a set of dark nails scratch at his ear.

“Hey, baby Bammie,” the figure sings and Jungkook knows that voice. Knows it so well that it’s hardly a surprise it’s embedded into his brain so perfectly.

And he knows.

He knows if he lets the person turn around exactly who it’s gonna be. He knows that he can’t let it happen. He won’t.

Because he and you are friends; nothing more, nothing less. Incompatible at best. A match made in hell; so wrong it could never be right.

Jungkook sits up. Shakes his head. The world in his mind tears away into darkness. He stands and tells himself to get a grip before joining his family. He needs the distraction. Needs to have cognitive thoughts. Can’t let himself get trapped. Can’t let him kid himself into thinking that you’re anything more than his friend.

It’s just cause he’s missing Bam, he reasons. Emotions are getting all mixed up. It’s the affection he feels for his beloved best friend that is getting misplaced onto you - although, if he thinks about it (which he won’t (knows better by this point (knows his mind can’t be trusted to behave))), he’d realise that you are his best friend.

It’s unfair to compare you to Bam because you’re an entirely different species, but there’s no other human he likes better than you.

One more day, and he’ll be home. One more day, and he won’t have to call you when he’s all sleepy and confused over his feelings. One more day, and things will be back to normal. One more measly day.

And then he’ll be reunited with Bam, and he won’t have the stress of family or thinking about the week of work ahead to contend with.

One more day. He can do this.

He will do it. Will barrel home at the speed of lightning; will stop only for red lights and maybe the occasional gas station snack, potato spirals on a pointed wooden skewer and deep-fried chicken slathered in a sauce he can never quite figure out the recipe for.

He’ll think about picking you up some bungeoppang - the ones filled with choux, not red bean paste - because he knows that you adore it so. There have been occasions when you’ve begged him to drive you out of the city to the large gas station out West just so you could have bungeoppang from one specific stall.

The signage is faded, and the prices haven’t changed since 2009, but that’s how you know it’s the good shit. A family recipe batter passed down for generations. The woman who makes it is always the same, and though she never remembers you, you always remember her. Beam so brightly Jungkook thinks he’s going blind whenever you spot her.

It’s only because of that one time you’d showed up with the sole mission to retrieve some of the delicious delicacies, only to be confronted with a handwritten ‘closed today, back tomorrow’ note taped to the menu. You never know when the next family emergency or trip out of town might be for your beloved bungeoppang-making Ajumma.

It’s a little after midday when Jungkook’s car rolls into the gas station. He’ll be home soon.

He tells himself that he’s just doing as he always does. Will get his tornado potato. Wolf it down. Go back for some chicken, maybe some tteok.

He’s stayed out of the annexe today. Doesn’t even think about the doorway because he knows the magnetic pull is far too strong for his cobalt heart.

Had ignored your call this morning - sorry, just saying goodbye to everyone. will see you later. - and had pushed all thoughts of you to the side. He’s even tried to stop thinking about Bam because thoughts of him will inevitably lead to thoughts of you and Jungkook is getting dizzy, quite frankly. It’s like he’s chasing his tail, never knowing when to admit defeat.

At least Bam gets enjoyment out of it when he does it. All Jungkook gets is lingering feelings of remorse.

But as he hits the home straight, a small paper bag full of choux bungeoppang cooling down on his passenger seat, his head starts to clear. He’s fixed the lock on the gate that leads to the annexe. Won’t go down that path.

Jungkook arrives ahead of schedule. Parks his car, and doesn’t tell you he’s arrived. Leaves his bag in the boot of the car, but picks up the pastries from his passenger seat.

Opens the door of his apartment quietly. You don’t hear it. Are too busy dancing around the living room with Bam to some mid-noughties classic.

“Hey,” you laugh a little breathlessly as finally notice him. He’s leaning against the wall. Is wearing his glasses, to make up for the long drive. You think it’s a crying shame he doesn’t wear them at work, too.

“Was I interrupting something?”

“No, not all,” you say. There are deep creases below your eyes, testament to the size of your smile. “Me and baby Bammie-” you reach over and stroke at his sides, a little rough and tumble, but perfectly joyous “- were just burning off a little energy before you got home.”

Jungkook crouches, arms outstretched for Bam. The puppy knocks into Jungkook’s chest, legs all moving slightly out of coordination, excitable whines sounding in his throat. His tail wags so fast you think he’d be able to produce electricity if he really tried.

They match each other’s energy; delirious happiness, content only when in one another’s presence.

“Hey buddy,” he coos. “Daddy’s home. I missed you. Missed me too, hey? C’mere.”

His strong hands stroke Bam’s sides, and you watch how playful they both are with unadulterated awe. It seems absurd how similar the two of them are; man and his best friend.

“He was lost without you,” you confirm.

“It’s that right?” Jungkook pouts as he scratches behind Bam’s ears, cradling his face in his hands. “Did Bammie miss Daddy?”

Bam barks. Yes.

“Hey, I’m sorry, boy. I’m home now, though. Daddy’s home.”

Yes, you think. Yes, he is.

The night dissolves much like Jungkook thought it would. You stay for dinner. Watch crappy entertainment shows, and laugh at how absurd people can be. There’s warmth in his apartment, even though he hasn’t turned the heating on.

“You’ll never know how much I appreciate this,” Jungkook says softly as midnight approaches. Bam sighs. There’s rain on the windows, but the storm doesn’t bother him tonight. Not in the slightest. “Thank you.”

Your head shakes. Smile perseveres. “Happy to do it. You know how much I love Bam.”

Silence wraps around your words like a velvet bow, pulled taut. There’s no double knot, but there needn’t be. It isn’t unravelling any time soon.

“So,” you change topic. “How long do you reckon it will take the new secretary to fall in love with you? I’m thinking maybe four days.”

Jungkook wants to make a joke; tease you about how your mind jumped from how much you love his dog, to the idea of loving him. Not you loving him, granted, but it only took a few electrical signals between neurons for you to get there. Must associate him with love pretty closely.

“Four days? Far too quick.” Jungkook pauses. “You’ve been staying here for four days. Reckon that’s an appropriate amount of time to fall in love with someone?”

He’s being facetious. It’s all in jest and yet you feel your heart beat a little faster. Only for a moment. There’s a mild concern in your features, fearful that he can somehow sense the thoughts you’ve been having; the fantasies, the daydreams, the moments of weakness.

You look at him with eyes he doesn’t recognise. Your lashes are low. Sultry, even. Suggestive. Teasing.

And then, they roll.

“Jeon, you have those poor girls on their knees within a single ‘hello’. Don’t act like you don’t know it, you big old flirt.”

“If Bam wasn’t so peaceful, I’d kick you,” he mumbles, stroking at the dark fur behind his pup’s ear. Bam sighs, content to have him back. There’s a smile on Jungkook’s lips. Both are perfectly content. Both are happy to be with the people they like the most in the world.

“He’d just defend me,” you taunt. There’s a serenity to your jokes, and light-hearted banter that means nothing more, nothing less than just enjoyment of one another’s company. “I’m his favourite now.”

Jungkook laughs. Scratches a little firmer behind Bam’s ear. “You hear that, boy? Gremlin really thinks you’d choose her over me.”

You pull your torso back. Turn your body to face his. Let disbelief wash over your features, as if Jungkook saying shit like that’s a surprise. The movement alerts Bam, his head lifting, the chain links of his collar rattling. He looks over to you, then back to Jungkook.

“He LOVES me.”

“I thought dogs are supposed to take after their owners, though?” Jungkook teases. “And I can’t fuckin’ stand you.”

Your playful shock dissolves into narrowed eyes and a suppressed grin. Bam’s looking at you again, so you cup his dainty face and scratch the underside of his jaw. “You hear that, baby Bammie? How are you so lovely when your Daddy is such an asshole?”

Jungkook’s steady gaze lifts to you from Bam. You’re still cooing at the puppy, scratching beneath his snout, but Jungkook’s back in that damn annexe again. He isn’t smiling - but his eyes are unbelievably soft.

So, so velvety. Like satin, maybe; ribbons tied around ponytails. Brushed cotton, perhaps; his still-warm bedsheets fresh out of the tumble dryer.

Soft, like he imagines your hair would be; released from its claw clip, falling around his face. Soft, like he imagines your lips would be; pressed against his, in the privacy of his bedroom. Soft, like he imagines your laugh would be; soundtracking the living alarm clock that is Jeon Bam, as he bundles onto Jungkook’s bed at just gone six-thirty the following morning.

But then you look up at him, and his stare is hard. Still sparkling, yes - but diamonds, not stars. Concrete speckled. Pennies tossed in an empty well; the steel bolt of his door which keeps the outside world at bay.

Hard, like he imagines your teeth would be; tugging on his bottom lip in the shadows of his bedroom. Hard, like he imagines your nails would be; leaving a trail of ruby red sin down his back. Hard, like he imagines your laboured breaths would be; lips resting ajar against his, your very essence pouring into him as he pushes into you.

Hard. Soft. Confusing and conflicting, and just so unbelievably him.

“What?” you question, bemused by the way his demeanour changed. “‘Daddy’ really gets you, huh?”

“Does fuck all for me,” he says with a little temperance, but there’s a smirk on his lips. His tongue runs along the inside of his cheek.

A few have tried the moniker on him, but it never fit well. Would fall from their lips and crash to his bedroom floor. He’d just kiss them to shut them up.

But you… You have him reconsidering. Have him a little hot beneath his sweats.

It’s not really the idea of being your Daddy, but the concept of being one full-stop that has him adjusting his legs slightly. He’s a man of big investments, after all. No greater investment than starting a life with another person. He likes the idea of it.

Makes him think of you talking with a toddler - I’m not sure, baby, go ask Daddy -and the pitter-patter of feet across the hardwood floors of his apartment. Makes him think how gentle you are with Bam, and how wonderful he knows you’d be with a kid. Makes him think all kinds of shit he’s never let himself indulge in before.

When he goes to bed that evening, and his sheets are seeped in the scent of your perfume, he thinks of it all over again.

Thinks of you.

And realises he can’t think about you without his heart racing, any more.

The door of the annexe in his mind is broken, now. Off its hinges.

And apparently, so is he.

Shit.

part two (x)

[farfromstrange]

Now That We Don't Talk | Frank Castle x F!Reader

BONUS FIC

See this post for more information on my Valentine's Day Special & Follower Celebration, but these fics can be read separately!

Read Is It Over Now? for better clarity.

Pairing: Frank Castle x F!Reader (past Matt Murdock x F!Reader)

Summary: You go home with the guy from the bar, and he makes you forget about your ex.

Warnings: SMUT (18+ MINORS DNI), oral f!receiving, use of "attagirl", slight Dom!Frank, song references, unprotected p in v, dirty talk

Word Count: 2.9k

A/n: You wanted a part 2, so you're getting a part 2! Anyway, I don't write Frank often, so I hope it isn't too bad. It's also not as spicy as you probably expected, but I wanted this to fit the vibe of the previous fic (link above). You don't need to have read it to understand this, but it is highly recommended because some references might confuse you. Thank you all for taking part in this event!

You believed that your life had ended when you lost him. He painted your world in the brightest colors, but by breaking your heart, he took them away. All that was left to see was a boring shade of gray in a sea of sadness. 

Matt told you from the start that being with him wouldn’t be easy. You were willing to try. He needed someone, and you wanted to be that someone to him. You accepted him unconditionally. 

In the end, giving everything wasn’t enough. He chose her over you, and the castle you two had built came crashing down on you while he stood idly by. 

You’re not a bitter person, you have never been, but he made you fall for him; he made you believe that there was hope for the future and that you would grow old together. He stole years of your life in which you were trying to save him from himself. In return, he took the best care of you, but that doesn’t matter much now that he has taken your heart and shattered it like a glass of red wine on a white cloth. 

When you left him, you thought the distance would kill you. You truly believed that this was the end of everything, not just your relationship with the man you thought was the one but yourself as well. “This isn’t what it looks like!” he said the day you found out the ugly truth.

“I trusted you,” you remember saying. You couldn’t even cry. The pain burned brighter than the sun, and it dried your eyes before they could even shed a tear.  

He argued with you that, “It was just a kiss,” but you not once believed him. 

“Are you sure about that? ‘Cause if I ask Elektra, I’m sure she will tell me the truth.”

“No.”

It was at that moment you lost all of your trust in him—in what could have been or should have been the two of you, forever—and it was also the moment that Matt realized he had lost you. 

You believed that he took everything you ever were that day because your life revolved around him, and only him. 

You remember him opening his mouth, having the audacity to apologize. “I’m sorry,” he said, begging you not to leave. 

“Fuck you!” you had never sworn at him until that day.

You still remember the way the necklace with his initial felt when you tore it off your neck and tossed it at his feet. He knew you better than anyone, and you felt like you finally belonged somewhere. That necklace was a symbol of your undying love, or so you thought, anyway. Now you know that he may have known you to some extent, but you didn’t matter enough for him not to climb into bed with his ex-girlfriend.

You couldn’t even look at the necklace. He told you, “This is a piece of my heart,” when he gave it to you on a snowy Christmas Day three years ago. You cherished it the same way you cherished his soul. He was broken, but he was your broken man. He was everything to you. 

Matt Murdock was your moon, your son, and your entire universe. It all seemed far away that you could ever feel about anyone this way again. 

You saw a future with him. Married, a house in the suburbs, and working with Foggy and Karen in their new law office after everything they’ve been through. You were a hopeful person back then.

Karen told you that he went to a party a couple of weeks after you separated. He didn’t look like himself. You wonder if he felt anxious, knowing his only source of comfort was no longer there. You wouldn’t know until you asked him, but you refused to answer his calls.

Part of you felt euphoric, knowing that he was broken too, but you also felt angry because he was the reason you found your heart beyond repair as he stepped on it like a burning cigarette, and in your mind, he had no right to feel this way.

You’re a fucking traitor, Matthew Murdock! I wish we’d never met.

“Another one for the lady,” a voice says beside you. 

Your empty glass of tequila disappears and a full one slides in its place. In your drunken haze, you see a head of brown hair, and his smirk makes you wonder if there’s more to him than he lets on. 

“Thank you,” you murmur, tipping your glass to the stranger. 

“Nah, don’t thank me.” He gets up from his seat and sits down on the empty bar stool next to you. “You look miserable,” he says.

“What if I am?”

“I’d tell you I know the feeling.”

You huff but offer the stranger your hand. You introduce yourself. 

He smiles. Your name rolls off his tongue effortlessly. “Frank,” he introduces himself in return. “Castle.”

“Nice to meet you,” you say. 

You thought nothing and no one could pull you out of the dark hole your breakup tossed you into. You believed yourself dead and long beyond the point of redemption. You accepted it. You swallowed in your misery, giving up on finding a new purpose in your life because the one great thing you had was no longer yours. He fell into a grave that he dug for himself, and he dragged your relationship down with him.

Looking into Frank’s eyes now though, you no longer feel like a corpse. And you realize that you are not dead, not at all—you are very much alive. 

The door almost breaks off its hinges when Frank shoves you into his apartment and back against it. The decision to come back to his place was fueled by a lot of alcohol and the way he looked at you. You were desperate to feel something other than the hollow ache that has consumed you every day for months. His eyes told you that he may be able to give you just what you need, no strings attached.

The way he kisses you breathes new life into your mangled soul. He swallows your mouth and your needy moans with his own, and his tongue forces itself down your throat as your teeth clash in a fight for dominance. You’re both tipsy, but he seems to know just what he’s doing.

His calloused fingers burn against your skin. In the back of your mind, Matt is still so present. His hands are the ones you can’t help but compare him to. 

The way he used to kiss you before fucking you into the mattress for hours on end, switching between tasting and fingering you until you were whimpering and begging him for release might have screwed you up forever. He told you one night that he wanted to ruin you for any other man. Back then, you both still believed that you would grow old together.

It is truly ironic how fast things change when you are truly happy and believe that nothing can burst your bubble.

Frank’s large hands brace against the door on either side of your head. His lips disappear from yours. “Who is he?” he asks, his voice rough like gravel.

You meet his eyes, unsure of what to say. Your mind is everywhere but here, and yet it is right with him. Whether it is alcohol or self-loathing, you’re not sure. 

“What?” you whisper.

“You’re trynna forget someone. Who is it?”

He is a lot more perceptive than you thought.

You swallow, blood rushing to your head. “I’m sorry, I didn’t–” you didn’t what? Think? You feel utterly pathetic.

Instead of throwing you out though, like you expected he would, he reaches out to caress your cheek. His eyes soften as they gaze at you. “Whoever he is, he obviously didn’t treat you right,” he says. “If you want to go, I’m not stoppin’ you, but if you wanna forget whoever is fuckin’ with your head, I’ll make damn sure you forget his name by the end of tonight.”

There is something excitingly terrifying about the look in his eyes. A shiver runs down your spine, and your thighs clench at the thought of feeling his hands somewhere other than your face. Somewhere other than your hips and thighs. His kisses knocked the air out of your lungs. You want more, you need more, but you don’t know if you can take it. Not him—even though you’re also not quite sure if you can take him—but also the offer he is presenting to you. As lucrative as it sounds, fuck, you are not over Matt. And you’re not sure if you can ever forget him.

You want to though. You have to. And you want to be thoroughly fucked into the next day and forget the name of the man that makes you so fucking angry.  

“Talk to me,” Frank coaxes your head toward him. “Do you wanna forget the useless bastard that made you feel this way?”

“Yes,” you manage a breathless whisper.

“Did he hurt you? Break your heart?”

You nod.

“You deserve better.” His grip tightens, and his hand slowly slides to your neck. “I’m not, but I’ll fuck you so hard, you’ll forget his name and scream mine loud enough for this fuckin’ city to know who’s making you feel good. ‘s that what you want, hm?”

He’s dangerous, but that has never turned you off, even when it should have.

And when you finally open your mouth and tell him, “Yes, please. Make me forget,” the switch inside of him flicks completely.

He takes his time to worship between your thighs. His tongue buried in your pussy, his lips sucking on your clit without mercy. He eats you out roughly but sensually, keeping you spread wide open for him with both of his hands and a force unmatched—like a five-course meal, and he has all the time in the world for you. 

You’re lost in the throes of pleasure. You want to buck your hips against his mouth because no matter what he does, you’re on fire and you just can’t get enough, but he is so powerful that you can’t fight him. He has you at his mercy, your body in his hands, and all the control in the world over you. 

You pull at his hair, moaning helplessly as he feasts on your pussy. You’re going mad, you’re sure. He’s doing this on purpose, driving you to the edge before stopping the wave. Frank waits until your orgasm is just far enough for you to last a little longer, kissing the inside of your thighs, and then he dives right back into your wet folds. He thrusts his tongue into your hole, licks up to your clit, and then sucks on the swollen bundle until your legs are shaking in his hands. 

“Jesus, Frank!” you moan out. A trail of sweat runs from your temple down to your breasts. 

Your hands search for something to hold onto, tangling in the sheets and the pillow behind your head before pulling at the fabric. You tried pulling at his hair, but he wouldn’t let you. 

“That’s right,” he growls. “Come for me.”

Your back arches off the mattress. His name leaves your lips in a desperate shout as your orgasm crashes into you. 

“Attagirl.”

Your brain is hulled into an endless fog, but Frank doesn’t stop. 

Soon, you’re on your stomach, gripping the headboard as he pounds into you from behind. He is long and thick, and with every thrust, he forces your face deeper into the pillows. Your eyes have rolled back into your head. He hits that spongy spot inside of you whenever he pleases, and the gurgled moans from the pit of your throat spur him on to speed up, change the angle and thrust even deeper. 

He pulls out all the way, thrusting back into you with full force until he is completely sheathed in your pussy. Your heat consumes him, and he sees red. But so do you. He has reduced you to a few incoherent thoughts, babbling his name in the wake of the drool that is dripping from the corner of your mouth. 

And when you come this time, it is pulled back straight against his chest with his fingers rubbing circles over your already abused clit. You come with a scream of his name, and nothing else matters but his cum in your cunt and the unbelievable depth of the feelings he is eliciting within you. 

You drop to the mattress like a wet towel, covered in his and your cum, and your sweat that has mingled with his. His smell lingers in the sheets as you bury your nose in it. He collapses on top of you. The crushing weight of him offers a sense of comfort that almost makes you cry. And he holds you as though you mean more to him than a One-Night stand he picked up to help forget a man who broke her heart. 

“What’d he do?” Frank asks into the silence later that night.

You are lying on his bed, covered by only his thin sheets. He’s sitting on the other side, nursing a glass of Bourbon. He held you, he cleaned you up, and he offered you some clothes, which you denied. He is kinder to you than you thought he would be, and it warms your heart in a way you can only deem utterly dangerous with how vulnerable you are. Broken people make dumb decisions, and you do not ever want to go through the same pain again. 

At least you know that you are still desired. That you’re not dead. Perhaps, there is still hope for a better future. You made Matt Murdock your life for the longest time, and maybe, as you realize now, that was a mistake. There is more to life than him, and you can live without him. That it took fucking a stranger after weeks of being miserable baffles you, but some things are just meant to happen. Maybe it was destiny, after all. 

You look at him when Frank repeats his question. “What’d the bastard do, hm?” he asks.

Where do you even start? 

When you last checked in on him through your mutual friends—you know it wasn’t the best choice, but you couldn’t help it—they told you that grew his beard, and he last had a haircut when you were still together. It suits him, apparently, but you couldn’t bring yourself to look at a picture of him.

Foggy told you that he isn’t taking home girls when they go to a bar, even though he could have all of them. He’s sad. He drowns himself at work and beats his fist bloody every night. The old you would have jumped up to help him. And it is true that you will probably always love him, in a way, but you refuse to crawl back to him.

The more you gave, the more he took, and at the first chance at getting a woman he claimed to no longer love when she came back into your lives, he took her. He couldn’t have wanted you as badly as he claimed if that was enough for him to flush years of loving each other and going through hell together down the drain, knowing it would break your heart into a million pieces. That is probably the worst part about all of it.

You take a deep breath. Frank is still staring at you intently, waiting for an answer. “He fucked his ex,” you finally confess. “Four years of being together and it still wasn’t enough.”

