#I swear I already had it in the drafts you really read my mind

[baby-yongbok]

will you PLEASE write a poly!skz reaction to waxing rachas new hairstyles 🙏🙏🙏 i offer my first born

You actually read my mind 😭 Just posted it -> Here 💗

[kmuradesu]

.‘ENTITLED’.

husband!gojo x pregnantwife!reader (afab)

» summary: leaving the busy streets of Sendai city back to its outskirts, the two of you got a bus. there aren’t any seats available, and being pregnant meant being able to sit in the priority seats. looks like they’re taken.

» CW: pregnancy, exhaustion, mentions of jizz, bus ride, stubborn civilian, teeny-weeny angst if you squint, protective satoru, threats, all happy, no swears, not proofread!

» a/n: this has been sat incomplete in my drafts for a month, only until now I’ve motivated myself to finish it (lmao). I don’t know what it is, but I love pregnancy fics with jjk.

———————————————————————

After a slow-paced stroll through the bustling streets of Sendai City and a bunch of offers from Gojo telling you he’ll buy whatever you want, the lingering sense of exhaustion finally caught up with you.

You had managed to make it an hour and a half.

The beads of salty sweat were becoming more prominent over your glossed skin, your breath being lost easily but being hard to get back. The overly frequent back aches weren’t helping either, it was like this baby was already overweight inside of you.

You couldn’t help but feel embarrassed as your soft, now clammy, hand weaved with Gojo’s, the wedding bands glinting a perfect chrome against the sun’s humid rays. You didn’t want to become a burden, neither a random woman in the city known for sweating abnormal amounts of sweat. “I think the baby’s had enough, huh sweets?”

Your loose gaze lifted upwards to meet his, immediately feeling the cool radiating from his cerulean eyes. Strangely, through the navy lenses in his shades.

“..yeah, me too.” You breathed.

“Okayyy, let’s get the bus back - save you walking around with that watermelon inside you.” Purposefully, Satoru presented you and your bump a judgy look.

“..thanks.”

Rolling your peepers with sarcasm, you gently swung your hand with his back and forth.

“Hey, that’s what it looks like to me!”

“Well it’s your sperm, blame your own genes on the fact it’s fat!”

“WHAT?! FAT?! I’M NOT FAT. I’M A TALL SKINNY KING! AND SO WILL BE MY BABIES!” The man was very much offended, that open-mouth and crossed brow face he pulled was all you needed to know.

“..oh REALLY? WELLI KNOW FOR A FACT ITS NOT MY GENES CAUSING IT!”

And all the way to the bus station you continued on with your quarrel on who’s genes caused your bump to be so big already.

Both you were just kids in adult bodies.

——

After earning an unusual load of overcritical glances from passers-by, you finally reached the bus station where many people stood.

Looking around with concern, your brows gently furrowed, a little confusion clouding your mind. It was good that Satoru could read you like a book.. sometimes.

“It’s okay, they’ll let us go past.”

The white-haired man muttered into your ear, placing his hands on your clothed shoulders.

“What if they don’t?”

“Oh they will.”

The way he said those words made you feel something, like it was your hormones playing tricks on you.

And so soon enough after waiting for a couple minutes, you had a glimpse of the scheduled bus turning around the corner.

“C’mon then.”

Placing a hand on the flat of your bump you both moved forwards, attempting to shift to the front.

“Satoru, I—”

“Just go baby, they’ll move for a pregnant queen like you.” He reassured, eyeing the men who weren’t moving out the way at first. Like they should, the women knew to make way, all flashing you sweetened smiles as you passed them.

Eventually you had gotten to the front with a man standing in the lead. “See?” Gojo smirked, watching you tilt your head back to see his beautiful face.

“M’kay..”

——

The doors of the vehicle swung open with a but too much vigour it almost took out the poor man standing next to them.

After Gojo, being the most pampering partner ever, paid for the tickets, he ushered you forwards only to discern no available seats. Gojo would be more than happy to stand, but it was you he worried about since you were already breathless and weak to stand.

The priority was stocked up with disabled and the impaired too apart from one space.

However that man who clearly perceived you were carrying a baby, sat in the seat in front of your face - glancing at you as he did so.

How selfish. Is he not embarrassed?

“There’s no seats left Gojo, I can’t stand anymore.”

Subtly you whined, being a little irritated that you couldn’t sit down and would have to uncomfortably stand as his baby rearranged your organs.

“..hm. Let’s see.”

“Wait—”

He shuffled to the man.

“Heello. Excuse me, but my miss is pregnant. Would you mind sparing the seat?” Gojo politely asked, hanging on to the pole situated in the middle of the aisle.

“What? Err no, sorry.”

That man was not sorry at all. It made you cringe.

Gojo’s expression paused, pressing his pastel lips together in irritation. Why wouldn’t this man listen?

“May I ask why are you being so difficult?”

After hearing those words, you knew this was going to veer off sideways. Almost everyone’s eyes were glued to the scene unfolding, all looking up from the windows and screen to see two men ‘bickering’ it out.

“Difficult? What do you mean, I was here first.” It seemed like the man had issues already, as he started to flail his hands around.

“My wife is pregnant, if you didn’t hear the first time. You’re sat in a priority seat, which where she should be sitting. Are you disabled?”

He was getting defensive. It was crystal clear that the man was not disabled, nor pregnant at that matter.

“..um no? But that doesn’t mean anything. I’m not giving up my seat for some cripple.”

A cripple?!

That’s it, Satoru had had enough and was desperate to split this man in half. Not a single person could insult you because he would already be on them like a hawk.

Anyways, the fact that the nasty being had called you a cripple, couldn’t help but make you feel a little too much like a burden, and your gaze saddened.

“You’ve gone too far. No-one. Absolutely no-one, is to offend my wife like that. So, jackass, vanish any place other so she can sit.”

“Or else?—”

“There is no ‘or else’ fool. You’ve already screwed the wrong person, so I suggest you move. Don’t do something stupid.”

The man, looking quite intimated, eventually got up and sulked off past the two of you.

“Thanks.” Satoru fake smiled, stalking him ‘till he had gone else where, far away from you.

All this drama had made you forgot about the achy pain surfacing your body, which immediately flowed back as realisation hit you.

“..oof-” It had subconsciously left your lips, and it made Satoru’s brows cross.

“Here you go my love. Is it hurting?”

He concernedly asked, holding your velvet hands as you lowered your rear on the much-needed seat.

“I’ll be fine, just what I needed.” You smiled back at him, tucking a stray hair behind you ear as you breathed out.

“I’m glad. Some morons just think they are ‘entitled’.”

—————— thank you for reading! this is my original idea and have worked hard on this. so please no translating, copying, posting my work on a different platform, or modifying my work. all rights reserved - kmuradesu

[7ndipity]

“Are You Confident?”

fwb!Jungkook x Plus Size Reader

Summary: The one where you get fed up with Jungkook’s teasing and decide to take him up on his offer.

Word Count: just under 1.7k

Warnings: +18 mdni, smut. oral(m. receiving), swearing, Jk starts out fuckboy-ish but turns subby, slight dom reader, reader’s referred to as Noona, not proofread

A/N: This idea has been sitting in my drafts since early December, but I finally managed to finish part one! This is sort of a prequel to this drabble, so if you can read it too if you liked this one. I’ll also be posting part two and a masterlist(hopefully)later this week, so lmk what you think!

Masterlist

°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•

If you had to choose a favorite place in the whole world, you would choose Jungkook’s apartment without a thought. Not your own apartment, not you favorite shop, not even the dream vacation you’d been planning and saving up for forever, just being tucked into the corner of Jungkook’s couch, Bam curled up next to you, his massive head resting in your lap, subtly begging for pets as you vented to his owner about your most recent dating fiasco.

The guy one of your friends had set you up with had seemed nice enough at first, but as dinner progressed, things had progressively gone downhill.

“Did he least pay for dinner?” Jungkook asked, sprawled on the opposite end of the couch.

“I’d assume so, I walked out before the bill even came.” You replied, taking a long drink from your glass.

“Why do you even bother with dating anyway? You said before you hated it.” He asked.

“I’ve told you, I’m… lonely.” You said pointedly, avoiding his eyes.

He squinted at you, understanding suddenly flashing across his face.

“Ah, so you just need to get laid?” He asked, sitting back with a smirk as your face flushed with color. “Why didn’t you just say so? I could help you with that.”

“Ugh, shut up.” You groaned, getting up and heading to the kitchen.

“I’m serious.” He said, following you. “It’s better than fucking some random asshole.”

This type of conversation was a recurring thing in your friendship. Jungkook loved to tease you, and with a relationship that had grown as close as yours had, he had plenty of opportunities.

Your friends often joked that the two of you should just date already with the way you acted with each other, often toeing the line between what was typically considered okay for ‘just friends’. You’d slept in the same bed more times than you could count(a fact that had made Taehyung nearly choke on his drink when he’d found out), you’d even kissed at his friend's New Years Eve party after a few too many drinks and a similar conversation to the one you were currently having, lamenting about not having someone to kiss at midnight.

You didn’t know what had possessed you to do it, all you could remember was hearing the countdown and leaning in, connecting your lips with his for the briefest moment, only for him to quickly chase after yours when you had started to pull away.

Neither of you had brought it up afterwards, but the memory of it was permanently seared into your mind; the feel of his lips moving against yours, the way his hands had gently gripped your waist-

You shook your head, redirecting your attention back to the current moment, trying to ignore Jungkook as he leaned against the counter next to you.

“Look, if you don’t want to, that’s totally fine, I’m just offering a possible solution to your problem,” He said, shrugging as he grinned at you. “You know, if you’re really desperate.”

You scoffed. “You’re one to talk. When's the last time you even went on a date again?”

Your words had the desired effect on him, turning his expression sour.

“That’s different, I’ve been… busy.” He said grudgingly.

“Uh-huh, sure.” You grinned triumphantly.

“I mean it though,” He said. “If that’s really all you’re after, I’d be glad to help.”

You blinked at him in disbelief. “Seriously?”

“Yeah,” He shrugged. “I mean, like you said, it’s not like I've got anything going either. It doesn’t have to be a big deal, just two friends helping each other out.”

“That is, if you think you can handle me.” He added with a smirk.

You rolled your eyes, letting out an irritated laugh. “Please, I could handle you.”

“Are you confident?” He asked, quirking a brow at you.

“Yes.” You answered immediately, catching both him and yourself off guard as you stared him down.

Your words weren’t entirely true, you weren’t all that confident when it came to things like this, but Jungkook had a way of triggering your stubborn streak, whether it was with that cocky smile he always threw your way or the domineering tone he like to tease you with, something about him made you suddenly brave and willing to challenge anything he said.

Normally, that was part of what made your friendship fun, the two of you constantly bickering and at odds with each other, but this was much different than arguing over where to get dinner or what to watch on tv.

You were chest to chest now, able to feel his heart pounding surprisingly fast as he stared down at you.

“Prove it.” He said, his tone having lost its teasing edge as his gaze flickered between your eyes and your mouth.

That was all it took to make you break.

You closed the gap between the two of you, pushing him back against the wall as your lips clashed.

This wasn’t at all like the first time you’d kissed, there was no hesitancy or tender playfulness, it was hot and rushed and needy, full of tongue and teeth.

You were aware of a voice in the back of your head frantically screaming at you, something about how this was terrible idea and could ruin things between you and Jungkook completely, but you really couldn’t bring yourself to care as his warm hands found your waist, pulling you flush against him as his tongue fought with yours for dominance. He tasted sharp and sweet like the wine you had brought, his skin hot under your fingertips as your hands slipped from his shoulders to tangle in his hair, tugging lightly at the strands and earning a low grunt from him.

His grip on your hips tightened before sliding down to grope your ass, grinding you against the growing bulge in his pants.

A surprised squeak left you, making him chuckle against your lips as you mentally cursed yourself. You were not about to let him have the upper hand, not this quickly.

You slipped a hand down between you to palm him over his pants, squeezing just enough to cause what sounded very much like a moan to you to release from his throat, though you knew he’d tried to deny it.

Just as suddenly as you’d begun, you pulled away, making his eyes snap open in confusion.

“What are you-?” He panted, stopping in shock as you dropped to your knees in front of him.

“I’m helping you out.” You said simply, undoing his belt as you looked up at him with doe eyes. “Is that okay?”

He nodded, breathing unsteadily.

“I need words, Sweetie.” You said, making him flush at the petname as you fiddled with his zipper. “I can’t give you what you want if you don’t tell me.”

“I want it,” He quickly blurted, giving up control with surprising ease as he stared down at you, eyes black with need. “I-I want your mouth, please.”

“Good boy.” You tugged his jeans down, revealing the prominent tent in his boxers, a small wet patch on the material showing just how eager he was.

