#I ordered over a week ago and have to wait untill the end of the month because Europe

[twptwp]

A major change to the past

[elysianightsss]

No because girl you NEEDDDDDD to elaborate on this -> Soulmate AU. Poly!141 x neurodivergent!reader <- I will die happily

Elaboratingggggggg🤭🫠

-

You didn’t think that you’d get this far in life, many reasons spring to mind but the main one is you’re a little different than most people. You can’t cope with certain things and struggle with change. You remember growing up your family would brush off your ‘issues’ and say to just deal with it. How little they understood you.

Moving out was the best decision you ever made, the only change you have ever been happy about. It was necessary and would make your life so much easier on a level only you could understand. You could set up your space the way you like it, the way you need it. And with just you, no one would mess with your stuff just to see you loose it as it was ‘funny’ or move things to suit them better.

This way, you could live in peace.

Task force 141 had just finished a successful mission, camping out in one of the many secret safe houses as they waited for further instructions when they had sent Johnny to the shop for supplies. That’s where he saw you, in a Sainsbury’s supermarket of all places, headphones tight over your ears to block out the world while you tried to decide if the extra two, ninety-nine was worth it or not for the soothing lavender face mask you wanted.

Johnny was quick to subtly snap a picture of you and even go as far as to follow you home before bolting it back to the guys to tell them he’d finally found you. Their last soulmate.

As soon as Johnny showed them the image of you, that was it for them. They had to have you. A burning need coursing through their veins, pumping around their bodies. Nothing would ever be enough until they had you in their arms.

But as said and as they observed themselves, you don’t cope with change.

So they had to situate themselves into your life slowly, one by one.

Johnny and Simon moved in next door to you, and lived there for seven months slowly getting to know you and obviously spying on you. They gradually began to understand you and your cute quirks. They know that you eat the same thing for dinner every night, you use the same plate or bowl and wash it straight after use to make sure it is ready for next time.

You have one set of cutlery, one glass and one mug. Two pillows though you only sleep on one and use the other to hug to sleep. And to top it all off you have one recliner chair and one massive beanbag chair that makes you feel like you’re being hugged tight each time you sit on it. It gives you the deep pressure therapy you desperately need at times.

The guys found your habits strange at first but the more time they spent with you, the more they began to understand you. Understand your need for order, for repetition. And they had experienced first hand what happens when change was forced into your safe space.

Johnny had the bright idea to gift you a set of cutlery a few weeks ago so when he and Simon came round for dinner as they did every Thursday for the past four months, they didn’t have to bring cutlery and plates from their own place, it would already be there.

Simon said it was a bad idea but he couldn’t say no to Johnny, not with how happy he looked while he picked out some pretty baby blue plates and silver cutlery with little mushrooms painted at the end. He boasted to Simon about how much you’d love them while they stood in the queue to pay.

He was wrong.

After dinner was cooked you plated up the food no problem thinking the pretty plates were from their house. Then you opened the kitchen drawer only to hear the clutter and smash of cutlery rubbing together. The sound made a ringing pierce your ears, your hands reaching up to cover them. It was like nails on a chalkboard to you. The sound you heard making you panic beyond measure, your breathing out of control as you slid to your knees.

Johnny’s smile dropped and he sprung into action using the deep pressure therapy you had told him about with your beanbag chair. Simon was quick to removed the extra plates and cutlery from where Johnny had put them and take them back to their place before returning ready to help. He knew he’d need to call John and let him know you had had an episode, but helping you came first.

So you liked constant repetition. If it made you happy, that was absolutely fine with them.

Kyle got himself hired as a barista at your favourite cafe, he learned your usual and practiced at home to make sure every morning when you stopped by on the way to work to drink your coffee and sit with your laptop for twenty minutes, you’d have the perfect drink. He made absolutely sure that it tasted the same every single time. No change.

After a couple of months of smiles and waves here and there he finally got you to open up. Baby steps. A little at a time and now Kyle was taking his twenty minute break at your table while you typed up something for work. You always worked so hard. But he managed to get a few sentences out of you each time and it made his heart sing.

And last but not least, John became your new boss after your last one mysteriously got caught for money laundering. Mr Price was an amazing boss, he didn’t ask for much and was always giving you big opportunities that you’d only ever dreamed of. You had been promoted twice since he became the CEO.

You were now executive editor under him as the chief editor at one of the best publishers in the country. Pirons Classics, number two in the UK and number four in the World. To say the guys were proud that you worked there in the first place was an understatement. Their smart girl.

He called you sweet nicknames and brought you lunch everyday. The same thing, a pesto and cheese sandwich and a snack of your choosing from the vending machines. You don’t remember when it started but you were always too shy to say anything so it became a regular thing.

If you were to sit and think real hard about the situation you would realise how changes had been introduced into your life ever since the four of them appeared. But they were subtle changes and you genuinely couldn’t remember a time when these changes weren’t normal. On top of that, these four men were the only people besides yourself, that you felt comfortable, relaxed and content around.

So for the first time you don’t sit and think, for the first time you just let it happen and you don’t notice the difference.

Johnny and Simon were more involved with you than the other two. They were the closest to you currently with the status of your best friends which Johnny most certainly bragged to the other two about. You had known them for almost a year now and they didn’t exactly hide their romantic relationship but didn’t exactly flaunt it either.

You had found it kinda hot when you saw them kiss and even though it was unusual for you, you luckily managed to keep your mouth shut about it.

You had no idea they had noticed.

[suguann]

✎. you've been on the run for a while. you knew someone would come eventually—but not him.

tags. fem!reader, old west era, bounty hunter simon, size difference, size kink, implied the reader's husband is a terrible human, accidental voyeurism, period-typical sexism, masturbation [18+ only]

masterlist

You’ve been running for months, first from your husband (the phantom grip of his hand still sending an ache through your wrist) and now as a wanted conwoman for stealing the clothes from an unsuspecting cowpoke who thought he was getting lucky. You can only imagine what Mama would say about trading your ruffled skirts for grass-stained trousers and boiled-leather suspenders.

(It’s unbecoming of a respectable woman, dear. Uncouth.)

She’d probably have a lot to say if she knew everything you’ve done to survive.

You hop from one place to the next only by the mere chance someone was willing to let a helpless woman accompany them on their travels. Nearly a month has passed since being stranded in a dusty old mining town after a man and his wife dump you off and leave you behind. Washoe’s a little gritty and not welcoming unless there’s money to spend.

It’s not exactly safe, not unsafe, either, but nobody asks questions as long as you keep your head down and play the part of a mourning widow just passing through.

You know you’ve overextended your stay when you can’t leave your room during the day without worrying about a noose and the open end of a barrel meeting you outside. 

(That your husband or that gun-waving cowpoke finally found you.)

Sleep practically clings to you like a second skin, but you don’t dare close your eyes—you can’t.

This is how you end up sitting in the corner of the saloon, using the last of whatever you have in your change purse to order something strong, something your husband kept locked away, and anything else he thought women shouldn’t have a part in. 

You don’t even realize that your eyelids begin to feel heavy, steadily blurring out the flickering lantern on the wall while you wait for your drink. 

You catch yourself once or twice before your head can hit the table, rapidly blinking away the exhaustion before your eyes slide to the swinging doors.

You should stay awake. 

You need to stay awake just a little bit longer—

Your luck runs out that day. 

It’s one thing to know it’d happen eventually, and something else to realize that you make it easy for him—the man with an infamous name and a faded black bandana covering half his face—how he walked into the saloon and scooped you up (all unladylike sleepy dead weight) out of the weathered booth without a fight.

When you’d woken up to find yourself trussed up and thrown over the back of his horse, you cursed him out with every word you could think of that would make Mama clutch her skirts. Your captor ignored you, only talking to you whenever he warned you he was about to set up camp. 

“Did my husband send you?” Acknowledging him after all this time tasted like pennies on your tongue.

The man, Simon Riley, had leaned back against his bedroll and tipped the brim of his hat over his eyes. “Go the fuck to sleep.”

That was several weeks ago. 

Now, you find yourself stranded in another state that’s more green and vibrant than anything you’re familiar with, stuck with a man who refuses to answer the questions you throw at him. He doesn’t talk outside a few cursory words you greedily latch onto. Anything’s better than silence and the sound of hooves hitting earth. 

The pace he keeps you at is exhausting. You complain about it enough until he moves you in front of him, tying your hands to the saddle's horn.

“I would strongly advise you to shut that mouth for the rest of the ride unless you want me to do something about that, too.” The low growl of his voice in your ear makes the fine hairs on the back of your neck stand up, muddling your brain.

You’re distantly aware you had something to say to that, but you don’t. 

And that is really saying something.

It’s because there’s someone he needs to meet in town—an errand that lawbreakers who run their mouths aren’t allowed to go on.

This is how you end up sitting in camp alone, twirling around a knife he gave you solely for emergencies. 

(Surprise, sharp and quick through your middle, when he tosses his pocket knife into the grass beside you. “What’s to stop me from leaving?”

You could’ve sworn he rolled his eyes. “Will you?”

It doesn’t seem worth dignifying with a reply. You don’t want to travel alone, and there’s a high possibility of getting lost, finding yourself saddled up with worse company than the one you’re stuck with.

Until he evidently catches you again.)

He’s a lot nicer than you first gave him credit for—if only by a fraction—not that you know much about Simon other than what you overheard from gossip circles before you became Mrs. Thornton. Afternoons spent sipping tea laden with honey and lounging around a table full of cakes in the sun parlor while wealthy women talked behind their lace-covered hands to hide secret smiles you were too naive to understand. 

Trying not to stare at the bulge of his arms with thin pink scars—unlike the men you’re used to who got through life with a silver spoon hanging from their mouth—as he places his saddle back on his horse, you think you finally know what they smiled about.

You learn those scars also litter his torso from the time you accidentally walked upon him mid-way through putting his trousers on after washing in the river. It’d been too dark for you to see much else, and you quickly returned to camp before he could say something that would embarrass you both. 

Then, of course, tucked away into your bedroll, you can’t help wondering what the rest of him would have looked like if you had stayed a second longer. 

If his jaw is sharp or soft behind that mask he insists on wearing—that’s if he’d let you see at all. 

Simon’s always so serious that it’s often hard to determine whether he’s merely tolerating your existence until he can get rid of you or if he’s unused to traveling accompanied for so long. It’s not as if he goes out of his way to make pleasant conversation with you for you to assume otherwise.

You look off in the direction where he disappeared into the dense line of trees hours ago, wondering if you should go out looking for him (mainly because you’re hot and sticky from the humidity) despite his order to stay put. 

But after four hours turns into five, you head off, searching for something to help cool you off.

Luckily, unlike the heavily eroded lands you’re used to, there isn’t any water shortage in a place that sees rain three times a day, so it doesn’t take long to find a lake. You set your knife down on the stone-covered beach, followed by your boots, until you’re left in nothing but your undergarments. 

The water is icy cold and laps gently at your feet when you step in. You can’t find it in you to complain as the heat from the day slowly washes away the further you walk in and find a wide ledge to sit on. 

Your thoughts drift back to Simon, incessant and intruding even though you shouldn’t be thinking about him while wet and naked. And suddenly, you can picture it: his hands replacing yours as they trace along your neck. You have a feeling they’re probably rough and scarred from years of living hard and gunslinging, extracting the readily available knowledge that they’re big enough to encase your waist.

He could maneuver you around however he wants (you know this), and you feel dizzy just thinking about it.

Sighing, you sink deeper into the water while your hands smooth over the tips of your breasts and down your stomach. 

You wish you could see him without violating whatever personal preservations hide him from the rest of the world. Instead, you’re left with your imagination—the benefits of being a married woman and the little experience you have in the bedroom finally coming into play. 

Closing your eyes, you picture what he might look like under those sun-weathered leathers, knowing that the broadness of his shoulders isn’t only due to his vest and holsters but also from how his job has shaped him.

Your hands travel lower, fingers brushing through the creamy, soft wetness between your legs, evidence of what Simon does to you even when he’s not around. A moan, too high and breathy, slips past your lips as you use your middle finger to circle your clit in slow, clumsy swirls from lack of practice and patience that spreads warmth through your middle despite the cold water. 

It’s good, your fingers discovering places your husband always ignored—too many nights spent with your hand under your nightgown long after he’d tucked his cock away and gone to sleep—but probably don’t compare to the ones you’ve caught yourself staring at far too many times. 

They don’t fill you nearly enough, unlike how you know Simon’s would—thick and unrelenting. Rough and long, reaching deep enough to make you breathless.

Your breath hitches from pinching the tight, sensitive peak of your nipple until you feel a slight sting, and then it slips out, a tiny thing that’s only audible to your ears—Simon—a secret you now share with the lightning bugs and crickets.

“Dirty, no good rotten—” he’d tell you for thinking such lewd thoughts about him, for sinning so easily. Maybe you are, for getting so worked up over a man who isn’t your husband (no matter how terrible a husband he may be).

A man who’s so big that he makes you feel small, the type that gives before he takes. It’s enough to make you work your hand faster—your body vibrating from the chill of the water and the ache between your trembling thighs.  

Fantasies aren’t enough to sate the deep longing in your chest. Yet you’re slipping over the edge of ecstasy before taking your next breath—all of it builds up and gradually crests inside you like the lake rippling against the shore.

Afterward, it leaves you feeling soft and blurred around the edges, a watercolor painting drying under the sun while you wait for your rapid heartbeat to slow.

You don’t realize your eyes have fallen shut until they flutter open, and you’re startled to find Simon standing at the shoreline, his chest heaving as if he ran here. 

(Though he probably did to see if you took the opportunity to leave.)

You’re glued to your spot on the rock, suddenly struck with the mortifying realization that he’d seen you come—that he possibly heard you cry out his name so intimately.

You watch him remove his hat and hang it on a branch with wide eyes. Followed by his undershirt, guns, and—

He keeps removing clothes until he’s completely naked on the shore—aside from his face that stays hidden—scars marred his chest, spreading to his collarbones and below the water as he steps into the lake and sits on another ledge across from you.

His mask makes him look more menacing, erasing any trace of softness there. And you wonder if he’s angry at you for wandering off.

"Come here." His voice is low and deep, rumbling in his chest.

You don't think he'd hurt you. If he wanted to, he would have done it by now.

At least, that’s what you’re going with to settle the nervous fluttering in your middle.

Water laps at your arms as you wade through the water, each shaky step bringing you closer until you stop before him.

"In my lap."

Your breath sticks in your throat as you do as he says, settling down onto his sturdy thighs, palms falling flat against his broad chest. That same breath comes out in one large exhale as his fingers slide along your jaw, to the nape of your neck, curling into your hair, wet and falling around your shoulders.

“Like this?” you ask, trying to ignore how breathy you sound.

He grunts, apparently in confirmation.

You don’t think you’ve ever felt so conflicted in your life—fear and arousal turning into a messy cocktail in your veins.

“Why do I always have to use a heavy hand to make you listen?”

Your lips part. Breath growing short. “I’m sorry.”

And then—

Simon pulls your head back sharply, exposing your throat.

Your body goes slack against his. Mind blissfully blank.

“No,” he says, tone flat. “But you will be.”

[nadvs]

the act of unravelling (part one)

pairing rafe cameron x pogue! female reader

rating mature 18+

summary you never expected you’d get tangled up with a kook, least of all, rafe cameron. one night, you make a life-altering decision to get revenge on someone you both despise. after you vow to keep what happened a secret, your relationship begins to twist into something more.

tags very dark! violence, homicide, drug and alcohol use, parental neglect, mental illness, s/a, trauma. no smut.

author’s note thank you to this anon!! this fic deviates from canon. timeline is s2 when rafe is at his most unhinged.

» masterlist

disclaimer there is no explicit s/xual assault scene in this story, but it is referenced and the trauma that comes with surviving it is explored. it is committed by an original character. when writing this, i pulled from personal experience, so please be mindful that if you comment, do not engage in any victim-blaming as it is triggering to me and others.

·········

In a single harrowing moment, you’ve learned that there’s truth to the expression that the enemy of your enemy can be your friend.

Rafe looks all too comfortable holding a gun. The rage coursing through you is deafening, persuading you that the person he’s pointing it at deserves to die.

And then, you utter the words rising in your throat.

“Do it.”

╰┈➤ two days earlier

Your shifts at the country club are a repetitive motion of driving over the golf course’s hills, handing the island’s wealthiest people their overpriced drinks, and accepting their money with a fake smile.

The job was always a predictable bore. Until a week ago, when you started seeing a familiar face.

The moment Rafe’s eyes landed on you and he realized that one of the Pogues he revels in berating is the new cart girl, his lips twitched into a smirk.

Every time you see him, he does the same thing. He orders a beer and says here you go, sweetheart when he tips you.

It’s always a fifty. No other club member gives you nearly this much. It’s like he loves reminding you that this type of money is pocket change to him.

Every time you serve him, you subdue your glare and take the crisp bill that sits between his fingers, wondering why even though the man is an arrogant asshole, you can’t stop staring at him.

You feel weak for not hating him all the way. You can’t help that over the years of your tense, sporadic interactions, a part of you has always wondered if he feels the same pull of attraction that you do.

You have to remind yourself of who he is. A man committed to letting everyone know how much better he thinks he is because he was lucky enough to be born into money. He’s heartless. And you can’t wait for the day that you finally rid yourself of this fixation you have for him.

It’s a sunny Thursday afternoon at the end of a long shift and you’re parked by one of the paved pathways on the course, recording your last transaction in your logbook.

You hear the familiar whirring of a cart passing by. It stops. You don’t think much of it until you hear his voice.

“We’ll take two beers,” he calls from behind the steering wheel. You look up to see him. Rafe.

“I’m obviously off duty,” you reply curtly, looking between him and his friend.

“What, so you can write in your diary, but you can’t give us some drinks?” he calls.

“It’s a logbook,” you reply coldly. “It’s called having–”

You flatten your lips together, trying to control yourself.

“Having…?” he challenges. The mocking tone of his voice is what makes you snap.

“A job,” you reply. “Not everyone can live off of daddy’s money.”

Rafe huffs a laugh, a wisp of amusement flashing on his face.

“Careful, Pogue,” he says. “What’ll your boss say if he knows that’s how you’re talking to me?”

“I’m off the clock, Kook,” you say the label with the same vitriol. “I can talk however I want.”

You close your book and start up your cart before he can irritate you any more. Even though there’s something aggravatingly magnetic about him, you refuse to allow him to taunt you any longer.

·········

You meet up with your friends on the beach that evening, zoning out as the three of them chatter around you, passing a joint you brought.

You stare ahead at the soft waves under the setting sun, thinking of Rafe’s cold stare, thinking of the smirk he seems to always have etched on his face reserved especially for you, thinking of how you wish your body would catch up with your mind because how can you dislike somebody this much but also be so attracted to them?

“Who’s your plug?” JJ asks, seemingly impressed. He pulls you out of your daze as he passes you the joint. Smoke curls out of the end of it, twisting in the wind.

“That guy, Porter,” you say flatly. You take a puff, thinking back to the shaggy-haired Kook who approached you at a party on the north side of the island the other night, offering you half the price on your first buy.

He also tried to convince you to try something harder, but you told him you’re sticking to pot. You weren’t about to get hooked on coke, especially not because a drug-dealing Kook wants to take more of your money.

You continue to stare ahead, passing the joint along.

“What a trust fund kid name,” JJ laughs. “Fuckin’ Porter.”

Your friends chuckle around you, but you continue to stare ahead.

“Hard day at the office?” he says in response to your absentmindedness. You meet JJ’s gaze, shaking your head as if to dismiss your own thoughts.

“Rafe is such an asshole,” you say.

“What’d he do this time?” Pope asks. Your friends await your response, already well aware of your history with the bullshit you’ve ever had to deal with at work lately.

“He said something about ratting me out to my boss for talking back to him,” you reply. You scoff, getting mad all over again. You need to pull yourself out of this funk. “Whatever. All I do is complain about him. He’s not worth it. This is the last time you’ll ever hear me talk about him. I mean it.”

You make an effort to join in your friends’ conversations, feeling guilty that you’re so spaced out. With parents who never give you much attention at all, the guys surrounding you are your family. Your brothers. They deserve better than to hear you ramble on about Rafe.

Rafe’s eyes travel over the silhouettes sitting along the darkening shoreline when he arrives at the beach with his friends.

It’s the sound of his pick-up truck’s door shutting that gets your attention. You look over your shoulder. Then, you glance away, indifference on your face.

It pisses him off. Rafe has always craved what he can’t have. Power. Self-control. You. Every time he talks to you, you act like he’s such a bother, a sharp thorn in your side.

You get under his skin. And he’s never wanted a girl this bad. A goddamn Pogue of all people. Something about you lures him in. It makes him want to see what really lies behind the irritation that burns in your eyes every time he speaks to you.

He needs to crack your armor. And he has always loved a challenge.

As the beach populates, the division between the Kooks and the Pogues is clear, as if an invisible line is drawn in the sand. He stays on his side, you stay on yours.

When night falls, you and your friends have all smoked through the entire joint, and you’re a bit buzzed but not nearly as high as you’d like to be.

You spot Porter by the shoreline, drinking with his friends, and dust the sand off your knees when you stand up.

“I’m gonna go buy some more,” you say to your friends.

“Going into enemy territory?” JJ asks.

“It’s nothing new to me,” you laugh. “I work in enemy territory, remember?”

“You need company? Or cash?” John B asks.

“All good. My treat,” you say. “I’m loaded with tips.”

You don’t mention that a majority of the money in your pocket is from Rafe.

As you approach the boisterous group, you cross your arms and feign confidence. In reality, being around these types has always put you on edge.

Kooks give off a sense of invincibility, almost impunity, like predators at the top of the food chain, perpetually safe from harm and always on the brink of inflicting it.

You notice Rafe’s stare on you from his place in the large group and your stomach twists. Your eyes flit off of him and you wonder how it’s possible to wish someone would stay away but also so deeply crave they’d come closer.

Truthfully, within the tangled way he makes you feel, you’re kind of scared of Rafe, too. He’s reckless and unpredictable. And yet, that side of him excites you. There’s a complexity to him that has an inescapable effect on you.

“You holding?” you ask Porter once you approach him. He’s one of the few Kooks you don’t mind so much. He doesn’t have the cold air of arrogance that you’re so used to.

“It’s good shit, isn’t it?” he says with a smile. “How much you want?”

You leaf through the bills in your hand.

“Just a joint,” you say. The waves crash behind you, almost drowning your voice out. You make the exchange and push through the crowd, eager to get back to your friends.

You thought you managed to get away without any complications, but two words stop you.

“You lost?”