His grip tightens around his glass. “Want me to pay him a visit?”

You chuckle, but you know that he would. “No. But thank you.”

Matt was fading long before you left. Even if you did choose to forgive him, you couldn’t be his friend, so things are better the way they are now. You paid the ultimate price for sacrificing your heart to a man who had too many struggles to deal with himself.

In the silence, you find a little light. “At least I don’t have to pretend to like Jazz anymore,” you say. 

Frank takes another sip, asking, “Jazz?”

“Yeah, Jazz. He loves it. He…He’s special. Well, he was to me, anyway.”

“Special? Fuck, the guy did a number on you, huh?”

You scoff. “You have no idea.”

The only way back to your dignity is to learn how to be without him. You have to turn yourself back into a mystery and learn how to trust someone again before your fragile heart breaks again.

“You still talk?” Frank asks.

You shake your head. “No. It’s over now,” you say. “We don’t talk anymore.”

“Told ya. You deserve better.”

“Nah.” You reach for his glass, taking a sip of the bitter liquor that you used to despise. Looking up at him through hooded eyes, you stretch his leg toward him. 

You need to keep forgetting Matt’s name, no matter what it takes or the reminiscing will surely kill you.

“Right now,” you murmur with an irresistible smirk that makes him leap at you as soon as the words pass your lips, “I just need to forget he ever existed by screaming someone else’s name.” 

Frank captures your lips in a bruising kiss, leaving you speechless and breathless all the same. 

Matt chased you, he caught you, and then he lost you. And now that Frank has you, you never want to look back. 

Now that you don't talk.

I don't have a tag list for Frank, so I'm just leaving this here.

[a-simple-imagine]

mean girls mob au

A/N - forever thinking about my mean girls mob au. where everyone is some sort of career criminal but regina george is the worst one around so here’s some 2am thoughts .

characters - regina, gretchen, karen, cady, janis, damian and reader

WARNINGS - mention of violence, murder, and general illegal activity. weapons mentioned including knives and guns. toxic relationships. mutual obsession. dark themes idk

Regina George. she/her. leader -

she was born into this life. maybe directly her parents. maybe a close relative but either way she has known nothing but riches her entire life. her family is loaded. massive houses. expensive cars. she doesn’t know the meaning of the word struggle because life has just been so easy for her. until it’s not. maybe her father gets arrested for something. or someone close enough for it to have an impact dies. but soon enough reality hits regina that it’s not all pretty dresses and fancy parties. there’s a darker side to it all. her father tried to keep her out of it all but regina is stubborn. and eventually her father realises he needs someone to take over one day. so she’s taught the ropes slowly but surely until mean girl regina george who bullies kids in school and gets everything she wants becomes one of the most lethal women in the country. she’s involved in almost every shady deal that does on around her. drugs. murder. fraud. she’s done it all. it’s the only way to live. she’s very good with a gun but much prefers knives. pretty ones with engraved blades and sleek handles. they’re much more personal. you have to be up close to do any real damage. she likes to see the fear in people. the way their body reacts in their last moments. its a rarity that she deals with things herself but when she does she likes the play with her prey. draw it all out. she loves it. she’s obsessed with the hold she has over other people. some people are desperate to be loved but she couldn’t care less about that. it’s all about control. she wants people to fear her. not a bad word is uttered against regina george. but she’s not alone. she has a crew. and if nothing else, regina george is insanely loyal and pays very very well.

Gretchen weiners. she/her. right hand. -

gretchen is regina’s right hand man. they probably grew up together. her father probably worked alongside regina’s which is how this relationship formed in the first place. they often played together at family barbecues or whatever. through school gretchen knew it was better to stick with regina than be bullied by regina. she knew how ruthless the george family could be. so she’d support regina however she wanted. so from bullying kids to intimidating strangers, gretchen weiners has and always will be right by regina’s side. she would do anything for that woman. all regina has to do is snap her fingers and gretchen would come running. but that doesn’t mean gretchen isn’t ruthless in her own way. she’s the one doing the dirty work. she’s the one making sure everything runs smoothly whether it’s making people disappear or making sure deals go through. gretchen has probably seen much more action than regina. probably killed more people too. she prefers a gun. it puts more distance between what she’s doing but she’ll do anything. although it is all in service of regina. you’ll often find her at the bar in the main club the george family owns. an office upstairs where regina does most of her work. she enjoys getting cheeky cocktails when it’s quiet.

karen shetty. she/her. driver -

now karen met the girls a little later. maybe in high school or maybe a little after. regina probably tried to intimidate her but it never really worked on her. not in the same way it did for others and that was something that caught regina’s eye. now karen is the nicest person around. she is someone who says hi to everyone when she comes in every day. is making cute little friendship bracelets for the bouncers at the club. but her main role is driving. not just a general driver, regina pays boring white men for that, no karen is only for important jobs. she’s absolutely insane behind the wheel. can outrun anyone on the road like it’s child’s play because for her it basically is. she loves playing games. and driving can often feel like a game of cat and mouse. she’s also really handy with a weapon. maybe guns. maybe pretty knives. has a bad habit of causing… accidents but nobody ever stays mad at her. she loves dancing at the club and chatting with gretchen at the bar.

cady heron. she/her. new kid. -

now cady is the new girl in town and therefore has a lot to prove. maybe she gets mixed up with the wrong kinds of people. but she doesn’t stay at the bottom long, no she aimed straight for the top. maybe she had some help along the way. maybe there was a moment where she tried to make deals with regina but they never really worked out. regina never played particularly nice with others. that’s okay though because cady somehow found her way. she leads her own team. but she rules through mutual respect rather than fear at least within her own ranks. she finds a little place to set up shop, her own bar. it’s probably really small but it’ll do for now. but if she wants to stay alive she’ll have to either make nice or beat the competition. and unlucky for her regina is the competition. but she figures the easiest way to destroy regina is to go after the most precious thing in regina’s world.

damien hubert. he/him. bartender -

less important to the world than the others but still plays a role. he’s a bartender. just doing regular bartender work. maybe he has multiple jobs in both regina’s and cady’s places or maybe he’s just in regina’s but either way that’s his primary job. he loves interacting with people can usually tell when people are there for business or pleasure. both clubs work as normal clubs too that regular civilians can attend. he loves a good gossip but more so when it comes from the right kinds of people. he is known for having his ear to the ground. knows everything about everyone and is willing to share any information… for the right price. his side gig is in intel. he sells valuable crime secrets for massive amounts of money. runs a weekly poker night for the scariest/richest people in town. it usually puts all kinds of criminals against each other.

janis imi’iki’. she/her/they/them. artist/art dealer. -

a loner. makes art. probably spends a lot of time in the studio working on original pieces. they’re really talented. maybe they sell under a fake name, maybe they don’t. but they get invited to all kinds of fancy parties for the rich and famous. you can find her works in mansions and town houses but only the mindless drivel that she doesn’t care about. anything important to them is reserved for the people she actually cares about or shared for free through donations or exhibitions. she’s also a renowned art trader. big in the trade of illegal or forged art work. they probably paint a lot of the forgeries. it’s easy work and money. plus scamming rich people is fun. they have a bad relationship with regina. probably started when they were younger. now they just avoid each other or more so janis avoids regina. regina loves to try and provoke them especially if she sees them in her club. they’re probably there to see damien who helps facilitate buyers for their business.

BONUS: reader -

the reader is whoever. maybe this whole world is new to them, maybe it’s not. maybe this runs in their blood but they’ve just never been very good. but the most important thing is that regina is obsessed with you. utterly enthralled. does that mean she’s nice to you?? well, yes and no. she can be really cruel. she probably calls you weak an pathetic. sees you as some whose way out of their depth. likes to make a show of you. humiliate you. she’s probably held a knife to your neck once or twice just to see the look in your eye. she’s in complete control. can do whatever she wants and there’s nothing you can say or do about it. not if you valued your life anyway. she loves to shower you with expensive gifts though. especially clothes and jewellery. likes to see you dressed exactly how she wants. just a little doll to dress up and parade around. but as cruel as she can be regina would also move heaven and earth to make sure you’re okay. everyone knows your off limits. so much as bad word about you from anyone else and she’ll have their tongue cut out. and you go absolutely crazy for it. the dynamic is intoxicating. you love just how far she’ll go. it gives you a level of power that nobody else has. you’re untouchable. everyone is forced to respect you or face regina’s wrath. it takes a while for you to get used to being a part of her world. it was fancy and expensive but also dark and gritty. she tries to keep you out of it. but it’s hard not to notice the little things. splatters of blood. disappearances. you’re not stupid. but you just let it happen because just like everyone else you want to please regina. you want her to like you. to be interested in you. you’re not sure you could go back to before you were the centre of her world. regina teaches you some things like how to defend yourself. maybe how to shoot a gun and it’s exciting. when she’s so close and focused. pressed up against you. guiding your shot. it’s sweet. but you know to some extent that this can’t last forever. something will happen one day. she’ll get killed or arrested or whatever. maybe she’ll have to do something she’ll regret because of you. because while you are her greatest possession you’re also her biggest weakness.

[sereinnu]

Fractured Tides 2

Warnings: STEP-CEST| drugs and alcohol use| Rafe Cameron| very foul language| more yet to come| DON'T read if you're uncomfortable with these themes|MDNI| I already warned you not to read|

Rafe Cameron x Step-sister!Reader

Despite your efforts to make peace, your stepbrother Rafe's hatred for you persists. Each attempt to bridge the gap only seems to widen the divide, leaving you wondering if you'll ever find common ground in this family.

The next morning arrived with an uneasy quiet, the tension from the previous night lingering in the air like a storm cloud. You went through the motions of your morning routine, but your thoughts were consumed by your late-night encounter with Rafe. His words echoed in your mind, the bitterness and pain in them impossible to ignore.

When you finally made your way downstairs, the house was already buzzing with activity. Rose was in the kitchen, preparing breakfast, while Wheezie sat at the table, scrolling through her phone. Sarah was nowhere to be seen, likely off with John B, and Ward was in his office, as usual. But Rafe wasn’t around.

You sat down at the table, your mind still elsewhere, when Rose’s voice broke through your thoughts.

“You okay, dear?” she asked, her tone pleasant but distant. Rose was always polite, always well-mannered, but there was a disconnect between her and the rest of the family. She played the role of the perfect hostess, but she rarely got involved in the messy, emotional parts of family life.

You forced a smile, not wanting to draw any attention to yourself. “Yeah, I’m fine.”

Rose seemed satisfied with your response and went back to preparing breakfast. Wheezie glanced up from her phone, giving you a curious look, but she didn’t say anything. You were grateful for that—Wheezie had a way of picking up on things others missed, but she also knew when to keep her observations to herself.

As you picked at your food, your mind kept drifting back to Rafe. You hadn’t seen him since last night, and part of you was worried about how he was doing. The other part of you knew that worrying about Rafe was like worrying about a ticking time bomb—it was only a matter of time before he exploded, and there was nothing you could do to stop it.

Just as you were finishing your breakfast, the front door slammed open, and Rafe strode in, his expression stormy. His hair was disheveled, and there was a wild look in his eyes that set your nerves on edge. You could tell right away that something was wrong.

Rose looked up from the stove, her brow furrowing. “Rafe, where have you been?”

“Out,” Rafe muttered, brushing past her without so much as a glance.

“Rafe—” Rose started, but he cut her off.

“Not now, Rose,” he snapped, his tone sharp enough to make her recoil slightly.

You watched as Rafe stalked through the house, his anger radiating off him in waves. You could tell he was on edge, barely holding it together. It was the same look he had whenever he was spiraling, and you knew from experience that it wouldn’t take much to push him over the edge.

Against your better judgment, you stood up and followed him, your heart pounding in your chest. You found him in the living room, pacing back and forth like a caged animal. When he saw you, he stopped, his eyes narrowing.

“What do you want?” he demanded, his voice low and dangerous.

You hesitated, not sure what to say. The Rafe in front of you was different from the one you had seen last night. This Rafe was volatile, unpredictable, and you knew you had to be careful.

“I just… wanted to check on you,” you said cautiously, keeping your distance.

Rafe let out a harsh laugh, running a hand through his hair. “Why? So you can play the concerned little sister? Don’t waste your time.”

“I’m not wasting my time,” you shot back, feeling a flicker of frustration. “I’m trying to help you, Rafe.”

He scoffed, shaking his head. “You can’t help me. No one can."

There was a rawness in his voice that made your heart ache, but you didn’t back down. “Maybe not, but that doesn’t mean I’m going to stop trying.”

Rafe stared at you for a long moment, his expression unreadable. Then, without warning, he turned and punched the wall, his fist connecting with a sickening thud. You flinched, instinctively stepping back as he leaned against the wall, breathing heavily.

“Rafe,” you whispered, your voice trembling.

He didn’t respond, his body tense and trembling with barely contained rage. You knew he was on the brink, teetering on the edge of a breakdown, and you felt helpless to do anything about it.

But you couldn’t just stand there and watch him self-destruct.

Carefully, you stepped closer, your heart pounding in your ears. “Rafe, please. Talk to me.”

He remained silent, his head bowed as he struggled to regain control. You could see the tension in his shoulders, the way his hands clenched and unclenched at his sides. You had seen him like this before, but it never got easier.

After what felt like an eternity, Rafe finally spoke, his voice barely above a whisper. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

The admission was so quiet, so vulnerable, that it took you by surprise. You had never heard Rafe speak like that before, had never seen him so raw and exposed. It made your chest tighten with a mix of emotions—sympathy, fear, and a deep, aching sadness.

You reached out, placing a hand on his arm. He tensed under your touch but didn’t pull away. “There’s nothing wrong with you, Rafe. You’re just… going through something. But you don’t have to go through it alone.”

He looked at you then, his eyes full of turmoil. “I don’t know how to fix it.”

You squeezed his arm gently, trying to convey as much reassurance as you could. “We’ll figure it out. Together.”

For a moment, you thought he might actually open up to you, might finally let you in. But then, just as quickly as the moment of vulnerability had come, it was gone. Rafe pulled away, his expression hardening once more.

“Don’t bother,” he muttered, turning his back on you. “Just leave me alone.”

The words hit you like a physical blow, but you forced yourself to stay calm. “Rafe—”

“Leave!” he shouted, his voice full of anger and frustration.

You flinched but didn’t argue. You knew pushing him any further would only make things worse. So, with a heavy heart, you turned and walked away, leaving him to his demons.

As you made your way back upstairs, you couldn’t shake the feeling of helplessness that had settled over you. Rafe was slipping further and further away, and you didn’t know how to reach him. But you knew one thing for certain: you weren’t going to give up on him, no matter how much he tried to push you away.

-

You stumbled back to your room, the sting of Rafe’s rejection still fresh. Each step up the stairs felt heavier, the weight of his anger pressing down on you. When you finally reached your room, you shut the door behind you and leaned against it, taking a moment to collect yourself.

The silence in your room was thick, amplifying the turmoil inside you. You moved to your bed and sat down heavily, the soft comfort of the space feeling at odds with the chaos in your mind. You needed something to distract yourself, something to ground you. Reaching for your book, you began to read, hoping the repetitive motion of the stories would help calm your thoughts.

Hours passed as you kept reading. Your book almost ended up looking like a sketchpad with all the small doodles at the side.

The quiet was interrupted by a knock on your door. You glanced up, unsure of who it could be. “Come in,” you called out.

Rose entered, her face showing a mixture of concern and detachment. She glanced around the room, her gaze lingering on your sketchpad. “I saw you’ve been up here for a while. Everything okay?”

You forced a smile, trying to mask your worries. “Yeah, I’m fine. Just needed some time alone.”

Rose nodded, her expression distant. “I understand. But I have to say, Rafe’s behavior is becoming more concerning. He’s been acting out, and honestly, he’s a bit of a loose cannon.”

You looked down, feeling the sting of her words. “I know he’s troubled. It’s just... hard to see him like this.”

Rose’s gaze hardened slightly. “He’s always been unpredictable. Some people just can’t be helped, no matter how much you try. It’s not worth getting too involved. Sometimes it’s best to just keep your distance.”

Her words felt like a cold splash of reality. The kindness and warmth you had hoped for from Rose were absent, replaced by a pragmatic detachment. You nodded, feeling a pang of disappointment. “I understand. I just want to do what I can to help him.”

Rose’s expression softened, but only a little. “Just be careful. You don’t want to get caught up in his mess. It’s not worth jeopardizing your own peace of mind.”

With that, Rose left the room, leaving you alone with your thoughts once more. You returned to your drawing, but the soothing effect was diminished. Her words echoed in your mind, making you question your own efforts.

As evening approached, you felt a growing sense of resolve. Despite Rose’s advice, you couldn’t simply walk away from Rafe. You knew his anger and pain were not insurmountable, even if others saw him as beyond help.

You wanted to be there for him, to find a way to reach the part of him that still cared.

You took a deep breath, determined to approach the situation with patience and understanding. Even if Rose thought Rafe was a lost cause, you believed in trying.

For now, you’d focus on being a steady presence, ready to offer support in whatever form he might need, hoping that eventually, he would find his way back.

-

The afternoon sun filtered through the hallway as you made your way to Rafe’s room. Your thoughts were muddled with concern and a growing sense of urgency. You had resolved to speak with him, hoping to address the tension and confusion of the previous night.

You raised your hand and knocked softly on Rafe’s door. “Rafe? Can we talk?”

There was a moment of silence before you heard the sound of movement from inside. The door opened slightly, revealing Rafe’s face, his features a mix of surprise and irritation. His gaze shifted behind him, and you caught a glimpse of the disheveled room. The sight made your heart skip a beat.

Rafe was lounging on his bed, his bare torso exposed, and next to him was a naked blonde woman, her hair spread out over the pillow. You froze, your cheeks flushing with a deep red. The room’s disarray and the woman's casual nudity hit you like a wave. Embarrassment surged through you, and a pang of jealousy stabbed at your chest. You didn’t want to compare yourself to her, but it was impossible not to feel overshadowed.

“Oh God, I’m so sorry,” you stammered, your face burning. “I didn’t realize...”

Before you could say anything more, the door began to close. You instinctively tried to stop it, but the woman shot you an irritated glare. “Can’t you see we’re busy here?”

You pulled your hand away and took a step back, your heart pounding with a mix of embarrassment and discomfort. “I’ll just...”

The door slammed shut, but just as you turned to leave, it flew open again. Rafe emerged, a towel wrapped hastily around his waist, his hair still damp from whatever had happened. His expression was a storm of annoyance and reluctant embarrassment.

“Agh, fuck” he said, his voice a mix of frustration and urgency.

You turned, facing him with a flushed face and trembling hands. “I didn’t mean to interrupt. I was just trying to talk to you.”

Rafe’s eyes were hard, but there was a flicker of something else—panic. “This is not the time. Can’t you see I’m dealing with...”

Before he could finish, Ellie, the blonde woman, stepped into the hallway, the shirt she was wearing clearly coming from rafe's closet. She glared at you, clearly annoyed. “Ugh, we were in the middle of something..”

Your cheeks reddened even more, and you stumbled over your words. “I-I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to—”

Rafe cut in sharply, his voice tight with frustration. “Get out.”

Her eyes widened with surprise and a hint of resentment. “What? You can’t just—”

“I said, leave,” Rafe repeated, his tone firmer now, though he tried to keep it calm.

She huffed, shooting one last scathing look in your direction before turning and walking away. “Whatever. You’re such a jerk.”

The sound of her heels fading away left a tense silence in the air. Rafe’s face was a mix of exasperation and embarrassment. He rubbed his temples, clearly annoyed at the interruption.

“Damn it,” he muttered under his breath. “I didn’t even get to finish. I was...”

His frustration was palpable, and you could sense that the situation had disrupted more than just his plans. You stood there, feeling a deep pang of humiliation.

“I’m really sorry,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper. “I didn’t mean to intrude. I...”

Rafe’s eyes met yours, and for a moment, there was a flicker of something softer in his gaze. “It’s not just about you walking in. It’s... I had other things going on and, and now it’s fucking..”

You looked away, feeling the weight of the situation. “I didn’t realize. I just thought—”

“You know what, it’s fine,” Rafe cut you off, his tone a mixture of irritation and reluctant acceptance. “Just... don’t make a big deal out of it.”

You nodded, swallowing hard. “Okay. I’ll leave you alone.”

As you turned to walk away, you felt a heavy weight in your chest. The embarrassment and awkwardness of the situation lingered, but you knew you had to respect his space.

-

You retreated to your room after the encounter with Rafe, your mind a whirlwind of confusion and embarrassment. You tried to shake off the images from earlier, but they lingered, replaying in your head with uncomfortable clarity. Every time you thought about the woman in his bed and Rafe’s annoyed reaction, you felt a pang of jealousy and discomfort.

Hours passed in restless contemplation. When you finally decided to venture downstairs for a late-night snack, you hoped the distraction might ease your mind. You moved cautiously through the house, trying to avoid any further encounters with Rafe.

As you entered the kitchen, you heard footsteps in the hallway. Your heart skipped a beat as you turned, half-expecting Rafe to appear. But to your relief, it was Sarah, looking tired but content.

“Hey,” she greeted, her voice subdued. “Didn’t expect anyone else to be up.”

“Just needed a break,” you said, trying to sound casual as you grabbed something from the fridge. “Couldn’t sleep.”

Sarah nodded, her gaze wandering as she leaned against the counter. “I get that. Things have been pretty crazy lately.”

You engaged in light conversation with Sarah, appreciating the distraction from your earlier encounter. She spoke about her day with John B and the Pogues, offering you some welcome normalcy. The warmth of her presence helped to dull the edge of your discomfort.

After Sarah left to get some rest, you found yourself alone in the kitchen. You finished your snack and began tidying up, the silence of the house pressing in on you. As you turned to leave, you heard a faint creak coming from the direction of the stairs.

Cautiously, you approached the top of the stairs. Rafe’s door was slightly ajar, and you could see him standing in the hallway, dressed in a clean shirt and jeans. His posture was rigid, and his expression was as cold and intimidating as it had been that morning.