“These are cute.” You commented, toying with the waistband before letting it snap back against his skin, making him jump slightly. “Purple looks good on you.”

“Noona, please.” He whined in frustration, his head falling back against the wall as his hips twitched forward involuntarily.

“Fine, since you’re asking so politely.” You pulled his boxers down, letting his cock spring free, hanging heavy in front of your face.

He was slightly bigger than you expected, the tip flushed deep red and leaking precum as you took him in your hand, making him shudder.

“Mm, should’ve known, even your cock’s pretty.” You mused, leaning in to give it a cursory lick, sucking the tip into your mouth for a moment before pulling back, leaving a few kisses along the underside of his length as you glanced up at him to gauge his reaction.

He was staring down at you slack-jawed, his breaths coming out in uneven pants as you pumped him with your hand.

He already looked slightly fucked out and you’d barely done anything to him yet, giving you a massive surge of confidence as you held eye contact with him, gathering as much spit as you could in your mouth before letting it dribble down over his twitching length.

“Fuck.” He muttered under his breath, squiming slightly.

Still holding his gaze, you took him fully into your mouth, sinking down as far as you could go.

“Fuck!” He gasped, his head falling back against the wall with a thump as you pulled back, swirling your tongue around him teasingly before sinking down again, letting him hit the back of your throat and holding him there for a moment before pulling off.

You quickly found your rhythm, bobbing your head up and down on him and using your hands on what wouldn’t fit in your mouth.

He let out a low whine, fists clenched so tight against his thighs his knuckles had gone white.

Noticing this, you used your free hand to guide his to your head, letting him tangle his fingers in your hair and giving him something to ground himself with.

All too soon, you felt him beginning to tense, his grip on your head tightening as his thighs started to shake.

“Fuck, ‘m gonna cum.” He whimpered. “Where do you want me to-?”

You only answer to him taking him and deeper and swallowing around him, making him cry out as his hip bucked forward, fucking your face as he chased his release.

“Shit, Y/n, I-” His words were choked off with a groan as he came, cumming down your throat in hot spurts.

He slumped back against the wall, breathing hard as you slowly pulled off of him, making a point to meet his eyes again as you swallowed.

“Shit, Y/n,” He said weakly as you stood back up. “That was-”

You cut him off with another kiss, feeling him twitch against your leg as he tasted himself on your tongue.

“I’m not done with you yet.”

Taglist: @sopebubbles-replies @btsw1fe @this-must-be-my-tardis @whitefoxgirl @bethanysnow @coffeedepressionsoup @main-bangtansmauyeondan @feminympho @a-gayish-unicorn @dfqcsqueen @ldysmfrst

[littlxpxtal]

The Beach

TYRANTS || STORY MASTERLIST

PAIRING: rafe cameron x fem!reader

WARNINGS: MDNI 18+ Content, swearing, sexual content, drug and alcohol use, violence

WORD COUNT: 3k

If I told you that I loved you

Tell me, what would you say?

If I told you that I hated you

Would you go away?

Now I need your help with everything that I do

I don't want to lie, I've been relying on you

Fallin' again

I need a pick-me-up

I've been callin' you "friend,"

I might need to give it up

April

Fuck you

I hover my thumb over the send button for a long breath. When I exhale, I press send, click my phone off and toss it onto my bed. It lands face down.

I walk over to my bathroom, shutting the door behind me and striping down.

The pogues went back to the cut, sending JJ off into the swamp lands with a backpack full of food and camping gear. We are hoping in the next few days we can figure something out to make sure he can come back home safely.

While I shower, I think of all the new information I learned about the mission, and how getting the rest of the gold out was the next goal, but they would have to do it very strategically.

My mind wanders to rafe for a second, and I wonder if he’s back from his trip. Then I remember I hate him, and don’t want to hear back from him. I think about how after my shower, i'm going to block him. I should’ve done that after sending the message anyways.

I’m not entirely sure why it took me so long to send it. I drafted that text the same night JJ and I talked about rafe. I think it just took me a bit of time to finally be able to let go, and let him know I refuse to be treated like this.

There was a small part of me that hoped he already blocked me, so he wouldn’t even see the message from me.

Tomorrow is the last day of spring break, and my family will be back on the outbreaks by nightfall. I think about how I’ll try my best to be asleep by the time they get back tomorrow so I can avoid any questions.

The pogues helped me clean everything, washed bed sheets and dishes, took out the trash and wiped everything down. There was no trace of life in the house, not even from me.

I make mental to do lists of what I still need to do before graduation, what i should wear to school this week, and what color to polish my nails. My mind wanders and runs a million miles a minute as I step out of the shower, ringing my hair into the towel, and plopping it on top of my head. I lotion my body and face up, then wrap myself in a robe.

When I walk out of my bathroom, a shriek spaces my lips.

Rafe is sitting on the edge of my bed, and he’s playing with one of the trinkets from my book shelf.

“What’re you-“ I hold on tightly to the doorknob, ready to run back into the bathroom if needed. I couldn’t read his expression at all.

“You shouldn’t leave the door that leads from the outside, directly into your bedroom, unlocked. Especially when you’re home alone.” He says coyly.

“I think we are privileged enough to know that we don’t really have to worry about those kinds of things here on figure 8, now do we?” I tilt my head, and take in his presence. He’s wearing a hoodie with the hood up. His eyes are on my body, wrapped up in a silk sobe.

“Why are you texting me all crazy like that for, hm?” His eyes finally flicker up to meet mine. They are cold and hard. I glance over to scan my room, find anything to pique my interest enough to not give into the urge to look back at him. My heartbeat raced and I felt my mouth get drier by the second.

“I had been wanting to say it for days, but I figured it would be best if I waited until you were done with your trip so I didnt bother you.’ he scoffs and stands up, taking a step towards me. I responded with a small step backwards, my breath hitching in my throat.

“You think some text behind a screen would’ve ruined my trip? You think saying “fuck you” to me, is something I would get worked up about?”

my lips trembles, my body is reacting in a way as if im getting scolded, or reprimanded for speaking back to an adult.

I don’t speak, my body freezes and he takes another step towards me, his head dipping down.

“You think I care about the fact that you helped hide maybank here at your house?” I hyelped, and my hands trembled. I looked down at the ground, and he’s finally close enough where I can smell his cologne.

He hooks his finger under my chin, and I flinch. My back is pressed against the doorframe, and he leans forward, pushing my chin up, and y eyes meet his,

“Cat got your tongue?” He coos, his eyes look manic, and there’s a slight tremor in his hand.

“I think you do care. And it would’ve ruined your trip.” I finally croak out, letting out the breath I had been holding.

“And I mean it. Fuck you rafe. Fuck you and the mind games you play with me. Your not even my boyfriend and you like to control everything, and if i'm not doing something you Like, you use move onto another one of your girls. Like im disposable, like i dont matter. And I know i Fucking matter to you.”

I dont really mean to say the last part, but it came out anyways. I was just being honest.

He doesn’t respond for a while so we stand in silence, and he stares down at me, his finger still holding under my chin.

He leans down and presses a soft kiss to my lips. I dont object, but I dont open my mouth for more.

“You dont mean it” his whispers, his lips brushing against mine.

“Yes i do” I mumble, my brain getting light from the feeling he brought in my mind.

his other hands reach up and trailing down the valley of my chest against the robe. His fingers make it down to where the rob is tied, and he glances up with a smirk.

“Tell me, y/n, did you finally sleep with him? Did you get back at me?” He hot breath fans against my chest, and he lowers on his knees, slowly pulling open the tied pieces of my robe.

”What Don't you get about the fact that JJ and I don't do that. Never have and never will.” I try my best to pretend I am unaffected by the way his fingers trail up my inner thigh, right to the line of my robe, barely hanging open. His lips press right below my naval, and a whimper escapes my lips.

“It would’ve ruined my trip” he whispers, using his hands to open my legs, I press harder against the wall, the towel on my head finally dropping to the ground, I pull my wet hair to one side, looking down at rafe. His pupils are blown, his bottom lip between his teeth, waiting for my response.

“I know it would’ve” I say with a smirk.

”you give me a constant headache” he grumbles, pressing another kiss to the inside of my thigh.

”You Make this whole thing so hard. Would be easier if you just stopped overreacting” I retaliate, bending my knees slightly, opening up my thighs more. He grips my hips and Iicks a strip up my slit.

“Wheres the fun in that?” He says with a chuckle before diving in, suckling on my clit, his fingers burned deep into my hips. I moaned out in pleasure, my hands entangling themselves in his hair.

He hums with pleasure against my heat, and I find myself panting, my head hung low, bottom lip between my teeth.

“So did you fuck her again?” I ask, hissing as he sucks hard on my clit in response.

“Nah” he responds quickly, before his mouth attaches back to my folds, his tongue lapping up and down rhythmically.

I whimper a few times, and he looks up to my eye contact with me.

“You’re easy to piss off” he says against my pussy.

”sounds like you do it on purpose” I groan and bcuck my hips against his face. He releases his mouth, its covered in my slick, and his eyes are still blown out. His right hand trails down, and he runs two fingers between my folds, pushing into my hole, just teasing it slightly. I breath out heavily and he smirks.

“You’re fun to play with” he drawls out, his eyes focuses on the way his fingers are sliding into and out, deeper with each pump. My legs start to shake as he curls his fingers inside. Once they are fully inside , he quickens his pace, the silence in the room filled with the wet sounds of his fingers pumping in and out of me.

“‘M not a fucking toy” I grit out, pulling his hard harder, squeezing my eyes shut as I feel myself reaching my peak. He doesn’t respond, and instead brings his mouth back up to my clit, flicking it with his tongue, swirling around in circles, clockwise then counterclockwise.

“Fuckkkkk” I groan out, seeing white behind my closed lids. I cum all over rafes face. I dont get to ride it very long, before he’s dragging me over to the bed, and pushing my face down, ass up. He pulls the robe full off my body, and presses my face down into the pillows, I feel himself line his cock up with my entrance, and he pushes in.

”Rafe” I groan, holding out the sheets with all my might. I finish riding out my high as he pounds into me from behind, his hands gripped on both sides of my hips.

Profanities slip from his mouth, accompanied with a few whimpers of my name.

I gain enough strength to push my self up, so im in tabletop position, while he still pumps in and out of me. I turn my head and look back to see the hoods of his eyes are hanging low, his jaw is slack, his tongue peaking out the side, and drips of sweat are beading on his forehead. A whimper erupts from his mouth, and he grunts after, his eyes snapping open to meet mine, as if he sensed me looking at him.

“This what you wanted? Huh?” I bat my lashes innocently and bit my bottom lip.

”Wanted to piss me off so much I just had to come over and fuck you just to get you to shut the fuck up? Huh pretty girl?” My eyes roll back and my head hangs down. He’s tsks his tongue, leaning forward, one hand gripped tightly on my hips, the other gathers my hair in his fist, and he yanks me back, my shoulders pressing up against his chest. He cocks his fist down to the right, angling my head up and back to look up at him. His pace hasn’t faltered once, and the continuing sound of my pussy squelching against his throbbing cock is only getting louder, I can no longer contain my moans, and I squeeze my eyes shut as they spill out of my mouth. He takes this opportunity of my open my mouth to spit in it. My eyes shoot open, and we hold eye contact for a second before I swallow and he smiles.

“All you have to do is ask nicely you know?” His grip on my hair still tight, and his dick is ramming into my harder than before.

“That doesn’t sound like something I’d do.” I whisper, looking deep into his eyes. His smile never faulters, and he leans down and kisses me.

“Don’t ever say that shit to me again” he says, breathing into my mouth, his eyes shut, still pounding relentless into me.

“What? Oh, Fuck you” I whimper out. Everything happens so quickly.

His eyes snap open and they darken, he lets go of my hair, pushing me down by my shoulder too the bed.

”Don’t.” He gives my ass a hard slap, making me yelp out.

”Ever” he pulls his dick out, and grabs my hips, flipping me onto my back.

”fucking” he pushing my legs open, and wraps them around his hips.

”say that” his right hand reaches up and wraps around my throat, putting just enough pressure.

”again” he growls the last word before ramming himself into me.

I lift my head up and attach my mouth on his shoulder, sucking harshly to cover the moans I wanted to scream out. His head rests against mine, and he grunts.

“You gonna be a good girl for me now?” He breathes out heavily, and looks down at me. We make eye contact and I pout, refusing to give in. His hand is still on my throat, and he gives it a squeeze. I groan in response, shutting my eyes.

“Look at me” he commands. My eyes flutter open and he has a smirk on his face.

“I’ll only be a good girl if you promise to stop fucking other girls”

His hips stutter a second before he completely stops. The grip on my throat is released,and he pushes himself up on both hands, hovering over me, my legs still tightly wrapped around his hips.

“Is that what you really want?” He asks sincerely.