You turn to see Rafe, overwhelming heat rushing through you as he closes the distance between you, towering over you as the breeze brushes his hair over his forehead.

“What, ‘cause I’m on your side of the beach?” you mutter. “Grow up.”

Rafe smirks. He gets such a kick out of fucking with the Pogues. Especially you.

“Is that what you’re spending my tips on?” he asks, eyes darting down to the joint in your hand.

“Yeah,” you answer. “You can tell your father I say thanks.”

Rafe’s mouth curls into a bigger smile. When he looks at you like that, like he wants to be around you, you wonder if he secretly enjoys your company.

“How long you been buying from him?” Rafe asks.

“Why?” you say. The way you glare at him makes every muscle in his body tense. He’d be an idiot to deny how attracted he is to you. “You gonna tell my boss?”

“It was a fucking joke,” he mutters with a laugh. “You Pogues all have sticks up your asses, I swear.”

You grit your teeth. He’s clearly pleased when he riles you up like this. You don’t understand how somebody could be so spiteful.

“What do you want, Rafe?” you say.

Silence settles between you, the chattering of people on either side of the beach intertwined in the air, an overlap of worlds far apart. He reminds himself that he has something important to ask you.

“Did he offer you anything else?” he says. You’ve already heard the gossip about how Rafe’s selling coke now. He must want to offer you a better price.

“I’m not interested in whatever you’re selling,” you reply. Rafe scoffs, his tongue jutting under his cheek as he takes you in.

“I’d never sell to you.”

You huff a flat chuckle. You’re tired of his juvenile obsession with the class divide that sits between you.

“So, I’m good enough to serve you drinks, but not good enough to buy your drugs?”

You feel a sick sense of satisfaction when his face hardens with anger. For a second, you worry that you’re just as spiteful as he is, that you’re no better than him.

Rafe scoffs. He’s seen what coke does to people. To himself. He refuses to see it happen to you. But of course you expect the worst of him. Like everyone else does.

“Did he offer you anything else or not?” Rafe repeats with a note of irritation.

“Why?” you sputter.

“I need to know if he’s trying to steal from me.”

Rafe refuses to be in competition with anyone. Other Kooks can sell weed all they want, but coke is his territory, and if he has to claim his territory, so be it. He’s heard rumblings that Porter’s expanded his offerings now. And Rafe isn’t going to let him fuck him over.

“He did,” you finally answer. “Coke. He said it’s the purest on the island.”

He only nods tersely, lips twisting in frustration, before he turns around and storms away from you. So, that’s all he wanted from you. Information.

“You’re welcome,” you half-shout. Curiosity pulls you in as your eyes follow him into the crowd. Sure enough, Rafe pushes Porter to the ground, shouting indistinctly, earning jeers from the crowd.

It’s typical. Nearly every time you see Rafe out socially, he’s yelling and fighting someone. You walk back to your friends, hoping you can shake off the feeling he left you with.

·········

The only thing getting you through your shift the next day is that tomorrow is a holiday. The night of the Fourth of July is an escape from the stresses of your life, an excuse to get wasted with your friends under the fireworks and let yourself drift off into oblivion.

After you clock out, you’re pacing through the country club’s bar when you hear your name called from the patio. You look to see Porter sitting at a table with a couple of friends, his smile wide.

“Didn’t know you worked here,” he says when you approach.

“Yeah, I’m a server on the course,” you explain. You almost expect him to ignorantly ask for a drink, but have to remind yourself that he’s not like Rafe.

“How is it?”

“It’s fine.”

“Come on, we won’t tell,” Porter chuckles. “You hate it, don’t you?”

“Only sometimes,” you reply with a laugh. “Depends on the day. And on the person I’m dealing with.”

“Fair enough,” he says. He pulls out his phone, punching in the password. “I meant to tell you last night that you should have my number. You know, for when you need to stock up.”

You take his phone, cluing in that he’s making himself more accessible to you for the next time you need to buy from him. As you text yourself his name, one of the men at the table motions to Porter.

“Bro,” his friend says, gaze trained ahead. Porter looks past you to the bar and shakes his head in disbelief.

“Can’t escape him,” he sighs.

You follow his eyeline to spot Rafe at the bar with a friend, dark liquor sitting in the glass he’s holding.

“Not a fan?” you ask.

“Is anyone?” Porter laughs. “He’s a nutcase.”

“Don’t let him hear you,” his friend murmurs.

“Yeah, he’ll kill you,” the other guy laughs.

“I wouldn’t put it past him,” Porter replies.

Your eyes linger on Rafe a second longer than they need to. Your curiosity for why he’s the way he is is like a flame that won’t burn out. He has everything he could possibly want. Why is he so mean?

“Yeah,” is all you can say. You turn around again and give Porter his phone back.

“Oh, there’s a party at my beach house tomorrow night. My neighbor does this crazy fireworks thing every year,” he tells you. “I’ll text you the address.”

You nod appreciatively, glad that at least some of the rich people you deal with don’t buy into the idea that you’re beneath them.

·········

It’s nearing nine p.m. when you make it to the beach house the next night. The guys are rambling on behind you as you step inside the massive, humid house, filled with chattering people and loud music.

“Where are your car keys?” Pope asks.

“Right here,” JJ says, jingling them in front of his face. “Do I need to show you every five minutes?”

“I’ll just take them,” Pope says, grabbing them and stuffing them in his pocket. “You can’t be trusted.”

“It was one time,” JJ says. You laugh as you think of last weekend when he’d lost his car keys at a party in the Cut.

“Yeah, and we had to search the sand for, like half an hour,” you remind him.

“You know what I’m not hearing?” JJ says. “A thank you for driving all the time.”

“Remind me, who actually drove last time?” John B asks. “And who was hurling in the backseat?”

JJ scratches the back of his neck.

“I’m a man of honor,” he says. “I’m not not going to chug when I’m told to chug.” His eyes fix on something across the room. “Speaking of…”

He heads towards the keg and you and Pope share a disapproving shake of your heads. You follow your friends, grabbing a solo cup and sipping on beer.

A few minutes later, your phone buzzes with a text from Porter: You here? Want to buy?

You’ve already smoked through the joint you bought two nights ago and quickly reply: yes.

He texts: come upstairs.

“I’ll be right back,” you quickly tell your friends before you push through the crowd.

You duck under the string tied across the bottom of staircase, a sign that warns partygoers that it’s off limits hanging in the middle. One door is open in the upstairs hallway. You see Porter sitting on a bed, rolling a joint on a book that’s sitting in his lap.

“Hey. Got a fresh one for you,” he says.

“Thanks.” You dig into your pocket. “Same price?”

“Sure.” He cocks his head. “It’ll take a while. You can come in and chill.”

You sit at his desk close to the door, talking as he packs the thin white paper.

When he stands up, instead of giving the joint to you, he darts across the room abruptly. Your brows knit in confusion when he shuts the door, the loud music reduced to muffles now.

“What are you doing?” you ask, fear twisting your heart in a vise.

He must have read things wrong.

You assume he’ll stop when you tell him no.

He doesn’t.

·········

You fall to the hard floor. You grip the edge of the bed, hardly any light spilling into the room from the hallway as you blink rapidly to gain your bearings.

A loud slam was what woke you up. You don’t remember falling asleep. You don’t even know where you are.

Two shadowy figures stand on the other side of the room. One roughly pushes the other to the floor. You stay still, peeking over the bed. Your body is trembling with pain and you don’t know why.

“Do you think I’m joking?” a man spits.

You know that voice. It’s Rafe.

“Dude, relax,“ the man on the floor says.

You might be sick. It’s Porter on the floor, whimpering like an idiot. You remember why your body is aching now.

He hurt you. He hurt you and you retreated into your mind and you fell unconscious. A cold swirl of anger and disgust and sadness twists your stomach into a knot.

“I told you to stay out of my fucking way,” Rafe shouts. “Where’s your stash?”

“In the desk,” Porter says quietly. “Just take it. I’ll stick to selling weed, okay? You have my word.”

You watch from the floor, Rafe’s broad figure leaning to pull open drawers and shove items off the desk, objects clattering on the floor in the dark. They don’t know you’re here.

Consciousness slowly grips you. Rafe confronted him about selling coke. He told him to stop. And Porter didn’t listen.

Your eyes flood with hot tears. He didn’t listen to you, either.

You just want to leave. To get out of this horrifying room. To figure out how to put yourself back together after surviving one of the worst ways a person can break another.

Loud fireworks abruptly crack in the sky, startling you, shining light in through the window. And that’s when you see it. Porter is by the other side of the bed, still on the floor, and in his raised hand, something is gleaming.

A gun.

“Rafe!” Your throat is dry, sore from the way you’d screamed.

He suddenly turns towards you, confusedly finding your face across the room. Then, his gaze snaps down at Porter. He notices the gun. And he lunges.

You stand on shaky knees as you watch Rafe land vicious punches, every blow making Porter groan.

“Gonna pull a gun when my back is turned, pussy?” Rafe bellows. “Really?”

You round the bed, staring in horror, your mind still in fragmented shambles. You’d told Porter to stop so many times and every strike of Rafe’s knuckles against his jaw gives you a jolt of satisfaction, a desire for him to suffer more.

He was never a nice guy. He’s just like all of them. A predator.

Rafe scrambles to his feet, heavily breathing as fireworks continue their pops and sizzles over the beach.

The gun is in his hand now. His heart is thrumming, his blood boiling hot. He could’ve died. If you didn’t call his name, he could’ve lost his life.

Rafe’s steady and firm, holding the weapon still, a sharp contrast to how hard you’re shaking.

“Do it,” you say. Rafe’s eyes finds yours, his lips parted, blood splattered on his face. It’s not his. Porter didn’t land any punches. Rafe beat him that badly.

“What?” Porter cries. “Are you insane?”

He’s staring up at both of you through wide eyes as the barrel of the gun remains directed at him. You imagine how terrifying you must look to him, standing over him in the dim room with his pathetic life in your hands.

“Me?” you mutter. Hatred courses through your veins when you glare at him as he lies on his side, bloodied and weak.

The power has shifted into your hands. He was the one looking down at you earlier, hurting you. And now that your body is yours again, you don’t hesitate to kick him in the stomach.

He grunts when you make contact, his body curling forward.

Rafe watches, rendered speechless. He thought he’d seen you angry before. He hasn’t. This is new. This is pure rage. This is a level of wrath he didn’t know you were capable of.

Even through the darkness, Rafe can see that your eyes are shiny with tears when you turn your head to look at him again.

“What the fuck are you waiting for?” you snap, your words dripping with agony and rage. “If you don’t do it, I will.”

Rafe is powerless against the angry, malevolent instinct that’s guided him all his life. He doesn’t think.

The blow of the gun cuts through the air.

Your breath catches.

And he’s just a body. Lifeless on the floor. Gone.

You look up at Rafe. Your chests are heaving, broken and shaky breaths spilling out of your mouths. The colors lighting up the night sky tint your tear-streaked face. He’s never seen agony personified. He has now.

You glance down at Porter again. His mouth is agape. His eyes are shut. Forever. Forever.

“Oh, my God,” you whimper. Hot tears fall over your cheeks so quickly that you fear they’ll never stop. The adrenaline escapes you like water spinning down a drain, replaced with a bottomless dread.

Rafe realizes he’s still pointing the gun. He lowers his arm, his palm sweating against the grip. He had to do it. He had to. He didn’t know that taking a life would feel this good. He doesn’t feel a shred of regret or remorse. For once, he has real power.

But then he watches the way you sink down to the floor.

“What did we…” you whisper, words rushed. “What did we do? Rafe, what did we do?”

There’s a dead body next to you. Cold permeates your bones. You know it’s the type of chill that will never leave you.

Rafe kneels in front of you. The gun hits the floor with a heavy thump. The air smells like gunpowder, fried and smoking. He’s trying to meet your eyes, but your gaze is skittering around as you sit, crumpled and trembling.

“Hey,” he says clearly.

You’re staring at the ground, your breaths shallow.

“Hey,” he repeats louder. Finally, you look at him. “It was self-defense.”

You nod weakly, processing how within a second, you’ve tangled yourselves together into a knot that you can never unravel. Rafe pulled the trigger, but you told him to. And you’re sure you would’ve done it yourself if Rafe didn’t. You’re murderers.

Rafe’s hand is an inch away from you, almost putting it on yours, almost touching someone with tenderness instead of anger for once. You saved his life. You loathe him, but you saved his life, reacting in a split second.

“Why were you even up here?” he asks.

“Just be glad I was,” you say, hoping it’s enough to satisfy him.

“Yeah. Yeah,” he mumbles. “Thank you.”

If you weren’t so shellshocked, you’d laugh. You never expected Rafe to have manners, and you never expected that if he did, it’d be a show of gratitude for helping him kill somebody.

Nausea pools in your gut at the reminder of why you were so angry. Did Porter plan it? Did he always have his sights set on you, like a vulture circling the sky, ready to attack?

What happened earlier tonight flashes through your mind. He deserved to die. He did something unforgivable. He said things about how girls always do this, they always tease but never give it up.

You didn’t just save Rafe. You saved all the girls who were fated to cross that monster’s path. You pushed a soul to its death, but it was one not worthy of life.

Rafe stares at you as you blink rapidly, your mind clearly racing.

“He rip you off or something?” he asks, at a loss for why you’d encourage him to pull the trigger.

Of course Rafe thinks it’s about money. That’s all that matters to him.

“Yeah,” you lie, voice cracking. You can’t tell him. You can’t relive it. Especially with someone who you know is cold-blooded. Someone who might blame you for coming up to this bedroom in the first place.

Tease. Porter called you a tease while you pleaded for him to stop. You drop your head in your hands, chest stuttering with your breathy cries, remembering how he’d hurt you.

Rafe stares at you, confused, wondering how you could be so angry and vengeful and ruthless, just to regret it a second after the bullet left the chamber.

“We had to do it,” he states.

“I know,” you tell him. You wipe your cheeks with your palms, well aware that he could never understand why you’re really crying. “We’ll just tell the truth.”

He shakes his head at you.

“Tell who the truth?” Rafe mutters, his stare hard. “We’re not telling anybody.”

Your breath shakes. He wants to hide this. To try to get away with it.

“What if someone heard the gunshot?” you murmur.

“Everyone’s outside,” he says. “And those stupid fireworks are so fucking loud. Nobody could tell the difference.”

You wipe your face again, considering his words. Your phone is buzzing in your pocket. Someone’s calling you. Surely one of your friends. Why didn’t you just tell them where you were going? Why didn’t you just have one of them come upstairs with you?

Impatience quickly rises in Rafe while you stay silent.

“I almost knocked him out the other night,” he says. “In front of everyone. You think backing me up would be enough for anyone to believe I was protecting myself?”

You chew on your bottom lip anxiously. Rafe has a reputation for being violent. Porter put up a front that he was a nice guy. His friends even said right in front of you that Rafe would kill him. Who’d believe that Porter actually pointed a gun first?

Besides, if you vouched for him, who’s to say they’d trust you? They could spin it and say Rafe paid off a Pogue to lie for him.

“And then the cops would dig and find out it was over coke,” Rafe sputters. “It’d be a fucking mess. We’re not telling anybody.”

He’s right. Confessing wouldn’t do you any good, either. It could go sideways and you could never afford a good lawyer.

Nobody deserves to be punished for taking down the evil, lifeless man lying on the floor. Not you. Not even Rafe. You won’t take the risk.

You gaze into Rafe’s eyes, finding comfort in the striking blue hue for the first time, feeling a newfound sense of loyalty to him.

He gave you vengeance in a world that would never punish the man who hurt you. You’re in this together.

“Okay,” you whisper. “What do we do now?”

“We get rid of the body.”

next >

if you want notifications on when i post my fics, follow @xorafe-library and turn on notifications 💘

[tojipie]

welcome home <3

he’s unboxed ! who cheered. by far one of my most requested fics of all time. started this series 6 months ago and it remains one of my favs :,) this is by no means the end though ! i haven’t been writing any of the additions to this series in “order” and i am still 100% open to writing about his life inside/after prison lol. thank u to all the lovely ppl that have been showing love to these since april mwah mwah mwah mwah

as always, prison bf toji series linked here <3

content: (incarceration, fem reader, fluff, hurt/comfort, p in v smut, pining, road head, swallowing, creampie, dirty talk, multiple rounds)

“just step through here and—yep,” the guard waves his security want across your outstretched arms, clearing you to take your belongings from the conveyor belt.

you’d done this dance a hundred times over the past seven years, driving up to the district penitentiary twice a week to see your boyfriend—now fiancé.

toji told you he didn’t have it in him to wait, popping the question during a conjugal visit a month ago. 

the man had known he’d wanted to marry you even before he got locked up. the feeling was mutual, but unspoken, always hanging in the air between the two of you.

you on the other hand had known you wanted to marry toji the moment he whispered his first “i love you,” said to you through the crackly speaker of a burner phone on a night when neither of you knew if he’d be coming home or not.

you make a beeline for the release wing, breaking into a subtle jog without drawing too much attention to yourself. the bouquet of green flowers you’d bought at the grocery store jostles in your purse, leaving a breadcrumb trail of stray petals.

there, around a bend and down the corridor stands the man of your dreams, flanked by officers and personnel at the front desk. 

metal cuffs clack together as the man reaches to accept a clipboard from the release agent, skillfully uncapping the pen with his teeth to fill out the means for his freedom.

he looks up a split second before you speak, dropping the clipboard with an audible clatter. toji tears down the corridor with a look that speaks of relief beyond words.

“toji!” you yell, sprinting to the inmate with outstretched arms. you nearly trip over your own feet with how quick you barrel towards him.

warm bodies clash together at last, squeezing, cradling, and caressing every inch of each other at last. his law enforcement entourage watches from afar, some smiling, others annoyed.

you’re lifted clean off the ground as strong, tattooed arms slip over your head and around your body. thick fingers work their way into your hair, cradling your head to his shoulder. 

actions speak louder than words, you know that much from how quickly he buckles, dropping to his knees with your body still wrapped around his. 

toji smells different every time you come to visit. there were days when the tang of blood stuck to his skin no matter how hard he scrubbed, a telling sign of his short temper. 

other days he’d smell like the earth, soil from the rec field permeating his already brown garments after his morning run.

once in a while, you’d catch hints of industrial paint and car exhaust, a smell built up from hours of making license plates for pocket change from the state. “pennies,” he’d tell you, “that’s all we fucking get in here.”

today, toji smells like himself. like the man you fell in love with 7 years ago in the passenger seat of a BMW, gazing into green eyes while gentle hands brushed the hair from your face. 

you almost think he’s laughing until warm tears trickle through the porous fabric of your shirt. 

strong shoulders quiver as quiet sobs rack his body, you rub his back in small circles, unable to pull away with how tight he’s holding you against his chest.

“i love you,” the inmate whimpers, wiping hot tears with his sleeve. he pulls back to press your lips together, mumbling nonsense in between kisses.

“pretty girl—m’ sorry— missed you,” his hands shake as they curl into the fabric at your waist.

you’d seen him cry exactly twice in his life. the first being the night he’d opened up to you in full for the first time, quietly relaying stories of neglect and abuse from his childhood while you kissed tears from his cheeks.

the second was well, the day he went away.

to see him break down like this so openly was devastating. he hated being emotional, told you it was humiliating. you’re sure he felt more than vulnerable, the leader of the city’s biggest drug ring, crumpled on the floor of a prison hallway 

“it’s okay baby,” you tell him, still rubbing circles into his skin.

to touch him like this, at last, was unlike anything the two of you had been allowed to experience for the past 7 years. this wasn’t your two legally allowed hugs at the beginning and end of your visits, or a quick fuck in a storage closet.

this was love. to hold and be held in front of law enforcement personnel without threat of being reprimanded. this was the first time you had been allowed to feel him under the tips of your fingers with an audience, publicly declaring your claim on each other without fear. 

you never blamed toji for what had happened, as angry as you were that first year. he blamed himself enough for the both of you really. 

you’d come to learn over the years that it had already been too late for him to get out of his line of work way before you’d found each other, a cycle he couldn’t break.

prison was always a possibility, inevitable even. that’s just how it was.

you slowly gather your purse off the ground, cellophane-wrapped flowers coming into view. 

“for me?” he laughs, slightly embarrassed. dark green carnations, just like his eyes. 

“who else?” you tease, watching the distress melt from his face.

you share a look briefly, yours saying you’re safe with me. his saying i know.

the soft clicks of black work boots pull you from your thoughts, a female officer in tow.

“you guys ready to get started?” she asks softly, shooting you a sympathetic look.

toji stands with a chuckle, not letting you respond. silver cuffs dig into the meat of your thighs as you’re carried back to the group.

 ˚ ✧ ───────────

half an hour of paperwork for his freedom. that’s what you give the prison in exchange for his belongings and dignity. 

the waiting room is quiet, sterile air filtering through dated vents. calloused fingers rub over your ankle, legs propped up in his lap.

“feels like a hospital in here,” he mumbles, trying to cut through the silence.

the cuffs are gone, thank god. though you’re more than unhappy with the marks they left on his wrists. toji doesn’t seem to mind, used to almost a decade of this treatment.

the release desk worker slides you two a yellow bag under the glass divider once you finish your task, pointing you in the direction of the bathrooms in case toji wanted to change. 

the inmate—no, ex-inmate you remind yourself— hands you the bag with a disinterested look. 

he doesn’t want to remember, you realize. too scared to wear the suit he had on the day the world took you from him. you quickly trash the old clothes and hold out your shoulder bag to him, fresh clothes neatly folded inside. 

“always prepared huh?” toji smiles, grateful at the gesture. “haven’t changed a bit.”

you wait a couple of minutes outside the single-stall bathroom, physically picking your jaw up off the floor when he emerges.

to say that his old shirt fit would be... egregiously wrong. blasphemous even.

toji’s shirt doesn’t just “not fit”, it’s bursting at the seams as it struggles to accommodate his hulking form, stretching over plains of corded muscle like a rubber band pulled too tight. 

seeing him so often had likely gotten your brain used to the change, preventing you from realizing how fucking big your fiancé had gotten. truly.

the black garment is so tight against his body that it’s practically a second skin. you make note of the way it molds into the dips and curves of his abs, mentally reminding yourself to get him to wear it for you later. 

you suppose the change makes sense. if toji wasn’t with you on a day visit he was always in his cell, sticking to a strict workout regimen to take his mind off things. still, you rack your brain trying to pinpoint how and when such a massive transformation slipped your mind.

a tattooed hand snaps you out of your trance, cradling your cheek.

“you focused?” your fiancé teases, rubbing circles into your jaw with his thumb.

“i think that thing’s gonna explode if you move,” you swat his hand away. 