You hesitated, torn between wanting to confront him and fearing his reaction. Gathering your courage, you took a step forward. As you did, Rafe’s gaze locked onto you. His eyes, though dark, had a sharp intensity that made you instinctively take a step back.

“What are you doing out of your room?” Rafe’s voice was low, edged with a dangerous undertone.

You swallowed, feeling a flush of embarrassment creep up your neck. “I— I couldn’t sleep. I was just... looking for something to eat.”

Rafe’s gaze didn’t soften. He took a step closer, his presence imposing and commanding. “It’s late. You should be in bed.”

You nodded quickly, feeling the weight of his scrutiny. “I’m sorry for... interrupting earlier. I didn’t mean to—”

Rafe cut you off with a curt gesture. “Save it. I don’t need apologies. Just stay out of my way.”

His words stung more than you expected, but you tried to keep your composure. “Okay. I’ll go.”

Before you could turn away, Rafe’s eyes narrowed slightly. He seemed to be weighing something, his expression cold and unreadable. “It’s not just about staying out of my way. You shouldn’t be around when I’m dealing with... things.”

You felt a pang of hurt and jealousy. Despite Rafe’s attempts to push you away, you couldn’t ignore the twinge of envy you felt when you thought about him with someone else. The woman he’d been with earlier was a stark reminder of how little you seemed to matter to him.

Rafe’s gaze remained fixed on you, his irritation palpable. He didn’t seem interested in making small talk or offering comfort. Instead, he appeared to be impatient, as if your presence was an unwelcome intrusion.

“I’ve got things to deal with,” he said, his tone clipped. “You should head back to your room.”

You nodded, your cheeks burning with embarrassment. “I’ll go.”

As you turned to leave, you heard Rafe mutter something under his breath, but it was too quiet for you to catch. You retreated to your room, feeling the sting of his cold demeanor. The interaction had left you feeling more isolated than ever, but you knew pushing further would only drive him away.

Back in your room, you tried to calm your racing heart. The feelings of jealousy and frustration were unsettling, but you couldn’t let them deter you. Despite Rafe’s harshness and his attempts to shut you out, you knew you couldn’t give up on him. For now, all you could do was hope that, eventually, he might open up and let you in, even if it seemed like an impossible task.

-

The following days were a mixture of unease and routine. You continued to navigate the house with a growing sense of tension, carefully avoiding Rafe while trying to maintain some semblance of normalcy. The interactions with him remained sparse and uncomfortable, characterized by his cold indifference and frequent outbursts.

Despite the strained atmosphere, you managed to keep yourself busy with daily chores and your own personal projects. You busied yourself with studies and a few hobbies to keep your mind occupied, trying to ignore the lingering discomfort and unresolved emotions.

One evening, as you sat in the living room working on a sketch, the front door creaked open, and the sound of laughter and loud voices drifted into the house. The Kooks had arrived, bringing with them an air of recklessness and exuberance that contrasted sharply with the oppressive atmosphere of the past few days.

You heard the familiar voices of Topper and his friends mingling with Rafe’s deeper, more commanding tone. It seemed like the gathering was going to be loud and chaotic, a welcome distraction from the tense silence that had settled over the household.

Deciding to make your way downstairs, you hoped the lively atmosphere might lift your spirits. As you approached the living room, you could see the crowd of Kooks and their guests gathered, drinks in hand and music blaring.

Rafe was at the center of it all, his presence commanding the room. He looked more animated than you had seen him in days, though there was still an undercurrent of agitation in his movements. The energy of the party seemed to mask his earlier frustration, but you couldn’t shake the feeling that he was still on edge.

Topper spotted you and came over, a wide grin on his face. “Hey, glad you could make it. We’re just getting started!”

You managed a polite smile, trying to blend in with the crowd. “Thanks, Topper. I thought I’d check it out.”

As the evening wore on, you found yourself drifting through the crowd, trying to enjoy the festivities. The music was loud, and the atmosphere was charged with a mix of energy and tension. You caught glimpses of Rafe throughout the night, but his attention was consistently fixed on you.

Despite the distractions around him, Rafe’s eyes remained locked on you. He appeared indifferent to the blonde woman who tried to draw his attention, her advances going unnoticed as he followed your every move from across the room. It was both unsettling and oddly comforting, though it only deepened the confusion you felt about your relationship with him.

Eventually, you found yourself near the bar, trying to stay out of the way. Rafe was engaged in conversation with some of his friends, but his gaze never strayed far from you. The weight of his stare was heavy, and it made you acutely aware of your presence in the room.

Just as you were about to turn away, JJ Maybank, a charming Pogues member with a laid-back demeanor, approached you. He had noticed you standing alone and seemed genuinely concerned.

“Hey there,” JJ said with a friendly smile. “You look like you’re having a rough time. Mind if I join you?”

You looked up, surprised by his sudden appearance. “Oh, sure. I’m just trying to find a quiet spot.”

JJ nodded sympathetically. “Yeah, this place can get pretty overwhelming. I just started working as a waiter here, so I know the chaos all too well.”

You laugh, your eyes twinkling as JJ copies you.

He struck up an easy conversation, his humor and genuine interest in your well-being making you feel more at ease. JJ’s respectful and kind demeanor was a welcome contrast to the tense atmosphere and Rafe’s intimidating presence.

As JJ chatted with you, you found yourself relaxing for the first time that evening. His light-hearted jokes and easygoing nature helped distract you from the underlying tension. Despite your initial hesitation, you found yourself enjoying his company and the brief respite from the party’s chaos.

Rafe’s gaze was still fixed on you, though he made no effort to intervene. His attention was unwavering, and the contrast between his cold demeanor and JJ’s warmth only heightened your sense of isolation.

Suddenly, Rafe’s mood shifted. His jaw tightened, and his eyes darkened with a simmering intensity as he watched JJ’s easy conversation with you. Rafe’s irritation was palpable, and it became clear that he was growing increasingly possessive.

As JJ moved closer, making a light-hearted comment, Rafe’s composure snapped. He pushed through the crowd, his movements sharp and deliberate. The cheerful chatter around you faded as Rafe approached with a palpable air of menace.

“Hey,” Rafe’s voice cut through the noise, cold and commanding. “I think it’s time for you to move along.”

JJ looked up, startled by the sudden change in atmosphere. “Whoa, man. We’re just talking.”

Rafe’s eyes were fixed on JJ, his expression a mix of annoyance and barely concealed rage. “I don’t think you heard me. I don’t want you talking to her.”

JJ raised an eyebrow, clearly taken aback by Rafe’s aggression. “What’s your problem, dude? We’re just chatting. No need to be a jerk.”

The tension between them was immediate and intense. Rafe’s posture was rigid, his body language exuding a dangerous energy. The crowd around them began to take notice, sensing the escalating conflict.

You felt a pang of anxiety, unsure of how to intervene or diffuse the situation. The atmosphere was charged, and you could sense that Rafe’s possessiveness was boiling over.

“Rafe, it’s fine,” you said, trying to calm him down. “JJ’s just being friendly.”

Rafe’s eyes flicked to you, momentarily softening before his irritation returned. “Stay out of this. I don’t want you around him.”

JJ stepped between you and Rafe, his expression shifting from confusion to anger. “You’re way out of line, man. She’s allowed to talk to whoever she wants.”

Rafe’s anger erupted. “Not when that ‘whoever’ is someone from the other side of the tracks. You don’t get to decide who she spends her time with.”

The two men were now inches apart, their faces inches from each other. The confrontation was escalating quickly, and the surrounding crowd was growing restless, whispering among themselves.

In a sudden burst of aggression, Rafe shoved JJ, sending him stumbling back. JJ’s eyes widened in shock, and he clenched his fists, clearly ready to retaliate.

“Rafe, stop it!” you cried out, stepping between them in a desperate attempt to break up the fight. “This isn’t the place for this.”

Rafe ignored you, his focus solely on JJ. “You need to leave. Now.”

JJ’s gaze remained steady, though his anger was evident. “Fine. If you’re gonna act like a jerk, I’m outta here. But don’t think this is over.”

With that, JJ pushed past Rafe, making his way through the crowd and out of the house. The tension in the room lingered, and you felt a mixture of relief and disappointment as the immediate threat of violence subsided.

Rafe’s rage seemed to drain away as he turned his attention back to you, his eyes still burning with a fierce possessiveness. The confrontation had left a mark, and you could see the complexity of emotions swirling within him.

“Why did you have to bring him into this?” Rafe’s voice was harsh, his anger now directed at you.

You looked at him, feeling a mix of confusion and hurt. “I didn’t mean to cause any trouble. I was just trying to have a conversation.”

Rafe’s expression remained cold, though there was a hint of something else in his eyes—regret, perhaps, or vulnerability. “Well, now you know how it feels when someone intrudes on something that’s not their business.”

The crowd had begun to disperse, the party’s energy now subdued by the conflict. As you stood there, you felt the weight of Rafe’s possessiveness and anger pressing down on you, leaving you with more questions than answers.

The night had ended in chaos, and as you retreated to your room, the events of the evening replayed in your mind. The fight, Rafe’s possessiveness, and the tension between you all left a lingering sense of uncertainty. The lines between protection and control had blurred, and you knew you needed to confront these issues head-on if there was any hope of resolving the growing rift between you and Rafe.

[roseghoul26]

Chapter 6: I'd Live And Die For Moments That We Stole

Synopsis: A fic based off the song “ivy” by Taylor Swift. After a startling introduction to the man, Arthur Morgan became the most important part of your life. Married at a young age to an older, wealthy man to help your family, you were trapped in a loveless marriage, your only sense of escape with the rugged cowboy. Will you be able to keep your affair hidden, or will your husband find out, and destroy the last thing that made you happy?

Tags: Fluff, Angst, Smut, Strangers To Lovers, Infidelity, Fem!Reader, She/Her Pronouns Used For Reader, Period Typical Misogyny, Emotional Manipulative Relationship (not with Arthur), Mostly Follows Timeline of Game, High Honor Arthur Morgan, Not Beta Read, Slow Burn, First Kiss, Tags Updated Per Chapter

Author's Note: so ttpd was released while writing this, and oh my god some of the songs on there work a little to well with either this fic or arthur morgan in general

also was not expecting so much attention from the ghoul fic and i will continue to write for him, i just still want to work on this too!

Taglist: @lokiofasgard12 @ultraporcelainpig @that-one-beannnn @morethantheycansay

Chapter List

Hans was home for three and a half weeks. 

Your days were either spent alone in your house, Hans shutting himself in his office, or out on the town, heading to dinners, plays, movies, and miscellaneous events that you hardly remembered. It was always a blur to you, anyway. 

You’d only caught glimpses of Arthur throughout the past weeks. He’d sometimes be roaming the streets of the cities you were in, keeping his distance, but you’d always feel his watchful eye on you. It made those days better, knowing that in a way he was by your side. 

If Hans noticed the extra eyes watching the two of you, more specifically you, he didn’t say anything. He still acted the same, attentive and loving husband in the public eye, cold and disdainful behind closed doors. It was exhausting, but you pushed through. 

The two of you had been at a party all night, your feet ached and the muscles of your face were strained from smiling so much. You had just walked into your house, around midnight, and you were exhausted. Hans had immediately retired upstairs, and you followed after him, getting ready for bed in your closet.

 You pulled off your dress, the fabric itchy and uncomfortable, and you had slipped into your nightgown. Slipping into bed beside Hans, you fell asleep rather quickly, and the night passed dreamlessly, much to your disappointment. 

You woke up alone, which wasn’t too out of the ordinary. What was out of the ordinary was that he didn't come down for breakfast, not responding when you called for him. When you knocked on his office door, there was no response. Confused, you peered outside, pleasantly shocked to find the carriage missing. He’d never just left like that; there was always some sort of heads up, and he always requested your company in bed.

You were nowhere near upset, though, and you gleefully cleaned up the kitchen. You spent the next few days in your garden, luckily not as wrecked as it was the first time, your planters holding up well. 

It was the third night when you heard a knock on your door, and you couldn’t help the giddy smile on your face as you bolted to the door. You didn’t have to look through the peephole to know who was there, and you opened the door quickly. 

There was Arthur Morgan on the other side of your door, hair longer than you remembered, but that same dazzling grin on his face. 

You stood there, not quite shocked, but your brain was still unsure of how to react. Your body knew, though, and you nearly tackled him to the ground with the force of your hug, arms wrapping around his neck. 

He wasn’t expecting your reaction, a startled whoa leaving him, but he immediately reciprocated the hug, like he needed this just as badly as you did. You sagged into his arms, a breath you’d been holding for the last three and a half weeks finally being released. Resting your head on his chest, that comforting smell of him made you smile. Oh, how you missed him. 

“I missed ya too, darlin’,” he chuckled, and you tilted your head back to look up at him. It was adorable, the way his ears turned red, flustered by your sheer adoration of him. 

You snuck a hand up into his hair, combing through the longer strands that stuck out from beneath his hat. He sighed under your touch, his eyes threatening to flutter close. “It’s so long now,” you muttered more to yourself, and you watched him raise a brow. 

“I just keep forgettin’ to cut it,” he admitted.

“I ain’t complainin’,'' you laughed. “It suits you.”

He just hummed noncommittally, and the two of you stood in silence, simply taking in the presence of the other. You saw the way his eyes flicked down to your lips and then back up. The motion was quick, like he was unsure if you’d want him to kiss you again, if you thought the last time had been a mistake. 

You didn’t give him a chance to get lost in his thoughts, standing up on your tiptoes to brush your lips against his. His beard was longer than last time, too. It was less of a stubble and more of a soft layer of hair, and it tickled less than last time. 

He smiled, barely able to contain his relief, and you felt him cup the side of your face, bringing your face back for a proper kiss. When his lips slotted against yours, you reconfirmed your belief from the first time; he truly did feel like home.

“I really did miss you,” you whispered out once the kiss broke. 

“I’m here now. Unfortunate for you,” he chuckled, and you slapped him lightly on the chest. 

“Hush, Arthur,” you admonished, shaking your head. “C’mon, let's get inside.”

It took a few moments for you two to release each other, and you took his hand once you stepped apart, leading him into the house. You didn’t even have to ask before he was taking off his boots, and you were dragging him upstairs. 

The implications of what you were doing were lost to you as you brought him upstairs, but you heard Arthur mutter your name, confused but not completely against the idea.

“For the life of me, I can’t get into his office,” you explained. “I ain’t got the skills you do.”

“And I do? Quite rude of you to assume.”

You scoffed, sparing him a disbelieving look. “Arthur, did you forget how we met?”

By this time you’d reached the top of the stairs, standing outside the locked office door. Excitement caused your heart to race, not ready for what you might possibly find in the office. Even though you were raised to not be a snoop, it was quite fun digging into peoples personal items, and it was especially fun when said personal items belong to your husband. 

“Fair enough,” Arthur conceded, and he pulled a few items out of his pocket, tools you assumed he was going to use to pick the lock. “This’ll just take a sec.”

Arthur got down on his knees in front of the door, and you watched as he fiddled with the tools, silently listening for something. You had no idea what he was doing, but it was quite fascinating to watch. Besides, you got to appreciate the way hands flexed and fingers moved as he worked the lock.

It was less than thirty seconds before he was standing up, a small yet proud smirk on his face. “It… it’s that easy?”

Arthur laughed at that. “Nah, it was unlocked.”

“You’re fuckin’ kidding.” 

He stared at you blankly before laughing again. “You shoulda seen your face. Yes, I’m kiddin’.”

“Arthur Morgan!” That just made him laugh harder, and you cherished the sound, locking it away in your brain. You joined in, chucklining lightly. “You bastard,” you teased. 

“Sorry,” he replied, not sounding sorry at all “I had to. Forgive me.” 

You shook your head, leaning against the wall. “I don’t.”

“Then what do I gotta do to earn your forgiveness, darlin’?” He moved toward you, brushing his fingers over the apple of your cheek, tucking away hair that wasn’t there.

“I could think of a few ways,” you murmured, not so subtly looking at his plush lips. 

Grinning, he didn’t bother responding before kissing you, hat knocking into your head. “Am I forgiven now?”

You snuck in one last quick peck before responding. “I guess.”

“I’ll take that.”

He held your face for a few moments longer, eyes sparkling with adoration. His expression then sobered, and he shoved the tools back into his pocket, removing his hand and setting it on the doorknob. “You ready?”

You took his other hand, nodding, and he held the door open for you as you stepped into his office for the first time.

It was way messier than you expected. Stacks of books and piles of paper seemed to loom over you; one stray gust of air could topple it all down. There were high shelves lining one of the walls, filled floor to ceiling with different books, knicknacks, and various loose papers stuck between the books. A large oak desk stood in the middle, a large leather chair tucked in, equally as covered with papers, and various splotches of ink had long since dried into the wood.

There weren’t any windows, making the room stuffy, and you could feel the dust tickling your nose. You were left speechless, feeling suddenly overwhelmed with the amount of stuff in front of you. “How…” you managed to let out, and Arthur just shook his head. 

He made his way to the desk, your hands still intertwined, and he began to shuffle through the papers, spreading them around on the desk. His eyes danced around the papers, and he let out a sigh, nothing sticking out to him. You opened the drawers, only seeing junk and even more paper. 

You were about to shut the final one before a rectangular shape caught your eye. Pulling it out, you set it on the desk, the book automatically falling open. Leaning in to investigate further, you realized it was a ledger book of sorts, but everything was written in shorthand or codes, indecipherable to you. 

“The hell?” Arthur murmured, just as confused as you were. “This even English?”

“Maybe?” You flipped the pages, the words changing but still not understandable. “I mean, it’s obviously a ledger, but that’s all I can tell.”

When you flipped a few more pages the same thing happened, you sighed. “I thought it would’ve been that easy, just finding the ledger book and having everything you needed to know be right there.”

“It usually is. Criminals ain’t the smartest sometimes.” Arthur pulled out the chair and sat in it. You sat on the arm rest, leaning against Arthur a bit, your foot still holding most of your weight. “Let’s see here…”

Arthur looked through the papers on the desk again, and you were able to catch glimpses of what they were; they were a mix of receipts, letters, and various documentation. There were a few names, none of which you recognized, and you watched Arthur scribble them down into his notebook. 

“I think that should be good for now.”

You weren’t going to lie, you had spaced out a bit while scanning over the various documents, the writing quickly turning to a blur in your eyes. You jumped when Arthur stood, nearly causing you to topple over, but you felt him secure you with a hand on your waist. “Already?” You asked.

“I’ve got a few names’ I’ll see where they lead.” Arthur shrugged. “I don’t wanna spend too much time in here, anyway.” To prove his point, he led you out of the office, shutting the door behind you. 

“Then why’d you come over?”

“Ouch.”

“I didn’t mean it like that,” you chuckled.

“Will you ever believe that I come over just to see you?”

“Probably not.”

Arthur rolled his eyes, and began to lead you back downstairs. “Where you takin’ me?” You asked, and he didn’t respond, getting his shoes on and leaving the house. “Arthur?”

“You’ll see,” was all he said, not letting go of your hand as you descended the stairs. 

“What’re we doin’?”

Arthur sighed. “Have you ever heard of a surprise?” 

The familiar form of Bear caught your eye, and you made a noise to get his attention. It worked, the horse flicking its head towards you, nickering excitedly as you and Arthur approached. 

“Hello, Bear!” You let go of Arthur’s hand, striding over to the horse happily. You missed how affectionately Arthur looked at you, a warm smile on his lips as he watched you. “How’s my favorite boy doin’?”

“That’s the second time I’ve been insulted by you today.”

You ran one of your hands on his snout, the other patting his neck. “Ignore him, Bear. He’s grumpy.” You rambled out praises to the horse, and his eyes visibly relaxed, practically pressing himself into your hands. “Such a good boy, Bear.”

You felt his lips on your neck first, the soft beard barely tickling your skin. His arms were next, wrapping over yours, keeping you pressed close to his chest. “What did I say ‘bout spoilin’ my horse, darlin’?” He rocked with you side to side, occasionally pressing his lips against your skin. 

“He deserves it,” you giggled. “He always brings you back to me.”

Arthur stilled. “I… I suppose you’re right.”

“I am right.” You broke the tension that threatened to form with a verbal jab, and Arthur chuckled. 

His arms released your body, but he kept his hands on you, trailing them over your arms, and then settling on your hips. “You ready?”

“Sure, but you-”

Arthur cut you off by grasping your waist, lifting you effortlessly and setting you on the back of Bear. A startled cry left your lips, and you glared at Arthur once he set you down. “A warning next time?” You tried to not seem as freaked out as you were, clutching at the saddle in front of you for some sense of stability. 

“I did,” he responded, chuckling when your glare returned. When he got into the saddle in front of you, you instinctively wrapped your arms around him, clinging on to him. “You good?” He asked, concern in his voice.

“I…” you felt ashamed to admit to him, “I ain’t been on a horse in… years. Not since I was a little kid.”

“Bear’s a good horse. He’s never bucked me off, if you’re afraid of that.”

You exhaled shakily, your head resting on his back. “Alright, just don’t expect me to let go.”

“I’ll never complain ‘bout your hands on me,” he almost proudly admitted, and in response you just tighten your grip. “Ready?” He asked again.

“Yes.” You didn’t bother asking what you were doing again, knowing you weren’t going to get an answer. 

Arthur kicked his heel lightly, giving Bear the go ahead to start moving. You refrained from gripping on to him tighter, not wanting to choke the poor man, and you watched the scenery begin to move past you. Arthur kept a slower pace, no doubt a pace he normally wouldn’t ride at, but his consideration towards you had you melting. 

Even though most of the wind was blocked by Arthur’s frame, you still felt it grace your skin, hair streaming behind you. It felt nice, not too chilly, and it helped you relax.

It took a few moments for you to lift your head from his back, your arms loosening, settling lightly on his waist. “Alright?” He asked, the wind not loud enough to overpower his voice yet. 

“I think so. Are… are you gonna tell me yet?”

“Do you trust me?” Interesting response, you thought. 

“Of course.”

“Then trust me when I say you’re gonna like it.”

“You’re no fun,” you teased, feeling comfortable enough to remove one of your hands from his waist, flicking the back of his hat.

Arthur grumbled something, but you could hear his smile. 