I wiggle my hips to try and get him to keep going, but he doesn’t budge.

“I dunno. Can we just keep fucking?” I please, grabbing onto his bicep and reaching up to kiss his neck.

“Sure” he whispers before thrusting again.

We dont say anything the rest of the time, until Rafe is about to cum.

”’m close”

”Not inside me” I protest.

”Fucking duh” he grumbles into my neck before pulling out and finishing on my stomach. He immediately stands up, grabs a tissue and starts cleaning me off.

Once he’s done, he passes me my robe, and he puts his clothes back on.

“Well, are we like good now?” He asks, checking his pockets for his wallet and keys.

”Yea, we always were”

”Right” he says, scratching the back of his head. “Im just gonna” he points towards the door he snuck through. I nod my head in understanding, and watch him leave. I turned off my bedside lamp, and laid in silence.

My moment of self loathing was interrupting by my phone ringing.

Sabrina

I answer immediately

“Sab?” I say into the phone, sitting up.

”Y/N, you need to get down to the beach right now. Like NOW”

I furrow my brow, take my phone from my ear to check the time. I was 9:27pm

”I dont know Sab I was about to go to bed honestly.”

”Bitch, it’s the last night of spring break. And mostly everyone is back, and we’re partying on the beach. Get here NOW” she yells the last part into the phone before hanging up. I hurriedly pack a bag with miscellaneous illegal items, slip on a hoodie and shorts then run out the door. I check Sabrina’s location to see where on the beach she was, and it was decently close for me to make it on foot.

When I arrive, I see a mix of faces, those I get along with, and those who I simply pretend dont exist on a regular basis. Before Sabrina sees me, I catch a glimpse of rafe. He’s taking a drag of a cig while Kelce talks to him and Topper. Topper looks semi interested, while rafe looks like he couldn’t care less. His face looks angry and hard. And hot. Like. Really fucking hot.

Before I could analyze his face more, Sabrina yells out my name, and his head whips in my direction. I look away before our eyes meet, and smile when they land on Sabrina.

“Hi baby, I missed you” she cried out, standing up to greet me with a hug. She’s sitting on a towel that topper brought. I smile down at them and look around to see where I can set up. Conveniently, there’s a spot next to rafe in between him and some random kook.

“Why dont you go sit by rafe and cheer him up a bit. He’s in one of his moods.” Topper jokes, nudging his head over. I give a fake smile and trudge over, laying my towel down without acknowledging him.

When I sit down, he gives me a Look.

“What? We’re you saving this for someone?” I say with a smirk. He gives me a fake smile, and laugh then rolls his eyes.

I pul out the bottle of wine I stole from my parents bar and take a big gulp. I hand it out to him, and he takes it, drinking a small mouthful before passing it back.

We get along cordially, mainly because we dot actually talk to each other. We just silently pass the bottle back and forth between each other, while people chatter among us.

When the night gets late, and everyone starts slowly leaving the beach, it ends up just me and rafe, my head laying on his lap, staring at the stars as he stroked my hair and looked out into the ocean.

”This is nice” he mumbles. I nod my head in agreement and he looks down.

His face is sad, and his eyes are brimmed with tears.

“Y/N, I dont think I can be the person you need.” He whispers, and a tear slips down from his face and lands on my cheek. He wipes it away then looks back out into the ocean.

“Could you try?” I as. My face is hot and flushed from the alcohol, and I was probably going to say something I would later regret. But i don't care. I wanted him to want to try for me.

“You might have to teach me”

“Okay” I whisper. “Rafe?”

”Yes, Y/N?”

”Can you take me home? And will you stay with me?” He smiles.

“Of course”

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

Tags: @ltristessedureratoujours @davinashifts333 @tomholland792

[byuljoonie]

moonlight // knj

I’m sorry baby I’m just really hot…

pairing: namjoon x reader

genre: one shot, slight angst, fluff, growing tension, boyfriend material, extreme smut, desperation, succubus intentions…

word count: 5k+ (sorry)

warnings: mentions of mature topics, spit, namjoon driving lmao, thigh humping bcs desperate, throat goat, dom!sub, dom rm!sub reader, alcohol consumption, probably a good amount of swearing, post-gym namjoon, grocery store activities, slight car play, teasing, oral, summer night, riding, overstimulation, a little masochism

summary: namjoon promised to go to the grocery store with you after the gym (extended ending on ao3)

note: just had what cody ko and noel would call a “power thought.” I literally just had a spark of inspiration bcs it’s really hot in the south right now and Namjoon’s vogue cover is to die for. enjoy and feel free to check out any of my playlists while reading. Sorry for any little mistakes. gonna make a tag list after I post 10 works! -ash (wrote this draft a few months ago so it might be slightly more extreme than expected.)

My reflection stared back at me, tracing the movement of the cloth against my skin. The long slit of the black fabric starts by the left knee and leaves an opening at the bottom of the dress. My manicured feet sat firmly against the hardwood bedroom floor, grounding me away from my persistent thoughts. I grabbed my sunglasses from the stand mounted on the cream walls and turned swiftly on my heels. Abandoning the mirror with a grimace on my face.

I loved this dress very much, the long sleeves light and airy protecting me from the harsh summer rays. The way it hugs my figure is like someone familiar. The same someone that bought this dress for me. He crossed my mind once more sending another surge of anger through me.

Namjoon promised to come along to the grocery store with me today but he’s been at the gym for almost 2 hours now. He said he’d only be gone an hour but an hour quickly turned to two, now I’m dressed and past ready to go. I hated going to crowded stores, at this rate we’ll never beat the after-work rush.

I sat on the bed putting on my anklet he gifted me for our 3 year anniversary. Yet another gift that I’m wearing today, being spoiled ruining my plans of holding a grudge tonight on our date. I slipped on some black socks and made my way towards the door. Listening as the front door swings open with a beep of the automatic keypad.

I excitedly descend the stairs, my black dress sweeping the floor behind me beautifully like a wedding gown flowing in the summer breeze. The second step I’ve already failed at trying to be mad at him.

“Baby! Where you at?” He says deep voice roaring through our apartment. I stopped at the bottom of the stairs almost running into his chest. He smiled at me taking in all of my body, returning to my eyes after his brief but thorough inspection.

“Right here NAMjoon,” I stated putting extra emphasis on his surname. I watched as his chest rose and fell with every breath, his skin glistened with sweat. Tan skin accentuating his muscular frame, my mouth parted slightly at the sight. He looked heavenly I almost lost my composure.

“I’m sorry I took so long Y/N my trainer wouldn’t let me leave until the workout was complete,” he said walking towards me. Smirking at the way my eyes followed his every movement.

“You look so gorgeous Princess, this dress is perfect for you,” he said pulling me into a tight embrace. Grabbing a handful of my ass as he reached over to rest his chin on my shoulder. I yelp in surprise at the sudden groping, melting into his body and giving up on being angry. I wanted to take him right now but first, we need food or we’ll be eating out for another week before we have time to shop again.

“Whatever Joon go shower we have to leave as soon as possible and you’re stinky,” I said pulling away from him and then standing on my tippy toes to kiss him quickly. He kissed me back beginning to deepen it before I push him away again. I give him a knowing look and bid him goodbye as I walk to the kitchen to make him a snack to eat in the car. The store was about a 25 minute drive from us but it was worth it for the produce.

I grab a few ingredients from the fridge to make him a nice sandwich with an everything bagel. I prepared everything quickly and put it in a small ziplock bag next to my purse. I heard Namjoon exiting our bedroom 15 minutes later, humming a sweet tune in his beautiful vibrato.

“Come on babe I already have the car warming up,” he said grabbing my hand and lightly pulling me next to him. He’s wearing a light brown shirt with a pair of distressed blue jeans. Looking as handsome as always I drink in his appearance for eternity. We walked to the elevator quietly, Namjoon tapping away on his phone until the elevator doors opened to be let us out.

As we walk towards our car I begin to sweat a little, the setting Sun still scorching my skin like its’ noonday twin. I started to speed up a little pulling Namjoon along so I could feel the relief of the A/C sooner than later. He swung the door open for me making sure my dress wasn’t in the way before shutting the door.

Namjoon jumps in quickly closing the door before the heat could penetrate the closed air. It still wasn’t cool enough in here, with the sun beaming directly on our vehicle the A/C felt like lukewarm hell. I let down the window hastily fanning myself as we pulled out of the parking lot.

After I few minutes of fanning and desperation, I looked over and behold a sight that would make any woman yearn in an instant. A head of sweat moved swiftly down the expanse of Namjoons golden jaw. Resting at the base before dropping down onto his slightly exposed shoulder. His lips rose colored from his unconscious biting. I wanted to reach over and swallow him whole, I crave him so bad I can’t help but squeeze my legs together at the thought.

I was so caught up in my sinful thoughts I didn’t notice him glance over at me. A twinkle in his eye set off the indication of a torturous idea. Namjoon placed his large hand on my thigh, causing me to tense up instantly. Before I could utter a word he reached over my leg and grabbed his sandwich from my lap.

His smile turning into a stifled laugh as he continued to stare straight ahead. I must have let out the small noise I was holding in because he seemed to know exactly what would tick me off right now. I turned my attention towards the windshield trying to focus on the passing cars and people watching. Then an idea popped into my head.

I pull out my phone and open the group chat I have with our 6 best friends. I stop and think of what to type before another brilliant idea is brought to me. I pose provocatively making sure my cleavage was “present,” in my photo. I took a couple of pictures, some with sunglasses and some staring at Namjoon. He patiently drove, oblivious to my sly intentions. He hummed along to one of his favorite songs looking over at me to shoot me a wink.

I giggled and looked away almost feeling bad for what I’m going to do. Yet not bad enough because I went ahead and sent the photos with a message. “Should I post these on my close friends? I don’t know if I look good enough today…” I said ending with a sad face. It didn’t take long for our phones to simultaneously vibrate. Secretly glancing over at Namjoon, I unlock my phone knowing he can’t check his until we’re in the lot.

Hobi ddaeng: You look great !! Of course, you should post it, Namjoon talk some sense into her.

Me: He’s driving right now. I didn’t ask for his opinion yet I want to hear you guys first :)

Park Chanel: ooooh…I see…

Park Chanel: If you don’t post the pictures I will! Wow wow you look beautiful. Nice..dress and necklace.

I looked down at my neck realizing I didn’t wear a necklace today. Oh Jimin you’re evil Namjoon is going to kill me and you. I laughed a little at his crude behavior and read the next incoming message.

Yoongi: You’re gonna get hit Jimin *laughing emojis*

Me: mmm just because you guys said so I will post it hehe

Before I could read the next response I felt the car shake as we pulled into the grocery store parking lot. I quickly went on my sns and posted two of the pictures on my close friends. Picking the two the boys liked the most. I was starting to get nervous, I know how possessive he is with me and I’m the same but I want revenge for making me frustrated.

Namjoon pulls into an open parking spot almost near the front of the bustling building. I take off my seatbelt with a click grabbing my purse from my lap and swinging the door open. I wanted to beat Namjoon inside before he could read the texts and catch me. As I hurriedly closed the door I saw him reading the messages, jaw tensing with rage.

I hear him call my name from the car and a slam of a car door followed behind the sound of his sexy voice. His long legs easily closing the space between us as he grabbed my hand, squeezing it while looking at me. I put my shades on ignoring his questions. Stroking the back of his hand as I never break eye contact with the automatic sliding doors.

“Can you get us a cart pet?” I froze at the nickname. He knows what he’s doing, and I don’t plan on breaking that fast. I let go of his hand briefly going to grab the first cart I saw. Cleaning the handle before strutting back over to my boyfriend as he eyed me intensely.

I let him grab the cart from me but not before pulling him down to whisper in his ear. “Anything for you Daddy..” I say in a hushed tone. Making sure to leave a kiss on his sensitive earlobe as I pull away.

I walk forward trying not to laugh at the silly nickname I used to get him riled up. He trailed behind me, failing to hide his blatant staring at my ass. We make our way down the aisles trying to speed up the process as people begin piling into the store.

“Joonie baby I can’t reach this,” I said struggling to reach the box of goldfish on the top shelf. He moved over to me in a flash, pressing his front flush against my back. I heard his breathing stop as I purposely pushed my ass against him.

“This one, this one, this one, or this one…” He trailed off purposely picking the wrong boxes to tease me. He finally grabbed the correct item and tossed it in the cart. Walking away as if he didn’t leave me speechless and flustered on the cracker aisle.

I follow him to the snack aisle after grabbing a few bottles of wine and champagne for our date tonight. The empty aisle presents another opportunity for me to assert my dominance. I walk over to the chips looking at them inquisitively as if I’m mocking a character.

“Honey do you want this kind or this kind?” I said while bending over. Making sure to sway slowly as I wait for an answer. “Babe? Which-“ I was cut short as a hand firmly grabbed my ass causing me to yelp in surprise and sit up straight.