“would you rather i take it off to be safe?” he asks, jutting a thumb behind him at the waiting room desk.

the workers make no attempt to hide their oggling, faces pressed against the glass barrier separating your party from theirs.

“no— god keep it on,” you mutter, shooting them a nasty look.

“you and your girlfriend ready to go fushiguro?” an officer says, holding the door open for the both of you. toji squats down momentarily to get a grip on your thighs, folding you over his shoulder to carry you fireman style.

“wife,” he corrects, shouldering past the guard and trudging down the corridor with calculated steps.

the coos that ring out from the help desk are humiliating.

waxed tile fades into worn concrete as the two of you pass the threshold into the prison parking lot, your soon-to-be-husband muttering a curt “go fuck yourselves” to the officers who’d wished him good luck on his way out the door.

you’re proud of him for holding his tongue, in a way. knowing toji and his temper there were a hundred more creative and undoubtedly gruesome things he could have said to the personnel who’d kept him locked up for the better half of a decade. 

the world flips right side up again as you’re gently placed on your feet in front of the car. 

toji raises his head to the sky, basking in the warmth of the afternoon sun.

“s’ nice,” he mumbles, reaching to intertwine your hands. “felt the sun during rev time but.. not like this.”

you hum, rubbing your thumb over tattooed knuckles. 

“get ready to experience a lot more sun then,” you giggle. “wanna have a look at the car?” the question is more of a rhetorical one at this point considering he’s already running his hand over the hood with a whistle.

“haven’t seen this baby in a while,” he smiles, internally gushing at your choice to welcome him to the world in the car he used to drive you home the night you met. your fiancé doesn’t have to say thank you, you know how grateful he is from his smile alone.

he falters for a bit, looking like a newborn fawn with how careful his steps are as he circles the vehicle. you figure wearing proper shoes instead of rubber slides must feel at least a little abnormal after 7 long years. 

“alright,” toji states, rolling his shoulders in his too-tight top. “fuck are we waiting for, i wanna go home.”

 ˚ ✧ ───────────

you pay no mind to toji the first time he turns to look at you, opening his mouth to say something before slumping back into his seat with a frustrated sigh.

the fourth time it happens, you speak up.

“what are you doing?” you laugh, eyeing him from the driver's seat

“getting rubbed to death by my fucking zipper,” he mutters, repositioning his lower half to take the pressure off his cock. his frustration isn’t aimed at you in the slightest, all blame placed on his bottoms.

oh.. oh.

the whirlwind of emotions toji had gone through in the past 3 hours alone had taken a toll on his mind and body. but tasting the first morsels of freedom with you, alone in a car that smelled like you? you’d be worried if he wasn’t hard.

you had no problem helping his little problem go away, the question was how soon.

the idea that piques on you is absolutely shameful, you’re not even sure where it came from but you don’t have it in you to care. 

you know this road, you’ve used it a thousand times to make the trip up to the penitentiary. judging by how long you’d been driving you’d say there was about 10 minutes left before ruler-straight tar merged into the twists and turns of the suburbs.

“when did your license expire?” you ask, cautiously peering in the rearview mirror. good, no cars.

“3 years ago,” he laughs, “why?”

fuck it, you think.

“you still remember how to steer?” 

“course i d— oh.”

it finally dawns on him. you smile, shooting him a look that says “want to?”

you’re sure you have your answer judging by how quick he shucks his jeans and boxers down, freeing his cock from its confines.

“oh fuck,” he groans, struggling to keep his eyes open as your mouth presses against his base. 

your fiancé steers while your head bobs just beneath the dash, one hand on the wheel and the other placed firmly at the crown of your head, guiding you up and down the shaft.

your throat flexes around the intrusion, fighting the hulking feeling of his length mercilessly fucking into your mouth.

“fuck, perfect girl— my girl,” he shudders, hips moving to buck into your slick throat.

“gonna cum, gonna— shit,”

fingers kissed in dark ink massage your throat softly, urging you to swallow the hot load coating every inch of your mouth. you flutter around his length, pulling back to clean him off with your tongue.

“fucks gotten into you, pretty girl?” he whispers, so out of breath you barely hear him. 

 ˚ ✧ ───────────

you barely make it up the steps of the house before you’re shoved against the door, tattooed hands groping up and down your body with fervor.

“keys,” he says against your lips, “keys—fuck, now,” his voice is hoarser this time, desperation clear.

you whip around to jam the item into the lock, not unaware of the rock-hard dick grinding into your jean-clad ass from behind.

you’re being carried to the couch before you even step off the doormat, a stray throw blanket cushioning your fall as you’re pressed into squeaky leather. 

“won’t be gentle,” toji groans, ripping your jeans and panties down in one fluid motion.” can’t right now.”

“don’t be.” you say, rucking his shirt off his body surprisingly quick. “wouldn’t want you to.”

you needed him, needed toji to have his way with you. to christen your home round after round until you couldn’t feel where his body and yours ended.

when it came down to it, you suppose 

he smiles at the crude admission, rubbing the head of his cock up and down your drenched folds.

“filthy,” he mutters, said almost lovingly. toji grips his base and sinks to the hilt with a sharp groan, shuddering at the heat of your walls.

the stretch is delicious, filling you from every angle and pressing right against that special spot. you’re surprised at how easily he slams in, though you’re embarrassed to admit it was entirely because of how soaked you were. 

toji immediately pulls back with a flick of his hips, pistoning into you like his life depends on it. 

he hasn’t changed, you think. still so incredibly in tune with your body, skills that would put a pornstar to shame.

this was better than some quick closeted fuck under the cover of night after slipping a guard a rubber band of cash. this was primal, filthy. two bodies writhing against each other, the only goal being complete and utter pleasure. 

toji makes no effort to shush you like he would if you were sneaking around, basking in your sighs and whines like water from a stream.

“missed this,” he says, licking a long, wet stripe from your sternum to your pulse. “missed you, missed having you every day.”

“you’ll have me forever,” you moan, sucking a purple bruise into the tattooed skin of his throat.

thick fingers thread into your hair to hold you to his neck, silently commanding you to bite down.

and so you do. you bite down hard on the junction of his neck and shoulder, licking over pink teeth marks as his thrusts reach their maximum speed.

the pleasure you feel is blinding. stars explode behind your vision while the curve of his cock hits that heavenly spot in you just right. over, and over, and over.

your climax sneaks up on you before you can think, ripping a wail from the depths of your chest. toji’s thrusts falter to a halt as you lock down on him, pleasantly caught off guard by the vice grip you have around him.

“oh my g— holy shit,” he groans, mouth hanging open. dark brows furrow it to a look of pure pleasure, emerald eyes squeezing tight.

“keep going,” you mumble, scratching rivets down the skin of his back. “just keep fucking me please don’t stop please pl—”

“yeah? keep going?” he teases, groping at the swell of your breast. “greedy huh?”

you did want more, that was the thing. you just came the hardest you ever had in years but you’d be damned if he didn’t keep giving it to you.

brutal thrusts shake the frame of the couch. your bodies meld like they were made for each other, sharing pleasure in the comfort that came with the knowledge that the both of you intended to fuck until you physically couldn’t anymore.

“gonna come,” your fiancé pants, mouthing at the curve of one of your breasts. blunt teeth brush over the bud of your nipple, sending shockwaves down your spine

“inside, fuck—please,” you’re practically shaking.

“inside?” he repeats, the word rolling off his tongue like gold. “you want my seed? huh?” 

you nod, clutching to his naked back as he ruts into you, deeper than ever. strong hands grip the back of your thighs practically folding you in half, opening you up in ways you thought to be impossible.

hot release fills you up for the second time that day, shrouding your lower half in a blanket of warmth.

you sigh, low and satiated at the feeling inside of you, pulling toji to your chest when he collapses on top of you.

“we should probably..” toji trails off, completely out of breath. “should probably head upstairs.” he heaves, chest swelling with deep gulps of air.

“or we could go another round?” you mumble, throwing the question out there. 

“shit, yeah.. probably should right?” he chuckles

taglist ! 🏷️

@honeybee54321 @m150-50up @kuryoomi @t4naiis @serendippindots @sillyalo @levixbby @powerrwa @tojishugetiddies @wheredidmycrowngo @unknownspecies @ushygushybaby @ebiharachan @hoshigray @crazychaoticizzy @denypipa @watyousayin @tempest1art @sakuraryomen01 @kariito-art @vkeyy @mxtokko @inumakiiz @rosieee491 @loveme-b4by @suguxo @namjoonsbuspass @tojis-luver @complexivelovely @dancingwithdeities @sunflwrsugar @catvader101 @ktsgrl @princessos-blog @4ut0p5y @swiftsongs-mp3 @mycocoapuffs @adrenepinephrine @na0koz @suguscape @jaswonder3 @bokutosprettylittlebimbo @getousrep @jeannieboys @darkstarlight82

[artinvain]

in the midsts of hellfire (pt. 2) (pt 1 here) wc: 3.3k

cw: smut, angst, verryyyy toxic relationship (reader x vi), a little bit of smut.

pitfighter vi x reader, sevika x reader, vi x caitlyn.

in the first two weeks while you stayed with sevika you were quiet. you mostly stayed in bed crying or sleeping and you’d shared with her between bouts of crying pieces of your past with vi. you’d carried her for months on your back, like a giant cross to bear. and still, though that heavy weight has been ripped from you, you feel the phantom mass cracking your back. the wounds throbbing and the blood they drew burning your skin.

vi had moulded you into her caretaker, her saviour. if you needed to leave - vi was on her knees. if you stayed when she did not want you to, she made sure you knew you weren’t wanted. and still you cleaned her wounds, fed her, loved her. because when she was kind, her light shone on you and warmed your skin - it was like winter sun and you had become addicted - waiting for the next time she smiled. you were starting to believe you were made to take the pain. That like she said - love was pain. why not? you had been doing it so well with vi. 

when you started to talk to sevika - she only knew how to show you how wrong vi is. tracing your skin with love and ordering your steps away from unneeded apologies or fear of backlash. sevika started to show you how soft and joyful love is. knowing the truth about your relationship, sevika was filled with rage for days, she contemplated tearing through piltover and killing vi and anyone she was with. 

In your third week with her, you’d never been this calm during your relationship with vi. by the end of the month, you had recovered from your tearful and depressive state. your romance had stopped being about what you didn’t have with vi and all about this connection that has finally simmered past the surface. you started to see a councillor twice a week at sevika’s suggestion and she watched you bloom as you healed. you hadn’t spoken about what happened the night you came over and sevika didn’t feel like there was ever a right time to bring it up.

sevika didn’t mind, she would wait for years if she needed to. she didn’t believe she could love like this until she met you and now she knows love can never be any other way. with you her heart was true, she was known by you and she’d never been more comfortable truly being seen.

It was a week ago, after two months of basically living together that you’d made sevika dinner and welcomed her home to desert baking and her home smelling like you. she was filled with a warmth she hadn’t ever felt seeing you open the door for her, your skin dewy with the heat of the kitchen and a dopey smile on your face, the smell of weed lingering on you. you offered her a burning joint and lead her into the kitchen.

“and what’s all this for?” she chuckles as you sat her in a chair at the dinning table and poured her a glass of wine.

“I have been cleared for counselling twice a month,” you smiled nervously - “i know it’s not a big deal, but -” sevika stands and pulls you into a hug, whisking you around before setting you down and without thinking she swoops down to kiss you and sighing happily when you kiss her back.

“I’m so proud of you bunny,” she huffs, her eyes closed and her forehead pressed against yours. you reach up to cup her cheek.

“thank you for being so patient,” you smile and sevika rubs her nose against yours. “do you feel like yourself again?” sevika asks, her arms coming to wrap around your waist and pull you close. your hands settle on her strong arms and squeeze gently.

“more than i ever have,” you whisper, “and that’s why i know i’m ready. for this for us. If you still want me -”

sevika answers you with a fervent kiss, your hand cupping her head as she licks her way into your mouth. 

“i will always want you,” she proclaims, “you are mine and i am yours - i always have been,” sevika sighs and uses her strength to pull you up onto her waist, her mech arm holding you up while her other is gentle on the back of your head, guiding you to her mouth.

sevika takes her time kissing you but rushes to her bedroom to lay you down. “I want to show you,” she whispers between kisses to your neck, “how much i love you,” sevika moans, feeling you buck your hips up into her. she moans when you whimper as she pulls your silky night dress down and sucks your nipple into her mouth, her other hand coming to grope your tits, her rough fingers teasing your sensitive nipples. 

Sevika grinds her hips down onto yours and whines at the taste of your tits leaking into her mouth as she squeezes and teases your nipples. “please vika,” you gasp as her hands rip the dress from you and she’s burying her head between your thighs. kissing the insides of them and nuzzling your core - suckling on your clit through your panties and her hands come to hold your hips down so she can tease you. 

“fuck, need to feel your mouth on me, please,” you whine and your lover acquiesces, pulling your panties down and licking up your cunt, tasting you and making you shudder, her mouth finally taking your clit in and letting her tongue roll and lap against it as you moan. 

“you taste like heaven my sweet,” sevika groans, her fingers working lazily into your pussy as you whine and open your legs further for her. sevika takes a moment to watch your swollen cunt swallow her fingers, your wetness coating them - she’s entranced as she rubs your clit,

“fuck baby, your pussy’s drooling for me baby, for me yeah? all mine?” 

you nod and dig your hands into her hair, gripping and grinding onto her. “just for you,” you sigh and tighten around her fingers when she curls them into your gspot. 

sevika whines, looking over your face - eyes crewed shut and plump lips stretched in a moan “oh bunny, you’re so fucking beautiful,” she smiles and you cum, groaning and tightening your thighs around her head as your back arches. sevika replaces her fingers with her mouth, even though you’re overstimulated you’re hips are still moving against her face as she eats you, tasting your cum and moaning, licking into your hole for more.

“need to be inside you,” sev moans - her belly tighening with need. sevika kisses up your body, her hand rubbing and squeezing over your skin. “please,” you whine and she kisses your mouth and then stands at the edge of the bed. sevika quickly rids herself of anything that would stop her skin from touching yours and secures her strap and then clambers onto the bed between your legs.

sevika rubs lube over her cock and kisses your knees gently as she lifts your thighs to your chest. “I love you,” sevika groans as she pushes the tip of her cock inside you and your pussy pulls her in, you whine and grab for her thighs as she bucks into you. 

“I love you sevika,” you moan and sevika whines into your neck, falling between your legs and pulling your thigh up beside her.

“fuck, fuck you feel so good,” she moans fucking into you, her strap rubbing up against her clit as she grinds into you - your warm wet walls pulling her in with each thrust. “oh baby, please cum with me,” she groans her hand squeezing your ass roughly and pulling you into her. you buck your hips against her and you grab for her arms, scratching down her back.

“yeah, yes want your cum inside me, cum with me,” your eyes find sevika’s after a heated kiss and you whimper out, “i love you,”

she says with you, your orgasms crashing over you, your eyes hooded and still trained on sevika, her eyes full and wide with pleasure and love. you both sigh into each other, placing kisses on ever piece of skin available until she’s ready to pull out and get under the covers to pull you close.

 sevika kisses your forehead and brushes your hair from your face, pulling you into her body. “will you stay here? move in with me?” she asks quietly and you nod your head, turning to kiss her - “that depends,” you smile. 

“will you be my girlfriend?” you ask and she grins, leaning over you and reaching into her bedside table. sevika pulls a bracelet from it and lets you finger the bejewelled gold bracelet. you lean in to kiss sevika. 

“yes, i’ll be your girlfriend,” sevika blushes. “It would be my honour.”

***

In piltover, at the outskirts in a rural farm was cait’s hideout. they hadn’t spoken about you. cait had jumped her bones that first night and it was exactly like she imagined it would be. the shock and joy of finding her long lost fuelling her kisses and needy touches. but that night as she slept - she dreamt of you. the first night you two had met. 

It was summer, the night humid with a cool breeze drifting over vi’s sore skin. vi sat in a dingy bar, touching over her bandaged wounds just to make them hurt. and then as she turned to ask for another drink, there you were. 

you’d only just clocked in and vi had spent the entire night trying to get your attention. you were charismatic, you worked your crowd and earned your tips. making even vi laugh until your cheeks hurt and she could smile - she hadn’t smiled in months. 

vi follows you out on your smoke break and leans against the wall beside you. you chuckle at her cool demeanour and offer her a cigarette before she can work up the nerve to ask to bum one.

“you know i had a whole line planned,” vi scoffs as she take the light from you. you roll your eyes and take a sip of your beer. “and what were you going to say?” you ask leaning on your arm and turning to face her.

before she can answer an alarm sounds through the streets, glass smashing and a small group runs past the alley in masks, the smell of smoke following. 

In the silence vi answers “something about an angel - shouldn’t be smoking or whatever,” she mumbles.

zaun had fallen. silco had died and their nation was in peril. and still you were at work, here to get your ends meet and put on a show.

“In the midsts of this hellfire, i think i should be okay.”

vi couldn’t leave you alone. your will was strong but she wore you down. she started to wear you down in all ways. at first she was addicted to your attitude, your wit, your laugh - she loved the way you asserted yourself. but it was when you started to show how much you cared for her that vi got scared. she had come to you the evening of a particularly rough match. she doesn’t know why she came to you but all vi could think about when she went down in the ring was what you had said to her a few nights prior. 

“I could be a little reprieve,”

and you were. she’d spent so many nights, laying kisses between your thighs and hearing you whine, making your back arch as she flicked her tongue against your clit. she remembers the way your thighs tightened around hers when she rubbed her cunt against yours. 

but vi couldn’t shake that cold feeling at the back of her neck. everyone she had ever loved had died or run away and she didn’t think she could take it if you did the same thing. so she started to push - just a little bit at first. picking fights here and there - choosing to bicker when she knew she didn’t have to. and you stayed. and then she started saying mean things, pushing you and throwing things. It happened so quickly, every time you stayed she wondered if she had gone too far. she wanted to test if you would leave - a vicious cycle she’d overthought herself into.

and now you were gone, sevika had made sure of it. It didn’t take vi long to figure it was her who tipped cait off as to her whereabouts. vi could feel rage the heat of branding rod thinking about the two of you together. she could also be good - she just needed to show you, and it wasn’t as if sevika was a saint. did it not matter that she had taken part in ravaging zaun?

of course you had no idea about her father, vi hadn’t told you the truth about him, but she’d been trying to warn you - tell you the truth about sevika. but every letter she sent came back unopened and every line she had to you went cold.

“finn is the only leader in silco’s circle still alive,” cait says, vi looks down at the plan of the last drop. there was a tunnel there to every one of silco’s closest associates and they’d all turned up dead just days after silco did. “sevika is also still alive,” vi says, clearing her throat and tracing the tunnel to her house. 

“vi we spoke about this - she isn’t our priority. finn is the most likely to try and get the distribution of shimmer up and running again. he’s already gathered twenty men and women with children all willing to sign on. He’ll be trying to push shimmer worse than silco did,” cait says, she stretches her neck and finally vi looks at her. 

“how do you know it won’t be sevika?” vi asks and cait huffs, crossing her arms, “she’s - i don’t know - she hasn’t made any moves,” she replies. cait had already told vi that she was sure the tip had come from sevika. It was a sloppy cover-up and even though it wasn’t cait's fault she couldn’t bring herself to talk to her for a day. 

the silence that follows makes the electricity running through the house loud. “you act like i committed a crime for finding you, i thought you wanted me to find you,” caitlyn sighs and vi puts her hands in her head. 

“I’m sorry, it’s not your fault i just - it’s hard adjusting to being back to this - to this fight,” vi sighs and feels cait rub her shoulders. “maybe we should take a day off - just get back to me and you,” she whispers in vi’s ear and rubs over her chest, curling her arms around vi’s neck. Vi nods and smiles politely, pressing a kiss to cait’s temple.

***

There’s a cool breeze drifting into sevika’s bedroom, cooling your heated skin and making your nipples perk up, and you shift into sevika’s waiting arms. she often can’t sleep, it’s been better having you in her bed but, there are some nights where she stays on high alert.

It’s probably residual stress from work. a part of her worries someone will take her from you as she sleeps. or break into the house and try to hurt you. she knows people in her old circle are upset with her because she’s been keeping a tight rein on shimmer production, and their pockets were slowly emptying. just the other day finn had cornered her with some of his new goons. she’d escaped with only one flesh wound but still - their audacity to attack her in public showed a deep upset - a wrath coming she feared she would boil over onto you.

sevika set up a protection order for you - of course you had no idea, she didn’t want to scare you. but in order to protect you sevika had to know the names of anyone who even gleaned your way. and it turned out to be more handy than necessary. there had been several reports to her about vi trying to contact you. letters and whispers she’d intercepted and snuffed out, vi didn’t deserve any part of you and a part of sevika knew she didn’t have the right to control your life in any way but she just wants to protect you.

her phone lights up on her bedside table, a vibration starting and she answers before it can ring a second time.

“what?” she spits into the phone as she leans back in bed. “kiramman’s at the drop looking around,” a gruff voice answers.

“get them out,” sevika answers and drops the call. sevika bites her lip, squinting into the dark of her bedroom. she needs to seal her tunnel off, it would take them more than one scope to find hers. what the fuck were they snooping around for? what more trouble could she possibly want? 

sevika is so sick of their righteous bullshit and her vi’s self-entitled claim over zaun. as if xander hadn't given up his throne by choice years ago. she shakes her head. she has more important things to worry about - the shelter was broken into and the rations of shimmer for the patients weening off were stolen, and three hospitals had been raided. when her phone rings again she’s ready to tear someone’s head off but then ran speaks. 

“how are you?” ran asks and sevika sighs. “tired,” she replies.

“mhh,” ran breathes at the end of the line.

it’s quiet for a bit before they speak. 

“look we’re on the shelter and the hospitals.” ran says  “we all think you should take some time off - you’re not yourself. after silco-”

“I agree,” sevika interrupts and chuckles, “don’t waste a speech. I’ll take some time off,” sevika looks down at you. she needs to get you away somewhere safe.

“okay, good. Goodnight,” ran says smiling and hangs up.

sevika looks over you, a small smile coming to her face until -

“vi please -” you whimper as you sleep, your face turned into her pillows, sevika watches your fists clench around the blankets and your eyes screw shut, “it hurts,” you groan. although you were better - there were nights where you were overridden with anxiety as you mind circles the old pain.

sevika pulls you into her chest and kisses your face, gently and then your cheeks and then your eyelids as they flutter open. 

“bad dream?” sevika asks and you nod, stretching your leg over her lap and humming into her neck. 

“why don’t we go away for a bit, just you and me?” sevika asks and you’re more awake with the question, looking up at her. “are you sure?” you ask and touch her cheek. sevika smiles down at you coming to kiss your mouth. 