He rode on for a few minutes, and you took the time to just absorb the beautiful scenery around you. It was much more enjoyable to look at when you weren’t crammed into a stuffy carriage with a miserable man. 

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw a large stag, hidden between the bushes. His head followed the both of you as you passed, but it quickly turned when a doe approached him from one of the bushes. You didn’t get to point them out to Arthur before they were scampering away, the stag following the doe into the thicket, the sound of branches snapping the only proof of their existence.  

You truly had no idea where Arthur was taking you, your attention focusing back on the road. He had returned to the main road, sure, but he wasn’t heading in the direction of any major towns. The thick woodland had turned sparse, making way for rolling hills of grass with the occasional flower, with flocks of animals out enjoying the incredible weather. 

As Arthur continued the slow pace, you began to feel antsy, and you were also feeling a bit brace. “You can go faster,” you leaned forward to tell him, and he looked over at you. 

“Yeah?”

When you made a comfiring noise, he grinned, looking positively excited. It made him look so young, so carefree, and you couldn’t help but grin in response. 

Securing your grip back around him, he urged Bear on more, who was more than happy to comply. A startled laugh left you as Bear went faster, your smile widening, wind whipping against your body. It was exhilarating, but you needed more. 

“Faster!” You had to start shouting a bit, the wind becoming more intense. 

Arthur shook his head, chuckling, and you watched him spur Bear on again. He broke into a gallop, the world around you becoming a blur. You don’t think you’ve ever moved this fast in your life, and it was incredible. Laughing joyfully, you felt Arthur do the same, leading Bear along the road with small pulls on the reigns.

You’re not sure how long you two tore through the countryside, but it felt like no time had passed before Arthur was bringing Bear to a trot. You were still laughing, brushing back your hair which you were sure was a complete mess, but you didn’t care.

Artur led you off the main road, leading you up a large yet gradual hill. The top was completely flat, with only a few dry bushes and patches of grass interrupting the stone. A few small rodents looked at you curiously, before retreating to their burrows. 

Dismounting, Arthur didn’t secure Bear to anything, but you knew that he trusted him to not run off. After swinging your leg over, Arthur helped you down, holding you even when your feet hit the ground. Something flashed over his face as he watched you catch your breath, the wide grin on your lips never ceasing. His thumb rubbed into your skin where he held you on your waist, which didn’t help to calm down your racing heart. 

“Good?” 

You nodded. “I’m wonderful. That was… that was incredible. You get to do that every day?” You asked, something similar to envy in your voice.

“If you ever want to take him out for a ride, just let me know. I think Bear’d love that.”

You glanced back at the horse, who was watching you expectantly. Laughing slightly, you left the comforting hold of Arthur, patting Bear's neck. Arthur moved beside you, grabbing something fabric looking from the saddlebags, as well as a bottle of what assumed to be liquor. He extended an arm for you, and you gladly took it, linking your arm with his. It was similar to the way Hans would have you on his arm, showing you off almost like an accessory. This felt different, though, like it always did with Arthur. 

You shook the thoughts of your husband out of your mind; right now was about you and Arthur. He led you to the edge of the hill, and you let out a gasp at the view. You were able to see what felt like the entirety of The Heartlands, rolling fields of grass as far as the eye could see. Mountains dotted the skyline, and you could see a few small towns littered about. Hoards of different animals grazed, from bison to deer to turkeys. 

So enthralled by the view in front of you, you hadn’t noticed Arthur laying out a blanket beside you, until he tugged lightly at your arm. He pulled you down to a seated position, sitting behind you so you could rest your back against him. His arms immediately wrapped around you when you did, pressing a kiss to your cheek before settling his head on your shoulder, watching the landscape with you.

“It’s beautiful,” you whispered, and you heard Arthur humm in agreement. “How’d you find this?”

“I was huntin’, and I was tracking somethin’ that led me up here. As soon as I saw it I knew I had to bring you here.”

You couldn’t help but smile at the fact that Arthur thought of you while he was out on his travels. “You think ‘bout me a lot, Arthur Morgan?” You teased, pushing away a feeling you were too scared to name still. 

“All the damn time,” he admitted, an airy laugh leaving him and tickling your ear. “You know that.”

“Maybe. Or maybe I just like hearin’ you say it.”

Arthur didn’t respond, just holding you like you were a lifeline, and you found that you could spend the rest of your life wrapped up in his arms. Eventually, conversation started between the two of you, catching the other up on what had transpired over the last few weeks, the liquor bottle Arthur brough being uncorked and passed between the two of you. It was a decent tasting whiskey, but you only took a few sips, not wanting to have this moment be clouded over with fuzziness. 

His arms had stayed wrapped around you for most of the time, but over the past hour had slowly let up, choosing to run his fingers over your body instead. It started with small touches on your side, before trialing up and down your arms and legs, to up your shoulder, brushing against your neck. It was like he was trying to memorize your body simply with his touch.

Every time he brushed over a sensitive area of your body, you’d shiver, and he’d smile, changing the infliction of his voice if he was speaking. It was hard to stay focused, either on his words or your own story. 

This was the fifth time you’d trailed off while you were speaking, and you laughed, resting your head back. “You’re distractin’ me.”

“You want me to stop?”

“Never.”

Arthur chuckled, and you felt those calloused fingers brush over your arms again, moving down to your hands. “Can’t help myself. Beautiful woman in my arms, it’d be a crime not to touch her.”

You’re sure your cheeks were dangerously warm. “Well, she ain’t complainin’,” you breathed out, and you felt his hands rest on the back of your, fingers weaving into yours. 

“You ain’t wearin’ your ring.” He sounded like he was almost in disbelief. 

You glanced down at your left hand, his much larger once encapsulating it. You’d taken it off a day ago, setting it in your nightstand. You’re not quite sure why you did it, but it felt like fifty pounds had been lifted off you when you took it off. “No, I ain’t.”

His right hand grasped your chin, turning your face towards his, which continued to rest on your shoulder. Pure longing was written across his face, but his lips were possessive when they made contact with yours. The grasp shifted from your chin to the side of your face, fingers tracing patterns into your cheeks. It pulled you in closer to him, but you needed him closer. You needed to feel him. 

You shifted so that you were facing him, hands bracing on his chest. You felt him sigh when your hands traveled up, over his neck and tanging into his hair. His hat hit the ground behind him, and he pulled you into his lap, your lips never separating once. The new angle had you leaning above him slightly, your hands in his hair pulling his head back, but he didn’t mind. 

You had forgotten what it was like to be kissed with so much passion, so much energy, and you couldn’t help but admit to yourself what you’d been trying to bury for weeks: you were in love with him. 

It made you gasp, pulling away from the kiss and resting your head against his. It wasn’t that you were against the fact that you were in love with him. But you had no idea if he felt the same. You knew he cared about you, there was no denying that, but was he in love with you? Knowing what kind of life Arthur lived, you didn’t see him as the committal type, not wanting to be bound to a person or place. 

He took you pulling away as you needing a moment to breathe, smiling gently at you. A large hand cupped the side of your face, and you melted into his touch, like you could respond any other way.

You debated just confessing to him right there, but anxiety welded your mouth close. Instead, you opted to just kiss him again, quick but no less lovely.

Sitting back on his lap, the sun was beginning to disappear below the horizon, just behind Arthur. The lighting made him look ethereal, brown hair golden, and you’re sure you were staring at him like a lovestruck fool. “You’re so beautiful,” you sighed out, laughing a bit when he looked away embarrassed. 

“Shouldn’t I be sayin’ that to you?”

“You already have. It’s my turn.”

He chuckled, still not believing what you were saying, but he was humoring you. “Alright, darlin’, how much whiskey did you have?”

You were drunk on something much better than the whiskey, that’s for sure. “I mean it, Arthur. You’re gorgeous.”

It was clear that he still didn’t believe you, but he thanked you anyway, kissing you lightly again. Resting your head on his shoulder, you wrapped your arms around his broad body, holding him in a embrace. 

You sat in Arthur’s lap for a good while, simply holding each other, and you felt the occasion kiss on your head. The two of you didn’t feel the need to talk, and you got lost in the sound of Arthur’s breathing. 

The sun had set, and as it left so did its warmth, cool night air hitting your body. You shivered, Arthur’s body heat doing nothing to protect your back from the cold. “As lovely as this is, I’d hate for you to get sick,” you heard Arthur murmur, and you hated that he was right. You didn’t want to leave, but you knew you’d regret it if you didn’t. 

“Alright,” you huffed out, untangling yourself from him, which just made you more cold. Standing up, you grabbed his hat for him as he stood, and you placed it atop his head. He grinned up at you, grabbing the blanket and draping it over his arm, extending the other for you again. 

Just like he had led you up the hill, he led you down to where Bear was resting, his ears flicking happily when he saw the two of you approaching. You gave him a few pats before Arthur lifted you on to his rump, and even then you were sure to murmur to him. Arthur handed you the blanket, and you wrapped it around your shoulders, keeping it secure between your two bodies once he joined you on Bear. 

As he took off, one of his hands went back to rest on your thigh, like he was making sure that you were still with him. Like you’d want to be anywhere else. And if someone tried to take you away, then you’d fight like a cornered animal to get back. 

The ride back was different at night; scenery that was once peaceful and comforting now becoming foreign and terrifying. Arthur went quick, not as quickly as before, but fast enough that said terrifying scenery went by fast. 

The ride felt shorter than you wished, the familiar sight of your house causing you to sigh, holding on to Arthur a tad bit tighter than what was necessary. 

Pulling up to the porch, he dismounted quickly, helping you down again. You were sure to leave the blanket on Bear, giving him a goodnight pat before climbing the stairs, Arthur following behind. 

You lingered in the doorway after he held the door open for you, an invitation for him to come in on the tip of your tongue. But you couldn’t bring yourself to say them, not wanting to scare him away. So you just smiled at him, kissing him lightly on the cheek. 

“Wait,” you heard him say before you were about to wish him a good night, “I’ve got somethin’ for you.”

Curious, you cocked your head as he dug into his satchel,pulling out a torn out piece of paper. “Read it when you get inside,” he instructed as he handed it to you. 

“Should I be worried?” You joked.

“Nah,” he chuckled. “Just… you’ll see when you read it.”

Well, now you were excited. “Okay…” you laughed, before kissing him for the final time that night. “I had an amazin’ day today, so thank you. Sincerely.”

“Of course, darlin’. Have a good night.”

“‘Night, Arthur. Come back to me, okay?” 

He nodded, tilting his hat at you, stepping down the porch. In the back of your mind, you remembered the lessons you’d had in the backyard with Arthur, learning how to shoot and gun. You remembered that today you were supposed to learn how to reload it, but it had completely slipped from your mind until now. You let it pass again, though. There was always next time.

You stood in the doorway until Arthur was long gone, clutching the note to your chest. When you finally retreated inside, you sighed happily, still caught up in the trance that the night had been. 

Sitting on the couch, you looked over the small piece of paper, clearly torn from his journal. There was an address scrawled across the top in that familiar messy cursive, some place in the state of Ambarino. It didn’t make much sense to you, so you read the following note left by Arthur, which started with your name. 

It took a bit of asking around, but I was able to find the new address of the Van Buren estate. From what I can tell, they’re doing well. It wouldn’t be a bad time to reach out, if and only if you feel ready.

- A

There was something scribbled out before his name, like he was planning on writing sincerely or something like that, but he must’ve deemed it too formal for a note like this. 

You sat there, shocked, tears welling in your eyes as you stared at the note. Two years of no contact with your family was almost over. It was so close. 

Leaning back against the couch, you held the note back to your chest, thanking the heavens for Arthur. There was no denying it now; you were so in love with him.

[harrysmimi]

Date Night

Synopsis: One where Harry finally manages to convince his partner on a fancy dinner date

CW: mentions of anxiety, depression and body dysmorphia.

More of my work

It was a Friday night, YN had gotten off work early.

Well, to be honest she got nothing done today. Working from home comes with it's own pros and cons.

She liked to stay the weekend at home, buried in her bed. Maybe binge watch some random show on a random OTT site. Or just sleep.

Since the pandemic, YN had fallen into a dark place mentally. She could work from home but she was stuck in country over seas from her family.

She works at the London branch of Columbia Music label, in the marketing department. That's where she met Harry, now her boyfriend of almost two years.

Harry actually slipped her a personal email after a zoom meeting on planning a strategy to market his new album, asking for her number. YN was the team leader of the team who'd work hard on coming onto new ideas, so she had to be present in the meeting, explaining the presentation whilst her foster kitten walk all in front of her camera as she talked.

At first, YN was very sceptical about the e-mail. It was under his name, but it could be anyone. People hack into random zoom meeting all the time now. But again how did he get her e-mail?

So she just deleted that e-mail.

The next session though, he slipped into her private messages asking if she got his email. Of course she gave him his number as he said that he wanted to be involved in the process. She understood, it was his album, he spent days and nights working on it with his friends, he has to have a say in how it's marketed. Well, he partially lied. He just grew a tiny little infatuation on her, he wanted to get to know her.

It was her first project as Team Leader ever. She had just been promoted and it was sort of new to her when corporate decided to give her the position. Of course she was energetic going head first into the new responsibilities given to her. Especially for one of the company's biggest clients.

Her new responsibilities came with so much scrutiny as she was the youngest and least experienced person to be put up in a position of a leader. Disregarding her work ethics, her leadership skills and strengths, plus her qualifications.

It took a huge toll on her.

Talking to Harry was only thing keeping her sane in that moment, even though they had never seen each other in person ever before.

Whilst her parents and siblings were supportive of her in every single way, but yet, everytime she called them they'd be complaining about one another jokingly and never listen to her. She tried talking to her mother, but did she it never worked out as her entire family was stuck in one house.

Harry and her started dating around the time he was back in London. Their first date was on a FaceTime call. She was having some leftover rice she made the night before for dinner, and he was eating a Chinese take out and a homemade salad he made.

The salad was for balance, he said to her.

She was sat in living room/Dining room/bedroom/office; her coffee table, whilst he was comfortably sat at his fancy dining table at home. She didn't had her foster kitten to lurk around anymore, it got adopted very soon.

They continued to talk to one another over calls, texts, FaceTime every chance Harry got to be free. YN was basically free all the time, she works from home- unless she's in an online meeting. They'd fall asleep on FaceTime with one another. It was a long distance relationship even when both of them were in same place because of the pandemic restrictions. But both of them felt safe enough to move forward with their relationship.

Of course, Harry saw her falling into a dark place mentally. In fact she came forward and shared it with him finally as she was tired of being ignored by her family. He suggested her a few things which never worked out for her, and she is yet to find out a therapist she resonates with.

The first time Harry visited her flat to see her, it was like he has always been living there. He knew where everything was. That's when he took her to a very fancy dinner date. Their first and last fancy dinner date ever.

This time, Harry was in town finally after an exhausting yet memorable leg of tour in the States. He was dress fancy, the Prince Of Wales jacket from his own collection with a baby blue shirt underneath it, pair of black pants, and a random black coat because it was cold outside.

He walked into his girlfriend's flat buried in her bed, watching some gruesome murder documentory without a sliver of expression on her face. Her eyes and lips red, she probably cried whole day whilst working.

"Hey darling!" He dropped his coat and a bag he brought with him on the sofa and walked straight towards her bed. "What's wrong baby?"

"I don't know." She sniffled pausing the show she was watching. Pushing her laptop aside she straight away went in to hug him tight.

"Oh my angel!" He squeezed her tight closer to his chest. "It's alright baby, I'm here for you."

"I don't know why I'm crying all day. I just feel so numb." She mumbled, her face pushed against his neck.

Well, she's been stuck in her flat for about three months now. She only ever goes to buy groceries now, which she doesn't have to for two week straight. Her appetite has died a little bit from not getting much excercise done.

"I know baby, I know." He rubbed her back. "I came in to surprise you on a date, do you think getting out of the house would help you?"

"I seriously don't know." She shook her head, still hugging him close.

"How about we at least try, yeah?" He suggested, "you might feel better today by getting out. I'll have us a fun day planned for tomorrow as well." She whined in protest to that, "come on now, I've missed you. I promise we can leave if you don't feel like staying, okay?"

"Okay." She agreed, pulling away from him.

"Alright, I got you something." He with that he fetched her the bag he left on her sofa.

Inside was a cat plushy he saw a random store when he was out and about with his friends, he bought it because it reminded him of her. Along with it was a little bracelet he bought from yet another local business. But the cat mattered most to her in that moment.

"Thank you!" She cooed.

"You like it!" He flashed his dimples smile. "Now do get ready, we have a reservation at eight-thirty."

It was quater past five.

"Harry..." YN sighed, "I don't think I want to go to a fancy place."

"It's not that fancy."

"Harry, you took me a seven star restaurant saying the same thing." She groaned.

"I promise, it's not that fancy." He assured her, "wear the blue dress you impulsively bough online the other day, please?" He dragged her to her closet.

"I don't think it's going to fit me now," she made an excuse.

Or was it an excuse? It was a dress which is supposed her fit her figure like it was her skin at the bodice, doesn't matter if it had puffy long sleeves or it was hemmed at the floor length. She had obviously gained weight lile almost everyone else in the world during the pandemic.

Well, Harry was an exception. He's in more shape than ever. In a very healthy and very fucking cool way.

She had nothing else to wear though to a fancy restaurant, she rented a dress because their first date was planned days ahead. So she had no other option than to wear it.

Harry waited patiently for her to take a shower and het ready, he in fact helped himself with some tea and helped her with her with the pile of dirty dishes. Even made her bed and folded the pile of clean laundry making neat stacks on her bed so she can put them away as she wished. All while he heard the shower go off and the hair dryer running.

Her house was pretty much clean apart from being messy. He know however she may be feelings, she doesn't like when a foul smell lingers around her flat or there is garbage laying around. She's just messy with her personal stuff.

He did not dare to touch her work desk though. She's very protective of that part of her flat.

She'd fine if he'd go through her personal valuables of documents, she hates it when anyone touches her desk or even moved a pen on there.

"Harry?" She called from the bathroom.

"Yes, love?"

"Can you please zip up my dress?" She asked opening the bathroom door just to pop her head out to look at him. He is always happy to help her.

He knows if she was in a good mood he wouldn't even let her put it on before they had a quickie. Keeping his mind out of gutter he helped her.

"You look so pretty baby, you were doubting yourself for nothing!" He placed a delicate kiss on side of her neck.

"I don't know, it doesn't look good."

All she saw was her perfectly normal tummy and her arms showing through the sheer fabric sticking out like needles in her eyes. She was doubting when the dress arrived in mail, she tried it on then showed it to Harry on FaceTime. It was a little loose and didn't fit her well. It doesn't now either.

"Come on, you know how hard I'm trying to keep my hands to myself now?" Harry genuinely find it difficult, he's not saying it to hype her up.

She just took in a deep breath and nodded, excused herself for wanting to do her makeup which wasn't much just some mascara and eyeliner she smoked out with concealer to hide her dark circles and eye bags and a pink lipstick. All the while Harry was sat there on the edge of the shower/bathtub admiring her. He helped her pick out the right pair of earrings, she already had the necklace she wears everyday, her dad gifted her on her 16th birthday. And they were set to go.

......................................................................

YN followed closely behind Harry, pulling out the micro fabric fibers from the cuff of his coat. It won't ruin it. But she's very anxious, well aware of her actions she stopped when the hostess welcomed them and showed them to their table.

It was in the more private and upper level of the restaurant, it was still a five star restaurant. Hardly anymore people there other than a group of six people, and two more couples enjoying their time. It seemed very empty considering the place was huge.

Soft talking and laughing noises seemed to have fade out as the waitress handed her and Harry the menu for drinks. Well, she doesn't drink but it gave her anxiety to even ask for some cold water. She'd gotten so used to ordering everything online, without having to interact with another human being.

"I, I, I will, uhhh..." YN looked at the menu again, "ummm... I, I'll have water please."

"Okay, would you like mineral water or regular water?" The waitress asked, completely disregarding that YN was stuttering and basically sweating.

"Any, any kind would be find. Just, just cold please." She tried to smile the best she could.

The waitress got taking Harry's order, with complete changes in demeanor. It made YN feel more insecure about herself. And maybe that girl was trying to flirt with him, which went completely ignored from his side. But that didn't YN at ease what so ever.

Harry was quick with his order. Maybe the waitress just wants to get back home soon tonight. It's weekend!

Maybe she's the problem here. Yeah!

"Harry?" She called quietly, trying to gulp the lump in her throat, "I, I jist need to, need to use the restroom, I'll be back."

"Okay." He nodded.

"I, I'll leave my purse here." She left her purse with him. In her mind she was letting him know she's not going to runaway, if that ever comes to his mind.

......................................................................

Harry sat there, waiting for his girlfriend. But it's been more than five minutes she's gone. Luckily she took her phone with her. So he tried to text but she was back.

"I'm sorry." Her nose was stuffy, like she cried.

"Hey, baby what's wrong?" He reached for her hand accross the table.

"I, I'm fine." She assured him.

When it was time to order again, YN was on the verge of having a heart attack there. Harry asked for another five minutes to look through the menu.

"Baby you sure, you're alright?" He asked again, "you seem all flustered. Your face has turned all red. Want to go somewhere else, or go back home?"

"I, I just..." YN was finding it very heavy to breathe there, "I want some fresh air. I don't know. I'm sorry."

"Hey, never apologise for wanting to get out of uncomfortable situation, okay?" He assured her, "we'll wait for the waitress to come back out and tell her we don't find anything interesting to eat on the menu, then we'll leave."

"Mhmm," she nodded with teary eyes.

......................................................................

Harry unlocked the door for his girl, like a gentleman he is he stood there with the door open to the passenger seat.

"I'm sorry about that." She mumbled.

"Hey, I told you it's alright." He assured her, "you want to go somewhere else to eat? We can go through the Burger King drive thru and I can order for you."

"I'm not hungry anymore." She shared, "I'll make you something to eat back home." That's when her tummy made a noise.

"Mhmm, I can hear that." He placed a delicate kiss on her forehead, "come on, get in."

......................................................................