“I want this one right here,” he growled in my ear. I turned around and looked at him, watching his eyes darken with hunger. “Let’s get outta here yeah?” He questioned looking into my eyes. I nodded furiously ready to exit this hell and get home to what’s waiting.

We race to the self-checkout line, scanning and bagging groceries like a 5000-dollar prize is awaiting the winner. Namjoon grabbed my hand after he paid and pulled me along with him as he pushed the basket with his other hand. He was so warm, skin clear and kissable. I wanted to pull him aside and cover him in kisses, not caring about the people around us.

Namjoon unlocks the car as we stop beside it. I move to walk around the cart but he stops me in my tracks. “Let me help you get the groceries in the car love,” I say looking confused at his sudden maneuver.

Unexpectedly, he opened the car door and motioned for me to get inside. I insisted again that I help but he gave me a look that I know better than to disobey. I got inside praying I didn’t anger him too much. I set myself up for this one, didn’t I? It’ll be worth it in the end right? Maybe I went a little too far with the texts but I can’t help but shiver with anticipation. I pull out my phone to text Jimin about my bad decisions.

Me: I think I fucked up lol

Park Chanel: you’re welcome ;)

Namjoon slams the trunk shut causing me to jump in surprise. I close my phone sitting it in the cup holder beside me. He gets in the car, jaw still tense as he turns the key in the ignition. I thought about breaking the silence but the tension was so thick a knife would recoil at the slight pressure of penetration. Namjoon puts on his seatbelt then proceeds to look at me.

“ I don’t want to hear another peep from you Y/N..” he starts lowly not breaking eye contact for a second. “You’ve done enough for tonight, if you do anything stupid I swear I will pull the car over and take you on the side of the road. I promise you wouldn’t want that.” He deadpans and looks away from me, pulling out of the parking spot. I utter a soft okay and prepare to behave the rest of the way home.

I slide my palm over to his free hand resting on his thigh. I stare firmly at him, giving my best puppy eyes in return. He doesn’t look away from the road but I watch as his lip twitches into a small smile. He grabs my hand, rubbing his large thumb over the back of my hand. In love can’t begin to describe how I truly feel about this man.

I laugh as he tries to sing along to Smoke Sprite, raspy voice blending well with Soyoon. I rap along to his part of the song, stealing the spotlight and making him bop his head in excitement. The song finishes and we’re about 10 minutes from our place. I check my phone and see a text from our group chat, making the recent grocery store escapades flash through my mind. I want him to touch me again, I like it when he’s desperate and needy for me.

Another terrible idea floods my brain accompanied by a mound of outcomes. I suddenly let go of Namjoons hand causing him to spare me a confused expression. A smile graced my face as I turned my body forward, grabbing the slit of my dress and opening it over my legs. I let my left hand run down the front of my dress, stopping at my panties hesitating even.

I slide my hand under the fabric immediately coming in contact with the soft skin. I dip my fingers and get to work. I began letting out dramatized moans and grunts. I moan Namjoon's name and furiously let my hand lose control. I looked over and saw Namjoon gripping the steering wheel in frustration. Sweat adorned his angelic face, veins prominent in his hands. I let this go on until we reached the last stop light near our apartment building. I sat up and closed my legs acting like I didn’t just masturbate next to my boyfriend in a moving car.

We pull into the lot entering our designated spot. Namjoon quietly turned off the engine and released a sigh that he seemed to have been holding in. He looks absolutely pissed and it’s so sexy. His erratic breathing only made me wetter by the second.

“You’re going to follow my instructions carefully. I don’t want to hear a word from you or tonight will be your worst fucking nightmare got it?” He questioned angrily letting his eyes trail over my body once more. I nodded too scared to move an inch more.

“Go upstairs, get undressed, wait in the middle of the bed. If you’re not in that spot when I come up there in 15 minutes, you better pray you can stop time.” He seethes hotly. “Yes sir,” I say scared and ready for more. He gets out of the car walks around and opens my door. He grabs my purse from my lap holding eye contact, his brown almond eyes dark and predatory.

“Go.” He states motioning for me to exit the vehicle. I get out swiftly, grabbing my purse from his hand and sprinting towards the entrance of the building. The elevator took an eternity to bring me to our floor. I ran to the door and shakily put in the passcode, messing up a few times before it finally let me in.

My shoes are off in a flash, I leave my purse by the door as well abandoning my shades on the counter as I run past to the stairs. I burst into our room, slipping my dress off. Almost fell as I grabbed my silk lavender robe hanging on the wall. I threw it on and climbed onto the bed. My anklet glowed in the natural light seeping through the parted curtains. The front door swung open slamming against the wall.

I heard shuffling, cabinets opening and closing for 10 more minutes before his heavy footsteps echoed through our hallway. He walked into the room eyeing me before raising an eyebrow. I started to sweat nervously hoping I did what I was told.

“Who told you to put on your robe Y/N?” He questioned in amusement. He slowly walked over to me, grabbing each side of the robe and ripping it open. He discarded it onto the floor and stalked around the bed, he stood at the front motionless. “On your knees in front of me, now.” He said and I immediately left the bed. I swung my legs over the side and dropped to my knees.

Namjoon watched me through lidded eyes as I crawled over to him on my knees, stopping directly in front of his growing bulge. I was quick to unlatch the hook of his buckle, the metal of the belt clinging as it hit the hardwood floors.

“I’ll excuse the robe mishap since you’re so eager to taste me doll face,” he said reaching down to grab my chin. A loud moan echoed through the room as he grabbed my hair and yanked my head back. He looked down at me, motioning his head back as if telling me to open up. I did as I was told and watched as he spit in my mouth and closed it back. He pulled his pants down and kicked them to the side.

“Good girl, now eat.” He said intensely. He hummed in satisfaction, eyes never leaving the way I wrapped my fingers around his cock and finally engulfed his length into the warmth of my mouth. I took him in slowly inch by inch, his girth heavy against my tongue as I extended my jaw wider and wider. I choked a little as he hit the back of my throat.

“You look so fucking gorgeous with your lips wrapped around me, pet,” his fingers tightened into my hair, his gaze stoic and heavy on me. Pet. The pet name earned a moan from me as I began a steady rhythm of sucking. My fingers were coated in a thick layer of saliva, Namjoon’s cock easily sliding against my pressured grip as my cheeks hollowed, jaw growing sore from my strenuous movements.

He groaned loudly, fucking my throat faster until I could no longer take it. I let my jaw go slack so he could use me as his personal toy. He grabbed my face and fucked it harder until I was seeing stars. A beautiful repetition of my name strung from his tongue, stilling as he came into my mouth. I happily swallowed every drop, coughing around his cock one last time, sending a shiver through his body.

“Good job, get on the bed I want to taste you. I can see you dripping on the floor,” he smirks as he picks me up and helps me onto the bed. He walks around and gets in the middle of the bed, watching me as I sit patiently waiting for instructions.

“Come here baby, sit on my face,” he motioned for me to come to him. I slowly crawled towards him, bracing myself on his lap. He kissed me roughly, tasting himself on my tongue, running his hand down to play with my chest. Nipples sensitive to the touch, he pulls away from me, taking my right breast in his mouth. Sucking and nibbling on me, teasing me. He pulled off with a pop, scooting further down the bed and then lifting me so I could move towards his face.

I place my hands on the headboard hovering over his face in anticipation. He suddenly grabs my thighs and pulls me down onto him. I scream out in pleasure as he dives into my center. Feverishly lapping his tongue at my pussy like it’s the last time he’ll have me. His moans send intense vibrations through my body, making me scream his name. We’ll have a noise complaint tomorrow.

I felt my orgasm coming on, riding his tongue until my legs were sore. He let go of my left thigh to slap my ass hard, signaling me to cum on his tongue. I came with a loud groan of his name. Shaking and twitching as I came down from my high.

Namjoon grabbed my hips, gently guiding me down to his lap. His face was covered in my essence, from nose to chin, he glistened like an Angel. He smiled and rubbed circles on my tummy as he watched me shake.

“Don’t think we’re done darling, I’m not finished until I see my cum dripping down your pretty legs.” He gave me one last smile before his eyes darkened once more. He grabbed my hips and lifted me slightly, sticking his girth fully inside me. I sank slowly, letting him fill me to the brim. Tears streamed down my cheeks loving the painful stretch in my core.

“Ride me until I say stop.” He deadpanned motioning for me to move or else. I started to ride him painfully slow, not being able to take much more. This was my opportunity to finally seize control. I picked up the pace, rhythmic grunts and sounds of skin slapping filled the room. I put my hands on his chest and let my hips do the talking.

I ground down harder, spelling his name with every swift motion of my hips. I felt his cock twitch inside of me, indicating he was close already. Now that I have control I’m going to make him feel everything he did to me. I moved faster, causing the bed to shake and tremble with every shout of his name.

He grabbed my hips trying to make me slow down but I only grind down harder. Clenching and tightening around him to send me him over the edge. I watched as his orgasm roared through him, eyes rolling to the back of his head. I kept moving, milking everything from him. Getting closer to my orgasm, I let myself go with one last yell of his name.

Squeezing my eyes shut as I finally stilled. The sound of heavy breathing filled the room, the bed creaking as I rolled off of him. Shivering as the empty feeling overtakes me when he’s not inside of me. “I hope I didn’t get too carried away,” I started while looking over at my completely wrecked boyfriend.

“That was perfect.” He said smiling over at me. He slowly stood up, going to our bathroom to retrieve a towel. He returned momentarily, cleaning me off and then cleaning himself. Throwing the towel in the hamper against the wall. I was so exhausted I could barely move. I got under our giant duvet, getting comfortable fairly quickly.

Namjoon glanced at me, nestled under the warm blankets, my eyes getting heavy with exhaustion. He promised me a special date night and he was determined to make it happen, even if he just put me to sleep. With a gentle smile, his aftercare continued.

“Hey, babe,” he whispered softly, brushing a strand of loose hair from my face. “I know you’re tired but I don’t want our date night to go to waste.”

I yawned in response and mumbled sleepily, “Joonie I’m so comfy right here.” Earning a chuckle from him, my reluctance seeped through the atmosphere. “I know, but trust me, you won’t regret it. I’ve got something in the living room set up for us.”

That caused me to sit up, curiosity overcoming my fatigue. “Oh? What is it?” I said carefully. “It’s a surprise, but I promise it’ll be worth it.” He said leaning in to plant a kiss on my forehead.

With his gentle encouragement, I reluctantly pushed the covers aside and allowed Namjoon to help me out of bed. He passed me the discarded robe and my slippers, and together we made our way to the living room.

Where soft candlelight flickered with a movie on the screen waiting to be played. As I settled onto the couch I couldn’t help but smile at the effort Namjoon had put into creating this romantic haven. A charcuterie board with our favorite snacks and 2 bottles of the wine we purchased earlier were on the coffee table.

Namjoon plopped down beside me, taking my hand in his. “See princess? Our date night in the living room isn’t so bad, is it?” He said grinning like he won the lottery. My fatigue began to dissipate as I basked in the warmth of Namjoon's love and effort. “Not bad at all,” I said, feeling grateful for his consistency and thoughtfulness.

“Let’s start the movie I’m so excited!” I exclaimed pumping my fist in the air embarrassingly hard. Namjoon laughed and mimicked me, making me laugh even harder than before. The first half of the movie went by as we stuffed our faces with food and downed wine like it was our last supper. I was starting to feel tipsy and before I knew it my thoughts started wandering again.

“Mmm, these snacks are-“ Namjoon started as he reached for the charcuterie board. I interrupted his thought by grabbing his hand. Namjoon looked at me puzzled, “huh?” He says in surprise. I move closer and settle onto his lap. “I want to be closer to you,” I said, hands resting on his toned chest.

Namjoon blinked at me, a tipsy smile forming on his lips, “Well I can’t argue with that pet.” I look into his eyes exploring the galaxies I can reach within them. “You know, I love nights like these, just you and me, a movie, some wine…” I rambled to him.

“Yeah, me too. It’s moments like this when I realize how lucky I am to have you in my life baby.” He said while lost in my eyes. Searching for something, something that he knows I have. I leaned in slowly, our lips almost touching, “I love you Namjoon.” I kissed him before he could respond. Feeling his emotions spill into our kiss. He pulled us apart gently, rubbing his hand on my cheek. “I love you too Y/N.”

He grabbed my face and captured my lips again. A thief that could do no wrong in my eyes, I deepened the kiss craving more of him. Needing to feel something more. I slowly began moving my hips on his thigh, grinding down onto the exposed skin, earning a guttural groan from his throat.

His hands moved down the side of my body, exploring every curve, touching every mark he left on me this evening. He landed on my hips, guiding me to my last orgasm with his strong hands. The air was hot once more, soft moans and sweet nothings penetrated the quiet.