“yes, now will you help me relax?” she asks and you squint at her - “how?” you yawn and sevika rolls you onto your back, kissing down your cami and kissing your clit through your panties.

“my god - you’re insatiable,” you laugh as sev hums against your thighs.

“have you seen yourself?” sevika smiles and pulls your panites to the side to lick your pussy and suck your clit into her mouth. Sevika’s shoulders relax as you start to moan and she licks into your hole gathering your wetness and groaning at the taste. 

“god,” you whine and sevika holds your hips down, her copper arm rest over your belly as her fingers slowly sink in, your pussy so sensitive from the way she fucked you just a few hours ago. 

“fuck, you’re still so wet,” she moans as you whimper at the stretch of her fingers. 

“god, this pussy’s made for me,” she grunts, “my pretty fucking girl,” she smiles against your thigh, 

“gotta make sure my doll’s taken care of,” she groans, letting you tighten your legs around her head. 

“cum for me baby,” she whispers and you do, your orgasm overtaking you as you shake and whine. sevika sucks her fingers clean and gathers you into her arms and finally, she is able to sleep.

✨🏷️ usual sev tags @archangeldyke-all @sexysapphicshopowner @sevsbaby @iamaboringrattat @lavendersgirl @opropheticsoul @ariariarr @femme-historian @maneskinwh0re

imohf tags @lia-winther @pendejalian @abbysunderwear @nanathecannibal

[wasitforrevenge]

oh sweetheart

pairing: boxer! ellie williams x f reader au

word count: 1.9k

rating: 18+

warnings: boxer!ellie, drinking, smoking, cursing, creepy guy but ellie comes to ur defense!! ellie has lots of tattoos, fighting, threats, idk if im missing anything (no character description or anything specific)

summary: you didn't expect to meet her on this night out.

authors notes: hi friends! this is my first time writing and posting on here hopefully you enjoy, please reblog, like or follow! lets be mutuals :) anyways feedback and constructive criticism is always welcome and appreciated! ellie williams has me on my hands and knees!!! i hope you enjoy! i like the idea of making this a series if it works out and ppl like it, so pls let m know!! thank you :)

PART 1 | part 2

series masterlist <3

from the river to the sea, palestine will be free 🇵🇸

READ: this account stands with palestine, and so— i require everyone who interacts to educate themselves, and support/donate. READ THESE; 1 and 2, HELP HERE, BOYCOTT. silence is complicity, do not scroll past this.

DO NOT BUY THE REMASTER, TLOU2, TLOU1, OR ANY GAME FROM NAUGHTY DOG! neil druckmann (the creator) is a zionist. PLEASE READ THIS. AND REBLOG THIS.

loud. everything is loud. the smell of sweat and blood stains the air around you. the sounds of people cheering and shouting towards the center of the large room. the lights are buzzing above you as you are walking into the entrance of the shitty run down gym your brother, jesse, and his girlfriend, dina, ended up dragging you to tonight.

you didn't mind coming along with him but this wasn't what you expected to be doing tonight. after a long shitty week of unpacking your new apartment, you kinda just wanted to end up a hole in the wall bar and drink your stress away but he had other plans. which including watching grown men beat the shit of each other for their cut at the end of the night.

it was intimidating, walking through the crowds of people you didn't know until you finally make it to where his friends were waiting for you guys. they were sitting at a table with a clear shot of the fight which was surprising since the whole place seemed to have more people in it then it could fit. you make your way awkwardly to the empty seats saying a gentle "hello guys" to your brothers friends who you didn't knowl. you sat next to dina as jesse made his way to the bar with your drink orders.

after you graduated highschool, you moved to new york and spend 4 years there working in a small cafe you lived above but now at the start of the summer, still not sure what you should be doing with your life. now you're 22 and you've moved to the city of jackson to be closer to your older brother and his girlfriend. you were excited to start fresh in a place where no one knew you yet, you were ready to leave your old life and those toxic things in the past. but you wondered if it was even possible.

you spend the next hour talking with dina and catching up on the things that have happened since you moved, "have you started looking for jobs yet?" she asked as you both sipped on the second drink of the night that jesse went and brought back a bit ago. you've only met a couple times in person since they started dating about 2 years ago but you loved her, she was making this night a lot better. "not much luck yet, i don't know what to do, luckily i have some time to figure something out." you responded. she went to say something but then the loud speakers around the room started blaring music and the countdown to the match that was about to start.

jesse tapped dinas shoulder to go watch with the rest of them. dinas eyes met yours and asked, "are you coming up?" you started getting nervous as the people started getting louder and crowding towards the center ring and told her that you'll stay here and watch. they both nodded and said they'd be back when it was over.

you took this opportunity to finally go get some fresh air since the crowd isn't all over anymore and it was a straight shot to the door you came in, you walked over to the side of the building, definitely feeling the drinks you had, you let your back rest against the concrete wall, finally cooling you down on this hot summer night. there's people standing outside talking but they payed no attention to you. you stayed against the wall as you pull out the cigarette pack from the pocket of your thin dark green jacket and the lighter out of your back pocket in your jean shorts. you cursed yourself for not buying more but its a bad habit and you know it. you pulled one out and put it in your lips as you brought the lighter up and took a drag, finally letting the anxiety go as you stared off into the sky.

"excuse me miss, you shouldn't be out here alone, a beautiful girl like you," a man with a rough voice said but you didn't move to look, suddenly wishing you never left your apartment to begin with, "hello i'm talking to you, its not nice to ignore people, ya know," he slurred his words as he spoke. you turned your head as you went to tell him to leave you alone but instead, he was standing in front of you before you knew it you dropped your smoke and now he's practically cornered you.

he was so close you could smell the alcohol on his breathe as he spoke again, "now are you gonna talk to-" you leaned away from him as he was interrupted by the sound of a door opening a few feet away, he looked towards it but then turned back to you just as quick, almost touching you as he went to speak again but he was beat to it.

"get off her." you didn't even realize the door had opened until you heard her.

the man looked back towards the door to the figure in the light, he squinted and when he got a good look, he suddenly backed off and put his hands up. "hey hey i wasn't doing nothin- it was nothing!" he shouted back to whoever was next to the still open door, light shining into the alley.

the door slams and the light fades as the figure walks closer towards you and your eyes meet the deep green eyes of the person who just saved you as she turned to the man who was just cornering you against the wall.

"it doesn't look like nothing, i mean, really? you're fucking joking right?" she questioned him as she looked him right in the eyes.

"i said it was nothing- she was flirting with me and-" he was cut off as she laughed loudly. "yeah you're full of shit, get the fuck out of here and don't let me see you again or you'll regret it." she said as she stepped closer towards him, almost at the same height, he looked scared of her. "okay, okay- fuck 'm leaving!" he slurred one last time as he turned around and headed the opposite way of the run down gym.

you stood there as the interaction happened, not sure what to do or say yet, you were silent as he walked off, and those green eyes met yours again and you saw her lips moving as she was speaking but you caught nothing she said. "hey, you okay there?" she asked you as she went to stand in front of you, looking you up and down, checking if you're psychically okay while she gave you a second to process before she asked you again.

"hey sweetheart, you okay?" she asked and grabbed your arm, not in a way that the man would have but like she was actually making sure you were okay, and this time you finally heard her.

"h- yes im okay, just- fuck- yes thank you." you said finally getting a good look at her now that she's up close and touching you. her eyes were greener than you thought, her short auburn hair with some pulled back into a bun, the big moth tattoo wrapped around her right forearm that was still holding onto yours, other tattoos littered her arms and some poking out under her t-shirt she was wearing. she was so close to you and it sent butterflies through your body. now is not the time, you thought to yourself.

"are you sure- 'm sorry that happened, fuck him." she said roughly, not towards you but him.

"its okay, thank- thank you for helping me" you said gently to the girl who was still looking into your eyes. you had been so focused on hers that you didn't even see the tiny scars, small healing cuts and the bruises that were fading until you looked over her face again.

"yeah of course, are you here alone?" she asked you curiously still holding on to you, you weren't even phased by it. you told her you were here with your brother and she nodded her head towards the door, "lets get you back to him before anything else happens sweetheart" she said as she guided you to the door, hand on your back, as you swallowed and went first.

suddenly all the sounds that you had not realized you had been blocking begin again, smells of the sweaty bodies surround you again and you felt too hot, either because of her or the summer heat trapped in here. once you made it inside, she moved her hand off the small of your back and told her to go find your brother and to get home safe. when she walked away, you realized you didn't even know her name.

you saw dina, sitting along with a few of jesses friends and made your way over to her. the match must've ended while you were outside. you walked through the gym to sit back down, moving carefully to avoid touching anyone. once you made it to the table, dina wondered where you had ran off too. "oh just went out to get some fresh air," you said back to her smiling, not wanting her to worry. she told you jesse went to get more drinks and after the encounter outside, you needed it.

jesse came back a few moments later, holding a round of shots for you three. "here you ladies go," he spoke with a happy look on his face. you smiled slightly back and took the glass as dina laughed at him. you took the shot, trying to forget what happened outside with the man but not what happened with her. you wondered if you would see her again. is she here to watch? could she work at the bar? is she here with friends too? your thoughts were interrupted by an announcement over the speaks that the final match was gonna start soon.

dina and jesse were telling you, "its the last one tonight and the last ones are always the best so lets go!" you would rather sit and order another drink, but what if something else happened cause you were alone? so reluctantly you got up with them and got closer to the middle ring, you heard the loud speakers announcing the boxers as they entered the ring. you weren't even paying attention, nothing could stop your mind racing with thoughts about the girl outside.

you shake yourself out of the trance when dina reaches over to you to touch your hands that were shaking but you didn't even realize, you look to her and give her smile that she returns, then she looks back to the ring and you turn your head to follow her eyes to the center. and your breathe caught.

thats her.

thats the girl who saved you outside.

the girl with her hands wrapped in tape and the mouthguard in.

the girl who wondered if she'd ever see you again either, not that you knew that, but she hoped it wasn't the last time.

you wondered what she thought as you both stared back at each other. you heard the coach start the countdown. you just watched her.

...5

...4

...3

...2

as the buzzer started, she smiled directly at you then turned to throw the first punch.

[ghstzzn]

heat ⎯ jay park

pairing: jay park x fem!reader

genre: SMUT! MDNI! bodyguard!jay x rich girl!reader

warnings/tags: smut, bratty reader, mean dom jay, oral (m!rec), brat tamer jay, fingering, rough sex, orgasm denial, spanking, degradation, safeword (not used!), name calling (slut, dumb, whore etc.), pull out method, unprotected sex, masterbation, lots of mean dirty talk!, hair pulling, more tba... might've missed some.

💭: um… hey.. this was supposed to come out a week ago but i kept rewriting the smut part and tbh idk if im completely happy with it. but! here!!!! jay!!! ilysm im so sorry heres 4.7k words to make up for it!!! <3

you had yet to get used to your new routine, which consisted of waking up and getting followed almost every second of the day by your incredibly annoying (-ly sexy) bodyguard. you’ll never forget the morning you opened your bedroom door only to be greeted by a stone cold man who introduced himself as your babysitter.

it was a long week of constant fights with your parents before you realized nothing was going to change and this was how things were going to be from now on. your parents claimed you were too free and careless, and as the face of their multi-millionaire company, they just couldn’t have that. 

your bodyguard, park jonseong– though you’ve learnt he goes by jay on the job (you were to address him as mr. park), intrigued you to no end. You were warned by your parents not to act stupid and spoiled around him, but you really couldn’t help it. mr. park is just so easy to piss off. 

currently, you stood in front of the fashion center, bodyguard at your side as you waited for two of your friends to arrive. you had a long day of pushing your credit card to it’s limit and you couldn’t help but to be frustrated with the man who stood barely a foot away. you hadn’t gotten the chance to have actual free time to yourself since obtaining the bodyguard, mostly just attending company meetings and dinners with him there. nobody other than your family and employees had actually met the man face to face.

you texted your friends beforehand, sending your apologies for jay’s presence on your girls day out, but they were honestly focused on seeing the hot bodyguard that you mentioned in person. 

there is no denying just how attractive jay is. you do wonder how he came about in the job field, maybe the pay was just that good or it was a family business. but it didn’t matter, he had a face sculpted by the gods and if you didn’t hold a small petty hatred for the man, you would’ve recommended him to every single one of the modeling labels you had connections with.

“do you seriously have to be here?” you ask him, tapping away at your phone.

jay straightens his posture, face flattening at your question, “it is my duty to pro-”

you cut him off with a scoff, shoving your phone in the small purse at your side. he repeated that line anytime you complained to his face and you were quite fed up with it. “you have to watch over me and be by my side during every second of the day even when i need to piss– yes i know.” you mock his words. “but this is a mall! i’ll be with my friends, so can’t you just go and busy yourself for a few hours?”

“these are orders from your father, y/n.” he replies dryly, “i am not to leave your side. you do realize this is because of how you act when you’re away from your parents, right? if anything, this is your fault.”

you roll your eyes. jay was correct and you knew that, this was in fact your fault. if you hadn’t gotten caught and almost cost your parents a massive scandal, you wouldn’t have jay next to you at this moment. 

“this is also for your safety.”

“i don’t need you to protect me.”

jay clicks his tongue at your response, “no, but you do need to be babysat. don’t you?”

you’re ready to protest until you catch your friends walking up in the corner of your eyes. you shoot a glare at your bodyguard before slapping on a wide smile and squealing as you jog up to your friends. 

-

it’s not that jay isn’t used to walking or standing for long periods at a time, it was the fact that you took every chance to throw a shady comment his way or purposely stepping into every single store you saw even if you and your friends weren’t even interested. why did you feel the need to window shop in a store that only sold bathtubs and showers? you literally had a freshly renovated bathroom– everyone knew this. but you couldn’t help the feeling of victory when jay let out a sigh that went unnoticed by everyone except you.

jay checked the time on his watch for the nth time as you stood in front of a washer and dryer set in yet another furniture shop, talking about the great deal they were having. it didn’t matter, you were born with millions stuffed into your pocket and someone who did your laundry for you. he almost let out a victorious shout when you finally concluded you were done shopping for the day.

“wait! look at that dress.” you suddenly stop, everyone turns their gaze towards the window of the shop. “we have to go in there.”

no one could say anything before you were skipping off into the store. honestly, your friends couldn’t care less either because they dispersed as soon as the three of you entered the department store. jay watched as you asked the staff to try on the dress you had pointed out, a genuine smile painted your face while a frustrated frown made it’s way to his. yet he continued to follow you to the back of the store, taking the smaller shopping bags from your hands that you didn’t make him carry.

jay sat outside the dressing room for one minute, that one minute turned into three which soon turned into five. he lightly knocked on the door before calling out your name.

“is everything okay?”

he could hear shuffling inside the dressing room before the door clicked and opened. you stuck your head out and quickly looked around the store. “have you seen the girls?” jay also glances around the store, shaking his head no. 

“can you find them for me?” you ask him softly, he only stares at you with the answer painted on his face. you let out a frustrated sigh. “if you won’t then you’re going to have to lace up this dress for me.”

you had hoped that would be enough to send him looking for your friends, yet he stayed planted right in front of the dressing room door. you stare at him for a moment before opening the door wider and turning around, exposing your back to him in the undone dress. 

jay didn't waste a second, immediately grabbing the silk strings of the dress and lacing them through the fabric. you were about to express how shocked you were with his swift movements and skill before he backed away from you. 

you did a spin in the mirror, studying the dress that hugged your form perfectly. a smile breaks out across your face when you lift your gaze to meet your bodyguard, who was still staring at your backside. 

“do you have a girlfriend or something, mr. park?”

jay clears his throat before stepping further back, “i do not.”

his response doesn’t shock you as much. as attractive as he was, he was stuck at your side almost all day throughout the week. his schedule and job would suck for his hypothetical partner. “you wanna tell me where you learned to tie up a dress like this within thirty seconds?”

you continue to stare at him in the mirror, waiting for his response. 

“it’s not that hard.”

“no way,” you let out a laugh. “god, you totally got around before this job– am i right?”

jay doesn’t respond, he only averts his gaze from yours. 

“park jongseong, your silence is telling me you were a total whore before you became my babysitter.”

he lets out a scoff at your vulgar language, “that really wasn’t appropriate.”

“you know how to lace up a stupid satin corset. not to mention the perfect bow you tied the ends in– most men don’t even know how to tie a ribbon!” you continue. “less than thirty seconds too… you beat the clock. is this what you did for the girls you fucked?”

“watch your language here.”

you roll your eyes, “we are the same age. i don’t even know why i have to call you mr. park, you literally work for me.”

“i work for your father,” he responds, “and i’m older than you, show some respect.”

you cross your arms, mentally cursing him in your mind. his last comment rubbed you the wrong way and you were ready to start a useless one-sided argument with him. “respect? to you?”

“yes, to me. because i’m the one who has to hold your hand every second of the day because you act like a brat who’s had no parental guidance in her life every time you step into a public setting.” 

“my father pays you to be here– you work for us. so if anything–” 

“you don’t have any say in your daddys company yet, so again, you respect me.” he cuts you off with a sharp tone. “quit acting like a damn brat and– what the fuck are you doing?”

the dress you had tried on was currently unlaced and on its way off your body. a smirk made its way on your face when you caught jay’s irritated expression that was definitely laced with something more. his lash out gave you excitement and you knew you were pushing him to the edge.

jay shakes his head, backing away and slamming the dressing room door and holding it shut with his hands. this day was driving him insane and pushing him to a point that he’s never gotten to while on other jobs. you were a spoiled fucking brat and he was beyond fed up with your constant snarky remarks and attitude.

you fought with him every chance you could, half the comments you made had no points to them and he knew you were doing it to piss him off. jay didn’t know if your goal was to get him to quit or make his life a living hell with your insufferable personality, but he was sure of one thing– you did it for his reactions.

he did his best on holding back and not giving you what you wanted, but it has gotten to the point where he almost feels the need to step up and put you in your place. unfortunately, this could cost him his job so he knew he needed to hold back. your parents were aware of your shitty attitude so jay knew you wouldn’t make them bat their eyelids twice with your complaints about him. 

you push against the door a few times muttering that you were done changing. jay lets go of the door, letting you out. you stood in front of him with the dress in your hands and a heated expression. he simply grabs all the shopping bags and heads towards the checkout counter. 

after making your final purchase of the day, you parted ways with your friends after a few dramatic farewells and sat in the passenger seat of the car as you waited on Jay to finish up a phone call– most likely updating your father on your whereabouts. 

jay slides into the driver's seat,”your parents won't be home for another few days due to an emergency meeting with a partnership.”

you reply with an uncaring nod, leaning back in your seat and gazing out of the window. jay backs out of the spot and eventually you both head towards your home.

-

jays scoff cuts through the soft music playing in the car forcing you to look up from your phone, realizing the reason for his scoff. cars were at a full stop on the freeway and you couldn’t even see where it ended. 

you lean back further in your seat, slipping your shoes off and resting your feet on the dashboard, “can’t you take a different route?”

“this is the fastest route.” 

“that’s not what i asked; i asked if there’s a different route you could take.” you respond with know it all tone.

“if there was another route then i’d be taking it, smartass.” jay glances at your bare legs. he tries his hardest to not let his gaze linger on your skirt that was pushed at your upper thighs due to the position. “put your feet down.”

“why?” you know why. he knows you know why. 

“it’s dangerous.”

“but we aren’t moving..? plus, i’m comfortable.”

you were so close. so incredibly close.

“it doesn’t matter if you’re comfortable, put your feet down– it’s not safe and i will not drive you anywhere else unless you move them right now.”

so close.

you roll your eyes and slip your feet back into your shoes. jay lets out a tired sigh. the traffic was barely moving and you were being difficult once more, except this time you were both trapped on the road. you really picked the perfect opportunities to piss him off.

jay lets out yet another sigh when he notices you moving around. 

“what?” he asks as you slide the top part of the seat belt behind your head and off of your chest. “put that back on, please.”

“but why?” 

“do i really need to explain to you why wearing your seat belt correctly in a moving vehicle is necessary or are you going to be a big girl and put it back on?” 

“we aren’t moving, jay.” you whine out. “i’ll be fine! i will put it back when we actually start moving above five miles per hour.”

jay runs his hand through his hair as the other one grips the steering wheel. “wear it correctly.”

“make me.”

he tried. he really did. jay mentally apologizes to your father before turning to you with an angry expression. “wear the fucking seat belt correctly or i will make you– and i promise you will not like it.”

you bite back the growing smirk and continue to stare at him. you did it.

jay gives himself three seconds before turning his body towards you, he reaches over and grabs the top part and pulls it over your body and tugging it tightly. you muffle your laugh, which was your last mistake. he grabs your chin roughly, forcing you to look at him.

“keep acting like a god damn brat.” he spits. “keep it up.”

you don’t respond to him as you were trying your hardest to calm your pounding heart and ignoring the ever growing need in your core.

“i’ve had it up to hear with your shitty attitude all week– you pushed it today and it will not go unnoticed.” he continues, pulling your face closer to his spot in the driver's seat. “keep up this behavior and i’ll show you exactly what happens to spoiled fucking brats like you. do you understand me?”

you really fucking did it. you pushed stone cold jay park to his limits and it made your cunt ache deliciously. jay catches the way your thighs rub together not so subtly, and it pisses him off.

“you wanted this reaction, right?” he utters in a low voice. “you did all of this just to get a fucking reaction out of me, huh? answer me, brat.”

you try your hardest to nod with the tight grip he holds on your jaw. 

“you got it, does that make you happy?” 

you don’t hesitate before nodding again. 

“yeah? make that pathetic cunt of yours drip?”

you don’t get a chance to respond when the car behind yours starts to honk. jay groans and lets go of you, returning his attention back to the road. you remain still, somewhat in shock with his choice of words.

“fuck it.” he grunts out before suddenly turning the wheel sharply and slamming on the accelerator. jay quickly pulls into an exit lane next to you and speeds off.

“i thought there wasn’t another route.” you mutter, holding the side of the door tightly.

“keep that fucking mouth shut.”

oh, you were in for it.

-

before you could even process it, you were getting yanked inside the house by your wrist, loads of shopping bags forgotten in the car. 

your heels clack against the marble floors as jay pulls you through the house, though he was tempted to fuck you against the front door. he stops you once you both reach the living room.

“name a color.”

“what?” you reply, visibly confused. why was he suddenly talking about colors?

jay scoffs, “just give me a color.”

you think for a moment before responding with purple.