"Here you go, Madam." Harry handed the bag of food to YN as he drove ahead and parked in the empty parking lot. "Are you still planning to go see your parents this summer? I mean, summer there at your place?"

"Mhmm." YN nodded talking a bite off her burger, "do you want to come along?"

"You're asking me to go see your parents?" He teased her.

"I have met your family, I want you to meet mine. Please?"

He could see now that she's getting comfortable, her anxiety vanishing away. Not that her parents don't know about him, they love him in fact. It's like they've adopted him. Especially YN's mum, she has sent loads of homemade goodies especially for him, her dad approves of him. Her little sisters are best friends with him now, they sent him little handmade birthday cards on his last two birthdays.

"Okay." He shrugged. "Are you going to show me around where you grew up?"

"Of course, of course!" She got excited, "I'll take you to my school, then we'll go see my college campus and take you to the local markets."

"Sounds fun, baby." He chuckled, "can't wait to go with you."

They sat there eating their fast food dinner, dressed as fancy as fancy can get. Harry's new playlist for YN playing in soft volume in the background.

"You alright now, lovie?" He enquired, "you want to talk about earlier?"

"I, I don't know what happened honestly." She stuttered, "I, I think I got a little, I, I think I was a bit claustrophobic in there. And uhhhh... the, the waitress was making me feel a little uneasy there."

Harry knew exactly what she was talking about. She got insecure there, he's well aware that the waitress was trying to flirt with him which he didn't not pay any mind to. He can also understand where YN is coming from on this.

"I'm glad you're feeling better now." He started, "and I didn't pay her a mind darling, if that's what you're trying to say. I know she was trying to flirt and all but I had and still have my eyes for you and you only. I hope I'm not assuming anything out of line here."

"No, no, you're not." She shook her head and took in a deep breath of relief. It felt like a weight being lifted off her shoulders. "You know it felt so good to finally be able to talk my feelings out and have someone understand me!"

"What about your therapy baby? Are you going anymore?" He got confused a little.

"I'm yet to find a therapist I can really talk to. I feel so judged, which is not right, right?" She looked and sounded very frustrated.

"Mhmm it's not right." He nodded, "do you feel like you can talk to me about anything which is bothering you?"

"Mhmm." She nodded, "I do."

"Then you know you can share anything and everything with me, baby. You know I want to be there for you. Whilst I can't offer you any professional help but you can still talk your heart out to me, hopefully talking helps you. I promise, and you know I'll listen to every word you say. Until you find a therapist who works with you, you can talk it out to me, yeah? If not we'll figure something or other out." His assuring words sure made her emotional there.

"I love you so much Harry!" YN leaned over the centre console to hug him tightly. "So much!"

"I love you so much too baby!" He reciprocated with a returning hug.

N O T E :

......................................................................

Okay, I cried writing this.

I hope you liked reading this. Reviews are appreciated here, and they mean a lot to me. And pls leave a vote that helps me know that y'all are enjoying my work and I should continue.

......................................................................

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[merotwst]

DRAGGED MY FEET RIGHT DOWN THE ISLE !

‹ . housewardens ›

. ficlets

⇝stuck in a failing and/or loveless marriage with them.

[ n: thank u for 600 followers, everyone! special thanks to @v-anrouge and @/love-thanatopsis for helping me so much with this fic i love u sm this is for u i hope u like it ! not proofread. ]

{ - - - → tw. angst. cheating, alcohol, arguments, aggression, mention of children on kalim's part, gaslighting, mentions of divorce, unhappiness and basically anything u would associate with marriages that just aren't working out exdee. just sad vibes here so stick around if ure in the mood to cry </3 }

⑇

⑇

riddle rosehearts ‹ heartslabyul ›

he sat behind his desk, rubbing his temples in exhaustion. but despite the lingering tiredness of the day, you would think riddle would be ready to head himself to bed and get some proper rest, right? wrong. he feels like a man being sent off to war.

he'd have much rather spent the night in his office with a blanket and a pillow on the couch. the neck pain would be an easier form of misery to endure than having to spend an hour in a room with tension he often compares to a sinking ship with no lifeboats.

it almost seemed like you lived in separate worlds. he worked, you did whatever it is a dutiful partner does. only you did it far, far away. to your parties you went and talked to your friends, to his meetings he went and shared some good brandy with his own company. you both come home and head to your own separate chambers.

when you're out together you put on a good display of affections for everyone to see. holding hands, kissing each other on the cheek, smiling as if it were all just you against the world. how suffocating.

but behind the facade is an empty world. an empty house. empty hearts. just the clinking of sliver ware on the quiet dinner table sitting eight feet away from each other on both ends. silence was the only way to keep yourselves afloat. distance was your own form of a makeshift lifeboat because your vows at the altar were your own ways of saying it was ‘every man for himself’.

you were two strangers forced to live under the same roof.

and if it were not for his mother trying to salvage your miserable marriage—the marriage of her own engineering—by getting you both to sleep in the same room together, he would have been perfectly content with that dull, dreary, miserable lifestyle. the lifestyle once again, enforced onto him by his beloved mother.

the redhead leaned forward from his leather chair. a breath through his nose, exhaling through his mouth. his hand reached for the whiskey on the table and took one last sip before standing up, mentally hoping you were out to a party with your insufferable company of people. because if not, it's going to be another long night of sad, silent agony in a king sized bed—a sinking ship with no lifeboats.

⑇

leona kingscholar ‹ savanaclaw ›

“open this door right now, [name]! stop acting like a damn brat!”

as the prince yells out that last word he pounds on the door more aggressively than he initially did. it echoed across the halls. the sounds reverberate and bounce back to reach his ears reminding him of the torment of his existence. all his efforts, efforts he never wanted to exert, all come in for naught. this always happens to him. this was the bane of his existence. falena gets the light shone in his face and the cheers and acknowledgement of everyone around him, he gets to pound on a door trying to get his partner to come out of their bathroom because they are late to the party where it was essential they should attend.

‘it takes two to tango’, they say. how does one dance when the other party can't even sit down for one second and look you in the eye without making you feel like you're the biggest burden to have ever arrived in his life? how does one cope with the resentment that's so evidently there? the contempt held for you when you enter a room together and he immediately drops your hand the second everyone starts looking away? you aren't his partner. you are nothing but a prop to him. to get his family off his back. he couldn't even do as much as acknowledge you whenever you entered your chambers alone.

people surround you day after day but you've never felt more alone in your life.

and as leona banged and screamed and twisted the knob the way he twisted your heart up and squeezed it dry, you pulled your knees close to your chest. biting your quivering lower lip till the metallic taste of blood filled your senses.

the light from the open door illuminates the room. your comfortable corner in the bathroom invaded by the lion's dominating presence. and as he watched you, gripping the fabric of your attire like it was your only other anchor to sanity, you felt him soften. ever so slightly, his shoulders eased up. his eyebrows raised a little from their initial cross direction and his eyes showed a hint of melancholy—no... pity. his shadow loomed over your curled up form, cast from the light outside that only reached you and him.

he did not do anything else. he just slightly clutched the key he held in his hands that he used to open the door a little tighter. he watched you for a moment, as if he were observing a small animal being cornered by a predator. silence enveloped the room only broken by your occasional pathetic sniffle and sob. he then turned on his heels.

“change your clothes, they're all wrinkly now. we leave in ten minutes.”

he closed the door to the room and the darkness enveloped you once more.

⑇

azul ashengrotto ‹ octavinelle ›

the vase shattered as it hit the wall barely missing your husband's head. all the jewelry on your dresser tossed and strewn all across the floor. the clothes, the shoes and all the other vain things he'd given you as a consolation for never being home, never being available, never being a husband.

the thing about azul was that he could be a good actor whenever he wanted to be. it's essential for a businessman to know when to play a poker face, when to seem interested or whatnot. he'd mentioned that in passing back then when he would actually talk to you before you were married but now you forget the details. now that you think about it, back then he must have been acting, too. to gain your affections. to make you fall in love with him. so he can achieve his own greedy little goals. you look over at him and can't help a bitter laugh escape your throat.

he gave you a sharp look, “what is it that you find so humorous in this situation, darling?” the businessman asked in a mocking voice, “finally gone mad, have we?”

you turn to him, a small, resentful grin on your face, “oh honey you know i'm always mad for you!” you scream the last part as you hurled one of your favorite shoes at him. your husband was quick to evade this causing it to fly directly to one of your bedroom lamps. the two items fell to the floor with a clatter and smash. the sound of breaking glass mirrored your breaking heart.

azul opened his mouth, a string of insults flowing from his tongue so freely and you mirrored this by shooting your own painful words at his direction. the mingling angry voices bounced across the four walls of the room.

this was not the life you envisioned with him. where was the sweet, suave man that held your hand so gently and softly as he brought you to dinner? where was the kind, generous soul and took a short portion of his day to see you and personally deliver his flowers to you? where was the funny, charismatic person that charmed your family so much they were practically begging you to marry him? where was the husband that vowed to love and to cherish you at the altar?

that man was replaced by the empty space on your bed, the flowers delivered to you by random people you didn't know, the shoes and clothes and other ridiculous things he probably doesn't even pick out himself. and you would sit alone at your home, in front of a full sized mirror that reflected your pathetic state by showing you the tears that streamed down your face night after night that azul spent on his stupid company. the company which you made possible for him by marrying him. what a fool you are.

objects flew, tears shed, hearts broken.

but the saddest of all is that each and every one these things only seem to come from your side of the room and not his.

⑇

kalim al-asim ‹ scarabia ›

you sat in your bedroom, watching the seconds tick by. the clock's hands showed it was two in the morning. normally you would expect a married couple to be in bed together asleep at this hour, but not for you. these days, it seemed to be a somewhat better though. as of late, he was usually out because of the hectic pressures of being head of the family and jamil would attest to this fact.

he'd promised you he wouldn't see her anymore. you wanted to make it work. you begged him to try to make it work with you—even if only for the children. and he agreed. and somehow, this sparked some home in your bitter situation. and that made it bearable for you.

you sat, then stood, then paced, then sat again. restless energy built up in your body thinking of what to say to him when he comes through the door. things were looking up and you wanted to help him relax after another very stretched out day. it's the least you can do for him. after all, no matter what the situation, kalim was always kind to you. he always made you feel like you mattered and listened and made you feel valid. you are essentially the parent to his children and so he made sure he was treating you well to an extent.

but that... that just isn't enough. you're his partner. you needed to feel like his partner. someone he could turn to, someone he could talk to, someone he could run to whenever things got bad. but kalim always kept you at arm's length. he was your husband but he could never completely be a husband.

because he did not love you.

he loved—loves her.

it shows on his disheveled hair. it shows on the perfume that you smell on his clothes. it shows on the lipstick stains on his neck. it shows on the look of shock on his face when he sees you awake. waiting. disappointed.

your twiddling fingers drop to your sides the same way your heart dropped and shattered on the floor. the exhaustion evident on your features when you sit down heavily on the soft cushions of the sofa.

“[name]... i... i thought you were asleep...” kalim sputtered out. he sounded like a child who was just caught snooping around the kitchen late at night.

if only it were as simple as stealing cookies from the kitchen cupboard at two-thirty.

“and i thought we were trying, kalim,” you replied flatly.

he didn't respond. you didn't want to stay. you couldn't. so you stood up and looked him straight in the eye—they looked guilty. and... they feel sorry for you. you hated it.

you turned around, not giving him time to finish whatever ‘explanation’ he had come up with again. you couldn't bear it. you refuse to cry for him—not anymore. you're exhausted and you couldn't bear to be inside that suffocating room with him any longer.

“i'll sleep with the children tonight.” you say before heading to the door leaving your husband and your broken heart along with him.

⑇

vil schoenheit ‹ pomefiore ›

‘there's no business like show business!’

this is true for the most part. it has its ups and downs but vil personally never had much of a say in the matter of whether he would be in the public eye or not. all his life he'd been under the spotlight. the blinding flashes of the cameras, the bright lights of the stage, the softboxes and umbrellas that would make any normal person squint and and turn away don't even make him flinch. but that's not to say it wasn't exhausting.

of course that was the small price to pay for a profession such as vil's. he has made the many greater sacrifices to get where he is in life. and although people who don't live the lifestyle he had would feel the intimidation of the showbiz world, he was surprised you didn't seem like it bothered you much at all.

the people of twisted wonderland adored you when you both started dating. it all seemed like a perfect fairy tale whenever they saw you and vil liked that. of course they weren't really far off. at the beginning it did seem like a fairy tale. you were perfect and even to himself it felt too good to be true.

and sure enough, it was.

majority of your dating life with vil was private but later down the line, after you got married, you both became more public about it. posting more pictures, going out together, attending events.

headlines of ‘the perfect couple’ turn into ‘the luckiest man alive’(referring to vil), to ‘[name]! the real star of the show’.

wherever vil went, people would ask for you. even in movie interviews meant for him—starring him. they were looking for you. they wanted you. they, “only really came because we thought [name] would be here!” in events where he was supposed to be the main attraction.

it's always you, you, you.

and at first he didn't mind. he was proud to have you as his partner. he even did feel like he was the happiest man alive for a while. but the more people asked for you, the more he felt the disappointment and sadness morph into something more bitter. his years and years of endless hard work and silent suffering against neige all came crashing back down in a repeating dance of fighting for acknowledgement. to be recognized as himself. and he thought he was finally over all that. working twice as hard and feeling—being overlooked. but you... he knows you don't do it on purpose. it's not your fault you're so easy to love. vil knows you would never purposefully overshadow him but whenever he sees you in the red carpet waving and smiling at the crowds all cheering and chanting your name like you were some sort of otherworldly being, he couldn't compete.

the way they all run to you without even so much as acknowledging his presence beside you felt the same as getting thrown tomatoes at and booed to him. and he remembers he was even booed at some point for not bringing you along on a public trip!

he didn't know when the sadness fully morphed into bitter resentment but whenever you were alone he found himself criticizing your every move. his subtle, snide remarks of your (perfectly well) clothes turned into full on insults. sometimes he would even guilt you into not attending events you were exclusively invited to.

and he knows you would never betray him. so you take it all quietly. you knew leaving vil would only villanize him more in the public eye. no matter what, he was still your husband and you made a sacred promise on the altar.

you both smile for the cameras in public, the mirage of the most perfect couple to be advertised to the whole of twisted wonderland. but behind closed doors are the heated arguments, the endless screaming, the nights you spent alone in your once lovely home curled up in bed.

your husband might have loved you once, and this hurts him just as much to admit—but vil can never love you again in circumstances like this. but you're both given no choice but to bear it.

there really is no business like show business.

⑇

idia shroud ‹ ignihyde ›

there is no doubt idia shroud is a clever man. he’s a genius in more ways than one. he knows how to stand out in his own. he knows how to turn a situation in his favor and this isn’t just because of his years and years of experience in strategy games or looking for ways to try and escape social situations he hates so much, but also because he’s just a master at running away from situations.

the only situation people thought he could never escape from was standing with you at the altar. the “most horrifying” day of his life.

to think a hermit shut-in nobody like him would find himself in a lifelong commitment with someone is just absurd. but here you are in your miserable state of trying to get him to get out of his room. constantly bugging him to spend time with you—he’s already married you! is that not enough?

idia shroud is a clever man. he’s a genius in more ways than one. he knows how to turn a situation in his favor. and he’s spent enough time with you to know exactly how to break you without getting his hands dirty.

he finds himself buying a different house, far from where you are. under the guise of working better with no distractions. lies of saying he would call but never did.

endless nights of you pacing your room, phone to your ear hearing the ringing over and over and over again.

it just kept ringing and ringing and you wanted it to stop. you needed it to stop. you needed an answer.

and when the other line of your connection was the sound of company—of a companion—who was willing to give you the attention you deserved from such a cruel life, idia finally shows himself.

idia shroud is a clever man. he’s a genius in more ways than one. he knows how to turn a situation in his favor. and he’s always known how to win a game. you've fallen into his trap. he has the receipts of your conversations with the other person you were seeing, the photographs, the evidence. and as he slid the piece of paper and pen towards you on the other side of the table, a cocky grin on his face feeling like he'd finally got exactly what he wanted, he caught a glimpse of your sadness.

your melancholy in the way you picked up the pen and read through the divorce papers of his orchestrating. idia felt a tsunami of guilt wash him away as the sight of all the pain he caused you was so vividly clear to him now. but instead of signing, you drew a line across the piece of paper that was his path to ‘freedom’. and what idia saw that replaced the sadness in you was anger. resentment. betrayal of the worst kind.

there is no doubt india shroud s a clever man. he’s a genius in more ways than one.

but he is also a fool to think you were going to take all these hits lying down.

⑇

malleus draconia ‹ diasomnia ›

people had given you a heads up before you got married that malleus draconia was a serious man.

he married you, sure, but you didn't know what you expected out of this marriage. after all, a marriage arranged by two families didn't really promise much on the love department and your made peace with that.

but you didn't expect the lack of affection to be in this extent.

he wouldn't touch you, let alone even look you in the eye. malleus was constantly busy in his study or going out to attending other formal gatherings. The only times he would come around to spending a portion of his day with you was during dinner. and they were long, painfully quiet dinners.

he had a duty as the prince of briar valley, after all. but you understood that. but sometimes you lie around your empty bedroom thinking about how your life could have been so much more better. the agonizing silence, the awkward touches, the forced smiles. it all felt so terribly depressing.

surely your husband could at least pretend to be comfortable when he's spending the day around you. but somehow it's always just some form of... indifference. whenever you would show small forms of affection like touching his hand or giving him a kiss, he would just stand there, not returning. not reflecting the same amount of affections as you did with him.

and of course you tried your best to make it better. consulting those closest to him to you try to understand him whenever he talked about things he was interested in. you tried to show support on his projects and his interests. you even tried to get invested into the gargoyles and architecture he so dearly loved and finally you thought it worked.

the occasional invite to tea, the small acknowledgements, the small talks about the things he liked. you felt like all your hard work started to pay off.

but when you made your way through the long corridors of the castle with a box of something special in your hands picked especially for the prince one afternoon, your feet came to a halt in front of the mahogany double doors of his study.

two voices—muffled by the barrier between you and the people in the room but it was enough to hear the all important parts of the conversation.

“it all is such a pain, lilia,” he said, “they're constantly trying to catch ny attention. to show me affection. but it all just feels so... miserable.

“i have tried to take your advice. to be more open and responsive to their advances but it just doesn't work. i cannot love them the way they want me to.”

the conversation goes on but you could no longer listen. the ringing in your ears were far louder drowning out any other sound around you.

you made your way back to your chambers silently slipping away.

that night malleus asked about the present left in front of his study and you only sighed softly in response

“it's simply my misery, sir.”.

© merotwst 2023 • do not steal, translate, copy or reproduce

[sooinbloom]

Haven’t Met You Yet

pairing: kyungsoo x you genre: meet cute, fluff, neighbor AU, actor!soo word count: 3,302 description: Kyungsoo becomes enamored with his neighbor, and one chance encounter becomes the start of something beautiful warnings: language author’s note: hello dear reader! Long time no see! Sorry about that. this is another one shot that i wrote and never published. I came up with it listening to the song, “Haven’t Met You Yet” by Michael Buble. I have a bit of an idea for a second part, let me know if you liked this one shot and I’ll get to work on the second part! Thank you for your likes, reblogs and shares on my other work! It baffles me that these things get read. Please enjoy, this is lighthearted, no warnings… Just cuteness. Dividers by @saradika-graphics , gif is not mine.

- Aria

Kyungsoo watches his neighbor every day. 

He wasn't sure how it or when it started, he can’t remember anything before seeing her walking down the sidewalk that one autumn morning. Ever since, he was taken by her. He watched her from across the street from his living room window. Their townhouses faced each other, her house number was 111 and his was 112. Kyungsoo liked that, how she was before him in many ways. Out of anything in the world, he wanted her to be the first thing he saw in the morning and was determined to start his day with just a glimpse of her. Her shifts were opposite from his, she worked during the day and his call times were mainly at night for the first half of his project. When Kyungsoo would come home from work, she would be locking her door and leaving for the day.

Today was no exception.

Kyungsoo watched her lock her door as she slowly descended the few steps that gave her access to the sidewalk. He didn’t understand how one woman could look so perfect this early in the morning. Her hair grazed her shoulders in a pretty style he had never seen her wear before. The outfit she wore slowly became the actor’s favorite he’s seen her wear so far. The cream-colored chunky sweater, brown calf-length skirt and sneakers combination she was wearing looked like what holding her in his arms must feel like; cozy and warm. A badge hung from a soft pink lanyard around her neck, and he could never make out what the ID said, but from his best guess she must have worked in an office somewhere.

Kyungsoo couldn't tell what color her eyes were, but their serene gleam made him want to see the soul behind them. The man hoped one day he could muster up enough courage to speak to her and see those eyes up close. Having her at a distance was becoming too much to bear, just watching this beautiful woman he called his neighbor on her daily commute or weekend morning walks was not enough anymore.

 This beautiful stranger had a glow about her that Kyungsoo could not quite put his finger on. At one point, Kyungsoo wondered if the woman was even real or just a fatigued apparition that only appeared when he was too tired to realize she was not real. This theory was proven wrong on several occasions but stayed a theory in the back of his head. He would scold himself every time he would gravitate toward the window to watch her come home after her long days.

This is insane. 

This is creepy. 

You're stalking your neighbor. Your beautiful neighbor. 

The problem remained that Kyungsoo did not know how to approach her. Did she speak the same language? How embarrassing would it be if he opened his mouth, and she did not understand him! Kyungsoo spoke English, yes, but felt more comfortable speaking in his native language, Korean. He could express himself better and not second guess every word that came out of his mouth. Even worse... What if she recognized him? It’s not exactly impossible, but not something the actor would bet on.

Relocating to Los Angeles for his first major international movie role was a huge step in Kyungsoo’s career. He was on the cusp of his entire life changing, and dating was the furthest thing from his mind… Until he saw her. Losing himself in the idea of her became Kyungsoo’s favorite past time, living in a world where she was by his side. He loved the idea of her. She could be the worst thing for him, but he figured he would never know until he took the chance to put himself out there against the advisory of his management. Being alone in a new country was already hard enough on Kyungsoo, the isolation was starting to make him reflect on just how lonely he felt and the yearning to share his life with someone started to overtake him.