The movie is long forgotten, the candlelight coating the walls in a beautiful golden glow. I felt my orgasm building quickly, still sensitive from the earlier assault on my clit. Namjoon began bouncing his leg, adding more pressure on my center, and sending me over the edge.

I kiss him one last time before I fall fast asleep on him.

The end.

[redfoxwritesstuff]

A Misdemeanor Of The Heart (Chapter 6) Human!Alastor x Married!Reader

Rated Adult Chapter Trigger Warnings: Alastor is a little shit. Acts of domestic violence

AN: Reminder- Fridays are our new update days. Comments and reblogs are the lifeblood of fics, please consider dropping a love note and let me know if you want on the tag list!

Now with Audio, read by the lovely Nyx of Nyx Productions! Chapter 6: Part 1, Part 2.

Masterlist AO3 KoFi

“What were you doing with him?” Laurence’s hand wrapped around your upper arm as he crowded your space. His voice came out as a low hiss, promising violence later as his grip became painfully tight. 

“Nothing.” You shrank under his hands. “He said you were drafting the contract. Nothing happened. He just lifted the kettle for me. I swear.” 

“You’re a lucky man, Laurence!” Alastor’s voice carried easily through the house. “Your wife’s cooking smells simply divine. Homemade bread too? I’d be a fat man if I had a wife like her at home to feed me. I can see why your pants are as wide as they are!” 

Laurance’s hands fell from your arms as he turned to face the guest, stepping again into your kitchen like it was his own. Alastor only glanced at the both of you, eyes running over you for longer than you were comfortable, before flicking up to Laurance. 

“She keeps me well fed,” Laurence said tensely, grip on your waist tightening as you tried to smile instead of grimace. 

“I can see that!” Alastor laughed, picking up the plater of roast beef. “I simply couldn’t focus on watching you tippity type on that typewriter with the lovely smell from the kitchen. Your restraint is admirable.”

“It’s really nothing special,” you felt off balance. Far too much of the attention was on you for a business dinner your husband was hosting. It was wrong. 

“Oh, but it is!” Alastor lingered in the doorway between the kitchen and dining room, pot roast in hand. “If it hadn’t been for the lovely aromas pulling me down to the kitchen, however would you have gotten the kettle off the stove? It didn’t look like anyone else was going to come to your rescue!”

Alastor served the food, making a fuss about how you had done all the hard work of cooking it and the least the men folk could do was dish it up in exchange. You did not know how to deny him as you lingered off to the side, twisting your hands together as you watched. Laurence’s eyes burned into you as Alastor scooped beef and gravy into your dish, continuing to sing your praises as he gave you a healthy serving. 

Your husband was itching to say you didn’t need the hearty helping you were being given. He wanted to protest against the sweet butter Alastor slathered on your bread for you. Laurence wouldn’t be pleased if you put on weight, but there was nothing you or he could say to stop Alastor and you were so hungry. 

Part of you didn’t want to stop him. You focused your attention on pouring wine for the table, trying to ignore the fact that it felt more like you and Alastor had been the hosts of this lovely little dinner party. It was a strange thought, one that had no place in your head. With a shake of your head, you tried to banish the thought as you stood to Laurence’s side, next to the chair he sat in as you poured his wine. 

“Everything alright, darling?” Alastor called from where he served his own food. Laurence’s dish continued to remain empty. 

You startled under the attention, “Just a hair tickling my cheek, I’m afraid. Nothing to worry about.” 

“Off those feet, dear.” Alastor pulled your chair out for you as you motioned to fill Laurence’s still empty dish. 

“But I-”

“Nonsense!” Alastor laughed easily as you timidly sat, head down, while he scooted your chair to the table. You wanted nothing more than for the floor to swallow you whole. Whatever was going on, you couldn’t wrap your mind around it. The only thing you were sure of was the fact that you would pay for how this dinner had gone already. 

Alastor took his seat across from you as Laurence served himself for what you thought may have been the first time in his life. He was unskilled, gravy spilling onto the tablecloth and vegetables landing with a plop. 

Cutlery scraped and clanked against dishes as everyone ate in a tense silence. Laurence seethed, wanting Alastor out of the house. He couldn’t force the guest out before the contract was signed and money passed hands. The only person who seemed at ease at the dinner table was Alastor himself. 

Someone needed to say something. 

“Mr. Moreau,” you started only to get cut off by Alastor, reminding you again that it was his given name for you to use and he would take nothing else. You gave in with a soft smile as Laurence’s forced smile twitched. “Alastor then. How do you know Laurence?” 

“Business,” Laurence answered quickly. One tense word was all he gave you. 

“Oh,” the one-word answers every time you tried to open the doors to dinner conversation discouraged you. Laurence was clearly unhappy. Dinner was going poorly, and you were sure somehow it was your fault. 

“Our lines of business rarely cross.” Alastor offered, “I’m simply providing some financial backing for his latest endeavor.” 

“And what is your line of business?” You asked before you thought twice, eager to at least have Alastor talking and hopeful that he would pull your husband into conversation. Then you could fade out and be forgotten about like a good wife. 

Laurence kicked you under the table, making you realize that you and Alastor were having too much of a conversation between yourselves for his liking, though the conversation had only really just begun. 

“I work in radio!” Alastor’s smile grew wide, full of white teeth and pride. “Perhaps you’ve heard my show? We recently shifted time slots since it’s been rather well received and now, dare I say, it’s really taking off.”

“That’s where I know-” 

“We don’t listen to much radio.” Laurence said, cutting you off. “We should get the papers signed. It’s getting late.” He slid the papers and a pen across the table to Alastor, who was making a show of looking at his watch, eyebrow raised at the fairly early hour. 

Alastor’s eyes returned to you, where they lingered as he pulled the papers Laurence slid to him closer. You only felt like you could breathe again when he looked down and signed his name in places as he flipped through and read each page. As he leaned to the side, you glanced at Laurence. 

Your husband had his eyes locked on you as papers shuffled through Alastor’s hands. Laurence only looked from you when Alastor slid half the papers back to him, a small stack of twenty-dollar bills sitting on top signifying a deal closed. 

It was more money than you had ever seen and it passed hands in front of you as if it was nothing. You hadn’t expected the business conducted in your home over dinner to involve such high dollar amounts. 

No wonder Laurence had been so stressed! You were thankful it was done. Perhaps now things would settle down and Laurence would relax, but as you looked between the two men, you doubted it. The tension in the air seemed to only grow. 

At least the deal was done. 

It felt like liquid lead had settled in your stomach as you mechanically lifted Alastor’s coat for him. All dinner, Alastor sent thinly veiled barbs at your husband and paid you far too much attention. Having the paperwork signed did nothing to ease the tension between the two men. If anything, it seemed to only get worse. 

When the topic of the dessert was raised, Laurence was quick to write it off. You had made a pie but Alastor was fed the lie that it had burned. It was black and crispy, not salvageable according to your husband. He had bemoaned how you could cook a good meal but how your baking skills needed refinement. Alastor was really being spared not having to choke it down. 

You knew the words were a lie, every one of them, but that didn’t stop the shame from burning in your throat or the way your eyes stung. There was so very little in life for you to cling to. All you had was the hope of being a good wife and, for his own benefit, your husband tore that image down too. 

Had Alastor noticed the pie sitting atop the breadbox in the kitchen? It wasn’t black or burned. It had come out of the oven looking rather nice, you had thought. 

If he had, he said nothing about it. You thought maybe he remembered seeing it though, with how he offered you a small smile that felt far too pointed and private for the open space of your great room. You hoped he did. 

It was proper that you help the guest into his coat. It was heavy enough that your bad arm sagged, shoulder screaming as you struggled to hold it up and open for him. Alastor made no comment on it as he slipped one arm into the sleeve, taking the weight off the pained shoulder quickly. He reached across his front and helped the other sleeve up his arm.

As soon as he straightened his coat, you stepped back and to your husband’s side. Laurence’s hand settled on your waist, fingers flexing one at a time, again and again against you. Little finger, ring finger, middle finger, index finger. Twitch, twitch, twitch. Again and again the twitches ran up your side. 

“It was a lovely dinner, Mrs. Latimer.” Alastor reached for your hand. 

You pulled away, but you couldn’t go far with Laurence’s arm around you. Alastor was faster anyway, snagging your hand in his. Much as he did when he introduced himself a few hours ago, he bent at the waist as he brought the back of your hand up to his lips. 

Having spent more time with him, having been exposed to his kindness and the rich tones of his voice for more than fleeting moments, this time the action affected you far more than it had the first time. 

Your hand trembled in his as his soft lips lingered on the back of it. Your face felt hot, and you had to remind yourself to breathe as you watched the way his long thick lashes fell against his cheek when his eyes closed. His eyes opened slowly, though his kiss drew on a few heartbeats longer. 

His lips left your skin as his head tilted up, warm brown eyes meeting your eyes. The moment seemed to last forever before he spoke, breath fanning over your hand in a way that felt strangely more intimate than anything you had done with your husband. 

“I thank you for an absolutely lovely dinner, Miss Latimer.” 

You needed to correct him, to remind him that it was Mrs. You were married. You had a husband. You belonged to someone. You couldn’t find the words to do so, couldn’t make your voice work as Laurence’s fingers continued twitching one at a time, up and down your hip.

“Thank you for coming,” Laurence said, his voice tight. Finally Alastor dropped your hand and straightened when Laurence put his hand out to shake. “I hope to continue to do business with you.” 

“Likewise,” the tendons in Alastor’s hand stood out as he squeezed Laurence’s hand in a quick but painful shake. “You have a lovely wife. Do take care to hold on to her.” 

The door clicked shut behind Alastor. The house instantly felt colder, emptier. It was so quiet you could hear the soft click of Alastor’s shoes against the concrete walkway as he made his way off your property. 

You were scared, terrified to breathe as Laurence’s hand fell from your waist. It would start soon, you were sure of it. You didn’t know when, but you knew that tonight wasn’t going to be a good night for you. 

“What the fuck are you standing around for? Go fucking clean up from dinner.” 

“Yes, Laurence,” you flinched away at his booming tone before asking, hopeful to smoothe the night over, “Is there anything I can get you first? A drink?” 

You did not hum while you scrubbed dishes clean. You made as little noise as you could, hoping that maybe he would forget about you while you erased the evidence of the meal from your home. Maybe he would leave you alone. Maybe he would fall asleep. 

He had said his back was paining him as he stomped upstairs. Hopefully, he wouldn’t notice you had taken some of his tincture. Sometimes when he took it, he simply went to sleep.

“Did you enjoy having our dinner guest over?” Laurence’s words were slurred as if his tongue was numb and too thick for his mouth. Did he take too much medication or did he have a few drinks? You were not sure and had no desire to get too close to him to find out. 

“He seemed nice enough,” you agreed carefully, setting the last dish on the dying rack before setting to work washing the kettle. 

At some point, Alastor had set it next to the sink for you, making it easy for you to clean up. Alastor had also been the one who gathered the dishes from the table, refusing to allow the woman who did the cooking to pick up after dinner as well. He had said that his mother had raised him too well to allow it. 

It had been a great help, allowing you to do most of the lifting one handed as you cleaned. You couldn’t convince yourself it was a coincidence. He had to have realized how much your shoulder was paining you and done it to help. The idea made your heartbeat a little faster in both fear of what he knew and the rush of being seen. 

“You seemed to like him an awful lot.” Laurence bit out. That was how the night was going. “Are you fucking him?”

“Laurence,” you gasped out his name, outraged as you turned to him. “I don’t even know him. I would never run around on you, anyway. I know better. I am a married woman and even if I wasn’t, it wouldn’t be proper.” 

“Did you want him to? Fucking bend you over the counter and fuck you like a whore?” Laurence quickly crossed the kitchen, fist tangling in a handful of your hair and shoving your face forward. Your shoulder ached as you braced yourself against the sink with your hands. 

“Please,” you cried out as your forehead struck the faucet. 

“Did you beg him as prettily?” Laurance asked, hand grabbing at your ass. “Or did I come down in time?” 

“I swear,” tears dripped from your eyes into the dishwater, sending little ripples out that bubbles surfed on. It was strange the things your mind focused on in moments like this. The ripples didn’t have a chance to die out before Laurence threw you to the ground, the sound of fabric ripping was loud in your ears. 

Another dress ripped by his hands. Another crash to the floor. More harsh words. Marriage was work, your mother had always told you. Marriage was often painful. 

“Look what you did,” Laurence seethed. “Another fucking tailor bill. Can’t you at least fucking learn to mend clothes if you’re going to insist on making me rip them?”

“I’m sorry,” you choked out the words, “I’ll be more careful,” you promised, as if it wasn’t his hands on you that caused the rip. 