“that’s your safeword tonight– do not forget it.”

oh. oh. you fucked up. jay lets out a pleased hum before spinning you around and bending you over the back of your family couch. your eyes widen and you grab onto the cushions, turning your head to look at him as he stands behind you.

“what are yo-” you were cut up by your own yelp when jay lifts your skirt and lands a harsh slap to your ass. 

“didn’t i say to keep that mouth shut?” he spits. “you speak when i tell you to.”

“i’m s-” another smack. 

“you can’t be this stupid.” jay rubs his hand against your bare ass, his fingers sliding under the thin lace of your panties teasingly. he lets out a mocking chuckle when his fingers graze over the wetness oozing out of your cunt. “getting a rise out of me really does get you wet. tell me what your goal was.”

when you don’t respond, jay simply lays another smack on your skin, causing you to jolt on top of the couch. 

“you really are a spoiled brat. i said, tell me what you wanted the most out of today.”

“just… just wanted you.” you mumble, which was the wrong answer because jay smacks your ass again. the skin started to burn as well as your knees from being bent over the uncomfortable couch for this long.

“what was that?” his tone is more demanding than taunting now. you take a deep breath, any shame or embarrassment you had disappeared with each smack to your ass.

“w-wanted to piss you off,” you shakily let out. “wanted you to fuck me, jay.”

jay smirks from behind you, “wanted me to fuck you?”

you nod your head and let out a yes that came out more like a whimper than anything. 

“do you think you deserve to get fucked? or even cum?” he continues to ask. “you were so bad today, you know?”

“i-i know. i’m sorry.” you really did sound so pathetic. never in your life did you think you would be begging a man to fuck you when he hasnt even touched you yet.

jay lifts you up to a standing position, giving you a soft smile before sending you to your knees. you almost fall against his legs but you quickly grip onto the fabric of his slacks. “show me how sorry you are, then i’ll think about letting you cum.”

you waste no time fumbling with the belt on his slacks, hands shaking as they pop open the button and yank his pants down just enough to free his hardened cock. you don’t attempt to start slow, not thinking twice before getting straight to work, with your hand wrapped around the base and your tongue dragging along his tip.

jay inhales sharply, taking a hold on your hair as you begin stuffing him in your mouth. “god– fucking eager, aren’t you?” he spits out as you bob your head on his cock, his hand assisting your head. 

“shit, baby.” jay can’t hold back from thrusting his hips, the sigh beneath him only makes him ache. the tip of his dick knocking against your throat with each small thrust. “you– fuck… you suck cock like a slut. you want it that bad, huh?”

he knows he won't be able to last any longer like this, not with the way your pretty eyes glance up at him while your mouth grips onto his cock, or the way drool spills out of your mouth because he’s almost too big for your mouth.

a particularly harsh thrust into your mouth has you almost stumbling over, both your hands grab onto jays thighs to stabilize yourself. jay uses this to thrust a few more times before pulling out, leaving you breathless and gasping. he tilts your head up at him, taking his thumb and wiping the drool from the corner of your mouth and shoving it in your mouth.

he laughs at the way your lips immediately close around his thumb, “such a good girl– so well behaved now. what happened to the bratty little girl from earlier?” his thumb explores your mouth, pushing down on your tongue as he continues to jeer. “all it took was a cock in your mouth to put you in your place? to get that annoying mouth of yours to shut up and behave?”

you stare up at him with eager eyes, you only nod at his taunts. jay finds your actions endearing, and if it weren’t for the situation, he would be doing everything and anything to make you cum immediately.

“get up.”

with shaky legs you follow his instructions, standing up straight. one look from jay has you turning around and bending over the couch again, waiting for his next move. your underwear sticks to you uncomfortably under your skirt, and you only yearn for jay to touch you again.

“seems like you can follow instructions after all– even without me saying anything.” jay lifts your skirt and rubs your ass, which was still red from him spanking you. he wraps his finger around the band of your panties before pulling them down and letting them fall to your ankles. 

he almost groans at the sight, almost hoping you’d be an insufferable brat in the future if it meant he could have you bent over the couch in the middle of your living room like this everyday. jay grips your hips, holding you still as he teases your cunt with the tip of his cock, running it up and down your soaked lips.

“jay– please.” your bodyguard only shushes you as he pushes inside of you, stretching you out slowly. he continues thrusting in and out at a painfully slow pace, making sure you can feel him with every stroke.

jay makes sure you know this isn’t for you. everytime you whine and plead him to go faster or slower, he reminds you who's in charge. 

you’re choking back moans, practically squealing into the couch cushions as jay slams into you from behind, “you don’t get to make demands here… fuck! you take what i give you.”

any chance you can feel yourself about to cum, jays ripping his cock away from you– degrading you and sending you taunts as you beg for more. he tightens his hand in your hair, tugging with each harsh thrust he delivers. it’s almost too much for you, your body already weak from his brutal pace and grip and now with each orgasm being taken away. 

“p-please.. wanna cum.” you mewl out pathetically, in which jay responds with a laugh and a tug on your hair that has you yelping. 

“you wanna cum?” he grunts out. you nod your head followed by a bunch of yes’s and pleases. jay shoves you head into the cushion below you and lifts your leg onto the back on the couch, his cock now hitting deeper inside of you. “god… so pathetic. keep beggin’ because you aren’t cuming on this cock.” 

his thrusts grow angrier and needier as he pushes himself towards the edge, making sure he takes any chance of coming from you. jay's chest is almost flat against yours as he pounds into you.

jay pulls out once again but this time quickly stroking himself with his hand before letting go on your lower back with a loud groan, making sure you know in more than one way that he got to cum and you didn’t. his release is hot against your skin, a reminder that your actions had consequences. jay continues to milk himself, his cum dripping on your bunched up skirt and your bare ass.

you tremble against the couch, whimpering. “please.. please let me cum. ill- ill be so good, please jay.”

“fuuck– you wanna cum that bad?” he responds, his orgasm still evident in his voice. 

“yes… yes, please.”

“then fuck yourself.”

you turn around, gripping the couch from behind. “what?”

jay has already pulled his slacks up, zipping and buttoning them shut before speaking again, “i said fuck yourself if you want to cum. right here– right now. do it then maybe i’ll keep that in mind next time to piss me off.”

you gulp at his words, your mind already reeling that this could happen again. “but.. want you to do it.”

“you want me to do it?” he coos, chuckling when you nod your head shamelessly. “your little pouty lips won't get you anywhere with me, doll. i know you can do it yourself– and i know damn well you think of me when you fuck yourself late at night like a whore in heat.”

he puts his hands on both sides of you as you lean against the backside of the couch, you could feel his come drip off your ass and down your legs. shakily, you reach a hand between your thighs and jay follows with his eyes. “see how easy it is to listen?”

you pinch and rub at your clit, letting out small gasps and whimpers as you desperately try to get yourself to cum. jay lifts your skirt and bunches it at your hips, gripping tightly as he watches you grind against your own hand. 

“i thought you wanted to cum? i know you can do better than that.” you felt humiliated in this position, more embarrassed than when you were begging for him earlier. you dip your fingers inside your cunt, curling and attempting to press against your sweet spot. 

your body was hot with need, and with jay’s eyes watching your every move as you continued your pathetic demonstrations. he seems fed up with your attempts to make yourself cum because he's quickly replacing your hand with his own and gripping your face with his other.

“too dumb to do it yourself? is that it?” he spits out as he curls his fingers inside of you, ripping a moan from your throat. “are you only good for acting like a spoiled fucking brat? you really can’t do shit by yourself?”

his grip on your face tightens as he forces you to look at him as he thrust his fingers in and out of you with his palm flat against your clit. your body arches into his touch, hips twitching with every movement of his fingers.

“j-jay… fuck–” you groan loudly. it wasn’t his cock, but god was he great with his hands. his long fingers thrusting up against the spot you need it to hit the most. 

“you look so pathetic like this, you know? needing to be fucked straight in order for you to act right– like a slut.” he continues, his voice as rough as his hands. “is that what you are? a slut? did daddy need to just hire someone to fuck you like this for you to behave like a good girl?”

you must be nodding your head pathetically because jay only lets out a mocking laugh.

“as long as you get to cum right?”

“yes– yes, god, please i’m so close!” you beg, slightly muffled from the grip jay holds on your cheeks. 

it only takes a few more thrusts and curls from jays fingers to have your body shaking and your cunt clenching tightly before letting go completely. long, strained whines leave your mouth as you ride out your orgasm. you felt almost disappointed, you were almost shocked you came at all considering how many times you had the chance ripped away from you, but you knew better than to voice that outloud.

jay slowly pulls his fingers from your pulsing hole, bringing his fingers up to show you. his grip loosens on your face and he brushes your hair back softly before pushing your cum coated fingers into your mouth.

“you have a dinner to attend in place of your parents in an hour,” he starts, “if you act right then maybe we can talk about your reward, okay?”

you nod at him, mouth closed around his fingers as you tasted yourself on him.

“good girl.”

[erinkeifer]

Forbidden Fruit

[Anakin Skywalker x Padawan!Fem Reader]

Masterlist | Wattpad | AO3

Summary: Anakin returns early from a mission and accidentally overhears your conversations with your friends who showed up for a girls' night at your place. Well... Your rather dirty conversations.

Warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI | smut | v unprotected sex | hair pulling | kissing | cursing | dom!Anakin | sub!Reader Word Count: 3,8k

Anakin knew you deserved a break - a week ago, it was your birthday, and you really wanted to meet up with your friends from the 'good old times' to have a bit of fun. Unfortunately, it seemed out of the question - at least until today - as you both were constantly being assigned on missions that required the presence of both of you. But, for once, luck smiled upon you. Yes, Skywalker took it upon himself and headed to Geonosis with his crew, so that you could, at least once, invite anyone over and break away from the wartime reality. You and the other three girls completely lost track of time once you settled into your snug but cozy room. By this time, the only things around you were empty pizza boxes and champagne glasses, which seemed to loosen you up even more. Some bland romantic comedy played on your Holo TV, serving as a quiet backdrop to your ongoing conversations, although some of you occasionally glanced at it. "Do any of you even know what's going on in this?" you asked, sprawled on the couch, reaching for the popcorn bowl surrounded by a definite mess. "Honestly? No idea." replied the Togruta on your right, causing you to snort because apparently, each of you was equally absorbed in the movie. After a while, each of you jumped at the sound of the communicator from one of your friends. "Damn, sorry, forgot to mute…" apologized your childhood friend, engrossed in the conversation. "Who's calling so persistently?" you asked, reaching for another handful of popcorn. "Rob, probably afraid I won't make it straight home." she replied, this time disabling notifications. "It's kind of sweet that he's so worried." said the Twi'lek girl sitting farthest from you. "Sure, but lately, there's been a bit going on in our area, so he's unusually sensitive." your friend replied. "Wait, you two live together?" you asked with wide eyes. "Yes, for about three months now." she replied, and you grabbed your head. "Damn, being with you feels like I'm regressing." you said, slumping onto the sofa's back. In the meantime, the end credits of the movie were already rolling on your Holo TV, and none of you were paying attention. You decided to turn off the flickering screen to focus on the conversation with your friends. A conversation that unfolded in blissful unawareness of the fact that your Master had just returned to your place - or rather, to the very short corridor that separated your two rooms. Anakin closed the door behind him, and with nowhere else to hurry, he leisurely hung his coat on the rack. With deliberate steps, he made his way to his room, hearing through the wall that your Girls' Night was still in full swing. "I can't believe that sometimes you don't want to break free and have some fun... All this 'Code' of yours... Damn, you used to be a different girl..."

"And how do you know I don't want to? I mean, sometimes, it feels like we could wither away here... But, you know, on the other hand, we've all changed in a way."

"Sure, sure... When we talk about guys, you react like a bull to a red flag... Come on, admit it - but honestly - when was the last time you touched a guy? Any guy?"

The girls' conversations were loud enough and clearly audible through the thin walls of your room that Anakin could stand at any point in the corridor and hear them perfectly. He wasn't particularly concerned with your discussions - he happened to be tinkering with his lightsaber when you carelessly continued your conversation.

"Two years? So, exactly since they dragged you into this Order."

"No shit."

"Don't you miss it? Seriously?"

"Do you really want to hear it, huh?"

"Perhaps...?" "Honestly? Yes - I'm pissed that you're allowed this, and I'm not. And yes - I dream of getting fucked hard. Just like that, plain and simple."

Well, Anakin stood frozen in the frame of his room door when your words resonated in his ears, so he decided not to close the door behind him just yet.

"That sounds better. If you wanted it, you would've gotten it a long time ago, right?"

"I don't know…"

"So why don't you want to break free from here?"

"I DON'T KNOW!"

"We know a few cool places in the city that would let you unwind, and a few cool guys who… You know."

"Girls, but you know it's not that simple…"

"What's not simple? Sex? You said yourself you're needy, aren't you?"

"Hell yeah."

"So, what are we waiting for? Tomorrow then? Same time?"

"Hey, slow down… And maybe you know if Billy… You know… Is still around?"

"You want to mess around with your ex? What if feelings rekindle? After all, you're not allowed to have a boyfriend."

"Well, but he was…"

"Many times you said how well he fucked you senseless, but we're not considering that option. By the way, maybe you know someone in the Order who…"

"What? No…"

"And I think you're just setting yourself up like that… I don't believe everyone here is so saintly."

"Just believe me."

"[…]"

"Why are you making that face? What are you thinking about?"

"Nothing, nothing… Just thinking about who you share these quarters with…"

"Oh no."

"Oh yes."

"He's my Master, for heaven's sake…"

"And we saw him."

"So?"

"And the way you look at him."

"No."

"Yes."

"I'll kick you out of here in a moment."

"Do you like him?"

"He's my Master."

"But I'm asking if you like him."

"I like him, so what?"

"Nothing, I'm just testing the ground."

"Oh, shut up."

"Okay - short and to the point - either we meet tomorrow at the same time and head to the city, or you dry up in the Order."

"I don't know."

"Alright, then we're going on our own, right, girls?"

"Fine, damn it. If I make sure I have nothing to do, maybe we'll meet…"

"Great, girl…"

Anakin still stood frozen in his doorway, but as soon as he heard sounds indicating that the girls were getting ready to leave, he gently closed the door. Still slightly stunned by the amount and type of information he gained, he sat down at his desk.

"So, it seems like until tomorrow?" replied the Twi'lek, standing with the rest of the girls in front of you, on the straight path to the exit.

"Let it be." you responded with a slightly tired voice, waving to the girls who left the room with mischievous smiles on their faces.

As you bid farewell to your friends, you noticed Anakin's coat already hanging on the rack, realizing that you completely missed encoding the moment he returned. Honestly, you were too exhausted to think about it. Soon after, as if on cue, the door to his room opened, and you saw Skywalker, now dressed in his standard night attire. "Master." you nodded slightly in greeting because you hadn't seen each other today.

"H-hey… Is it over already?" Anakin replied, his gaze wandering somewhere on the floor.

"Yes, sorry it took so long." you answered, sensing that Skywalker was somehow brushing you off.

"Once doesn't always make a pattern. And you… Shouldn't you be sleeping already?" he added after a moment, scratching his head.

"I'm actually heading that way now." you replied, smiling nervously, and headed back to your room.

"Goodnight then." Anakin replied, walking in the opposite direction toward the small balcony at the end of the corridor, as he usually did at this time to smoke the last cigarette before sleep.

"Goodnight, Master." you said before closing your door. Then, throwing on a light nightgown, you collapsed onto your pillow-filled sofa. .................................................................................................................

Another day drained you of energy, yet you knew that there was still an unfulfilled promise from yesterday ahead of you – to 'chill out' with your friends. It was hard to think about it during the day, as you didn't even have time, having been on a mission with Anakin since morning… And precisely, you were on a mission with Anakin. While you weren't bothered by whether you were doing your tasks well or poorly today, something else bothered you – the strange behavior of your Master. He seemed absent the entire day. Sure, you cooperated with each other, but for some reason, you constantly felt like maybe you messed up, maybe at some point, you unintentionally let him down – and even though it was absurd because you were always considered a perfectionist in what you did – he gave off that impression to such an extent that even Obi-Wan, in a free moment, asked if you had some tension between you. Of course, you didn't. Anyway, you landed in Coruscant practically moments before your planned meeting with the girls – in the end, you agreed to meet in the city, so you didn't have to stress about whether they might knock on your door any minute. But ultimately, you forgot about one thing – mentioning to Anakin that you also planned to disappear for the evening today. However, since his arrival, he seemed so exhausted from the entire day that you assumed he would immediately fall asleep, allowing you to slip out of the Temple without any possible reproaches. It's just a pity that he remembered your plan all too well himself. "Why the hurry? Are you planning to race me or something?" Anakin asked, watching as you briskly walked down the corridor toward your quarters.

"Uhm, no." you replied sarcastically, already at the door. "I thought so." Anakin muttered, opening the entrance to your quarters. Knowing how little time you had left, you instantly stepped into your room, closing the door behind you to avoid arousing any suspicions, while Anakin left his completely open. He lingered in the corridor for a while, as if sniffing around, glanced out the window for a moment, but soon finally entered his room - that's when you allowed yourself to choose an outfit for the evening. However, it stressed you immensely that Skywalker hadn't gone to sleep yet - always after a mission, he used to close the door behind him and shortly afterward fell asleep, tired from the mission. But this time, something was holding him, and whether you wanted it or not, you could feel it. You freshened up your makeup from the entire day, dressed up, and it seemed like everything was ready - only to sense the right moment and leave… But how? You slightly opened the door to your room to better hear if Anakin was still aimlessly wandering around, and if there was silence outside indeed. Leaning out, you could catch a glimpse of his silhouette, turning slightly in the desk chair. Damn.

You could chat by the door for a little longer, but on the other hand, would prolonging it and leaving even later seem even more suspicious? Exactly. So, you took a deep breath, adjusted your dress to give the illusion that it reached a bit further than just halfway down your thighs. With one hand, you grabbed your coat to cover yourself a bit before leaving your room. You quickly checked yourself in the mirror and, satisfied that your appearance wouldn't raise any suspicions, decided to quietly, soundlessly step out of the quarters.

Slowly and quietly, you closed the door to your room, confident that everything was going according to plan, except for that one final damn slam of those steel doors. You cursed under your breath when you felt Anakin's gaze coming from his room.

"Oh? Where are you going?" he asked in a calm tone, and you turned towards him, nervously clutching your coat.

"Just… getting some fresh air… for a while... A walk." you uttered these absurd words, turning towards Anakin, only to see that he had turned in his chair completely towards you, with a highly doubtful but slightly amused look. It didn't seem like he was doing anything – his desk, usually cluttered with documents and writing tools, was now completely empty. It appeared he was just sitting there idly, as if waiting for some signal.

"My Padawan is going for a walk… Tsk, tsk, tsk…" he murmured as if to himself, and your face turned red with embarrassment, realizing how clumsily you had just lied.

"We've known each other for a while now, you don't have to lie to me like that." Anakin raised an eyebrow and smirked, realizing that you, yourself, know you're not very good at pulling the wool over his eyes. "I know." you leaned against the wall, crossing your arms, wondering how to get out of this.

"So, what's the truth?" Anakin asked again, also crossing his arms in a slightly assessing manner. "Ehh, yesterday I told the girls that I would go out with them." you finally gave in but still hesitated to reveal all the details.

"You told the girls, but you didn't tell me. So what?" In fact, you didn't know how to answer that – you realized you made a mistake and wouldn't easily undo it.

"How did you know I wouldn't need you for something?" he added after a while, not hearing a response from you.

"But in the end, I have the evening off, so I thought…" "No, you don't have the evening off." Anakin interrupted you, and then the smile on his face faded. The tension in you increased when you noticed his freezing expression – it seemed like he might actually be a bit upset.

"Come." Anakin commanded, rising from his office chair and leaning against the desk. Initially, you thought he was going to ask you to sit in that spot, so you nervously grabbed the seat handle.

"No, not here. In front of me." you were slightly embarrassed, but you did as he instructed – stood in front of him.

"Show me what you've got there." he said after scrutinizing you from top to bottom.

"What do you mean?" you squinted, having no idea what he was referring to.

"Don't try to play games with me. I can see how tightly you're holding onto that coat of yours." and again, he was right – probably if you were more relaxed, you wouldn't need to explain yourself so much now. You loosened your grip, but you weren't entirely sure what to do with what you had.

"Just take it off." he added after a while, seeing your hesitation to answer his questions. You sighed, realizing that your plans had gone down the drain, so you did as he said – it seemed like you had nothing more to lose at this point. At worst, you would leave this room with a reprimand, change, and go to bed. And that's the optimistic version. When the coat landed rolled up on the floor, it was time for Anakin to sigh. You stood before him in a black, brocade dress, which, despite all your efforts, managed to scrunch back up to mid-thigh height.

"Girls' night out…" Anakin muttered under his breath, once again assessing you from head to toe. "You're very careless, aren't you? Today, yesterday…"

"Wait, what do you mean yesterday? What are you talking about?" you interrupted Anakin, and he looked at you as if you were a bit foolish. "Oh, please… Do you think I'm unaware of your plan? What would you have done if you received a summons while being fucked by some random guy?" Anakin replied, and you paled, quickly trying to recall what else you discussed with the girls yesterday. Your voice stuck in your throat, and truth be told, you had never felt so embarrassed in front of your Master.

"How you… When did you…" "I returned early enough to hear about many interesting facts. Among other things, about how my Padawan wants to be fucked hard, and also… Oh, didn't you mention having a boyfriend - Billy… Supposedly, very skilled." Anakin said with a mocking tone, and you felt like sinking into the ground.

"But, but… I…" "Oh, don't worry, I won't throw you out for that. It was just about one simple thing - informing me." Anakin finally moved slowly from his place, and temporarily unable to look him in the eyes due to shame, you turned away. At first glance, it might have seemed that Anakin had tidied up around him - it was quite unnatural because usually, his workspace was messy - but when you approached and looked around better, you noticed that all the items from his desk were lying next to it, thrown on the floor. "Why is everything sca...?" you abruptly interrupted your statement when you heard the door slam behind you. "Still want to go out? I know, they're probably waiting for you…" "N-no… I don't want to." you answered, for some reason not wanting to turn towards Anakin.

"Oh…" you heard behind you, along with steps approaching in your direction. "Well, you know, not everything can be found just in the city." you stayed silent as you listened to his words, feeling that he was getting closer. "Your friends were right - sometimes it's better to look closer to home… After all, as they say, it's darkest under the lamppost. Isn't it?" You wanted to interrupt him, but in the end, everything you could say now would be pointless.

"And the desk… I prepared it for you." You froze when you first felt the handle on your hips, and then how you pressed against the edge of the desk. "Master…" you murmured, completely paralyzed by his touch. "What? Changed your mind?" he whispered into your ear, not releasing his grip on your hips. "No… I-I haven't changed my mind." you continued, as one of your hands landed on top of his.