He also understood how crazy all of this was. He never even said a greeting to his woman yet he was certain she could be the one he wanted to spend his Sunday mornings with, doing nothing being close to her, holding her as she woke up in his arms. No one made him lose his mind more than her, this woman he never met before. He didn't want to make his neighbor feel uncomfortable around him if they ever met. He made a sincere effort to catch a glimpse of her without her noticing but the more he lingered at the window, the harder it was to be incognito.

He softly rehearsed what he would say to his neighbor if they ever met as he took a hot shower, even giving himself pause to make sure his words made sense. As he readies himself for bed, he runs through his monologue for filming after this mini production break he is on but seems to resort back to practicing his greetings for his neighbor. How could she make him lose his focus to easily?! His head hits the pillow, forcing himself to fall asleep as fast as possible. This way he could be greeted with her presence at 5:30pm sharp, just as he has been doing every single day for the last couple of months.

Kyungsoo's alarm chimes loudly in his ear, waking him from yet another dream of her. Part of him wanted to stay floating in the fantasy world he created where she belonged to him but he knew if he dawdled a second longer, he would miss her. Stumbling out of bed, the half-asleep man rushes to make coffee and turn the television on so it is not obvious he’s waiting for her.

Don’t be weird. Even though this is the weirdest thing you’ve ever done, Doh Kyungsoo.

He pulls the curtains back ever-so-slightly and waits for her appearance. 

5:29. 

5:30.

There she is. 

Her arms are full of grocery bags, she looks tired and out of it. More than likely, it must have been a long day for her. He’d been picking up on her physical cues for some time now and her shoulders told him everything he needed to know about her day without hearing a single word. Kyungsoo wondered what her voice sounded like, was it soft like clouds? Sweet like honey? Calm like a summer breeze? He pondered over this over and over, musing over what it would take to make her laugh, what her lips tasted like…

Stop being a creep. Is it creepy that I like her and never met her? I’m not surprised, Kyungsoo thought to himself.

It was clear that she was struggling, her shoelace gets caught under her other shoe, causing her to trip. Her bags spill their contents onto her cement-paved walkway. He watches her land on her lawn, her mouth uttering curses he can’t hear but can definitely make out from how her lips move. Without thinking, Kyungsoo bolts into action and crosses the street. 

"Are you alright?" Kyungsoo asks, nervously getting to her level. The woman looks up at him and the most beautiful eyes meet his. Now he was sure what color they were, and my God was it a beautiful hue. She tilted her head in confusion, and awe of the handsome man in front of her. 

"Sorry?" Her eyes plead with him, "I'm sorry, I don't understand."

Holy shit.

Kyungsoo was not expecting that beautiful of a voice to come from her. Well, to be fair, he didn’t know what to expect but her tone exceeds his expectations. He was hoping for such a harmonious sound and he got it. The man realizes what he had done and blushes in her gaze. He did exactly what he feared he would do: speak in his native language, a language she obviously does not understand. With a gulp, he hangs his head, the burn of embarrassment tingling his ears and neck as words that felt foreign on his tongue left his mouth.

"Sorry, sorry. Are you alright?" Kyungsoo helps her up and she dusts herself off. She mutters a soft thank you and their hands brush gently. Shivers run down Kyungsoo’s spine at her touch, he knew if he lingered, he’d become addicted to the sensation of her fingers touching his.

"Yes, I’m alright. No injuries except for my pride. Have we met before? Do you live nearby?" She replies, picking up a bag or two. He notices the grass stains on her skirt as gathers her groceries in their bags. He sets them neatly in a row and puts his entire focus on her.

"Maybe we crossed paths a time or two. I just moved in. I am from Korea." Kyungsoo admits. 

"Korea... Very nice! I’ve always wanted to go there. If you don't mind me asking, why did you move here? Lately there’s been so many new faces in the community, but I haven’t had a chance to meet half of my new neighbors. You’re the first so far.”

Kyungsoo debates on if he should tell her. Would she know he's an actor? Would it matter? Kyungsoo fought the rapid-fire thoughts in his head the best he could and tried to form an answer that would a) make sense and b) be in the language she understood.

"I'm... I'm here for a work project. I'm an actor." Kyungsoo lowly admits. He becomes surprised when she calmly nods as if he told her he’s an office worker.

"Makes sense. Most people that live here are. Minus myself and a few others. For the last year, the studio nearby leases a few townhomes in the complex until their projects are finished." She notes, grabbing a few grocery bags. "I'm so sorry, if it's not too much can I ask for your help getting these inside?"

"Of course I can help." Kyungsoo beams, proudly taking the rest of her grocery bags and following her. He couldn’t help but take her in from up close. She’s about an inch or two shorter than him, her body has curves that Kyungsoo eagerly travels down with his wonder-filled eyes to commit her to memory. He nervously bumbles behind her and once he passes the threshold… It is exactly how he had imagined it: not too neat, not too messy and very her… Or the idea of her in his head.

"The kitchen is here," the woman says, "Oh, my. I never asked your name."

"Doh Kyungsoo. In America it's Kyungsoo Doh, right?"

"Yes, that’s correct but you don’t need to change how you say it. It’s nice as it is. Doh Kyungsoo... Kyungsoo..." please, keep saying my name... "100 Days My Prince, right?"

Kyungsoo's eyes widen at the confirmation that she does indeed know who he is. He takes a breath and slowly nods. This can go one of two ways. She can just be a normal person or she can be completely unhinged, oh no... What have I done? 

"This is going to sound odd," she chuckles at herself, "I... Kind of knew who you were but didn’t know how to approach you without making it super weird." 

Kyungsoo blushes again, his shyness taking over. She's a fan? "So, you knew who I was?"

The beauty before him blushes this time, looking away from him. "I had a feeling, but I figured I could be wrong. You probably get recognized a lot. Like I said, there is quite a few actors living in this complex for work. I would not want to make you feel uncomfortable. You are truly kind for taking the time to help me. Thank you."

"Tell me your name." Kyungsoo can sense his desperation in his voice as he leans on the counter. He hears her name roll off her tongue, the sound of it echoing in his ears. He repeats it softly, then looks up at her.

"Beautiful," Kyungsoo breathes.

“Thanks.” She smiles again, now all he wants to do is make her smile like that again and again… Possibly make her face contort in other ways if he was to be so lucky.

“So, what is it you do for work? Since we are sharing.” Kyungsoo asks, now even more curious to know every small detail about her.

“I’m screenplay writer for a network… ABC.” She replies. Kyungsoo tilts his head and wonders if it is a fake company, or she does not want to say. She catches on and chuckles softly, “it is an American broadcasting station. Shows like Grey’s Anatomy and Abbott Elementary are on the network.”

Kyungsoo’s eyes widen. She seems pretty important. The woman chuckles softly at Kyungsoo’s surprised look and waves her hand.

“Trust me, I am nothing special. I haven’t gotten a chance to work on a big show like those just yet. I have written for other networks, but nothing major like a prime-time show. Right now, I am in between projects, trying to find a home with a writing team. Since you helped me… Forgive me if this is a bit forward but would you like to stay for dinner?”

There was no hesitation as he looked at her with his head already nodding.

“I would love to.”

“Great! I was planning on making steak and pasta, is that okay? No dietary issues or…”

“I have been craving steak for months. I have been on a diet for my role, and I need an excuse to break it, and your offer is the best excuse to go rogue.” Kyungsoo smirks, enjoying how her eyes crinkle when she laughs. She moves swiftly in the kitchen, taking the groceries out of the bags and setting up everything she needs to cook. He watches her for a moment, then realizes he doesn’t want to just spectate. He wants to cook with her and feels this is a great way to brag about his chef experience.

“Would you like some help? I’m… I’m a licensed chef in Korea.” The man stutters, his confidence waning as the seconds stretch to what feels like minutes in his mind.

“A chef? I’m starting to like you even more than I did a few moments ago, Doh Kyungsoo.” Her reply sounds flirtatious. Is it flirtatious? Kyungsoo’s ears warm and he stands beside her, looking over the ingredients laid out on the counter, “I’m not exactly a chef, this is probably one of the only meals I know how to cook. There really isn’t much room for cooking with the schedule I have.”

“Don’t you worry, I can give you a few pointers… If you’ll let me.” Kyungsoo hears his voice drop lower, that adorable crimson spreads across the woman’s cheeks. It is funny how his lack of confidence is making her bashful, and how that reaction alone fills him with pride. She watches him chop and prep the ingredients with ease, he loved every second of her eyes on him.

“You seem to know what you’re doing, I might have to take you up on that offer.” She smirks. “So, tell me more about your cooking experience, what made you want to become a chef?”

“Well… It started when I was in high school…” Kyungsoo began to tell her the story of how his love for culinary arts came to be. He had been helping around the house after his mother had a minor surgery and his older brother had assigned Kyungsoo kitchen duty. He had to search up how to cook basic recipes and followed them to the letter out of anxiety of killing everyone in his family by food poisoning. The anxiety quickly turned to ease as he fell into a rhythm. He enjoyed how the aroma of the dishes made him feel accomplished, calm and the idea of serving his hardworking parents pushed him even further to cook regularly.

Kyungsoo’s mother championed this idea, she wanted her son to be independent and not rely on anyone to do basic survival skills for him. As Kyungsoo relayed the story, the woman beside him rests her elbows on the counter fully immersed in him. He could feel his heart flutter at the attention. Being wonderstruck by how quickly they drew each other in, the conversation continued, each of them sharing little anecdotes as Kyungsoo absentmindedly took over the kitchen. What once was small glances through a window turned into a back-and-forth conversation between two familiar strangers.

The clock wound down the hours and the sun set behind the Los Angeles hills, but the two neighbors became familiar as time went on. Kyungsoo learned that his neighbor wasn’t from Los Angeles, she had moved here a couple years ago for work. She preferred black tea over coffee, her favorite color was mint green, and she was an only child. She spent her summers on her grandparent's farm in the countryside of a place he had never heard of but could picture perfectly as she described the flat land and meadows she would adventure on. The little bits she told Kyungsoo was not enough. He wanted more. He needed more.

Kyungsoo thanked the woman for her hospitality, reluctant to leave her. It was now or never, he had to see her again. What made it difficult was his schedule, it was going to get more demanding after this rare day off he had.

“Thank you again for helping me and giving me company.” She said as she leaned on the wall of the entryway to her house.

“It’s no problem, really. I’m glad that I was available to help.” Kyungsoo softly replies. The words were on the tip of his tongue, he was going to ask her out. But before he could, she took a breath and crossed her arms over her chest.

“So, how long have you been watching me through your living room window?” She giggles. Kyungsoo could feel the color draining from his face at the prospect of her knowing he was watching her like a stalker. Yet, she’s smiling. It did not make any sense; he was caught red handed and she is smiling? “Do you think I dress this nice every day on purpose? I was… Trying to get your attention, for awhile I thought maybe I failed or was delusional at the prospect of you looking at me.”

“No, no. It worked. It definitely worked. I love looking at you.” Kyungsoo blurts, immediately regretting his words. Now I blew it.

“I’m relieved that you do. Is it possible that we can see each other again?” Is she asking me out?

“It’s a possibility,” Kyungsoo replies smoothly, “maybe you can come to my place for dinner next time. If that’s okay. Is that okay?”

Her laugh echoes in Kyungsoo’s mind, he can’t believe this all worked out the way that it did.

“It’s definitely okay. You don’t have to be so nervous, Kyungsoo.” She reaches out and grazes his arm, her gaze warmly meeting his.

“I’ll have to look at my filming schedule and get back to you, but I promise you won’t be waiting long. I want to see you again soon.” Kyungsoo affirms, taking his phone out and offering it to her. “Can I get your number?”

She happily takes his phone and types her number in the contact, playfully setting her contact name as Girl in 111, her house number. She does the same and Kyungsoo sets his contact name as Guy in 112, enjoying this little game they are playing. The short walk home felt like 100 miles to Kyungsoo. He turned and saw her standing in the doorway, waving softly.

It worked out exactly how he imagined, and couldn’t wait to discover more of her.

[bamfaholic]

Angel of the Streets

Desc: Kurt finds a dying bird and eases its end.

Tags: animal death, no graphic depiction, Kurt is in fact religious, author is an ex-christian now Jew, comfort fic, one shot, not edited/proofread

A/N: I'm sick in bed and it's like 4am so I wrote this. I also lost a pet bird today, which heavily inspired this comfort fic. Not proof read, and probably not my best work. Will be cross posted to my AO3.

Banners made by @/cafekitsune

The X-Men had taken a short holiday to town. Scott insisted it was just a supply run (groceries) but Rouge already had the rest of the crew on board to window shop and sight see.

The streets bustled enough that no one paid much mind to the fuzzy blue elf straggling behind the group of peculiar young adults. He was taking his time, enjoying the beauty. The architecture of Downstate New York was far different from that of Germany. He hoped to visit Albany one day, for he knew the city preserved much of its Dutch heritage, especially in its buildings.

Of course, the first building to catch his eye was the old church down at the corner. Far older than the shops and office buildings near it, it stuck out like a sore thumb. Made of stone, a bell tower near the front with a real metal bell inside, a handcrafted statue of Mother Mary decorated the front lawn. Kurt slowed down as the group passed the entrance. Its doors were left closed. It was a Wednesday, no service to be had, and it wasn't common for churches to be open to the public anymore. The government raided them first for housing mutants, some pastors catching jail time for being "Mutie sympathizers."

Kurt's eyes scanned the carved wooden sign, right beside the sidewalk. It read: Church of Immanuel. All are welcome. A bittersweet smile bit at Kurt's lips, the "all are welcome" line clearly being conditional. He was confident if he were to step inside he'd experience Deja Vu of his younger years.

He pulled his coat tighter around himself. He reasoned it was the crisp New York Autumn cold nipping at his ears, but truly churches were where he felt the gaze of God the most. Physical reminders of His presence, just like his rosary. He felt like he was a sheet of glass, easily seen through. He whispered one of the countless prayers he had memorized before beginning to catch up to the group. However, a flock of pigeons captured his attention next.

Now his smile turned playful. Pigeons delighted Kurt, finding himself one and the same with them. He reached in his pocket for the bread roll he bought at the bakery a few blocks back, breaking it into small little pieces as he carefully approached the flock.

Kurt found himself more fond of animals than people, they had no concept of good or bad, demons or angels. They were just creations of God, partaking in their role of this interstellar play.

"Hello, meine freunde." He said amusingly, crouching closer to the ground. He began to scatter pieces of his bread, doing his best to be fair with the distribution, but something caught his eye.

One lone pigeon stayed behind, at the front of the steps to the church. It laid on its side, its chest rising and falling quickly. The poor thing was dying, that was clear. It's feathers puffed, eyes closed. Kurt stuffed the roll back into his pocket before carefully approaching the bird. With gentle care, he scooped the pigeon into his hands.

"Oh, you poor thing." He murmured. "You're not alone anymore, and soon your suffering will be over."

Not very knowledgeable about birds, he just gently held the creature. He didn't allow the other birds to come near, creating distance with his tail, and did his best not to move or jerk his arms.

"What is it Americans call you?" He clicked his tongue. "Oh, yes, rats with wings." He shook his head. "I never understood why they see you as nothing but a pest." He sighed. "You and doves are very similar, practically the same." He rambled on.

He told himself he was doing it to keep the bird calm, but he knew he was lying to himself. The bird likely wasn't very conscious at this point, with only a few minutes left. It was a harsh reminder of the reality of life: all living things have an end.

He prayed his end would be just as gentle.

The bird seemed to struggle to breathe at points, drawing a "Shh, rest little one," from Kurt. The other pigeons had paid no mind this entire time, pecking away at the treat he had sprinkled on the cement for them.

"You and I are one and the same, did you know that?" His smile was bitter sweet. "Left behind by your own people." His mind wandered back to Germany, to home. How people there cast him out, the countless insults hurled at him. How he too scrounged for bread crumbs on the streets. He fed the birds there too, even if he didn't have enough to fill his stomach, he always shared with his fellow cast outs. They deserved a meal as much as he did.

The end was near for the bird, its breathing slowing. "You can rest now, freund." Kurt whispered. "You're not alone, I promise you. Not only am I here, but so is He."

The bird's breathing stopped, becoming fully limp in his hands. A part of Kurt ached, if he hadn't been here the creature would have died alone, on the steps of the church. On second thought, he chalked it up to God purposefully doing this.

"I wish I understood You." He muttered to himself, "but perhaps that was the sin of Adam and Eve."

He slowly rose, little friend in tow, and soon smoke and the stench of brimstone was left in his place. He teleported not too far off, into the thin woods behind all the buildings of the city. He scanned the area for a decent spot of soft soil. Beneath a withering tree, he found it. With one hand, he slowly clawed out a hole, about a foot deep and only a football in size. Gently, ever so, he lowered the pigeon into the soft dirt.

Kurt pulled his rosary from his pocket, clutching it tightly as he bowed his head, praying. He was still for a moment, the silence of the wilderness, a harsh juxtaposition to the city, filled his ears. He then carefully scooped the disturbed soil over the small grave.

"You will be missed, little one, but you can rest now. You don't need to struggle any longer." He murmured.

Another puff of smoke, and he was behind his friends once again.

Scott took notice, especially with that all-too-familiar smell. "Kurt!" He said, a warm smile crinkled his nose. "Where have you been?"

"Oh, you know," Kurt began, sticking his hands in his coat pockets. His smile was forced a little, his mind still lingering on what just occurred. "Up to no good." He managed to chuckle.

No one thought anything of it, and continued on with their day of shopping. When they returned to the institute, Kurt mentioned his feathery friend in his nightly prayer before rolling into bed.

[returnofnonya]

From Thief To House Husband Part 3: Finale

Life was nearly perfect now. The eldest son of the Smith family was under my control. Or rather, under the control of my best friend Roy. Regardless he was too busy going to raves at gay clubs and getting his back blown out at night to cause me any more problems.

The other two Smith boys had already moved out and were enjoying their independence, so things were going perfectly.

Until Mrs. Smith came home. I had to pretend to love this woman, which was difficult because quite frankly I didn’t even like her. I was able to endure it until she told me that she got promoted again, this time to a position that would require less travel. No more business trips to leave me alone so that I could have my free time.

I tried putting up with her, but apparently distance creates longing. She wanted to spend time with her husband, oblivious to the fact that he didn’t even exist anymore. I couldn’t take it anymore, so on Christmas Day her annual handmade gift was divorce papers that I printed out after my lawyer sent them over.

Rather unfortunately for me, she was the breadwinner and stood to keep a pretty hefty sum of her fortune. I knew I had to sabotage her in the divorce, so I’d have to call upon the only potential ally I had left, Officer Kevin.

Kevin was an older guy on the police force, now a detective. He had always shown Roy and I mercy and tried to help us get on the right path. One of the only good pigs in existence as Roy and I would put it. I knew he had his regrets, so I decided to stop by the station and give him the opportunity of a lifetime.

Upon my arrival I requested to speak with him privately, and being a rich white man I found that it was pretty easy to walk into a police station and ask for whatever I wanted. In a matter of minutes Kevin and I were alone in the conference room.

“Uh…Mr Smith, it’s a pleasure as always to see you, but the incident happened almost a month ago. I’m not sure how else we could possibly help you.” He stated, confused.

“Not the police department, but you, Kevin Bacon.” I grinned, a nickname Roy and I had for him.

“Oh I see Roy has been influencing you a bit, yes?”

I shook my head. “No. Mateo. See Bacon, I didn’t die. I transferred myself into a new, fancy body.” I pulled out my briefcase and showed him the vials. “Each of these can extract my consciousness and allow me to focus on someone. They allowed me to take over this asshole, and for Roy to take over his son. Our lives have been paradise, but unfortunately this body’s wife has returned home. I filed for divorce, but there’s a problem. His wife is being represented by Santiago.”

Bacon caught on surprisingly quickly having seen lots of strange things unfold in his time on the force. “I see…it does suck for you that ‘your’ wife is being represented by the most bloodthirsty lawyer out there.” Bacon hated Santiago, he was one of the best lawyers around and loved by rich white trash. He could get DUI charges of a rich kid shotgunning tequila on a security camera behind the wheel of his car dismissed and sealed from the records.

“Yes, right now we both hate him, so I have a proposal for you. Become Santiago. Sabotage my wife’s chances against me, get me as much money as you can. Then you can spend your life as a relatively younger and incredibly wealthy lawyer and make sure he never lets another scumbag off easy.”

Bacon thought about this proposal, and his life. He got into the force to make the world a better place and tried to help good guys in bad situations like Roy and I. He had obviously failed in that department given that he and I stole other people’s lives and bodies. Come to think of it, he didn’t accomplish a single one of his goals. Surely by taking an asshole like Santiago’s body, he could stand to make some changes in the world using his resources and connections!

“…okay, I’m in.” He said, hesitant and determined at the same time. We sat down and began forming the perfect plan.

Later that night Santiago was in his office. Highest floor of the building, of course. He was preparing himself for a charity gala, despite really not giving a fuck about anyone underneath his tax bracket. He likes to go and enjoy fine wine and network while cutting one the smallest checks at the event. Given the fact that my vessel was currently involved in one of Santiago’s cases, it was pretty easy to be let into his office. Bacon and I walked in together, a half filled vial in my pocket for when the time would come.

That’s when we saw him wearing this stupid outfit. What possible reason would he have to wear this to a gala? Apparently he read the shock on our faces and simply said, “It’s noir themed. Now how can I help you Mr. Smith? Here to beg for mercy in the coming divorce? Having a beat cop with you won’t intimidate me at all.” This seemed to piss Bacon off, so he chimed in right away, “No. We’re here to tell you that you’ll be famous for negotiating one of the worst divorce deals in history after we’re done with you.” He seemed determined, so I handed him the vial and he took it immediately, throwing his soul into the unsuspecting Santiago who groaned, stumbling back for a moment before chuckling.