Your words did nothing to soothe him. He kicked you harshly, your body curling into the fetal position as pain radiated through you. Groaning, you curled into yourself tighter as you waited to see what would come next, hoping that if you made yourself small enough, he would have mercy on you. 

Tonight, having you on the floor groaning was enough for him. Instead of striking out again with his foot or pulling you from the ground, he simply loomed over you, ranting, screaming, face red. He called you a whore. He made you say you belonged to him. He called you a slut for any man’s attention. 

“Why the fuck would I spend money to power the rest of this damn house for a woman who’s going to fuck some two bit radio man?” Laurence’s poisonous words continued to fall over you. “You can’t even keep your fucking dresses in good condition.” 

You didn’t even know why he was angry about the electricity. You hadn’t asked for it to be finished in months. Instead of questioning it, you whimpered, “Yes, Laurence.” 

You waited, holding your breath, for his next move. Would it be another kick? More words? Would he pull you from the floor and do to you what he accused you of letting Alastor do? 

“Clean this shit up.” 

You laid on the floor, curled into a ball and cried. It had been a while since you cried, or at least it felt like it. You could just have forgotten when you had last cried, too. Time blurred together in a sea of pain. 

What was it like to be married to a man who didn’t hurt you? 

What sort of husband would Alastor be? He talked as if he had no wife at home and surely if he had one, he’d have brought her as was common. Was it by choice or was there something wrong with him? Closing your eyes, you let your mind drift. It was okay to drift for a bit, right?

Brown eyes looked up at you from a veil of thick lashes as your mind floated away.

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[whinypuppi]

author note(s): based on this hotass image on pinterest!! link

and i'll have you guys know the satosugu x reader fic is in my drafts (collecting dust), but i've been working on it and NOT neglecting you all! i try to write at least once a week but i really need a schedule ^_^"

warning; hahha just a teaser and no actual cunnilingus....forgiveness is appreciated

you got a tattoo a week or so ago after satoru left on a long mission. you missed him desperately, and the excitement of seeing him only worsened and made you giggle anytime you thought about how he'd notice it. when he'd leave for long periods like this, usually he'd be taking your clothes off before he even got a foot in the door.

you played his reaction in your mind on repeat until you finally heard the familiarity of a knock on the door. you threw your phone onto the couch and stood up quickly as you ran to open the door for him with shaky hands—turning the knob and smiling brightly at the sight of him.

“'toruuu!”

“hey, baby! you miss me?” he peppered your face with kisses and you gave him a tight hug—also giving him an extra wet kiss on the lips. “mhm.”

“oh, that so? betcha pussy did, too.” this man had no shame. he wasn't wrong, either, but he could have a little decency! god, his dick was powerful. you could almost still feel the ache of him inside you from your last session.

“i dunno, 'toru. find out?” you batted your lashes at him and trailed your hand up and down his clothed chest?

“woah, pretty. who died and made you a whore so suddenly? can't say i don't find it a major turn on.” he smirked at you and carried you princess-style into the living room and on the couch—placing you down roughly and wasting no time suckling and biting your neck. at this rate, he'd give you hickies and you'd have to cover it up with makeup. satoru gojo was rarely gentle during sex, even after coming home from an exhausting mission.

“shit...missed you like crazy. y'taste so good.” he muttered against your skin and already was trying to put his hand down your pants, but you redirected him with a slap.

“use your teeth.” you felt silly to command him, but tried not to let it show.

“'m liking this new you. it's real cute when you get all shy on me, but even better when you're like this.” he inhaled sharply before getting off of you to move down and slowly take your pants off using his teeth after you lifted your hips for him.

that's when he spotted it—pausing and eyes widening slightly. since the tattoo was a little above where your underwear would be, he didn't have to strip you of your pretty panties just yet.

“'it's so easy when everybody's tryin' to please me'?” he read it off in a hushed tone—grinning almost like a psycho when his brain processed it. “baby,”

“is this for me? seriously? you look so fucking hot i might just cum in my pants like a teenager.” he ran his thumb over the tattoo which made you flinch, considering it was still healing. he was almost doing a check to make sure it was real—

“all f'you. do you like it?” your voice was beginning to turn shaky considering satoru wasn't one to swear often. when he did, he almost never used the f-word.

“'like it', sweetheart? it's amazing.” he was already pulling down your underwear—no, ripping it off! “'s no wonder you turned so slutty. you knew i wouldn't be able to help myself.”

your arousal made your underwear stick to your cunt and the feel of his breath on your heat gave you shivers. “sa—satoru...” you whined his name and were already pulling at his hair to bring him closer to your folds.

“patience, angel. 'm as excited to taste your cunny as you are.”

[fandxmslxt69]

Cute Library Boys

Steven Grant x f!Reader

Warnings: Steven being too goddamn cute and fluff!! Some swearing, absolutely tooth rotting dorky-ness.

A/N: Oh my god this has been sitting in drafts for so long but I finally finished editing ahahah. Idk how I feel about it ngl, its cute and has me giggling but !!!! idk. Anyway this IS inspired by a prompt: "Going for the same book at the library" taken from @creativepromptsforwriting (Mona sent me a prompt list literally like 2 months ago thank you @whatthefishh you are too cute for this world.) ANYWAY I HOPE YOU ALL ENJOY this is a peace offering before I pour my heart out into the most gut wrenching angst and coochie killing smut <3

-Clem

Synopsis: All you wanted was to have a quiet day browsing books in the library. Who knew you'd manage to find the cutest man to spend your day with right there in the history aisle?

Word count: 3541 (omg.)

Walking through the library, you gently ran your finger over the spines of the book, feeling worn out paper and leather on your fingertips. It was always relaxing, being surrounded by so many stories, real or not, lives and adventures. You skimmed through a history section, looking for a book that might be of interest, and your eyes landed on one just up ahead, with a pretty spine and a title written in gold. Your fingers jumped to it, but bumped with another hand outstretched to grab it.  “Oh sorry, love! Didn’t see you there,”  “Oh no it’s alright!” You grinned up to the cute man with the cute British accent. “You can have the book, I don’t mind,” “Oh no,” He shook his head.  “Really, you can take it,”  “No it’s fine, really, I can just order another from the system,” He grabbed the book off the shelf, handing it to you. “Love, please. I’ve already read it anyway. It’s all yours,” He smiled, a bright breathtaking smile that lit up his whole face.  You hesitated but took the book from his hand, adding it to the (very heavy) bag you carried. “Memorised and all?” He chuckled. “I wish,”  You grinned at him, and an awkward silence fell as you scanned the rest of the shelf. “Uh,” You cleared your throat. “Anyway. Thank you, a lot, for-” “The book,” He finished. “Yes! The book. Thank you,”  He nodded, his Adam’s apple bobbing.  “Alright well uh…I’ll, go, thank you, again,” You rushed to say before quickly dashing off, trying not to think about how pretty he was, or how soft his eyes looked, or his beautiful curls, his soft yet clear features…

No. 

You weren’t sure what the hell urged you to turn right back around and down the aisle again, but your feet carried you there anyway, and you found yourself standing right in front of the gorgeous stranger again. “Um. Hi.” You mumbled. Maybe he didn’t hear, maybe you could run be- “Hi! You’re back,” He grinned and you could feel the sunshine radiating off of him.  “Yeah. Um..I don’t know I just…yknow…You seem to know your books,” You gestured to the growing pile by his feet. “So I was just..wondering if you had any recommendations? I’m in a bit of a slump, so I wanted to try something new. I mean only if you’re cool with it, if I’m bothering you I’ll just go-”  He laughed, a quiet small chuckle that put a huge ass sappy smile on your face. It was contagious, his bubbly energy and cute laughs and smiles. “No it’s alright love, I’d be more than happy to give you a few suggestions, though it might just turn out to be a big ramble,” You shrugged. “Nothing beats a good book ramble,” “Wholeheartedly agree. Now,” He turned to the shelves, his soft eyes scanning the spines of the dozens of books, and he just started rambling- exactly like he said he would. On and on and on, grabbing a few books at a time and talking about them all at once, he looked over the moon to share all this knowledge with someone, you didn’t have the heart to tell him that you could barely keep up with him. You just stood there watching him, probably grinning like an idiot, adding every book he put down to the growing pile in your bag. Whether the book was actually interesting or not, you didn’t care. When a cute man excitedly tells you about his favourite books in an aisle in the library, you grab every damn one of those books and you take them home. 

By the time he finished going through at least a dozen books, he paused, biting his lower lip to hide a shy smile. “Sorry. Got carried away there,” 

Ah shit.

“No no! It’s okay, no apology needed at all. You- it’s cute. You’re cute. When…you do the ramble thing. Cute. Yeah.” You cleared your throat, feeling your cheeks heat up.  There was a beat of silence, before he blurted out, “Steven.” “Sorry?”  “Steven…my name. Is Steven. Grant. Steven Grant. It kind of just hit me that I didn’t introduce myself,”  “Oh. Oh! Oh right. Oh my god.” You fumbled with your bag, trying to get yourself back in control. “This is embarrassing. I’m so sorry. I’m Y/N. It’s very nice to meet you Steven,” He laughed again. “It’s very nice to meet you too,”  You nodded. How many times are you going to nod. Quit it.  “So…um,” you cleared your throat, wondering if it was too late to ask for a hole to open up and swallow you whole. “Yknow..there’s um…this cafe, right down the street, and it’s really nice and they’ve got pretty decent coffee and food. I was wondering if…you know, if you’re free anyway, and not too busy or if you have something better to do I totally get it-” “I’d very much like to go to the cafe down the street with you,” Steven interrupted, and you stared at him, jaw hanging open slightly as you took in his shy smile and the light rose of his cheeks.  “I mean, if that’s what you’re asking-” He rambled quickly to add. “Yes! Ah, uh, yes, that is what I’m asking,” You grinned widely, cheeks starting to hurt from how damn much you were smiling at this cute stranger in the history aisle of your local library.  “Great! Wonderful, amazing. I- uh…I’ll…go check out my books? Get settled while you do yours and…” “...we can meet by the front doors?” You finished for him. He nodded quickly, his hair bouncing with each bob of his head. You nodded too, fiddling with the strap of your bag. “Okay. Okay cool. I’ll…go do my thing. And I’ll see you soon?” “Yes, absolutely, 100% yeah,”  You chuckled, a few butterflies taking flight through your stomach with all his nervous blabbering.

He’s cute. Real cute, with the nicest warm eyes and a precious crooked smile, and the cutest mop of curls on his head that you desperately wanted to play with. Not to mention his adorable outfit..the cute earth brown pants and the soft sweater that definitely hugged his body in a comfy yet pleasing way. 

Screwed. Absolutely, royally screwed. 

After awkwardly staring (analysing) him for a solid minute as he grabbed the rest of his books, you turned and dashed to the check out desks, fumbling and mumbling about stupid cute library boys the entire way through the checkout process. 

*                                           *                                          *

As you both left the library, a light silence falling between you, he couldn’t help but take a few glances at you, his heart picking up pace, a giddy laugh building up in his throat- this was new. All of it was so new yet welcomed. He’d be damned if he let it go to waste, whether it be a chance to make a friend, or maybe a little more. 

By the time you had reached the shop, his shoulder ached from carrying his bag of books, and you looked ready to drop dead on your feet. 

“I can carry your bag if it’s getting you tired,” Steven suggested softly as you entered the cafe. You frowned, hugging your bag tightly to you. “What, no. It’s okay, I like carrying my bag. Makes me feel close to my books,” You pointed to a table by the window. “Here?” He laughed, then nodded. “Yeah this works,” He took a seat, lifting his bag off of him and placing down beside him. “What do you like to read anyway?” “Oooh,” You slid into the seat, you could feel the ache in your lower back start to build. Who even had back problems at this age. “I like a good fantasy novel, and I am guilty of reading way too much romance. I also like poetry. Not a very big person in non fiction though.” “Romance huh?” He raised an eyebrow, a playful smile on his lips. “Scandalous romance?” You laughed, shrugging. “What, a woman has her needs, and those needs happen to be pretty men with cute accents,”  “Ah right,” He nodded again, then paused. “Wait. I have an accent,” You chuckled, smiling widely. “Yes you do. A cute one too. And you’re cute. Pretty, dare I say,” His eyes widened, a blush creeping up his neck and his ears started turning red too as he looked away, averting his eyes and biting at his lower lip. Your heart did a little flip at how cute he looked when he was flustered.  “What kinda books do you like, Mr. Grant?”  “Hmm,” He flipped aimlessly through the menu, his eyes scanning the millions of different ways they make frappuccinos and espressos. He didn’t even drink coffee that much, he was more of a tea guy. “I like history, big fan of mythologies and stuff,”  You sat up, grinning widely. “I love mythology. I was a huge sucker for them in middle school. Still kinda am, honestly,” His heart did a little thing. “Really? What kind of mythology?” You shrugged. “I was really into the Greeks, they were pretty fun and it was a good time. I like the Romans a bit too, but they’re a little boring, yknow? The Norse are wack too, which makes it funny,” You grinned. “I was just a bit obsessed. I had an Egypt phase too for quite a bit,”  You could see the way his face lit up, how his eyes widened and a big smile started spreading across his face. “Egypt huh? That’s cool.” He nodded, deciding not to make a further comment lest it come off as too strong. You raised an eyebrow. “Cool? Oh come on, you totally had an Egypt phase,” “Did not!” “You so did. C’mon, tell me. I promise I won’t judge! I never could, I had attachments to those guys. You definitely know a thing or two,” He waved you off. “No..I mean, a little maybe. I’ve studied their mythologies and tales, aspects of culture and society, that’s sorta stuff, it’s not interesting really,” “Not interesting?” You scoffed. “Well I find them interesting. C’monnnn,” You nudged his leg under the table. “Who’s your favourite god?” He shook his head, a playful smile on his face. “I’m fond of Taweret. Hippo goddess, resides in the underworld and stuff. She’s nice,”  “Yeah? Know her personally?” “Oh yeah, obviously. We have chat over tea all the time,”  No way he was this funny. “Really? Wait, hang on,” You leaned in, “if she resides in the underworld, does that mean you’ve died before, Steven Grant?”