"Make sure I'm not mistaken." he continued to whisper, and you stood still for a moment before deciding what to do next. You grabbed the lower edges of your dress and, with trembling hands, pulled it up, exposing your black, scanty lingerie that you chose for the evening. "My sweet, innocent Padawan…" he whispered with an artificially tender voice as his hands traveled downward, this time embracing your exposed thighs. "To think that it took so little, and someone random could have gotten this..." he continued as his left hand balanced on the edge of your panties. "Am I supposed to understand that you bought them for this 'special occasion'?" he muttered, his gaze sinking onto your lace lingerie. "Uhm, well, actually, I got them from…" you winced and clenched your teeth as you felt a strong pull and the tearing of the fabric, which partially clung to your most sensitive areas. "That's what I thought." Skywalker replied, tossing aside your torn panties. "Lean on the desk and arch your back… Nice and wide for me." Your heart pounded as a hammer hearing his hunger-laden instructions, but you didn't hesitate for a moment to comply with them. "Let's see…" you heard behind you before feeling the touch of hands on your folds, sending shivers down your spine. "So fuckin' wet…" he muttered, and you could practically feel his devilish grin. You turned your head enough to see him—your cheeks reddening even more at the sight of him licking his two fingers and his other hand reaching for the zipper. "Want to watch?" Anakin asked, noticing your intrigued, hungry eyes. "Then watch." He caught you off guard, pressing you even harder against the desk, and without any warning, he entered you.

You let out a short, loud moan as you felt him slide into you practically the entire length without any warm-up. You didn't get to see him in full glory, but you felt that his size was above average, perhaps even a bit beyond your capabilities, but you were resilient. Anakin grabbed your thigh with his mechanical, gloved hand to give himself more room to position you as he pleased, bringing his face closer to yours. The deeper he delved into his movements within you, the more you felt him breathing heavily through clenched teeth. Your eyes were closed, and you felt him all over your body – he was charged like never before, and the more you realized it, the more beastly his movements became.

"Is this h-how you wanted to be filled?" he whispered into your ear, interrupting with each thrust. You couldn't answer – your voice was stuck in your throat, and all you could emit were your desperate moans. "Fuck… My little, slutty Padawan." he growled, increasing his pace, and with each deep thrust, your eyes rolled into back of your head. You thought that was a lot, but you were quickly surprised when one of his hands detached from your body and, without warning, grabbed a handful of your hair tightly. You moaned loudly as your neck tilted backward, and Anakin's pupils dilated, keenly observing your every reaction. The dose of pain excited both of you – the harder his hips pounded into you, the tighter his strong hand gripped at the base of your hair.

You felt yourself approaching the edge, your subdued moans transforming into screams, and sensing your impending climax, Anakin yanked you by the hair enough to bring your face close to his, starting to leave wet, messy kisses on your lips and cheeks. He tasted your tears of arousal, biting you without rhythm, and you drifted further, teetering on the edge of a begged climax. You screamed his name as he fucked you through your orgasm, and as it turned out, you weren't even halfway when his breath also became uneven and heavy. He growled and panted heavily into your ear as he came inside you, and your trembling bodies simultaneously tried to find balance, holding onto each other tightly. He didn't pull out for some time, first allowing himself a moment to catch his breath, still not letting go of your heated body. "Fuck…" he muttered under his breath as he finally pulled out of you slowly, and you immediately felt hopelessly empty. Your knees buckled beneath you as you lost the support you had on Anakin so far, but he was there to catch you and stabilize you. "Slowly…" he whispered, smiling at you with the corners of his mouth – his face was tired and sweaty, yet incredibly content. When he lifted you into the air, you were sure he would handle you gently, but in the end, you miscalculated because he threw you onto his bed with quite some force. You swallowed saliva and looked up at him when you were already sprawled on his soft sheets. Anakin had a cocky smirk on his face, and his eyes scanned every inch of your exhausted body. "Now you know where to come when you want to get fucked, huh?"

[thelov3lybookworm]

Cat claws

Day 2: Scarred.

Summary: Maybe he can forgive Nuts.

•○●⛦●○•

Word Count: 1177

Warnings: cat being mean to hazel :(

A/n: azzie just loses his mind in tis lmao nd you cant blame him hazel's the most adorable little thing ever 🥹 yall just wait till she begins talking azs going to sob his eyes out (subtle foreshadowing 🎀)

@azrielappreciationweek

ANYWAY ENJOYYYY 🥳

°•°•°•○🌑○•°•°•°

Azriel watched, amused, as Hazel attempted to crawl towards the black furry creature that sat in the corner licking its paw.

Hazel had only started crawling a week or so ago, and Azriel absolutely loved watching her drag herself around. It was often amusing to see her get angry when the carpet slowed down her movements when it caught on her clothes, or when she bumped into the couch and glared at it.

She would always turn to search for Azriel when that happened, letting out the loudest yell her tiny body could muster as if ordering him to get rid of the offending item.

Even barely eight months old, Y/n always said Hazel had her father’s ability to glare and grumble.

Azriel always scoffed in return to that statement before forcing himself to stop and realise him being grumpy only proved his mate’s words to be true.

Hazel was currently looking at her father with her brows furrowed, and Azriel blinked, coming back to the present as he realised she was trying to move over the carpet. He grinned at the anger on her face and stood, bending down once he was close enough to pick her up.

He set her down closer to the cat Y/n had insisted on getting after Hazel’s birth, her reasoning being that their daughter needed a friend and then named him Nuts.

Hazel and her best friend Nuts.

‘Get it? Hazel-Nuts’ She had giggled.

It made Azriel laugh back when she had suggested it, but soon enough he’d realised she was not joking. At all.

Azriel watched on with a smile as Hazel reached Nuts and tried to grab his fur. Nuts walked away without a look in her direction, which always pissed Azriel off. Who did the creature think it was?

"Azriel, that’s a cat. He does not understand how to act with a baby-" Y/n called out from the kitchen, having peeked into the living room to see what had caused her mate to get so mad that his emotions reached her through the bond.

"Well how long does it take to learn? I swear to the mother one day I'm kicking him out if he continues to bully my daughter."

Azriel heard Y/n sigh and walk closer to him as Hazel crawled towards Nut again. He now sat closer to the hearth, where a fire burned red to ward off the winter chill that was beginning to set over Velaris.

"Az-"

But Azriel did not hear the rest of Y/n’s sentence.

His ears began ringing as he stepped forward as if in a daze, eyes sharp on the raised paw of Nuts, who, having seen Hazel get close to him again, tried to hit her.

The firelight glinted off his claws.

And then Hazel’s loud cries filled the room as her head reared back, eyes clenched shut in pain.

She had a habit of flopping on her back when she was mad. Azriel had never really worried too much about that particular habit of Hazel’s until now, when she was too close to the fire and the tiniest movement would end up with her-

No, Azriel did not want to complete the thought.

In that moment of panic, Azriel did not care that there was a glass covering separating the fire from the room, and that no matter what Hazel did, she would not be able to be burned.

In that moment all that mattered to Azriel was that the fucking cat living in his house had the audacity to hurt his daughter.

Azriel grabbed Hazel, frantically looking over her to check for her injuries. There weren’t any big claw marks, but the tiny scratch on the chubby flesh of her upper arm connecting it to her shoulder made Azriel see red.

He turned to glare at Y/n as he pulled Haze close.

"I am telling you Y/n. If by the time I return, that bastard is not out of this house, I will drop him into the sidra myself."

Y/n’s eyes were helpless, but Azriel did not wait for a moment longer as he walked out of the main door and took flight, his only mission to find Madja and get his daughter healed.

He did not want her to be scarred like the hands cradling her.

°•°•°•○🌑○•°•°•°

Flying back home, Azriel decided that he needed some time alone to figure out why he had reacted so harshly.

He knew Y/n had been right. Nuts was an animal. He did not understand how to treat babies. But Azriel did not want to admit that.

The stars were out, so clearly visible as Azriel flew his daughter back home. It had been over an hour since he’d left the house in such a hurry, wishing he could strangle the cat.

He had taken to the skies after Madja had assured him that Hazel would be fine, and had his emotions not been so high and panicked, maybe Hazel wouldn’t have cried at all. After long moments of being assured by Madja, Azrie finally calmed down and left.

"I’m sorry baby. Did I scare you?" Azriel mumbled, glancing down at his daughter who stared up at the sky with wide eyes. She only giggled back in answer.

The innocence in the sound made Azriel smile.

The smile faded just as quick as it had come when his eyes fell on his hands cradling her head and back.

They once were soft and smooth like Hazel’s. They once had grabbed his own parents hand with as much love as he now grasped his daughters. Only now, they were uglier.

If Y/n heard his thoughts, she would have yelled at him and forced him to say they were beautiful. But Azriel knew better. They weren’t, and they never would be.

The only thing he liked even a little about his hands was the fact that their texture was so different from other’s hands, Hazel always immediately figured out she was in her father’s arms.

Y/n always talked about how the same scarred hands he despised were the reason she and Hazel felt safe. Those words echoed back to Azriel when he began doubting himself. It always made him feel better.

Hazel squealed loudly when Azriel dipped lower, air pushing gently against her back.

She was so pure, so innocent. She did not even know of the cruel world she was born in.

And Azriel swore to keep it that way. He had hoped the world outside his father’s dungeon would be better, once, and quickly realised that there were people in the world that would pounce at the chance to scar innocent souls just for the sadistic pleasure of ruining their lives.

He did not want her soul to turn out as scarred as his too.

As he finally landed on the front porch of his home and heard loud meow’s coming from inside, he contemplated letting the cat stay.

Maybe a cat’s claw scratch was not that bad.

°•°•°•○🌑○•°•°•°

Permanent Taglist: @berryzxx @sarawritestories @milswrites @throneofsmut

@daycourtofficial @sweetorangeblossom @secret-third-thing

Acotar Taglist: @bubybubsters @eos-princess @nightless @harrystylesfan2686

@cassie6392 @kennedy-brooke @tele86 @miluiel1

@hnyclover @minnieoo @sidrapotter @piceous21

@mybestfriendmademe @saltedcoffeescotch @lady-of-tearshed @starsinyourseyes

@starswholistenanddreamsanswered @cumuluscranium @byyalady

@lilah-asteria @girlswithimagination @garden-of-runar @girlswithimagination

@sunnyspycat @artists-ally @milswrites @kingdomofstarrynights

@berryzxx @buttermilktea11 @loving-and-dreaming @yucanbmylxdy

@mellowmusings

Azriel Taglist: @darthdumbasss @foreverrandomwritings @azrielsmate3 @celestialend

@stqrgirlies-blog @tele86 @bakananya @xyzmeh

@st4r-girl-official @caraaaaugh @nacho-nat @allllium

@fandomarchiveilyd @nickishadow139 @angel-graces-world-of-chaos

@okaytrashpanda

[lia-linny]

summary: Your boyfriend Minho comes home after a busy week and just wants to relax.

words: 0,8k

genre: fluff

"Ok im not letting you cook ever again."It was the first sentence your boyfriend uttered after entering your shared apartment.

You had offered to cook for him despite your lack of cooking skills. Minho had had a stressful week. From photo shoot to video shoot to dance practice to interviews. He hadn't had much time to relax so you had thought about taking at least a little stress off him. You had cleaned the whole apartment, fed and bathed the cats and last but not least you wanted to cook dinner for him.

Even though it was a bit late, you knew that minho hadn't eaten yet. So you sent your boyfriend a message about two hours ago and asked what he would like for dinner. His crative reply "I don't care" didn't really help you. So you decided to go off on your own, go to the supermarket and pick out everything for his favorite meal.

It already started badly, as it was quite late and half of the ingredients you needed were already sold out. But instead of seeing this as a sign to simply go with ramen or take out, you decide to improvise. What could possibly go wrong?

Quite a lot, as it turned out. Because that's how you ended up here. In the large kitchen of your apartment. There were ingredients and bowls everywhere. Everything was dirty, including you, and the ingredients that had ended up in the cooking pot were burned.

You were on the verge of tears when you heard the door open. Which could only mean that your boyfriend was home. Minho came into the kitchen after some time and snorted when he saw you standing there in such despair.

"Ok im not letting you cook ever again Jagiya." You just glared at him. He came over to you and ran his hand over your hair to remove what you thought was a little flour. A long, blessed sigh escaped you and you wrapped your arms around Minho's torso. He buried his face in your hair, laughing.

"I'm sorry," you mumbled against his neck.

"I just wanted to cook something for you because your week has been so stressful..." he laughed softly at your apologies.

"You're sweet... What do you say I order us dinner, clean up your mess and you take a shower in the meantime?" You just nod, but don't move, not yet ready to give up your boyfriend's body heat.

He breaks away from you and starts to order food for the two of you on his cell phone.

"Thank you for trying... with the cooking Jagiya." He doesn't look up from his cell phone. Not even when he adds:

"But please do me a favor and never touch our kitchen again. Especially not with the intention of cooking something, otherwise you'll probably burn down the building." He laughs lightly as your lips curl into a pout.

"I hate you, Minho." You grumble and head to the bathroom, where you take a much-needed shower while your boyfriend cleans up your kitchen grinningto himself.

Just as you finish, you hear Minho taking the food delivery. Exhausted, you plop down on one of the chairs at the dining table and wait until minho places two plates of food in front of you. One for you and one for him. He sits down opposite you and pulls his plate towards him, which contains a little less food than yours.

Sometimes it's hard for minho to show or express what a person means to him and little things like that have always been proof that he cares about you. You smile as Minho immediately starts shoveling the food into himself.

"Does it taste good?"

"Yes," he replies curtly and goes back to eating. You start eating too and you both enjoy the silence that has settled over your apartment. After dinner, you get ready for bed, still in silence, until you and your boyfriend finally slip under the covers.

You lie quietly and relaxed next to each other and are almost caught up in a dream when you feel your boyfriend wrap his arms around you.

"Thank you for always taking such good care of me and the cats." He whispers in your ear as he snuggles closer to you.

"And that you tried to cook... I really appreciate it all. I don't know what I would do without you." You turn into his embrace so that you can wrap your arms around him and that's enough for an answer. No words needed between you and Minho. Because you both know how deeply you care for each other.

You hear his breathing become more even and feel yourself relax more and more. The two of you snuggle together, nourished by each other's body heat, and soon drift off to sleep.

[cosmicschmidt]

UNTIL I FOUND YOU (3)

PART 1, PART 2

Coriolanus Snow x fem!Reader

Synopsis: When the 18 year old Coriolanus Snow recieves the news that he has to mentor a tribute in order to claim the Plinth Prize, he expected everything but not a shy girl from district 12 to claim his heart.

Word count: 2,7K

Warnings: Reader pretty much just replaces Lucy Gray, Lucy Gray does not exsist in this (I´m sorry), some things might not fully add up to the movie plot ´cause I only saw it once and that was two weeks ago, use of Y/N, it´s implied that the reader is shorter than Coryo, small swearing, simple inhumane Hunger Games topics, mention of a wound, brutality!!

Reblogs and requests are always welcomed <3 (just like pointing out grammatical mistakes :))

Previously…

"Wait-" Y/N grabs a hold of his free wrist.

"Can you get us some food? Please? We´re practically starving."

Coriolanus just nodded at her quietly, the space between the both of them growing as he pulled away from her. The girl suddenly feels empty without him standing next to her like a shield that´s been protecting her has been taken away.

The reporter - whose name seems to be Lucky Flickermann - now turned back to the cage ends his live report,

"The 10th annual Hunger Games are soon approaching, so come down to the Zoo and see the Tributes before it´s too late." he does a dramatic pause.

"And I mean, too late," he adds with a small smirk.

"Capitol news."

"I´m Lucretius.", he looks up to the sky before stretching out his hand and catching a coin.

"Lucky Flickermann." with that the live report ends.

Y/N´s words ring in Coriolanus´ ears for the next few hours, during the lecture and confrontation with Dr. Gaul, the second he reached the cafeteria, he put as much food as possible on his plate, filling it with various goods.

Multiple students chatter around him, but he´s not up for a debate about whose tribute will win, never the less just a simple conversation, the thought of it alone brings Coriolanus discomfort. So his eyes scatter across the filled room, and when he spots a small empty two-seat table he walks over to it and sits down.

As he takes a seat he waits for a second, the feeling of someone watching him never leaving since he collected a plate and filled it with a bunch of food, the view of it alone causing his stomach to erupt into quiet rumbling.

With a quick look around, checking if someone is watching him, he takes hold of the blue napkin and places it on his lap, his hands spring into action and he places a few cookies into the blue fabric.

"Trying to fatten that poor girl up, so you can finally start taking bets?" a voice right across from the small table pulls him out of his thoughts. Before him stands Sejanus, a look of anger displayed on his face, while his hands hold him up on the table.

Coriolanus stops in his tracks, Sejanus´ tone something he does not need right now.

"You think, they´ll give these kids a schap if we don´t give them a reason to do it." although it was meant as a question, the way Coriolanus´ tone changed throughout speaking made it seem like a simple statement.

"How do you think your Tribute will have a chance if he can´t eat." the mention of Marcus causes the look in Sejanus' eyes to soften, Coriolanus knew what to say in order to convince his… friend.

A short moment of silence washes over their conversation, Sejanus lets out a sigh before sitting down on the still-empty chair, his eyes not finding the blue eyes that bore into the side of his face.

"He was my classmate. Back in 2…" Sejanus says in a low voice.

In return, Coriolanus takes a look across the room.

"It's not your fault he's there-" Coriolanus speaks up, shaking his head a little.

"I know. I'm so blameless I'm choking on it. My father bought him for me you know, at the reaping… just so he can show me, that I could never go back to 2." Coriolanus stays quiet, as he watches the Brown haired boy tear up, guilt eating away at him.

"But being Capitol is gonna kill me," he adds, his head shaking slightly, his gaze empty.

"So do something about it." Coriolanus cuts in, his expression stern.

He just continues filling the napkin with a few slices of a sandwich, the look on his face challenging Sejanus to do the same.

"You're quite the Rebell." the brown-haired boy laughs out, before he whipes his nose, blinking once then twice in the hope of no tears falling.

"Oh, I am. I'm bad news." the blonde replies, a teasing tone to his words. All Sejanus can do is chuckle softly, before his own hands grab a soft napkin.

-

Both of them find themselves getting closer and closer to the 'zoo' where the Tributes are held against their will, displayed for everyone to inspect. From far away, the mentor of the girl from District 12 was able to make out the crowd that formed around the metal bars.

Coriolanus can't help but let his eyes wander, his blue orbs desperately trying to catch a glimpse of Y/N, as he takes big strides away from Sejanus as both of them part for the purpose of finding their tribute.

"Marcus!" he heard in the distance, but the voice was blurred.

Coriolanus can't focus on the rest of the words that leave Sejanus' mouth, as his eyes linger on the metal bars that separate him from her. He finally spots her, his tense shoulders relaxing a tad bit. The left side of her body is pressed against Jessup's, while Y/N's hand lays on the side of his neck. Both of them sitting on a rock with their backs to the crowd.

Coriolanus can tell that her mouth is moving, yet he can't seem to grasp onto what she's whispering in the ear of the boy who sits next to her. The blonde can't help but clench his jaw at the scene unfolding before his eyes, as his hands wrap a notch tighter around the food-filled fabric.

"Y/N" he speaks up, finally trusting his voice enough to do so.

The H/C-haired girl's eyes catch her mentor's quiet whisper, her head snapping to the side facing him. The small simile that spreads across her face does not go unnoticed by Coriolanus, as she brushes off her clothes. With small, yet quick steps she finally closes the distance between them.

His hands twitch beside his body, the urge to feel her skin against his resurfacing, as their eye contact never fades.

"You remembered?"

"Hmm?" Coriolanus hums, his eyes not leaving her face, she throws him a questioning look at his speechless expression.

"Oh right, right. I got this for you." he quickly says, the weight of the food in his hands leaving the second he places the napkin in her hands, their fingers touching for a split second, sending a shiver down his back.

Y/N herself can't help but feel her face warm at the contact, but she hides her face a little as she looks down at the meal in her hands. Within seconds she unwraps the cookies and the sandwich slices.

"Thank you, this will help us a lot."

"Us?" the boy from the Capitol mutters under his breath, wondering why you would even think about sharing the food he just gave you.

"Common, Jessup, eat," Y/N says with a nod of her head, her hand offering him a piece of some expensive-looking dish.

"'m not hungry," he mutters under his breath, his eyes staring daggers in Coriolanus' direction.

"No I insist, you have to eat." she pushes the food into his hands, and he throws her a thankful smile alongside a nod, yet before he walks back to the rock they sat on, he throws Coriolanus another look.

The mentioned boy holds the stare, and as Jessup turns away, his eyes land on a small wound that rests right underneath his ear. His brows furrow in confusion.

"What happened to his neck?"

Y/N gulps, her eyes not finding his.

"Bat bite. First night on the train." she nods sadly, her mind going back to when it happened.

"He didn't sleep a wink on the journey, making sure to keep the bats off so I can get some rest…" The girl's words grow quieter, her eyes trailing to the left as they find a Capitol girl making fun of the girl from District 10.

Y/N frowns when she observes the 'mentor' taunt her own tribute, holding a water bottle in her direction only to withdraw it when she reaches out to grab it. Y/N clenches her jaw at the sight.

"I learned in twelve that hunger is a weapon."

"Your friend over there sure knows it…"

"She's not my friend she is.." he thinks for a second, "..Poison with perfect teeth."

The girl from District 12 lets out a laugh, yet it's not fully genuine, her eyes fall back onto the food in her palms, a sickening feeling forming in the pit of her stomach. Meanwhile, Coriolanus grabs a hold of the metal bar, as he leans forward looking down at her.

"Are you going to share everything that I give to you with Jessup?" he asks, his breath fanning along a strand of loose hair, their close proximity making it possible for him to whisper.

"Why?" the girl's eyes widened in confusion at his question.

"Think I can collect my strengths so I can strangle them in the arena? Coriolanus, I can not kill these people.." she hisses out, her words make her look almost helpless, and again the blonde feels the urge to reach out and grab her hand.

"But I might have a chance to help you," he replies quickly, his eyes somehow holding ambition.

"There is a possibility that I can make some suggestions to the game makers, I might even be able to let the audience send gifts into the arena. Food and water…" he mumbles assuringly, his head nodding along his words.

"Listen, the people can donate to you, so you have to convince them to like you, which they already do. You're the first to volunteer, ever, and for your sister too, that kind of stuff catches attention," he says enthusiastically.