“Oh my god! I’m 20 years younger, and apparently hung like a horse! But…why do I feel so light?” Bacon asked using his new mouth. “Simple. I gave you half of a vial. You’re not rooted inside of Santiago like I am into this asshole, and you won’t be unless I’m satisfied with how the divorce ends. Keep in mind my body died after I abandoned it, so who knows what will happen if the possession expires?” Bacon looked shocked but I just chuckled and walked up to him, copping a feel of his new tits. “I need my insurance policy. You’re a good guy, after all. Now how about you stop looking like a betrayed puppy and show me how big that new meat is?” Due to the stress of his job and his former age, it had been a while since Kevin got laid. He was in no position to say no.

Soon enough we were making out fiercely, me ripping his button shirt open and grabbing at his tits while he pulled my pants and underwear off in one swift move using his new body’s strength. “Put it in, I’m ready…” I whispered against his lips. He seemed shocked by that given Santiago’s size, but it made sense when he reached for my hole and realized I had a vibrator inside of me all day long. He pulled it out, earning a moan from me as he shoved himself fully inside, causing me to arch my back and moan even louder.

Santiago was a regular Casanova. His assistant was paid more than enough to turn a blind eye to the secret after hour meetings that went on in his office. The sound of skin slapping filled the room as Bacon hammered me like his life depended on it. Even with my prep Santiago’s meat was huge and earned more and more moans from me as I gripped the edges of the desk for dear life. “Goddamn he’s a monster! No wonder he’s so fucking audacious!” I moaned as I clenched my hole around his cock, leaning up to start sucking on his tits.

“I haven’t had sex this good since the fucking 80s!” Bacon moaned out as he slammed in and out of me. His attention was directed to a mirror in the office and he watched himself as he controlled Santiago’s body, forcing it to have sex with the enemy who he was about to sabotage the whole case for. He couldn’t hold it anymore and he slammed one final time, moaning loudly as he busted deep inside of me and triggered a chain reaction, making me shoot a high arch that splattered his tits. I was only human, there was only so much prostate abuse I could take.

We stayed still for a moment, both panting and covered in sweat, a stupid grin on our faces. “Mm…here’s to getting our perfect life, Bacon.” I said before smacking his ass. “Now, go and begin sabotaging this case then you can keep his body forever and drop by to have some fun with me and my son.” I winked and slid out from underneath him.

Soon after that life went exactly as it should have always been for me. Kevin honored his end of the deal and made sure to destroy my wife’s case against me by creating a fake affair, allowing me to get away with 60% of her assets. I then let him drink the rest of the vial and permanently become Santiago.

From there on, life was a breeze. My other sons cut contact with me, the one that stayed was a whore who loved pleasing me, and I had a massively hung lawyer who lived to please me and get me out of any legal trouble I found myself in.

My days of being a thief were behind me, for good now.

(I had some pretty severe writer’s block but I figured you guys deserved a finish story. Hope you liked the thief to house husband series!)

[strawbeerossi]

See It In Your Eyes

Pairing: fem!reader x Derek Morgan

Description: Derek Morgan is a notorious playboy, not ever thinking of settling down. Until he met Y/N and started hooking up with her.

Content Warning: mention of parent death, mentions of an argument, other than that it’s Derek being cute and nervous, some good quality fluff <3

Word Count: 2.2K

Based on this ask

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Tagging my bestie: @rainaaaskyy, who has been begging me for a Derek fic since she found out I’ve been writing. Hope you like it. 🫶🏻

Derek wasn’t a man for strings attached, exclusive relationships. He just wasn’t bred for that type of thing. He could barely hold a relationship for longer than 6 months, it just wasn’t something he wasn’t interested in. Getting married, having kids, doing the whole family bullshit.. It wasn’t appealing. He liked his freedom, never being tied to one person for the rest of his life.

His newest fling was Y/N, who worked a simple 9-5 in an office downtown, in the accounting department. She seemed to be into the same thing he was, just having someone around for casual sex as well as that small sliver of companionship before they ultimately ended up getting tired of one another.

The thing was, Derek enjoyed the time he spent with her. The sex was amazing, obviously. In addition to that though, she was truly a gem to be around. She had the best sense of humor, she was a damn good cook, and she just had a warmth to her. Regardless of how she wasn’t the type for relationships, being a bit of a playgirl herself, she did a good job of making a man feel special. Even if he’s just the man of the month.

There were times where he wanted to push her away, tell her to go on to the next man in line. However, part of Derek didn’t want that at all. No, he had dreams of them living in one of his restored houses, a couple of kids running around in the backyard, maybe even a couple dogs. It wasn’t something he was used to at all. Which he assumed was what triggered his flight response, wanting to run off before growing attached to the point that he was a lovesick puppy.

His career was hard on any potential relationships. After all, who wants to be with someone who can leave for days or even weeks at a time? Not really a relationship worth having.

He guessed he was more nervous of the outcome of a situation where he died in the field. He couldn’t imagine leaving behind a child after losing his life on a case. He knew first hand how it felt to lose your father at a young age, thankfully these hypothetical children wouldn’t have to see his demise though.

It was traumatizing to lose a parent at a young age, much less a parent that you loved dearly.

The more rational side of him was well aware that he wasn’t planning on dying anytime soon, so the fear was a bit outlandish. Besides, why did he care about kids when he wasn’t having any right now? Oh my god, Derek is thinking about having kids. He’s getting attached, attached to a woman who matched him in the commitment issues department.

This was a recipe for disaster.

Before the team left for a case across the state, Derek had pulled out an attitude out of nowhere. It was his way of starting to distance himself to escape the inevitable. It was enough to make Y/N show her more emotional side, the woman leaving upset with the slam of his apartment door after demanding him to call her back when he wasn’t acting like an overgrown child.

Derek must’ve been too lost in his thoughts again, his head resting back against the headrest of the jet seat that he’d gotten comfortable in for the ride back to Quantico. Wrapped up in the confusing fantasies of him being married with two children, he didn’t even realise whenever someone was sitting in front of him.

“Don’t tell me it’s S.D.U time already,” JJ commented, now sitting across from Derek who was looking up at her with a raised eyebrow. “S.D… Excuse me?” He asked, throughly confused on what the blonde was getting at. The abbreviation could’ve been too many things, his brain drawing up a blank. Asking Spencer would’ve probably short circuited his circuits, I mean, his brain.

“S.D.U. She doesn’t understand. Yo, she doesn’t understand our schedule. Yo, baby girl, she doesn’t know how hard our job is.” The blonde continued, putting on her best Derek impression while the male let his eyes roll, a chuckle leaving his lips. “I do not sound like that.”

“It’s where you break up with a girlfriend, or more likely, you get her to break up with you.” JJ finally answered his questions and suspicions while leaning back in her seat. “She isn’t even my girlfriend.” Derek pointed out, making her put her hands up in self defense. “Whenever you are with someone every day you are able to, I think it’s safe to say that you aren’t just being casual.” She commented. “I think you’re just too afraid to get attached.”

Profiler JJ held back no punches, damn.

“Are you profiling me?” Derek asked the obvious question while chuckling. “I think I liked you better as our communications liaison.” His tone was teasing as he brought his hands to rest in his lap.

“Hey, I learned from the best.” JJ matched his tone before sighing. “However, I feel like you just need to think this through before you end anything. I mean, the Derek Morgan I know doesn’t usually struggle with his thoughts this much. That’s gotta mean something, right?”

Leave it to JJ to be the voice of reason, the one to make Derek ponder even harder on what he wanted. If he ended it, the fantasy would stop. If he didn’t, the fantasy would persist and more than likely become his reality.

That was when the realization struck him. He loved Y/N. As much as he wouldn’t ever admit it, he did. He began to love her, even if he couldn’t articulate the way he had to admit it, he did feel that deep, unmistakable emotion that drew him to her within the past six months.

Love. Derek Morgan is fucking in love.

The word kept bouncing around his skull, almost like he didn’t know the meaning of it, having to learn what love was all over again in order for it to sink in.

Penelope was gonna lose her mind over this, going to love the very idea of Derek, her chocolate thunder, settling down and actually living a family life, being a husband and a father. The way he would slowly turn from a man who didn’t want children to a man who adored his own children, the stars in his sky.

Even after the jet was landed in Quantico and the team was filing off, there wasn’t a missed beat when David was looking around the group. “I say we go out for a drink tonight to celebrate a successful case with no casualties. I’m buying.” He proposed.

However, Derek was shaking his head as he held his go bag in his hand. “I can’t join tonight.” The words made everyone look over, some in a mixture of shock and others in concern. “Everything okay?” Aaron was asking, catching the tail end of the conversation to hear Derek turning down joining the rest of the team on a night out of celebration.

“I’ve just.. I’ve got things to do, that’s all.” He explained, the best of his ability. However, Penelope Garcia wasn’t gonna let anyone just run away without giving her an explanation. It didn’t surprise him at all when she was hot on his heels as soon as he exited the bullpen. “What’s going on? Derek, are you sick? You know that I can go back with you and make sure you’re okay. Or that if you need go talk that I’ll listen.”

The kindhearted woman wasn’t expecting the next words to come out of his mouth.

“I just need to talk to Y/N. She’s the girl that I’ve been seeing. I have some things to tell her.” His voice trailed off until he felt two hands on his shoulders, his attention down at the blonde who was already firing up. “Do you love her? Derek! You love her, don’t you?! Are you gonna ask her to be your girlfriend?? Oh, my god! I hope she doesn’t mind sharing you with me because I don’t think-“ Derek was chuckling as his hand was playfully being placed over her mouth.

“Baby girl, chill.” The nickname had the woman smiling as she licked his hand in order for him to move it. “Fine. But you owe me details, mister! I wanna hear all about it when you get back!” She demanded while walking him to the elevator, a wide smile on her face as she let her arms cross over her chest.

It wasn’t long until he’d made it to the familiar apartment complex, the male taking in a breath as he had to give himself a pep talk in the car. Derek Morgan being nervous, that was new. Something he’d never live down, but new. Instead of driving over here to fully put a stop to a fling, he was putting himself in the position of throwing himself into a relationship.

As Dr. Spencer Reid would say, “Men are 5% more certain that they are in love.”

Derek was much more than 5% certain.

As he was getting out of the car and hurrying up the steps of the complex, it wasn’t long until he was standing outside apartment 24, the numbers faded and dying to be replaced. His fist was coming out to knock against the door, a soft huff leaving his lips as he was glancing around the poorly lit hallway.

The sound of locks were clicking on the inside, the door open and a familiar face poking out. “Derek?” Y/N asked, her hand coming up to rub her eyes. She must’ve fallen asleep, it being 11 pm made it very obvious. “What are you doing here? No call, no text?” She asked, a yawn leaving her lips as she was opening the door more in order to let him step inside.

“I just got home from the case that I left for.” He clarified while his gaze was falling on the tired woman as he was closing the door behind him, his hand reaching behind him to lock up just so she didn’t have to.

“Derek, I’m way too tired for sex tonight. I’m sorry.” She began as the male let out a soft sigh. “No, no. That’s.. I’m not here for that.” He spoke while he was resting a hand on her lower back, leading the confused woman over to the couch while the two were sitting beside each other.

“Then why are you here?” There was confusion, Derek never really came over for much else. Sure, he’d stay afterwards but she was pretty used to them going to each other’s apartments for sex and then they stayed afterwards for whatever else they wanted to do.

“I just.. I’ve been thinking a lot. About you. About us.” He began, feeling a light layer of sweat covering his forehead from just how nervous he was. He could feel his heart beating, almost as if it were ready to bust out of his chest and take over the conversation for him. If only it was that easy.

“I guess what I’m trying to say is that.. I know this was supposed to be casual but as the months have gone on, I’ve had these thoughts.. About us. A future that we could potentially have, something that could be ours. No more sleeping around, no more stressing over what could’ve been of yet another fling we called off..”

This was where he was bracing himself. Derek wasn’t used to rejection, not in the slightest. This was where he could break, where he could feel exactly how everyone else felt when he’d be calling off everything and run off to the next person. He had the possibly of feeling his heart being brutally ripped out of his chest, stomped on the ground in front of him.

Instead of getting stabbed in the heart, the woman beside him was offering a smile. “You’ve been thinking about a future with me?” The words had her looking down, shy as could be. Which was funny considering this man seen everything she had to offer, yet the thought of a relationship with him had her giddy like a child.

“I’m not used to this. Confessions.” She admitted. “Truthfully, most men come over and call things off so I was a bit worried when you told me you wanted to talk.” She laughed softly while slowly rubbing her hands over her thighs. “But.. I’ll admit that I’ve been having similar thoughts. About you, obviously.” She spoke.

Derek let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding in, a smile gracing his features. Thank god. He didn’t know how he’d react if she said anything other than that, who knows, it probably could’ve broke him completely and turned him from his playboy days and brought him into a life of heartache.

Dramatics aside, there was no denying the relief and happiness that was flooding the room.

However it wasn’t long until Y/N was playfully swatting Derek’s arm, the man bringing a hand up in mock offense as if that was the worst thing she’d ever done.

“What was that for?!”

“For waiting until I’m trying to be mad at you to tell me this!”

[seoheesoo]

What if Sakumo had lived and how much did Kakashi's life change after Minato became Hokage?

[Part 5]

"Did you want to see me, Hokage-sama?" - Kakashi silently entered the office and quietly closed the door behind him.

Minato looked away from the documents and looked at the teenager.

"Yes, thank you for coming so quickly", - Minato put the folders aside and motioned for Kakashi to come closer. - "I need to discuss something with you."

Kakashi nodded and involuntarily straightened his back.

"I want to give Obito the rank of jonin", - said Minato.

"He will be overjoyed", - Hatake grinned, imagining his friend’s face.

"Obito has been working hard lately. I think he fully deserves it", -Minato bound his fingers and put his chin on them. - "There is something else."

Kakashi silently waited for the continuation. He noticed traces of fatigue on the Fourth Hokage's face. The work was not kind to him at all.

"I want Obito to lead a new team of three", - Minato broke the silence. - "And I also want you to join the ANBU and become the captain of my personal guard."

Fourteen year old teenager froze in one place, stunned.

"New team?" - the teenager frowned in confusion.

"The three of you have done well on missions under your leadership, Kakashi. But if Obito plans to become Hokage in the future, he needs to gain experience in leadership."

"Do you want me to join ANBU?"

Minato sighed heavily and closed his eyes for a few seconds.

"I understand that I've been putting too much on you all this time. I left you as captain in my place. You couldn't help but feel the weight of responsibility. But now I ask you for more. Many in the village believe that I am unworthy of the title of Hokage. With you as my right hand, I would feel much more stable. I need you in ANBU, Kakashi."

Kakashi covered the distance and stopped in front of the guy. Minato looked up at him with tired eyes. Kakashi tried to give his face a determined and at the same time calming expression.

"I will always be on your side, sensei", - the teenager got down on one knee. - "And I am honored to be your right hand."

"Thank you, Kakashi", - Minato exhaled with noticeable relief and smiled. - "Now, won’t you run after Obito?"

After Kakashi found Obito and brought him to the Hokage's office, dusk began to fall on the village. The teenager headed towards the house. All the way he thought about Minato's words.

"I’m home", - he said automatically, closing the front door behind him.

The delicious smell of food reminded him that in today's chaos he had missed lunch. Sakumo's cooking skills improved a lot after he took several lessons from Duy. But despite his hunger, Kakashi barely touched his dinner.

"You’re too thoughtful today", - the teenager heard his father’s voice. - "Something happened?"

"Minato sensei is disbanding our team", - no matter how hard Kakashi tried, he could not hide the bitterness in his voice. - "He wants Obito to become captain of another team, and for me to join ANBU."

"ANBU?" - Sakumo put down his chopsticks and bound his fingers. - "Minato wants you by his side."

Kakashi nodded.

"What's bothering you?"

"I…" - the teenager sighed heavily. - "I don’t want our team to disband."

Kakashi looked away. Sakumo pursed his lips.

"We worked well together", - the teenager continued. - "And I’m used to always being with them. I'm used to the fact that I'm nearby and can always protect them. And now I will work alone, while they will be in a team with people they don’t know. I… worry about them."

"It’s completely normal to worry about your friends, Kakashi," - Sakumo said slowly. - "You worry about them and want to protect them. But, unfortunately, you won't be able to always be there for them."

"I know", - Kakashi answered barely audibly. - "I’m just afraid that something might happen to them when I’m not around."

"I'm sure Obito and Rin can take care of themselves. They may be just as confused as you right now. You need to talk to them and give them confidence. You're a great friend, Kakashi."

Kakashi winced and looked up at his father.

"Do you have friends, father?"

"Don’t worry about me, Pup", - Sakumo smiled at his son. - "I have one and it’s quite enough. Finish your dinner before it gets cold."

Kakashi nodded and picked up his chopsticks.

"Thank you, father."

The next morning, Kakashi stood in Minato's office in full ANBU uniform.

"Kakashi, please take off your mask", - Minato asked. - "I have great news. You are the first person to know about this."

Kakashi nodded seriously.

"Kushina is pregnant," - Minato said quickly and smiled widely.

"Congratulations!" - Kakashi felt himself smiling back.

"Thank you", - the guy sincerely thanked. - "I have a first mission for you. I want you to guard Kushina throughout her pregnancy."

Kakashi froze in shock. Of all the people in the village, Minato decided to give this mission to him - to protect the life and health of Kushina and the unborn child. Emotions quickly changed on Kakashi's face. He still hasn’t answered anything, trying to put the information in his head.

"Kakashi", - Minato’s soft voice brought him out of his thoughts. - "There is no person in this village whom I trust more than you."

The teenager held his breath and bowed deeply.

"I won't let you down, nii-san!"

"I believe you," - Minato smiled at the usual address; it seems that Kakashi didn’t even notice how he called him big brother. - "Do you know when your uncle is coming back?"

"No", - the teenager shook his head. - "I can send Pakkun to him."

"I will be very grateful to you. I want to tell Jiraiya sensei this news as soon as possible. I don't have much to do today and I'm already heading home, so you can start your mission tomorrow. In the meantime, rest."

Kakashi nodded goodbye and left the Hokage's office. He headed to the nearest training ground and called Pakkun. Having conveyed the message to Ninken, Kakashi looked after him thoughtfully.

"Rival!" - he heard a loud voice behind him.

A few seconds later, Guy materialized opposite him.

"You look somehow different", - Guy carefully examined the teenager from head to toe.

"Minato sensei appointed me to ANBU", - Kakashi nervously moved his shoulder, he was still not used to his new form.

"Cool!" - Guy threw one fist up. - "You never cease to amaze me, Rival!"

Kakashi felt his cheeks turn slightly pink at the seemingly simple compliment.

"Will you sit down?" - Kakashi patted the ground next to him, Guy immediately sat down. - "I have great news."

"Anything even cooler than your promotion?" - the teenager was sincerely surprised.

Kakashi nodded.

"Kushina-san is pregnant."

Guy opened his eyes in surprise.

"Congratulations, Kakashi!" - he exclaimed loudly and hugged a teenager in his arms.

"Are you congratulating me? Why?" - Kakashi said barely audibly, trying to get out of the suffocating embrace.

"What do you mean why?" - Guy pushed the gasping teenager away from him and looked carefully into his eyes. - "Your little sister will be born soon! Or little brother!"

"Little brother?" - Kakashi asked in bewilderment in a hoarse voice.

"Or little sister", - Guy added in a serious tone, and then smiled brightly. - "You will become an older brother!"

Kakashi blinked in shock.

"I…"

"I can already imagine you with a little baby in your arms", - Guy sighed dreamily, still not letting go of the teenager’s shoulders.

Kakashi remained silent, ignoring Guy's passionate monologue. Too many events happened in these two days.

*** 

Kakashi walked quickly towards the Hatake family residence. Minato returned home a little earlier and let him go, knowing that today all the teenagers were going to celebrate Obito's birthday.

"Kakashi!" - a loud voice came from behind the teenager.

Kakashi skidded to a halt and looked around. 

"Do you have a minute?"

"You know that we are a little late for your birthday, right?" - Hatake asked, raising one eyebrow up questioningly.

Obito ruffled his hair in embarrassment and laughed awkwardly.

"Something happened?" - Kakashi immediately tensed.

"No!" - Obito shook his head negatively and put his hands in front of him. - "I just... wanted to talk to you."

"Okay", - Kakashi narrowed his eyes skeptically. - "About what?"

"Well, you know", - Obito’s eyes nervously darted around. - "You are now in ANBU, I was given a different team, and Rin decided to stay to work at the hospital. I... now I will spend less and less time in the village. Although I would like to stay here longer..."

Kakashi sighed tiredly.

"Get to the point."

Obito flinched when he heard Kakashi's sharp, commanding voice.

"I know that Rin is in love with you", - he said suddenly. - "And I know that you like her too. Now you will spend more and more time together while I am somewhere far away on missions..."

As Obito continued to speak, Kakashi noticed a flash of green color out of the corner of his eye. Hatake swore quietly and frowned.

"Obito, stop, shut up", - he interrupted his friend’s monologue. - "I don't like Rin. And she's not in love with me."

Obito froze, stunned.

"Just ask her out, idiot!" - Kakashi finally said before disappearing into thin air, leaving his discouraged friend alone.

Kakashi landed silently on a tree branch. As he had expected, Guy was training at his favorite training ground. He practiced his blows with a completely unreadable expression on his face. Sighing heavily, Kakashi jumped to the ground.

"Yo."

Guy flinched and put too much force into the blow, breaking the wooden post. Kakashi swallowed. Guy stood still for a moment, then turned to him, a broad smile shining on his face.

"Rival! Have you come to challenge me?" - the teenager exclaimed too loudly. - "What is it this time? Rock climbing? Arm wrestling? Or maybe…"

"You heard everything", - Kakashi interrupted him.

Guy's smile faltered.

"Yes", - the teenager lowered his eyes to the ground and shrugged his shoulders embarrassedly. - "Sorry, I didn’t mean to eavesdrop, I was just passing by."

Kakashi took a step forward when Guy immediately took a step back.

"In any case, even though I had no right to overhear a conversation about your personal life, this is still great news!"

Kakashi frowned. He tried to catch Guy's eye, but he stubbornly did not look at him.