He liked it, he decided. The way you said his name, how it rolled off your tongue and out of your mouth so easily, and not the sarcastic way everyone else said it. Heaven, at least you remembered his name, not when half the staff at the old museum couldn’t even get Steven right.  He scrunched up his face, thinking deeply. “Hmm. Let’s see. I think I might have, yeah. A few times now actually,” There it was again, the laugh that filled the entire cafe, as your shoulders shook and you threw your head back in joy. “No way, you did not,” You finally said.  “I absolutely did! It’s not a good experience obviously, but yknow, an adventure,”  “So you’ve like- met Osiris and stuff?” He shrugged. “Maybe,” “Oh come on. Tell me! I’ve always liked him. Given, I always like every death god, so it’s no different,” “He’s alright. Very stiff though, no personality at all, he’s all business serious,” “Well duh, he’s a king,” Steven rolled his eyes. “Doesn’t mean he’s got to be so boring,”  You chuckled again, shaking your head in disbelief as you went back to the menu. “Any other gods you’ve met?” “Hmm.” He tapped his chin a few times, and brushed a curl of hair out of his eye. “I’ve met some night gods. They look like big ugly birds, with a big temper and zero compassion or kindness. Dress in old rags and stuff,”  “You’re lying, I swear you’re lying,” “I am not! It’s true. I see one quite often actually, he’s a pain in the ass, right psycho.”  “Yeah? He your best friend?” He snorted. “Absolutely not.”  You tsked. “Aw, that’s so sad,” “No it’s not. I told you, he’s not right in his mind,”  “Yeah but isn’t that all gods?” Steven sighed, leaning back in his chair. “Okay, you make an excellent point, but I’m telling you, this one is bloody psycho. Murderous and whatnot.” He smiled, a big goofy smile that showed his cute dimples.  You shook your head again, trying to fight back a stupid sappy grin. “You’re too funny,” “Too funny? Is that bad?” He frowned. “No! No, absolutely not. It’s nice, your jokes are actual..well, yknow, jokes. And it’s kind of nerdy.” “Oi!” He leaned in, pointing a finger at you with an air of amusement. “You just said nerdy was cute,” “It is!! It’s very cute!”  “Bloody right. ‘Cause if you came for sports jokes, I’m not your guy,” You laughed. “Nope, no sports jokes for me. I just like an extra side of nerdiness,”  He narrowed his eyes, fighting back a smile. “You are horrible,”  “Horribly cute, yeah, definitely,” He exploded with laughter, his face all happy smile lines and precious dimples. You smiled widely, your heart doing a little skip with how gorgeous he looks, so full of laughter. 

Thankfully though, before he caught you grinning like an idiot at him and trying to memorise his face, a waiter came to your table, and you managed to order your drinks without acting crazy or too dorky. 

*                                                         *                                                                *

“What about Bastet? You know her?” 

Okay so maybe you were still a little dorky. 

“The cat lady? I mean you see her everywhere don’t you? In all the nice cat ladies by your flat or in the market!” “Okay fine Mr. Poetic, I’m asking about the goddess,” 

He grinned, fiddling with the strap of his bag as you both made your way to a bus stop. “I haven’t met her, no. But I know of her,” 

“Right, of course,” You weren’t sure why you humoured this idea; the possibility of divinity walking amongst man. But the ease of pretending, of imagining with him, with Steven, was something you came to realise you enjoyed too much to give up.  “What about Zeus?” He frowned. “Wrong civilization,”  “Oh come on, so you’re telling me you can believe the idea of gods with bird heads from the times of pyramids, but you can’t humour me with the idea of wackoo’s living on top of a mountain?”  “I just don’t like them. Too chaotic,”  “That’s exactly why everyone likes them,”  “Okay fine, I just stay in my territory,” You shook your head, shrugging your bag back into place on your shoulder. “Okay, that’s fair, they probably don’t like each other anyway,”  “Nope, definitely don’t,” 

You both fell into a silence after, continuing your walk to the bus stop. “You don’t have to go all the way with me to the bus stop yknow-” You started but he just shook his head.  “I don’t mind, love. Really, it’s a nice day out for a walk,”  You nodded. “Okay.”

Silence fell again, and you couldn’t help but look up a little to look at him. Him with his pretty eyes and flushed cheeks. Him with his easy going smile on those nice lips. Him with the nice jawline and cheekbones that are just the right amount of sharp you just want to run your finger over it. 

By the time the both of you had made it to the bus station, you had made up your mind; You were going to ask him for his number. 

Only problem is…how do you ask a cute guy for his number?

You could feel the nerves start to set in as the minutes tick by, and more people pile around the bus stop. It was going to be here soon, and you’ll hop on, and probably never get his number and-

Okay calm down. You fiddled with your bag as the minutes passed, occasional small glances and nervous chuckles with Steven as he waited too, and it felt like the weight of the world was on your shoulders just to ask for a series of stupid numerals.  When you glanced back up at Steven for what had to be the millionth time so far, you noticed in the far distance that the bus was heading this way. Steven turns the other way then too, noticing you staring and he sighed softly. “Ah, there’s your bus,”  “Yup,” He looked back at you, a soft smile on his lips. He picked at his nails, a feeling of anxiety bubbling inside of him. “So…” “So…” You continued for him, and you both laughed awkwardly.  “Can I-” “Can-” You stopped, chuckling awkwardly as Steven shook his head.  “Sorry love- didn’t mean to speak over you-” “No no it’s okay! My bad,” You reassured him. “Go ahead,”  “No really-” He rubbed the back of his neck, smiling. “You start,” “Steven-” You started to protest (why were you even doing that) but he set you with a firm look and you sighed. “Okay. I was…yknow…going to ask. If-” You trailed off. “Yknow…” “If…? Unfortunately love, I’m very bad at guessing games. You’ll have to specify,” You sighed, rubbing a hand down my face. You took a deep breath and right as the bus stopped at your station, you blurted quickly, “Can I have your number?!” It came out in one breath, a quick sentence and Steven’s browns furrowed. You panicked, thinking maybe you had read this wrong? What if he doesn’t want to give you his number? 

But then his face exploded in a wide smile, and his eyes lit up adorably and his cheeks filled with a soft blush. “Oh. My number!” He laughed, soft and clearly full of anxiety. “Yes- right yes, of course you can. Sorry it took a minute there-” He muttered, quickly digging through his bag and pulling out his phone. “Right then, quick quick before you miss your bus-” 

“It’s okay,” You mumbled quickly, steering him away from the growing bus line so you could plug in his number. You did it painfully slowly, double checking each number and going over the series at least 5 times. By the time you finished exaggerating and actually putting the number into your contacts, Steven was tapping his foot anxiously on the ground as he watched the last person board the bus.  “You have to hurry it’s going to close, love,” You looked up and glanced at the bus. “Oh crap-” You quickly fumbled to put your phone away and return his, but by the time you took a step towards the bus, it dinged and the door closed as it slowly started back up to drive away.  "Shit,” Steven tugged at his curls. “Oh god love, I’m really sorry- maybe if we run we could catch its next stop?” Didn’t people always say make the best out of a bad situation? The bus is gone, another won’t be coming for probably another half hour, and you were not running. 

But maybe…maybe this was a good thing? 

You shrugged, trying to sound as upset as you could possibly gather, but even to your own ears it sounded fake. “Oh no….the bus is gone. This is horrible. What do I do now?”  Steven started to say something, but then stopped, frowning a little, before his eyes widened and a smile grew across his face. “Hang on-” He stepped closer to you, his eyes glittered with humour. “You planned that, didn't you?” You gasped. “What? Me? Why would I ever want to miss my bus?”  “Hmm….” He tapped a finger to his chin, thinking loudly. He leaned down then his face barely inches away from your face. “Maybe because you wanted to spend more time with me?” He has no right being cute and nervous one second and then sexy  and all mischief the next.  Your eyes widened, you felt your skin heat and your cheeks flush pink with how close he was. His eyes looked even prettier up close, and his lips looked so kissable.  “Really?” You managed to breathe out. “You think I’m that captivated by you?” He shrugged. “Maybe.” He paused, biting his lower lip. 

Fuck. 

“Are you? Captivated by me?” He asked.  “Hmm. Let’s see…I think your nerdiness and awkward attitude and shy personality has definitely captivated me, Mr. Grant,”  His face explodes into a bright and beautiful smile. “Really? So if I asked to go on a walk right now, you’d say yes?” I hum, pretending to think it over. “I think…yes, I would absolutely say yes,” The look on his face made it seem as if he just experienced heaven. Your heart fluttered, and you knew then that you’d never ever get tired of seeing him this happy. “Brilliant. Great, alright then um..” He stood up straight again, looking around. “Let’s go?” 

You smiled, gesturing to the roads bustling with people. “Lead the way,” 

[bluecloudsandpinksnow]

strawberry milk (akabane karma x reader)

summary:

He likes it. It’s his favorite brand and you are so good at this ‘communicating’ thing. You’re pretty sure Karma said something after that, but currently, you are on cloud nine and you can barely process the words over your feelings of success.

You would have fist pumped and yelled ‘sublime’ too, had he not waved a hand in front of your face in concern.

“Hey, are you okay? You’re acting kinda- weird?”

Okay, you did not respond fast enough, what did he even say before that? You shake your head and prepare the fastest, most soundproof response you can muster.

“Sorry, I fell down the stairs this morning.” fandom: Assassination Classroom by Yûsei Matsui pairing: akabane karma x gender-neutral! reader warnings: none, unless you count second hand embarrassment notes: - cross posted on ao3 under the same name - first fic ever posted for me, i have more plans n drafts for this universe already but that depends on my motivation lmao - i hope you have as much fun reading as i had writing --- START ---

Mustering up the last bits of courage you can, you pull the two tetra packs from your bag and abruptly stand up.

Unfortunately for you, your chair screeches against the floorboard from the force, and all of your classmates look in your direction.

You could feel the heat creeping up your neck as you quietly mutter out an apology. Thankfully, no one makes a big issue of your disruption and they all return to their own activities.

Now to face the daunting task that’s been plaguing your mind ever since this morning at the train station, where your whimsical decision-making had you convinced that you should totally, definitely, get something for Karma.

You briskly walk across the room, over to where the aforementioned red-headed boy was conversing with Nagisa about some topic you couldn’t process at the moment.

All you want to do is to get to know him better, that’s it. No underlying motives, whatsoever.

“Hey, this is for you.”

You shoved the strawberry milk carton into his hand. A flash of innocent confusion crosses Karma’s face, and you almost let yourself think about how cute of a look it was for someone like him. Before you get to entertain that preposterous thought, he tilts his head in amusement, waiting for an explanation.

“So, uhm- The vending machine! I got lucky, cause it, uhm- it broke, so I got two instead of one- Not that it’s lucky that it broke of course! That’s bad, that has some very bad implications. Uh, you know?” you wave your hands around in an attempt to explain, gesturing to your milk carton as if it would suddenly start talking in your defense.

From the corner of your eye, you see Nagisa giving you a sympathetic smile before grabbing his notebook and gesturing to Karma of his intent to review for the next class.

You were thankful at first, until the realization sunk in that you now have to explain yourself to Karma.

Alone.

No verbal or social support from your peers.

This will be fine. You convince yourself this before the urge to backflip out of the classroom window can overtake you.

“Thanks, I guess? Why the sudden gift, you like me or something?” He teases, because of course he does, and now you have to come up with the reply or he will know that you lied about the vending machine and that there’s some dubious reason as to why you got two strawberry milk cartons that just so happen to be his favorite brand.