"I don't want to talk about that, what I did there was no choice, I had to do that. Don't you understand?" she asks slightly taken back, her brows furring in bewilderment.

"Besides, I've seen the arena, there's nowhere to hide, what's the point in winning the audience over? The guards say you get money if you get more people to watch, and you say you want to help me… which is it?" she asks unsure, her eyes boring into his, as she rests her own hand on one of the cold metal bars, awaiting his response.

Coriolanus' mouth parts, yet no words escape, before his gaze lands on her hand, so close to his, and before he can stop himself his palm engulfs her smaller hand.

"Both," he states with confidence, as he gives her a firm nod, letting her know that he truly means it. Y/N breathes out in relief, as she nods back at him, the warmth of his calloused hands bringing her comfort. Yet, she wiggles her hand out from under his slightly tightening grasp, taking a sandwich and taking a bite, her stomach screaming at her to finish the whole meal.

As she continues to chew, she catches Coriolanus looking at the food in her grasp, when she catches his stare, he expeditiously averts his gaze, looking around as if she didn't just catch him ogling. Without a word, she takes one of the cookies and hands it to him through the bars.

"Oh, no thank you." he refuses to take the baked good from her.

"Saw you staring, just take it," she says with a shrug of her shoulders.

He hesitantly takes it from her, as the both of them lower to the ground in order to eat while sitting.

"Thought there was plenty of food in the Capitol," she asks, although it did not sound like a question, more like a fact that she simply stated. Her eyes are still on the sandwich in her grasp, while Coriolanus himself breaks the cookie in two, eating the first half of it in one bite.

He lets out a laugh at her statement, her words throwing him years back to the war.

"You know one time during the war, I ate a whole jar of paste. Just to stop the pain in my stomach." Y/N scrunches her nose in disgust.

"Well, how was it?"

He thinks for a moment, a smile forming on his lips, "Pasty." he laughs out, and Y/N can't help but let a giggle slip out as well before she muffles it with another bite of the food. Coriolanus' eyes stay on her, his eyes glimmering in amusement.

But the small moment dies when the girl looks away, her head turning slightly as she looks over her shoulder, the blonde's eyes follow hers.

"Little Wovey… she's so sweet… wouldn't hurt a fly… she reminds me of my sister…" she says, her head turning away from the little girl that currently rests against her district partner who looks deep in thought. Y/N swallows thickly at the thought of her little sister, now all on her own at home, having to watch her only relative die in the games. The thought alone causes the corners of her eyes to burn, yet she won't allow herself to shed one tear, not one, she promised her.

"I'm sorry…" the blonde whispers, as his face holds concern and guilt, he sends her a small assuring smile in order to lighten her mood.

"You seem like a good man, Coriolanus," Y/N claims.

Coriolanus slightly shakes his head, his eyes everywhere but never meeting her own. It seems like he's about to say something, but Y/N interrupts him.

"It would have been nice to meet you under different circumstances," she quickly adds, her eyes on the almost completely eaten sandwich, while she fidgets with her fingers.

"How about… we make a deal," he replies.

"A deal?" she asks, her eyes snapping back up to meet his blue ones.

"Yes. After all of this… I'll take you out on a date," he says with a serious tone. His hand reaches through the bars as it wraps around one of her wrists.

She laughs out at his 'deal', "Yeah, exactly, have a drink or two, very funny." she laughs again in disbelief while rolling her eyes at his attempt to lighten the mood, although that's pretty impossible.

"I'm serious."

"Have you seen these people? I don't stand a chance, I'll be dead within minutes in the arena, I never learned how to fight or hunt, my chances are practically zero." she huffs out, her free hand wrapping around his hand that is holding her other hand, attempting at pulling him off.

Yet his grip tightens, "I'm being serious like I said before, maybe I can change some rules, bend some even, I don't care, we'll go on that date," he says again.

Just as Y/N opens her mouth, a response at the tip of her tongue ready to be released, a scream erupts through the air.

Brandy, the tribute that had been taunted by her mentor, grabbed the bottle out of the glass, as she took hold of the mentor's collar pulling her closer with an angry yell. With a quick smash, she shatters the bottle into pieces and uses the remains as a weapon, forcefully stabbing it into the side of her neck. The already red-dressed girl is now covered in more red.

The screams alerted every individual around them, as other people screamed in horror at the brutality.

Y/N can't help but gasp in shock, just like Coriolanus she's back on her feet, her eyes trained on the girl on the ground gasping for air.

Coriolanus runs up right to the other mentor's side, using his hands to put pressure on the wound as a horrified expression spreads all over his features.

"It's okay. it's okay, I'll get help," he mutters out of breath, frantically looking out for someone who would provide what she needs.

"Somebody help us please!" after his plea, the sound of guns firing runs through the air, and with a thump, Brandy holds onto her stomach before hitting the ground, dead.

At the sound of shooting, Coriolanus hides his face underneath his arms, shielding himself from bullets that could hit him at any given moment. As he slowly raises back up, the horrified expression returns to his face, he watches the life drain from Arachne's face, her skin growing paler.

"Oh…no, no.." he rasps out, the events leave him speechless, and before he can register it, Peacekeepers roughly grab him by the arm and pull him up from the ground away from the lifeless body.

Taglist: (Crossed-out can’t be tagged)

@prettybliss | @unclecrunkle | @yourlocalwofreader | @ennycutie | @unamused-boss | @spatt777 | @xyzstar | @especiallythewomenandthechildren | @mysteris-things | @crackheadhours | @guacam011y | @clintssupremacy | @importantgalaxyrunaway | @zucchinimalfoy |

[coff33andb00ks]

Until You

Part One | Part Two

charles leclerc x female pop singer!reader x oscar piastri f1 smau with intermittent scenes fc: none it's a mix of taylor swift, sabrina carpenter, and random pinterest ladies. {voice claim is adele}

Summary: he drives vroom vrooms, she sings soulful tunes. there's no way in hell this is gonna work, right? Warnings: language Notes: my first foray into smau and holy shit these are a lot of fun (and work omg). special thanks to @driverlando for the encouragement and listening to me whine

ynyln

liked by charles_leclrec, landonorris, pierregasly and 3,689,476 others ynyln: Merci beaucoup, Paris! Je t'aime et à bientôt!! ❤️💋 user1: formula one what are you doing here     user2: she's always been a fan? user3: hope you're ok!! <3 user4: mother showing us all why she's mother pierregasly: magnifique spectacle, rendez-vous à Monaco! user5: did anyone see the fan vides of the f1 boys there?      user6: she's gonna be at Monaco?!?!      user7: were they in vip?      user5: yeah but from what I've seen they didn't go backstage or anything user7: announce split from shitbag bf then perform best show of her tour? queen shit

ynyln

liked by mclaren, charles_leclrec, scuderriaferrari and 2,912,672 others ynyln: For the first time I will be attending a Grand Prix! Vroom vrooms make my heart go brr. Eternally grateful to scuderiaferrari for the invitation. (They don't have to know my favorite driver is on mclaren) 📷: poster of the gp I was supposed to go to 2 years ago scuderriaferrari: 🤨 scuderriaferrari: we're sure you'll be a converted tifosi by Sunday mclaren: yn is our fan 🙏🏻 Oscar and Lando on cloud 9 now f1: Looking forward to (finally) welcoming you! user4: alright y'all is she a Lando or Oscar girlie      ynyln: can't I love them both 🥺 user8: great now I gotta watch all the grand prix stuff this week for a glimpse of mother user7: why didn't you go 2 years ago?     user8: J*stin that's why ynbff: I know this is so beyond huge for you! You're going to have such a great time!! (liked by ynyln) user4: idk but it's weird she's all happy and stuff right after the end of her relationship with IDK      user1: not really? If you look back for the past year they were rarely seen together. He didn't even go to her launch party in London      user5: yeah anyone could see they were over long before they announced it. she probably mourned it already

ynyln

liked by charles_leclrec, ybffn, oscarpiastri, landonorris, and 4,698,981 others

ynyln: Dinner in Monte Carlo. Do I go all in on black or red?

scuderriaferrari: red, obviously landonorris: black charles_leclerc: Red maxverstappen1: Black ynyln: all these blue check marks where are my lil lattes 😩 user2: yn stays forgetting she's the biggest blue check mark user1: not max joining in the mclaren vs ferrari fight for YN mclaren: Papaya 🥺 (but black)      scuderiaferrari: go comment on your own guest's posts      mclaren: you sent the invite after we mentioned doing it      landonorris: do better admin      mclaren: We'll get her next time      redbullracing: not if we get her first      landonorris: if not we're going on strike      oscarpiastri: we what      landonorris: for legal reasons that was a joke 🙄 oscarpiastri: I quite like the red user3: I love that YN asked opinions on her fit but it's just f1 drivers and admins fighting over her 🍿🍿 (liked by author)      ynyln: it's amazing right? no one's fought over me before user3: bffr sabrinacarpenter: love the black but the red slays 🫶🏻 redbullracing: we vote blue      mclaren: that's not an option?      redbullracing: we still vote blue      scuderiaferrari: don't you have an energy drink to go sell user4: came for the pics, stayed for the f1 chaos

ynyln has added to their story

caption: making men wait for selfies before i order food? yes

Y/n and Charles lingered over their wine, and when yn/bff made the signal that they should get going y/n waved her off. Usually she hated social settings, but Charles was so personable and warm that she felt like she was chatting with a longtime friend. "You can go, Pete can get me back to the hotel," she said, glancing to the table in the corner, where Pete and Charles's bodyguards sat. The dining room was private, and she had the feeling that Ferrari had paid to have the restaurant closed to anyone but their small party for the night.

"I will make sure she gets back safely," Charles promised.

Yn/bff relented, excusing herself and leaving. The next several moments YN bid goodnight to the others, smiling sweetly and shaking hands of the Ferrari personnel and members of the team, and finally Carlos, who shared a knowing look with Charles before he left.

"You don't have to stay with me," she said as the waiter came to refill their glasses.

"No, I am having a wonderful time." He smiled, asking the waiter to leave the bottle. "I have wanted to meet you for a long time."

That surprised her. "Really?" she asked, sipping her wine.

He nodded, standing and bringing his glass and the bottle around so he could sit next to her. "I've been a fan of yours since – ah, I'm bad at song titles. The song where it's – I heard that you're settled down. I can't sing, I'm sorry."

She smiled. "Someone Like You?"

"Yes, that one." Charles leaned one arm on the table. "A few of us came to Paris and we were supposed to come backstage after the show, but after what happened…"

"I saw pictures and videos of you and – Lando and Pierre right? I wish I could have met you then – I've been a fan forever, but…" She swallowed hard, glancing down briefly. "I cancelled my post show meetings," she murmured. "It didn't seem right."

"Were you…" He paused, then shook his head. "It is none of my business."

"Was I too upset?" she guessed, taking another sip as the surprised flashed in his eyes. "I suppose I was. You were at the show… Those emotional moments weren't rehearsed."

"I could tell."

"Do you want to know the crazy part?" She didn't know why she was sharing this with him. He was a stranger. Yet she felt so at ease with him. More at ease than she had in a long time, really. "I wasn't crying for him."

"Who were you crying for, chérie?" he asked softly.

"Myself. For the wasted time, the pain I put myself through." Y/n gave her head a little shake. "I'm sorry, you don't want to hear about that."

"I want to hear about anything you wish to say."

"Are you always this charming?" she asked.

"I'm not charming. That makes it sound like I'm trying to make you like me. I am just… Me, y/n."

"You. Charles Leclerc, one of the top drivers in formula one."

"And you are just y/n, queen of music."

"I wasn't always."

"Neither was I."

"Touche," she sighed, lightly clinking her glass to his. "But you are charming."

"Perhaps I am just charmed. I am glad you went with the red." His eyes stayed on her as he finished his wine. Then he glanced to the corner, hesitating before facing her again. "Would you like to go somewhere more private?"

She hesitated. She didn't know him. The last thing she needed was some messy disaster of a fling, or to dive into a new relationship. And yet… "Yes," she whispered.

tbc.

[clairoscharm]

you're my bestfriend

pairing : ellie williams x fem!reader

warnings : childhood bsf!ew, fluff fluff fluff, not sure what to feel abt this but wtv!, friends to lovers, mentioned of abby being in a rs w @r3starttt , modern au, college au! uhmmm that’s it? OH MENTIONED OF OWEN AS WELL

credits : @anitalenia @fawniiky @cafekitsune

✉️ : this is a draft or repost but i rewritten it :)

DAILY CLICK

DON’T BUY TLOU

WAYS TO HELP PALESTINE

The friendship between you and Ellie began when you were twelve.

It all started with a school project, an awkward pairing that felt like a chore at first. But as the two of you began working together, it quickly became clear that this was something special. You laughed over shared jokes, stumbled through awkward silences, and discovered you could lean on each other even during the chaos of adolescence.

By the time the middle school ended, your bond had become unshakable. Ellie wasn’t just a friend; she was a constant—a partner in crime, your confidant, your people.

That was years ago, back when everything felt a little simpler. Now, you were both in college, sharing a new chapter of life together. Time had only strengthened the connection between you. Through exams, messy dorm rooms, and late-night cramming sessions, Ellie remained the person who felt most like home.

When the winter break rolled around, there was no question where you’d spend it: back in Jackson, at your childhood house. The two-week Christmas and New Year holiday was the perfect excuse to escape campus life and dive into the traditions you and Ellie had built over the years.

One of the traditions you two built over the years was having regular sleepovers. These weren’t just casual, one-off events but rituals that kept your friendship alive, vibrant, and full of the joys that come with shared memories.

The two of you used to stay up until the small hours playing video games, binge-watching movies you’d seen countless times, and gossiping about everything from celebrities to the drama unfolding in your social circles.

Whether it was at her place or yours, sleepovers were a haven of connection.

This time, it was at your house.

—

The living room was alive with the sounds of laughter and playful bickering. The floor was strewn with takeout boxes and empty soda cans, remnants of a feast that fueled your gaming marathon. The TV cast a soft, flickering light across the room as you and Ellie faced off in a video game.

“Ha! Take that!” Ellie crowed, slamming her controller buttons with exaggerated glee.

“Don’t get cocky,” you shot back, narrowing your eyes at the screen. “This isn’t over.”

Despite your competitive banter, there was an ease to the moment that felt like second nature. It was the kind of night where time blurred, where everything else faded into the background.

As you reached for a slice of leftover pizza, a thought popped into your head. You paused the game, grinning mischievously. “Wait, oh my god. I forgot to tell you something!”

Ellie raised an eyebrow, already intrigued. “Oh no. What now?”

“It’s not bad,” you said, your grin widening. “Just some campus drama you missed.”

Ellie smirked, leaning back on her hands. “Well, don’t hold out on me. Spill.”

You set down the pizza and leaned in, lowering your voice as if you were sharing top-secret intel. “Okay, so you know Abby Anderson, right?”

“Duh,” Ellie replied. “Big, intimidating, kind of broody? Hard to miss her. What about her?”

“She’s seeing this girl, Renee—you’ve probably seen her around. She’s an art student and works at the campus coffee shop.”

“Oh yeah, she’s sweet,” says Ellie, nodding. “Always remembers my order. What happened?”

“Well,” you continued, leaning in like you were about to share state secrets, “Abby introduced Renee to her team after practice the other day. And guess who decided to make things awkward?”

Ellie tilted her head. “Owen?”

“Ding, ding, ding,” you said, clapping your hands together. “Apparently, he was making these weird, personal jokes about Abby and Renee. But here’s the best part—Renee shut him down. Like, stone cold. I wish I could’ve seen it.”

Ellie's jaw dropped, and she let out a laugh. “Renee? Quiet, coffee-shop Renee? She shut Owen down?”

“Yup," you said, popping the “p” for emphasis.

"Abby looked like she wanted to high-five her right there. Owen just kind of slunk off after that. It was amazing.”

“I need to start hanging out at practice,” Ellie joked, shaking her head. “But what’s up with Owen? I thought he and Mel were a thing.”

“They were,” you said, her tone shifting slightly. “Till Mel broke it off last month. She said he was too focused on himself and not enough on, well, everything.”

“Yikes,” she muttered. “That's tough, hope she's okay though.”

You nodded your head in agreement, then smirked. “Okay, your turn. Any juicy updates from your side of campus?”

She thought for a moment before snapping her fingers. “Oh! Dina and Jesse—there was this whole misunderstanding last week, but they worked it out, and now they’re even stronger.”

Your eyebrows shot up. “Misunderstanding? What happened?”

“Well,” Ellie started, “Jesse had been spending a lot of time at the library with Cat—”

“Cat? Isn’t she like….gay?” you interrupted, your tone suspicious.

“Yes, but—,” she said, waving you off. “They were working on a group project for their media studies class. But Dina didn’t know that at first, and when she saw them together, she thought something was up.”

You winced. “Oof. That must’ve been a fun conversation.”

“Yeah,” she replied, nodding. “Dina confronted Jesse about it, and he immediately cleared everything up. He even invited her to join them at the library so she could see for herself.”

You smiled, her expression softening. “Aww, classic Jesse. That guy would probably walk through fire for her.”

“Exactly,” Ellie agreed. “Dina felt bad for jumping to conclusions, but Jesse was super understanding about it after they talked it out."

"It’s nice to see a couple that actually, you know, communicates.”

Ellie chuckled, tossing a fry at you. “What a concept, huh?”

“Right?” you said, laughing as you tossed the fry back at her.

The two of you fell into a comfortable silence after that, the hum of the television filling the room again. Ellie stretched out her legs, resting her head against the beanbag as she glanced at you.

“What about you?” she asked, her tone casual but curious. “Anything new in your world?”

You shook your head, leaning back. “Not really. My life’s basically a drama-free zone, which, honestly, I’m okay with.”

Ellie gave you a lopsided grin. “You’re lucky. The rest of us are out here living in a soap opera.”

“Yeah,” you teased, “But where would you be without my advice and impeccable commentary?”

Ellie laughed, her voice warm and easy. “Nowhere. You’re basically my rock, you know that?”

Her words made you pause, but before you could respond, she reached for another fry, casually throwing it into her mouth as though she hadn’t just made your heart skip a beat.

No matter how chaotic campus life, or Ellie’s stories gets, moments like this grounded you. With Ellie, it always felt like home.

A thick comforter lay sprawled over both of your legs, its soft fabric a welcome barrier against the cold. You shifted slightly, the rustle of the blanket mingling with the distant creaks of the house settling, a reminder of the quiet world outside this cocoon of warmth.

As you reached for a slice of leftover pizza, Ellie adjusted her position, her socked feet brushing against yours beneath the blanket. You didn’t say anything, but the small, familiar gesture made your chest tighten with an unspoken comfort.

In the brief pause between rounds, the room felt quieter.

The hum of the heater in the corner created a steady background rhythm, joined occasionally by the faint groan of the pipes. Outside, the faint whistle of wind against the windowpanes added to the serene atmosphere, as if the world itself were settling in for the night.

Ellie stretched her arms above her head, yawning loudly. “Okay, okay, I need a break. My hands are cramping,” she said, dropping her controller onto the couch beside her with a soft thud.

“You mean you’re tired of losing,” you teased, earning a playful shove in return.

“Keep talking, and I’m taking the last slice of pizza,” she shot back, a mischievous glint in her eye.

Ellie grabbed the remote and turned it off with a click. The sudden quiet felt startling at first, but the soft hum of the heater and the occasional creak of the house quickly filled the silence.

You glanced around the room—pillows and blankets were scattered across the couch and the floor, remnants of the makeshift sleepover setup you'd thrown together earlier in the night. The couch wasn’t big enough for both of you to sleep on comfortably, so you’d decided to make the floor a cozy nest instead.

Ellie flopped down on the pile of blankets with a dramatic sigh, her arm draping over her face. “I’m never going to move again,” she declared, her voice muffled by the fabric.

You laughed softly, tossing another pillow down beside her. “Good. That means I get the better blanket.”

Ellie peeked out from under her arm, narrowing her eyes playfully. “Over my dead body.”

Despite the mock protests, you handed her the thicker blanket before crawling onto the floor beside her. You stretched out on your back, the soft layers of the blanket beneath you cushioning the hardwood floor.

“God, I love nights like this,” she murmured, her voice low but content.

You nodded, leaning back into the couch. “Yeah. It’s kind of perfect, isn’t it?”

The world outside might have been cold and distant, but here, wrapped in the warmth of shared laughter and quiet moments, everything felt right.

Ellie shifted beside you, lying on her side and propping her head up with her hand. “Do you ever feel like the floor is weirdly more comfortable than a bed sometimes?” she mused, her voice soft, almost thoughtful.

“Not really,” you replied, turning your head to meet her gaze. “But it feels… different. Like we’re kids again.”

Ellie smiled faintly, her expression softening. “Yeah, I guess it does.”

The quiet between you wasn’t awkward. It never was. Instead, it was filled with the subtle sounds of your shared presence—the rustle of blankets as Ellie adjusted her position, the faint sound of her breathing as she stared at the ceiling.

Eventually, you turned onto your side, facing her. The space between you felt impossibly small, your fingers just brushing hers where they rested on the blanket.

“Ellie,” you said suddenly, breaking the silence.

“Yeah?”

“You’re my best friend,” you said casually, your voice quiet but sincere.

She looked up at you, her brow raised slightly, a teasing smirk tugging at her lips. “Well, that’s a good thing, right?”

“Of course,” you replied, chuckling as you leaned back against the stack of pillows. “You’re like the best part of my life, Ellie.”

She grinned, setting her phone down beside her. “Right back at you. You’re stuck with me, you know?”

You both shared a laugh, the kind of laugh that felt natural and familiar. But as the sound faded, a brief silence stretched between you, and you couldn’t help but wonder—would things be different if she were more than just your best friend?

The thought crept into your mind like it always did, sneaking in during quiet moments like this. Whether it was the way her laugh made your chest feel light or how her presence turned even the most mundane nights into something special, the idea lingered.

Ellie rolled onto her back, her shoulder brushing against yours as she got comfortable. The soft rustle of the blankets and the hum of the heater filled the room as the house settled into the quiet hours of the night.

You let your eyes close, but the lingering thought of what if stayed with you, weaving its way through your dreams as sleep finally took over.

The quiet night enveloped the both of you, and in the peaceful cocoon of the living room, everything felt like it was exactly where it was meant to be—for now.

—

The next morning, as sunlight poured through the blinds, casting golden beams across the room, you found yourself back in the kitchen, preparing tea. You didn’t know it yet, but this was the start of something new—a chapter where the line between friendship and love began to blur in ways that felt as natural as breathing.