"You... both of you deserve to be happy. I..." - Guy paused, and then added in a muffled voice. - "Happy for you."

"It’s not like that," - Kakashi said quickly. - "I don't like Rin."

He immediately felt a prick of shame. This is the second time this evening he has uttered these words. He really liked Rin, but never in a romantic way. He always treated her like a sister.

"And Rin was never really in love with me", - he continued. - "In fact, she has been liking Obito for some time, and this idiot can not understand it. They are even worse than Asuma and Kurenai. Those two don’t announce their relationship, but at least they confess to each other, and these two will be beating around the bush until the end of time."

Guy remained silent, which made Kakashi very nervous.

"So, you don't like Rin?"

"No", - Kakashi shook his head to be convincing. - "Actually, I..."

"There you are!" - they heard an exclamation and turned towards the voice. - "Everyone was already tired of waiting for you and sent me on a search."

Genma leaned his shoulder against the tree and cast a lazy glance at them.

"How long will you stand here? We’re late for the party."

Guy shrugged and stretched his lips into a smile.

"It's not good to keep friends waiting."

Kakashi was still trying to catch his eye, but the teenager had already walked towards Genma. Hatake sighed heavily and followed him. Guy noticeably took the lead, while Kakashi and Genma walked leisurely behind.

"Interrupted some important conversation?" - asked Genma, the senbon clutched in his teeth flashed brightly in the moonlight.

Kakashi chuckled.

"Don't pretend like you didn't hear anything."

Genma smirked at the edge of his lips. They continued walking in silence until they reached the cafe. The loud voices of their friends could be heard from the establishment.

"If you break his heart, I’ll break your face", - Genma drawled slowly, making Kakashi freeze at the entrance.

"You know that this will never happen", - Kakashi gave him a serious look.

Genma shrugged. There was a barely hidden worry in his dark eyes.

"I know, but I still have to warn you. I am his best friend. And I will protect him from everyone. Even from you."

Kakashi nodded silently and entered the cafe, still feeling Shiranui's gaze on his back.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 6

[gracexthoughts]

of violent delights chap 11

a spark

14 april 1996

Mattheo’s POV 

“You’re la-” 

“Yeah, yeah I know,” I cut Mia off as I rush down the hall to meet her. She is standing against the wall outside the prefects’ office and I can’t help as my eyes rove up and down her body. Her long auburn hair is braided away from her face, the braid pulled to hang over her shoulder, and she’s foregone a uniform sweater in the warming weather. Her white blouse is tight against her figure, her long legs clad in knee high socks instead of her usual tights; the same outfit that had me distracted all through our shared lessons today. Lately, no matter how she wears her uniform I find her distracting.

“You ready?” She asks me, drawing my eyes back up to her eyes rather than her long legs. Her tilted head and cocky smirk on her lips tell me she caught me checking her out and I look down the hall, nodding. 

“Yeah, let’s go,” I say, not waiting for Mia before I start walking. She jogs a few steps to catch up with me and falls into step. 

“What took you so long?” She asks casually. 

“Quidditch,” I say simply. It’s not totally the truth but it's not a lie either. I did have practice. Over the last month both Gryffindor and Slytherin teams have been practicing nonstop, often having to fight for pitch time, in anticipation of the final match coming this weekend. Tensions are running high between the rival houses and plenty of fights have broken out this week alone (only one of which I was involved in, by the way). Slytherin is ahead by 200 points and Marcus is fairly confident in our position but I’m not so sure. To be honest, I think Gryffindor wants the Cup more than we do. 

But while animosity between our houses has been growing, a different kind of tension is growing between Mia and myself, one I’m not so sure is a good thing. We’ve found each other on the Astronomy Tower for a smoke multiple times in the last few months, taking turns bumming cigarettes and staying there far longer than we would if either of us was there alone. I find myself constantly distracted by her, even when she is nowhere to be found. And when she is around I can’t help but be drawn into her magnetic field, my eyes roaming and words flirtatious. 

When I got back from practice, Elladora had laid into me about how I am spending too much time with Mia and that I should skip rounds to hang out with them instead. Me saying no was not taken well. I think my friends are starting to suspect there’s more to my relationship with Mia than I’ve told them even though there is nothing… Okay, maybe there is a little something but I’ll be cursed before I tell my friends that. Besides, nothing can happen between Mia and I and nothing will. Euphemia Potter is far too good for me. A better, stronger man would keep his distance but I’ve never claimed to be a good man and when it comes to Mia I’m finding I’m weaker than I’d care to admit. 

“So, how was practice?” She asks, pulling me out of my thoughts and I shoot her a dubious look out of the corner of my eye. “What? I’m making conversation not trying to spy,” she says sarcastically, dragging out the last word. 

“Was fine. Normal,” I respond vaguely. 

“Broom fly, swing bat, hit bludger, scowl, so on?” Mia jokes, making me smile slightly and shake my head. 

“You’ve got me down, princess,” I chuckle. “What about you? Feeling ready?” 

“I’m always ready, Riddle,” Mia quips back, a mischievous look on her face, winking at me playfully as we keep walking. I laugh and turn away, looking down the hall. We walk in silence for a little while until we pass by the stairs to the Astronomy Tower and I stop. 

“You know what? Screw prefect shit, let’s go smoke or something. I’m knackered from practice, I could use a break,” I propose suddenly, pointing up the stairs.

“What? We can’t do that,” Mia protests, searching my face as if she’s not sure if I’m joking or not. 

“Why not? If anyone catches us we’ll just say we thought we heard something in the Astronomy Tower and we were just checking it out. Perfect cover,” I shrug, shoving my hands in my pockets as I look down at Mia. She watches me for a long moment before a smile splits her face and she chuckles. 

“Alright, fuck it. Let’s go,” she says, climbing the first few stairs. When I don’t immediately follow her, she turns around, the stairs making her tall enough to look down at me. “Well?” She asks, tilting her head. I smile and follow after her, my longer legs catching up to her easily and we climb up the tower side by side. 

✦

“No, no, just really focus on where you want the magic to come from. Like instead of the tip of your wand it’s your fingertip,” she explains, snapping her fingers again and producing a small and steady flame, lighting up her face in the moonlight. We’re sitting on the floor of the Astronomy Tower, cigarettes long gone, and facing each other as Mia tries to teach me her wandless magic trick. I grit my teeth and, focusing on my fingertips, snap my fingers over and over until a small spark emerges. “Yes! You almost had it!” Mia cheers, her face excited. 

“This is ridiculous, how did you figure this out by yourself?” I ask, growing frustrated. 

“Don’t get frustrated, you have no idea how long it took me. You’re getting it faster than I did,” she says, adjusting slightly and causing our knees to brush. 

“I couldn’t believe you less,” I deadpan, leaning forward towards Mia with my eyes narrowed. She reels back, feigning offense. 

“You don’t trust me? Don’t I look trustworthy?” She asks, looking up at me with wide innocent eyes, our height difference large enough that even sitting she has to look up to meet my eyes. I don’t answer, caught up for a moment in her expression. “C’mon, try again,” she presses, reaching forward to graze my hand, sending shivers up my arm which doesn’t help at all with focusing. I take a deep breath and snap, producing a small burst of a flame that goes out as quickly as it lit but still Mia cheers, clapping her hands at my dismal display. 

“Your enthusiasm is wasted on that. You’re a good teacher, though,” I say, leaning back on my hands and stretching my legs out, resting them next to Mia’s. 

“Thanks,” she responds, a faint blush coloring her cheeks as she fiddles with her ring. 

“You could come back and teach here. Wandless magic 101 or something.” She laughs at that. 

“Yeah, that’s the dream. Graduate school just to come back and do it for the rest of my life,” she says sarcastically. 

“Alright then, if not teaching then what do you want to do after Hogwarts?” I ask, trying to picture her in some stuffy suit or uniform, taking notes in a boardroom of some kind. 

“I don’t know. Honestly passing O.W.L.s and finding an apartment is about as far into the future as I can think right now,” she says, adjusting so her back is against one of the stone pillars and her legs extend out next to mind; the bare skin of her legs pale in the early moonlight. 

“An apartment? Getting out of the muggles’ place then?”

“Yeah, I’m 18 now and the Ministry granted me custody of Harry a few months back so I’ve got to find somewhere for us to live,” she says, a smile on her face at the idea of being on her own. I can’t help but be surprised and a little impressed, I can barely take care of myself most of the time yet here is this girl the same age as me who is willingly taking on the burden of caring for her brother and is happy about it. 

“That’s great, Mia. I’m happy for you,” I say genuinely and Mia looks at me with a bewildered expression. “What?” 

“Nothing,” she chuckles, “Just never expected Mattheo bloody Riddle would ever be happy for me is all.” 

“Yeah well, to be fair, I never expected to be happy for Euphemia fucking Potter either,” I respond with a deep chuckle. 

“It has been a weird year, hasn’t it?” Mia says with a laugh, watching me for a moment. “So, what about you? What are your plans after school?” 

“My mum wants me to work at the Ministry,” I respond with a shrug. 

“Okay, but what do you want?” I watch her for a moment before answering, surprised that she cares enough to ask and listen. 

“To not just be known by my last name. To be free of my father’s legacy and be my own person for once,” I admit after a moment. Something I’ve never told anyone else before, something I’ve barely even admitted to myself. “Beyond that, I’m not sure.”

“I get that,” Mia says after a moment, nodding. “Sometimes I think about just dropping everything and running off somewhere far away. Work in some Muggle pub or shop or something and just… be free of it all.” Her face turns wistful as she speaks, dreaming of a life she won’t allow herself to have, caring too much for the people in her life to commit to it. 

“Got any room for one more?” I ask, half kidding, half not.

“We’d kill each other two days in,” Mia laughs. 

“I don’t know, you’re kind of growing on me, princess,” I chuckle, sitting up and leaning towards her. I watch as her face splits into a smile, her mouth opening to respond but she’s interrupted by a voice from below the stairs. 

“Filch,” she whispers, and we both look down at our watches. It's nearly midnight, an hour past when our rounds are supposed to end meaning we no longer have an excuse for being out. “Shit, I didn’t even realize how late it is.” I look around the tower quickly and see a broom cupboard on the other side of the room. I stand and motion for Mia to follow me; it's not ideal but it will have to work. 

“Quick, in here!” I whisper, pulling the broom closet door open. Mia’s eyes widen and she shakes her head. 

“Matt-” 

“Mia, I know but we have to hide.” She weighs her options for a moment before reluctantly, stepping inside the closet, her fists clenched tightly as I step in with her and close the door, the closet so small it's near impossible for us to not be pressed against each other. I reach out to take one of her hands in mine, her eyes flying open to look at me. “Just breathe, you’re okay,” I whisper to her, her breath unsteady, her eyes never leaving mine. I squeeze her hand gently, my thumb caressing the back of her hand, the raised skin of her lightning bolt scar under the pad of my thumb. 

I can hear Filch and Mrs. Norris, his creepy cat, just outside the door. Suddenly, the door rattles behind my back and Mia squeezes her eyes shut, her breath increasing. “Hey, hey stay with me,” I whisper, my free hand to hook a finger under her chin, her eyes open again, fear more present in them than before, and I tilt her face up to look at me. “You’re safe, I’m not gonna let anything hurt you,” I whisper, and the scariest thing is I mean it and I can tell she believes me. I look down at her and all the world slips away; all I’m aware of is her and the beat of my heart, so loud in my ears I’m certain she can hear it as well. Time slows and I don’t know how long we stand there, staring at each other, frozen in fear of being caught or breaking the moment. 

But then Filch grumbles something to Mrs. Norris and their footsteps recede down the stairs and my hands drop to my sides. Heat creeps into my face as I turn and open the door, stepping aside for Mia. She steps out quickly, taking a deep breath with her eyes focused on the dark expanse beyond the tower, moving to the edge and gripping the railing so hard her knuckles turn white.“You okay?” I ask softly. 

“Yeah,” she says after a moment, turning back to me with flushed cheeks. “I hope we don’t make a habit of being in broom cupboards together,” she jokes, a little breathless. 

“Most girls don’t mind,” I brag out of habit and immediately regret it. I have a reputation for sleeping around and normally I don’t mind, but Mia is different. She’s so different to me that I’m never entirely sure how to act. But she laughs and rolls her eyes. 

“Oh I’m sure,” she laughs, the air between us turning awkward. “We should probably head back.” 

“Yeah, yeah probably.” We slowly climb down the stairs, careful to be quiet so as not to draw Filch back. When we finally reach the bottom of the stairs, my dorm one direction and Mia’s in another, I turn to look at her, wishing I could rewind time by about 5 minutes. 

“Goodnight, see you on the pitch on Saturday. I’ll be the one scoring all the goals,” Mia says with a soft smile, her voice playful as she turns in the direction of Gryffindor Tower. 

“Goodnight,” I whisper and watch as she smiles and turns around, walking down the hall and out of my sight, knowing I won’t stop thinking about her pressed against me in that closet all night. 

taglist (comment or dm me to be added); @purplegardenwhispers @somethingswiftandstyles @weasleyreidstyles @mayamonroem

[theloveoffootball10]

sᴛɪᴄᴋᴡɪᴛʜᴜ - ᴛ ᴡ ᴇ ɴ ᴛ ʏ ᴏ ɴ ᴇ

m a s t e r l i s t

ᴛ ᴡ ᴇ ɴ ᴛ ʏ ᴏ ɴ ᴇ

The next couple of days pass in a blur. I've barely spoken to Lando and when we have spoken it's been short blunt text messages. I'm miserable and I don't honestly know where I stand with him. I know I'm the one who walked away on Sunday but at the time it was for the best before something really damaging was said.

I've been horrible to be around, I'll openly admit that. I worked from home on Monday when I came home not wanting to face people or questions about my time in Italy because it truly was one of the worst trips of my life. Going back into work on the Tuesday I still didn't want to see anyone but I knew I couldn't hide away forever. Everyone at work knew something was wrong, I haven't been myself.

Usually in the office I'm that girl who everyone can hear. The one who sings the wrong words with confidence as the radio plays in the background. I'm the one everyone looks to when the mood needs to be boosted and how can I be that person when I can't even boost my own mood. It's now Wednesday and I've still barely heard from Lando which is starting to worry me now. I can't talk to my dad about this, he'd kill Lando or be the cause of his next on track crash which is something I don't need to deal with. I could talk to my mum, usually I would but then at the same time she doesn't need me to offload my problems onto her every time something goes wrong.

"For fuck sake!" I shout hitting my steering wheel as Lando's phone goes to voicemail, again. "Look Lando I'm not messing around. Ring me when you can be bothered and we'll discuss this like adults" ending the call I know it's probably a waste of time but I have to at least try. Throwing my phone on the passenger seat I make my way home, the traffic not helping my mood. In my head I'm trying to think of all options before I completely give up on Lando. I don't want to get Max or any of his friends for that matter involved, this isn't their issue. In my head I've made my mind up, if I don't hear from Lando by the end of the week I'll get on a plane to Monaco and make him speak to me.

Walking into the house I throw my keys on the console table and my work bag on the floor, I have no use for that until tomorrow. I'm home about forty minutes later than I usually would be thanks to the traffic and in about twenty minutes I'll have the house to myself as my mum is due to leave for work as a midwife on a night shift.

"I'm home mum" kicking my shoes off I see my mum walk out of the kitchen already dressed to leave "I'd leave early for work if I was you, traffic is really bad today roads are backed up everywhere in all directions" knowing my mum drives the same route as me I warn her.

"Thanks Lucía. Your mood doesn't sound much better than it has since Monday. I understand it can be hard when you're in a long distance relationship, no one understands more than me. If you want to talk we can" if only my mum knew the half of it! I don't want to come across as ungrateful, my mum isn't in the wrong so instead I thank her before saying a quick goodbye.

Hauling myself into the kitchen I take a long drag of my vape as I grab the bottle of white wine that is staring at me from its place in the fridge. It might be a school night but fuck it, I've had a hell of a week and it's only Wednesday. Grabbing a glass from the cupboard I go to pour myself a very large glass when a voice disturbs me.

"Hi baby" not expecting anyone to be in the house let alone Lando I drop the glass on the tiled floor causing it to shatter everywhere as I let out a scream in total and utter shock.

"What the fuck! You have just scared the shit out of me!" Lando stands up from where he's been sat on the sofa in the living area of my open plan kitchen, I don't know how I didn't see him sat there when I came into the kitchen.

"Stay there until I've cleaned the glass up. Where's the hoover?" I point to the cupboard not even able to stutter a reply. I'm speechless. Lando is here. In my kitchen.

"I...I..." I can't even form a coherent sentence as I watch Lando getting the hoover and beginning to clean the glass up that surrounds me.

"We'll talk in a minute Lucía" Lando busies himself cleaning the glass up but I don't know what to do with myself. Realising I still have the bottle of wine in my hand I unscrew the lid and take a swig from the bottle. There's a sudden nervousness that washes over me and I don't understand why Lando is here.

"Why are you here?" I ask taking a seat at the island as Lando puts the hoover away. I can't take my eyes off him, not quite able to believe he's here and stood in my kitchen.

"I know I've been an absolute dick with you and a phone call didn't quite seem good enough to be able to apologise to you"

"Lando..."

"Baby I don't want to be rude but can I just say what I need to please?" Nodding I let Lando continue "the way I have behaved with you since Sunday has been unacceptable. Yes I was angry but not at anything you did but I took it out on you and you didn't deserve that. I don't even have an excuse as to why I've barely spoken to you either, I guess you could say I was embarrassed about the way I acted. I thought you'd be completely done with me and I wouldn't be surprised if you wanted nothing more to do with me"

"I won't say it's okay because the way you acted with me was unfair however we both said things we shouldn't. I understand you were angry, you had every right to be but I won't put up with you speaking to me the way you did whether you're angry or not. I mean what I said the other day, I'm not a door mat and I won't take that kind of behaviour" I'm not unreasonable, I know people have outbursts I have them myself but I'm not prepared for this kind of fall out every time a race doesn't go Lando's way.

"I was out of order the way I spoke to you. My mum would kill me if she knew I did that. Look the last few days has been hell for me and I know it's been hell for you. Your mum told me how down you've been and I take full responsibility for that. I just want you to know I'm sorry baby. You're the last person I want to hurt and I hate myself for making you feel the way you have" holding my hand out I pull Lando closer to me so I can wrap my arms around his neck. Taking in his familiar scent I place a quick kiss on his lips.

"I'll forgive you. This time. I swear though, if this happens again I can't promise I'll be saying the same thing"

"I can live with that. I was worried there wouldn't be an us after Sunday" I rest my head on Lando's shoulder wanting to just be in his arms for a few minutes. I've missed him, even if I would have been at home and him in Monaco we still would've been speaking daily.

"There is still an us babe. How did you know where I live?" I ask knowing I haven't actually told Lando my address.

"I asked your dad. I told him I wanted to surprise you and he's the biggest supporter of us being together so he text me your address straight away. I dread to think what he would've said if he knew what I'd actually done"

"I doubt you'd be stood here now. I'm pleased you're here Lando" softly kissing Lando I run my fingers through his hair "I'm going to make us some tea, I'm starving. Is cheeseburger pasta okay with you?"

"I've never had it and I'll probably get wrong when I'm training but it sounds good" I busy myself getting everything out that I need to make our tea, turning on the speaker I connect my phone playing music on shuffle "are you seriously listening to Hannah Montana?"

"Yes is that okay with you? Anyway you know Hannah Montana?" I ask, confused Lando would know the song as soon as it starts.

"I have two sisters Lucía, of course I know Hannah Montana"

"I'm not buying the sister's excuse, for one Cisca is probably too young for Hannah Montana. Admit it you're the Hannah Montana fan and we're going to watch it once we've had tea" as I continue making tea, I can't believe how natural this feels coming home from work to Lando being here and us preparing to have tea together.

"We can watch Hannah Montana" Lando says with a shrug "Do you need me to help with anything?"

"Nope. Keep out of my way while I'm cooking and just sit there looking pretty"

"Would you throw a knife at me if I said when you were angry with me it was really fucking sexy, regardless of how angry I was at the world" Lando asks with a grin on his face.

"What do you think my answer is going to be?" Raising my eyebrow, Lando just laughs knowing I don't even have to say it "that's what I thought. While we're actually having an adult conversation I want to apologise for bringing that Alesha girl up the other day. She really pisses me off the way she flirts with you"

"I know she does and I've made it clear to her I have a girlfriend and I'm not interested in her" I believe Lando, other than talking to her Sunday briefly he's never shown an interest in ever talking to her. When she does his interviews he can't get away from her quick enough. She's like a leech, I know girls should support girls and all that but I just can't with her.

"Next time I'm at a race I'm going to come into that paddock like the wrecking ball I am and show her just who you belong to because you Lando Norris are mine"

"I'll look forward to that and you're mine, don't forget that. I got the Miley Cyrus reference there as well" Lando says shaking his head laughing "speaking of races when are you coming to the next one?"

"I don't know and that's me being honest. I'm booked for Abu Dhabi like I normally would but I need to work out which ones I can come to before then. I know after Austin it's full on and I don't want to wait that long to be at a race again. I'd miss you too much" it's nearing the last few races of the season and they're all long distance races to get to. I know I can't go over a month without seeing Lando but I need to find a way to make it work around work. My only option right now is getting a flight on a Friday night and flying home basically straight after the race on the Sunday. I already know it will be exhausting but I have to play my part in making this work.

"I'd miss you too, maybe just maybe this might be a good time for you to let me arrange a private jet for you on some weekends" normally I'd knock back the idea of a private jet straight away but it feels like it might be the only way Lando and I will be able to see each other more often. Putting a plate of food in front of Lando I agree to think about flying private. If he has a chance of winning the WDC, I want to be there as much as I can.

landonorris

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landonorris reunited with my girl 🤍

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fernandoalonso watch where that hand is wandering Norris!

↪️ esmelucia sorry not sorry papá 🤷🏼‍♀️

user39 imagine being called my girl by Lando Norris 🥹

↪️ user429 I’d die happy

user193 she’s made the grid its fully official now

↪️ user203 lets see how long it lasts