The faint whistle of a teapot came from the kitchen, pulling Ellie from her slumber. She stretched like a cat, groaning quietly as her body protested against the familiar couch cushions. Sitting up, she rubbed her eyes and blinked at the sunlight streaming through the curtains.

The house smelled of tea, the aroma pulling her to her feet.

Ellie was so familiar with your routines by now that nothing surprised her anymore. She knew that mornings were your sanctuary. From the way you’d groggily reach for your phone, squinting at the screen, to the way you’d lounge in bed for a few extra minutes before getting up to make tea and soak in the quiet beauty of the day.

Padding into the kitchen, Ellie found you standing by the counter, the steam from the teapot swirled lazily around you, and the sight made her pause for a moment. She always thought you looked effortlessly beautiful, but something about that moment felt different.

Your hair was loosely behind your ears, framing your face, and your posture relaxed as you waited for the tea to steep. You were humming—some song she couldn’t quite place—but the sight and sound of you in the morning light made Ellie’s chest ache with something she didn’t quite know how to name.

"Morning," you said, your voice warm with the remains of sleep.

Ellie slid into one of the chairs at the kitchen table, still rubbing the last traces of sleep from her eyes. "Morning. You're up early."

You laughed lightly. "Early? It’s almost nine."

She chuckled, leaning back in her seat. "Fair point. Making tea again, huh?"

You nodded, lifting an eyebrow at her. "Want some?"

Normally, she’d say no. She wasn’t much of a tea drinker and often teased you about your near-religious devotion to it. But today, for reasons she couldn’t quite explain, she hesitated.

"Yeah," she said suddenly, surprising even herself. "Sure. Why not?"

You froze mid-pour, turning to her with a raised brow. "You? Tea? Are you feeling okay?"

Ellie shrugged nonchalantly, though her voice betrayed a hint of curiosity. "Don’t make it a thing. Just figured I’d try it since you’re so obsessed."

You smirked but said nothing, turning back to pour her a cup.

The kitchen was quiet save for the clink of mugs and the soft whistle of the kettle, and Ellie found herself watching you again, noticing the way the sunlight played on your features.

The moment felt oddly significant. As Ellie leaned against the chair, watching you prepare the tea, she noticed the way the sunlight caught strands of your hair, the way your movements were careful and precise, as though this simple act was its own form of artistry.

Ellie found herself smiling.

"How come you want to try it today?" you asked, breaking the silence.

She shrugged again, her fingers idly scratching behind the ears of one of your pets who had wandered into the kitchen. "I don’t know," she said softly. "Just felt like it."

You nodded and smiled at her before grabbing a container that has ‘Sugar’ written on it.

Knowing Ellie’s aversion to bitter drinks, you added two and a half sugar of full spoon into her tea before mixing it. As you stirred, you felt her gaze on you, uncharacteristically focused.

Ellie’s gaze lingered on you longer than usual. The scene felt timeless, almost nostalgic, as if it had happened before and would happen again countless times.

"I want to live with you forever one day," Ellie said suddenly, her voice quiet but steady.

You froze, the words taking you back to when she had said the exact same thing years ago. Back then, it had been a lighthearted comment, something tossed into the air during one of your late-night talks. But now, there was a weight to her tone that hadn’t been there before.

A blush crept across your cheeks, but you smiled nonetheless. "Let’s do that somewhere in the future, yeah?"

When you handed her the mug, she caught the faintest smile on your lips. Your fingers brushed briefly, and Ellie felt a warmth that wasn’t just from the tea.

The two of you moved to the living room, settling onto the couch with your steaming mugs. The morning sunlight spilled into the room, wrapping everything in a gentle glow. It was one of those rare moments of absolute serenity.

Ellie took the mug, cradling it in her hands as the warmth seeped into her skin. She hesitated for a moment before taking a sip. The sweetness hit her first, then the floral notes of the tea. It wasn’t bad.

"Not terrible," she admitted, her voice laced with surprise.

"High praise," you teased, grinning as you leaned back on the couch.

Ellie shook her head, smiling despite herself. "What’s your secret?"

Leaning closer, you whispered as though sharing a sacred truth. "I add a little extra sugar. Don’t tell anyone though, it’s our secret."

Ellie chuckled, her grin widening. "My lips are sealed."

The room fell into a comfortable silence again as you both sipped your tea. For you, the moment felt like something out of a dream.

You had always imagined a life like this—peaceful mornings with someone you loved, sharing quiet moments over a warm cup of tea or coffee. You’d daydreamed about it as a teenager, envisioning a cozy home filled with the soft sounds of laughter, the pitter-patter of pets (or maybe even with kids around), and the kind of love that felt like warm, cozy, slow, like home.

Ellie knew about those dreams. You’d shared them with her years ago, during one of your late-night talks. She had always admired how clear you were about what you wanted in life.

As you sat there, sipping your tea, you found your thoughts drifting. Ellie was so deeply embedded in your life, in your heart, that imagining a future without her felt impossible. And yet, the idea of wanting her in a romantic sense felt like a line you shouldn’t cross.

Ellie broke the silence, her voice soft but filled with meaning. "You know what this reminds me of?"

You turned to her, tilting your head slightly. "What?"

"Back when we were teenagers, you told me about your dream life," she said, her eyes locking onto yours. "And this… this feels like it. Like the future you described."

Your heart skipped a beat.

"And honestly," she continued, her voice barely above a whisper, "I want it to be me."

The words hung in the air, weighty and electric.

"You… you want it to be you?" you asked, your voice trembling slightly.

Ellie nodded, her gaze unwavering. "Yeah. I’ve wanted it to be me for a long time."

For a moment, you couldn’t speak. Emotions swirled within you—surprise, joy, and an overwhelming sense of belonging.

"I want it to be you too," you admitted, your voice soft but certain.

Ellie’s smile was radiant, and she reached out to place her hand over yours.

"I meant what I said earlier," she confessed. "In the kitchen. And years ago."

Your heart swelled as you realized this moment was everything you’d ever dreamed of.

Sometimes, the simplest things—a cup of tea, a quiet morning, the soft glow of sunlight—can carry the weight of a thousand unspoken emotions. This moment, this connection, felt like coming home.

You had always dreamed of this life, and now, you were finally living it, with Ellie by your side.

Together, and perhaps, it’s a forever kind of thing.

© clairoscharm 2024

[darlingshane]

little things

Frank Castle x F!Reader

Summary: You're having a bad day, thanks to your period, but Frank showing up earlier than expected changes that completely.

CW: fluff, crack, hurt/comfort, happy frank, he's still in the marine corps, mention of getting shot, period mention, pet names, cuddling, watching tv.

A/N: Just a little something I wrote the other day while I was having some bad cramping.

Word Count: 1,1k

— Links: AO3 // Frank Masterlist

“You sound a little cranky,” Frank said on the phone, his voice cutting off over the sound of an announcement coming out from the airport speakers and the urgent buzz of people rushing in the background.

It wasn't his fault you were feeling like crap when he called you. Your period showing up at the most inconvenient time of the day was the one responsible for your terrible mood. You only wanted to grab your stuff, leave work, head home and borrow the couch for the rest of the day but alas you still had half a shift to go through before you could do that.

“I have to go back to work, Frank. What did you want again?” You're sure he said it when you picked up the call a couple of minutes ago, but your brain refused to hold onto that information.

You heard him scoff at the other end before saying. “I said I just landed. I'm about to get into a cab.”

“Right now? In New York? Thought you weren't coming back till next week. I was going to pick you up.”

“It's okay, sweetheart. I got an early leave. I'll tell you about it later. Do you want to go out? Maybe grab a bite, go to a movie or something to celebrate?”

“I uh… I’m not feeling well today. I'm sorry. Can it wait till tomorrow?”

“Sure, baby. What's wrong?”

“Nothing. Just everyone's favorite time of the month when your uterus decides to shed itself.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry baby. How about I pick you up? We could order some food and watch one of your shows. Would that make you feel better?”

“You just got home, Frank.” You paused, letting out a long sigh. “You don't have to do that. It should be me. I had this whole thing planned, I was going to surprise you, and now it's just ruined.”

“It's okay, sweetheart. Let me take care of you today. You can still surprise me when you feel better, okay?”

“Okay,” you resigned, bummed about the fact that you couldn't welcome him properly after months without seeing him.

When Frank picked you up from work a few hours later you almost broke in his arms. It was hard to believe he was here. Missing him had become something normal that you got used to. It wasn't until he was in front of you that you realized how much you did miss him. Capturing the scent of his skin when you buried your face in the crook of his neck brought you to tears. You fit your palm at the back of his nape, it was recently shaved, and you could feel the skin under the short, pickling hairs.

Frank held you tightly against his chest, keeping you from tumbling down. It was easy to tell he was dying to see you just as much.

He drove you home where he had prepared a whole thing for you to relax. On the coffee table he had set up a fresh pepperoni pizza from your favorite joint, a bowl filled with candy, and a second bowl filled with tampons, pads, and painkillers that made you laugh. On the couch, your heated blanket was already waiting for you. Frank offered to draw you a bath first, but you didn't feel like soaking in the tub right now. You just put on your pj's, sat on the couch, curled between Frank's legs with all your creature comforts around while you picked one of your favorite shows to binge—Gilmore Girls.

“You forgot to tell me why they sent you home early.” You remembered once your cramps started to ebb.

“Shit, you're right. I forgot too.” He moved slightly at your back to collect something from his pocket. “Here.”

A small metallic thing was hiding between his fingers that he offered to you. It was a bullet without its shell casing. You were quick to recognize from the crash course he gave you once about handguns.

After inspecting the bullet, you glanced at him over your shoulder.

“I'm confused. What’s this?”

“I got shot. That's why they sent me back.”

“What?” You shifted to the side to survey an injury that wasn't visible. His arms, neck, and face were intact. “Are you okay? What happened?”

“I'm fine. It was a couple of days ago. I thought about calling, but I didn't wanna worry you. It wasn't that big of a deal. Just one asshole getting one lucky shot.”

“You should've called me, Frank. I'm already worried every time you leave.”

“I know, I'm sorry.”

“Where were you hit?”

“Well, that's the funny thing.” His lips curled up.

“Why?”

“I got shot in the ass.”

“Get out of here.” You nudged him with your elbow. “Not my favorite money-maker.”

“No, it's true.” He chuckled.

“Okay, show me.”

“Uh-uh, we're watching this.” He pointed at the flat screen. “You promised Lorelai and Luke would get back together in a couple of episodes. I'm invested now. I need to see that happening.”

You paused the episode.

“Nope, you don't get to see that until you show me your ass.”

“Fine,” he scoffed and stood up, turning around and undoing his button to pull his jeans and underwear down. On the curve of his right cheek there was a small piece of gauze taped to his skin.

“Did it hurt?” You asked, peeling the tape carefully.

“Nah, it was just a bee sting.”

You grimaced at the sight of his skin stitched together. It wasn't that bad but for some reason it hurt you more than it hurt him.

“One lucky shot, huh?” You uttered, covering his injury. “They should make Kevlar plates for your ass.”

“Hey, at least it wasn't my dick.” He quipped, buttoning his pants.

“Oh, that would be a tragedy. Don't joke about that.”

Frank laughed as he sat back down in his former spot at your back.

“Anyway, you got one hell of a keepsake.” You rolled the bullet between your fingers.

“Brought that one for you. Thought you like to keep it.”

“Me? I don’t want your crusty ass bullet,” you huffed as he locked an arm around you, pressing his cheek against your jaw.

“No? What do you want then, Miss? Diamonds and flowers?”

“Not necessarily diamonds but I’d take a ring.”

“A ring, huh?” He picked up your left hand and massaged the knuckle of your ring finger. “You’re right, your hand is looking awfully bare without a ring. I’ll see what I can do about that.”

“You know I’m joking, right?”

“Well, I’m not. Next time, it’ll be a ring I promise, sweetheart.”

“I’ll be waiting.”

You gazed at him over your shoulder, and pressed a soft kiss on his lips.

[man-i-love-fanfiction]

To Share the Space with Simple Living Things - Hozier x Fem!Florist!Reader

Chapter One: Blue Hydrangeas- Gratitude

Summary: Your job as a florist has been the highlight of your day for years. It becomes even more exciting when a certain new customer becomes a regular.

Word Count: 2286

Author's Note: Hey guys! My first multi-chapter fic, i'm so excited!!! i don't have a strict posting schedule, but I won't go more than two weeks without an update. please bear with me here because I have no idea what it's like to be a florist. I hope you all enjoy!!

p.s. special shoutout again to @deprivedmusicaljunkie for beta reading, i can't thank you enough!

fic below the cut :)

You were a part of the small minority of people who actually loved their job.

The concept of this was strange to most people — strangers making small talk, men asking introductory questions on dates, even your own parents. Maybe because it wasn’t exactly a career; more so a job that someone has as a way to make rent while getting their degree, which is how you originally began to work at Earth's Laughter Florists. College had been years ago for you now, and yet you stayed behind the counter, making bouquets for customers with a genuine smile on your face. It got to the point that when the old owner decided it was time to retire, she chose you to take over. Of course, you immediately accepted; this job was the best part of your day. While all of your friends were going insane with their office jobs, you… admittedly still went insane from time to time, just in a much prettier workplace.

You had even taken it upon yourself to learn flower language: different types of flowers having different symbolic meanings. It was almost like extra credit. It gave you a new challenge of arranging flowers while keeping both color and symbolism in mind, and helped you create bouquets and arrangements with more meaning. This, in turn, gave your customers a new incentive to buy different flowers for different occasions based on what they meant. More business for you, more smiles on people's faces, and more money in your pocket. Everyone wins.

Another benefit of the job — your favorite part — was that it gave you small glimpses into the lives of other people. Flowers had a multiplicity of sorts. They were so versatile that people bought from you for almost every occasion. Weddings, funerals, birthdays, dance recitals, you name it. It made you more appreciative of others. Every day was a new insight into whatever your customers had going on. And today was no exception.

You arrived an hour before the store opened, as usual. You went into the back and threw on your apron, adjusting your name tag. Thoughts of everything you had to do before opening ran through your head, and you quickly began to busy yourself with everything from giving some flowers new vases of water to following up on an order for a wedding. Your two coworkers came in around a half an hour after your arrival, donning their aprons, saying their hellos, and also beginning their day. When the time finally came, you flipped around the sign hanging from the door, telling everyone outside you were open. You stood behind the counter and waited.

And waited.

And waited.

One of the only downsides of your job was that it required a lot of patience.

It's not like you were just staring at the clock, biding your time until a customer entered. You still had work to get done, mostly tying up loose ends from what you didn't finish before. Your coworkers were occupied with a tall order of arrangements, so they stuck to the back, with the occasional popping in to ask if you needed assistance. Politely, you declined.

Mundane was the word that kept repeating itself in your head as you did your odd jobs around the store. Not necessarily a bad thing. In fact, mundane meant nothing horrible was occurring (even though it meant nothing was occurring). Of course, mundane never does last long.

You had just finished creating an arrangement to put on display when your first customer of the day walked in.

The bell above the door rang, and you quickly walked back over to where you were supposed to be standing, not even bothering to see who had walked in until you were behind the counter.

The first thing you noticed was that he was taller than you had expected, with long brown curls that fell down to his shoulders. His outfit, a black turtleneck, a brown leather jacket, and black jeans, was the right mix of formal and casual; you could tell he had somewhere to be, but with people that wouldn't mind if he laughed a little too loudly.

To top it all off, he was handsome. You couldn't pull your gaze from him if you tried.

He walked forward, slowly looking around at all the flowers on display until his gaze locked onto you. He broke the silence between you.

“Hello. I need some flowers.”

You maintained your composure and brushed off your previous thoughts. You started your usual routine, asking him the same questions to get to know the situation (and him) better.

“What's the occasion?”

“It's my mum’s birthday.”

“Does she have a favorite flower?” You asked. He replied with no hesitation.

“She loves hydrangeas. Blue hydrangeas. She always has.”

His immediate answer brought a small smile to your face. You nodded intently and began to think of all the possible combinations of flowers that would work well.

“You're specific. I like that. That makes my job easier. Usually guys say something like ‘I don't know’ or ‘the purple ones’ or just ‘roses’. It's like some people don't even pay attention.”

“Well, that's all I know how to do.”

“A blessing and a curse, I imagine.”

“More of a blessing, believe it or not.”

“I have a similar blessing, though it seems to be laser-focused on plants of all things.” You joked. “Speaking of plants, let me start on your bouquet.”

You left your spot, walking over to the wall of flowers on display for you to pick from. You stopped and stood next to the man, fixated on the wall as you tried to decide what flowers would go well together, in meaning and in visuals. Mumbling, you thought out loud.

“Alright. For his mother. Blue hydrangeas… that's gratitude. What can go with that?”

The customer tilted his head in confusion, clearly having heard you.

“I don't mean to interrupt, but what's with blue hydrangeas and gratitude?” He asked. Your eyes widened, and you turned to face him as you started your explanation.

“Oh, it's flower language. I learned about it to help me make more symbolic bouquets. Back in the Victorian era, people would use bouquets of flowers to convey messages they couldn't say out loud. Most of the time it was a love confession, though you could also reject someone if you picked your flora wisely. Individual flowers have meanings, too. Blue hydrangeas, your mum's favorite, symbolize gratitude. There was even a change in the meaning based on which side the ribbon was on, or if they were given upside down, and…” You cut yourself off when you realized you’d been talking for much too long, your excited expression dropping. “I’m rambling about something you definitely don't care about. I’m sorry.”

He gave you a confused look, and a small laugh of disbelief escaped him.

“What? Don't apologize. That was fascinating. I don't know if I’ll ever see flowers the same way again. In a good way, of course”

The fact that he was actually invested in what you had to say pleasantly surprised you. People — not just customers, people you actually choose to surround yourself with — would often tune you out after the first two sentences.

You knew this man for two minutes and he was already raising your standards.

“Well then, I’m happy to give you a new perspective. I’ll get started on your arrangement.”

You stepped back to get a better look at the flowers lining the walls of the room. You already had a vague idea of what you wanted, you just needed to put it into action. Hydrangeas were grabbed first, and made the focal point of the bouquet immediately. Other flowers were picked up and put down, a trial-and-error of sorts until you found which ones truly matched.

Occasionally, you looked over your shoulder to find your customer still standing there, spectating you from a few feet away. He watched you with a certain gleam in his eye, one you would attribute to admiration if you didn't know any better.

Once your selections were made, you picked out a plastic sheet and took the flowers into the back, where there was a smaller room with a much larger table surface for a workspace. The wrapping was laid out, and meticulously, flowers were laid down. Rearranged. Shifted around. After a few small touches, everything was in the exact place you wanted it.

You finally finished up, wrapping the flowers in the silver plastic and tying it up with a blue ribbon. You went back behind the counter and held the bundle of flowers up, pointing at each one as you described the meaning of each specifically selected flower.

“There's the blue hydrangeas for gratitude, white roses for loyalty and beauty, and belladonna delphinium for protection and well-being. You're basically showering your mum with compliments with this thing.”

“It's gorgeous,” he replied, the look of astonishment from before lingering on his face.

“As nature tends to be.”

“I mean, you can't argue with that, but the way you’ve arranged them, it's… stunning. She’ll love it.”

His compliment surprised you; it wasn't too often you got such a compliment for a simple bouquet. It caused your heart to flutter in your chest in a way that definitely crossed the border of the employee-customer relationship you had going on. Frightening. Maybe if you kept acting unaffected, it would magically stop.

“Let me ring you up.”

There was no true cash register, and you instead relied on a pen, a yellow legal pad, and mental math for customers’ totals. It took a moment, but you calculated what he owed you.

“That'll be $54.”

He muttered in agreement, and you watched as he reached into his coat pocket. His hand stayed there, fiddling around. After a moment, he reached the opposite hand into the opposite pocket. He felt around for a second, pulling his hands out and placing them on his hips. His content expression was replaced by one that was much more panicked.

“Shit. Shit, shit, shit!”

Your brows furrowed in confusion.

“What’s the matter?”

“I…I forgot my wallet back at my house. Do you take any online payment?”

You shook your head.

“No, sorry. We're old school. That's alright though, I can put these to the side and you can run home and get your wallet.”

He let out a frustrated sigh in response, angry more at himself than anything else.

“That's the thing. I live thirty minutes from here and I’m meeting my mum in fifteen minutes, and I have specific instructions to be on time. I might just…”

He stopped his sentence, paused, and took a deep breath to calm himself.

“I’ll find something else. Thanks for all your help, though. You have a gift.”

You caught the sincerity behind his now bitter tone, and it made your heart ache. He turned to leave and took a few steps forward. You didn't process that you had said anything until his reaction.

“Wait.”

He immediately stopped in his tracks and turned around, and you realized your impulses led you to call out for him even though you had no plan whatsoever.

Biting at your lower lip, you thought of an idea. You genuinely wanted to help this man give his mother flowers… The fact you found him attractive was merely an added bonus. Besides, the pity you felt for him overrode that. Once the metaphorical light bulb lit above your head, you spoke again, leaning in closer and lowering your voice so only he could hear.

“Okay, I’m not supposed to do this, and this definitely isn't a good business practice, but I can tell you're not just doing this to steal flowers from me, so I’ll make an exception.”

He leaned in as well with a look of intrigue. You continued to explain.

“You can take the bouquet for now, and then within… I don't know, two days, you have to pay me back. I’d just need a name and phone number so I can contact you if you don't show up.”

You snatched one of your business cards from the display and flipped it over so the blank side faces upwards, leaving a pen in front of you so he could write. He picked up the ballpoint, seemingly scribbled for a moment, and then slid the card back over to you. Written in surprisingly beautiful handwriting, you read his name aloud.

“Andrew… Nice to meet you. I’m Y/N.”

“I know.”

This caught you off guard. For a second you wondered if maybe you did accidentally give a free bouquet to a shady guy.

“Excuse me?”

Andrew’s mouth went agape as he realized the connotation behind what he said, and he quickly muttered an explanation, flustered. “Oh my god! No. Not like that. You… your name tag.”

A sigh of relief escaped your lips, and you gave him a nod.

“Right. Forgot that was there for a second. Alright, take your bouquet. Happy birthday to your mother. And remember, two days.”

He gave you a gesture showing his gratitude, pressing his hands together.

“Thank you. So much. I don’t know how I’ll repay you.” He said, grabbing the bouquet.

“Hopefully with money in two days,” you joked.

He let out a laugh.

“Money would do the trick. I’ll see you soon.”

“See you soon.”

You watched as he left, the smile of your face growing as you noticed his appreciation of the flowers you had arranged by the doorway. He paused for a moment before opening the door and leaving, and you caught him humming a tune you'd never heard before.

You hoped he would come back much sooner rather than later.