Karma cannot know. He absolutely cannot.

“Huh? Psh! Of course not, I just wanted to thank you for helping me last week, you know? Math isn’t my strongest subject and I- what you told me, that shortcut? It just- it’s cool! It really helped me and I felt like I had to thank you. Yeah?” you ramble, and a part of you wishes the ground would collapse beneath your feet just so you could escape this tragedy of a conversation.

You stare awkwardly at Karma, anticipating his response. You swear he looks like he wants to ask what on earth is wrong with you, but maybe it’s just the nerves.

He shrugs, “No biggie. You didn’t need to go through the effort of buying me something just for that one tip.”

He hates it. He thinks you’re weird and over the top. It’s time for you to exile yourself.

“Thanks, though. How’d you know I like this brand anyway?”

He likes it. It’s his favorite brand and you are so good at this ‘communicating’ thing. You’re pretty sure Karma said something after that, but currently, you are on cloud nine and you can barely process the words over your feelings of success.

You would have fist pumped and yelled ‘sublime’ too, had he not waved a hand in front of your face in concern.

“Hey, are you okay? You’re acting kinda- weird?”

Okay, you did not respond fast enough, what did he even say before that? You shake your head and prepare the fastest, most soundproof response you can muster.

“Sorry, I fell down the stairs this morning.”

‘WHO SAYS THAT? WHY DID I SAY THAT?’

You need to pass out right now. Maybe if he thinks you have a concussion you can still salvage your reputation in his eyes. Karma’s eyes widen in concern and you can’t help the butterflies ricocheting in your gut.

“Woah, maybe you should go have that checked with the nurse? I can take you there, I wanna skip class anyway.”

In normal circumstances, you would have reprimanded him for even suggesting that he skip classes and use you as a reason. However, now it is different. Now it is very different when you feel these very dreadful, un-platonic feelings for the redhead.

‘Calm down butterflies, he just suggested a friendly gesture of good, normal, regular, concern.’ You reassure yourself, because if you don’t, you might just blast off into the stratosphere like you were Koro-sensei being complimented by a pretty barista lady.

Karma puts his hand on your shoulder.

‘ÆÆÆÆÆÆÆÆÆÆÆÆÆÆÆ'

You imagine swatting away the butterflies to keep yourself sane, and you try your best to collect an actual, reasonable response this time.

“No, no, it’s fine. Thanks for the concern. A lot of things just happened today, and I’m just a bit overwhelmed. I’m sorry if I’m acting strange.” you speak slower than you did prior, and you find yourself more composed.

Well, as composed as you can be considering Karma still has his hand on your shoulder. You bow your head in shame, not being able to meet his eyes.

He scoffs in amusement, “Hey, don’t worry about it, and really, thanks for the strawberry milk.”

You look up at him and sigh in relief, thankful that he doesn’t think you’re completely insane. He gives your shoulder another pat before moving his hand off to pry the straw from the back of his tetra pack.

“No problem! Thanks again too, for helping me last week.”

A big part of you is relieved that he took his hand off of your shoulder so your heart rate could normalize itself, but a tinier, more delusional part of your brain feels disappointed that he had to pull his hand away at all.

You move to turn and walk away, but Karma speaks again.

“Hey, if you’re still feeling overwhelmed, you can always skip class with me. We can just tell Koro-sensei you weren’t feeling well.” he offers, and it takes every ounce of sense in you to not just accept it then and there. Especially not when you meet his eyes and see them light up with mischief.

You have to be reasonable. Doing so just to entertain your silly little infatuation would disappoint Koro-sensei and tarnish your good record. You can find more excuses to spend time with him without breaking the school rules.

“No thank you, it’s okay. I think I’ll just go to the bathroom and wash my face. I appreciate the concern though.” You nod your head and flash Karma a light smile, to which he shrugs and moves to sit at his desk, drinking the strawberry milk you gave him.

You move to make your way out of the classroom, and you see Nakamura smirk at you. She was probably watching you make a fool out of yourself in front of Karma, and you know for a fact she will tease you about that horrid display of human interaction later. You squint your eyes at her, daring her to laugh or say something, to which she just smiles at you wider and you swear you can see devil horns form on her head.

Nakamura held her phone up while you were walking past. You gape slightly in frustration as you realize what she had shown you.

She had recorded your god awful attempt at giving Karma the strawberry milk. There was physical evidence of it for others to witness.

The worst part? There was physical evidence of it for Koro-sensei to witness.

You quickly stomp into the bathroom and turn on the sink, shoving your face into your hands before you let out an exasperated groan.

There was no living this down for you.

You just hoped Karma wouldn’t take the news so harshly if he found out.

---END---

Thanks for reading! :DDD

[changbinsboobs]

Кто в SKZ является нейроотличным и к какому «типу» он относится

PLEASE THIS SUB-CLAUSE I BEG🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻😔😔😔

Who in Skz is neurodivergent and what type are they?

Omg i just wann crawl into a hole and rot😭 i wrote SOOOOOOO much in this post. Sooooooo much!!!!!!!! And i went out of the app for a sec to check something and when i came back it was ALL gone😭 now i don't even wanna do it anymore😤 but still i have already committed so i guess im just gonna do it in a different format where i just give my quick opinion and then in a different post some other time explain in detail. I swear im so angry I've had this in my drafts for so long and everytime i start it somethmg happens and i camt fi ish it😭

*Also, put short, im not a professional nor a psychology major. This post is not based on tarot - all of it is based on my personal observations, experiences, opinions and the energy I've picked up from them from previous readings. Take it all with a grain of salt and remember i don't know the idols personally and i do not state facts. This is just a lighthearted post based on my opinion.

Chan - ADHD, OCD

He has mentioned the ocd himself while talking about red lights. He said tho that he thinks its not really ocd but something of that sort. In my experience ocd is heavily influenced by the level of dysregulation in your nervous system so if you're well regulated, even during stressful times, the ocd doesn't show as strongly as to be pathological. Once ur dysregulated tho it is definitely there and it depends on you how bad you let it get. So i for sure think he has it, its just not as intense for him to be diagnosed, which speaks good for him actually cuz i never thought someone under so much stress could keep himself so regulated, especially taking in mind his sleep and eating routine.

As for the adhd its just pretty obvious i think. Tho i believe he medicates it, espc since seungmin once mentioned something about chan having forgotten to take his meds today hence why he's all over the place.

Lee Know - On the spectrum

I did a long, long, detailed paragraph on autism and at the end described why i think lee know falls under it, but im so angry i don't wanna do it all over again right now. If you're interested on more details u can send a request and whenever i feel like it I'll do a post like that.

Changbin - On the spectrum

Same here, i just started to describe why i think he falls under the spectrum and then everything got deleted😭. Changbis paragraph is different tho. Why i think he's on the spectrum is because of his genius-like abilities in many if not all fields. He gives me wunderkind vibes. And i habe also picked up on him being the goat when he was a kid, but as he grows up the abilities and sureness he once had as a kid isn't there anymore or way less. Yk the autistic "trope" of being the wunderkind and them growing up into the burned out adult with so much lost potential. He give's me a bit of that vibe. He's also extremely sensitive and intuitive and has incredible attention to detail and patterns. He has such a unique sense for music and creation - in his field of music and rap he really is a genius. He calls himself a prodigy when little and i actually believe that (even if the members dont🥲😂) and even if he's very well liked by lots of people because of his great qualities as a human, he seems ufjfjf idk how to describe it. Like he's not integrated in with them (im talking about the group) but he's watching from outside. He's always the but of the joke, he's always the rejected one, he's always somehow different than them and doesn't quite fit in the group. In the sense that it feels like he doesn't get fully and completely accepted in a large group setting. I think he does grate one on one or in small 3 people groups, but once theres a small society - he's the left one out. I have so much more to say about all of this but once again - i think I'll leave it for another post when i get the inspiration for it.

Hyunjin - /

Han - Autistic for sure!

Yeah there's lots to unpack here to, cuz i habe so much "evidence" i think I'll actually might even do it on twitter as a thread cuz id like to include clips and stuff to be able to really analyse it, and here i cant really do that so - yeah look forward to it:)

Felix - ?

i have no fck idea to be honest. Maybe cptsd? But he also gives me vibes of dyslexia or something of that sort. Im not too familiar with it, so i can't say for sure but i have noticed he has speaking and learning problems so if you know any better than me please give suggestions. Cuz ain no way he's neurotypical. Also by speaking problems i mean I've noticed a difficulty in him of forming a coherent sentence or he just talks but its all nonsense.

Seungmin - /

I.N - /

[paper-crab]

Distance

1 use of y/n and some swearing

just some weird little soulmate au i wrote but it didn’t have any direction so i kind of gave up

wc: 1264

part 2 part 3

‘Well, shit’ you had thought, reading the carefully printed letter containing the delicate cursive “M” in the center. Your 18th birthday, revealing what you’d known all along but refused to admit. It's always been him.

“Well, what letter did you get?” Your mom asked, but you waved her off, shaking your head and blinking your tears away.

Congratulations

Your soulmates name starts with an M

You fold the letter back up accepting the other gifts around you but the mood has obviously dampened, M is out of reach.

“Thank you for coming” you tell the various relatives with a fake smile. They hug you, or give you a pat on the back, and some just walk away. When the house is finally empty, you retreat to your room without so much as waving to your parents, taking the letter with you for safekeeping.

You wish you had stashed it when you’d seen it, or not allowed your mom to convince you to open it at your party.

‘It will be good!’ She had said, ‘This is a joyous occasion, your first soulmate letter can’t ruin it!’

The first of 5, and you had a feeling it would only get worse from here. As far as you were aware, “M” hadn’t surpassed his 3rd yet, even at 20 years old.

The more letters that came, the less you could hide from your parents. The second they saw the “M”, they’d know too.

You couldn’t risk Marylou finding out.

You know she’d immediately tell Matt, and he’s happy in LA with his brothers and his pretty girlfriend whose name coincidentally starts with the same letter as yours, his fancy influencer friends, and his missing letters.

He’s happy in LA, without you.

Sure, you occasionally stalk his instagram, but he had unfollowed you long ago when you had questioned his soulmate status.

“Are you sure it’s really her, Matt?” You had said, and sure enough they were still together, even after you found her first soulmate letter containing an “E”.

“Look, I don’t know why you’d go as far as to make a fake letter, but it’s concerning. Just get out of my life already!”

“Matt just listen to me!”

“I’ve listened enough, leave me alone!” His voice had finally escalated from a loud talk to an exasperated yell.

It does you no good to dwell on the past, shoving the events out of your mind; but you’re still scrolling through his Instagram absentmindedly.

Similarly, Matt is sitting in bed, listening to whatever music Chris is playing far too loudly at 9:00 in the evening. He’s drafted out some form of a “happy birthday” message despite knowing your birthday has passed in Boston. “Fuck,” he whispers to himself, deleting the message again. He wonders if it’s too weird, or if Nick and Chris have told you happy birthday on his behalf, or even if you would want birthday wishes from him.

He turns in his bed, waiting for Nick to call for him to come film, a knock on his door interrupting him before he can spiral. “Come on,” Nick says as he walks away. Matt barely bothers to put on some Crocs before running down the stairs, grateful for a distraction.

Chris runs a hand through his hair while he hops in, patting Matt on the back to snap him out of a daze. “Ready?” He asks, Matt only nods.

In his almost 3 years of making YouTube videos, Matt likes to think he’s grown out of his shell a little. He offers more input in the videos, doesn’t hesitate to speak, and overall has left behind some of his anxieties and shyness. During this video he spoke, maybe, twice.

“Is everything alright?” Nick asks when the camera shuts off.

“Yeah, fine.”

Chris glares at Nick, cutting him off from questioning any more.

By the time he sends the happy birthday message, it’s 4 a.m. in Boston.

You awake with a jolt, but the house is dead silent. The clock reads 9 a.m., so you roll over to try and find some meaning in your day.

Matt: Happy Birthday

You stare at it. What is he playing at? No contact in 1 ½ years, and you get a “Happy Birthday”? He couldn’t even bother to send it on time, you tell yourself, trying to be mad.

You walk into the kitchen, phone still open to Matt’s message when you notice another letter lying on the counter. Your 2nd soulmate letter, shouldn’t it be a little more spaced out?

Congratulations

Your soulmates hair color is

Brown

This letter only continues to confirm what you already know. You stash it with the first, away from the eyes of your scheming parents.

You: Thanks.

You sigh, setting your phone down, only to pick it up again. He had stopped talking to you because of her, did they break up? You wondered, but weren’t bold enough to ask. Maybe this text would bring you back together, maybe you would get your happy soulmate story.

Life had other plans, you realized mere minutes later; her Instagram story containing a lovely picture of her and Matt and the caption ‘Happy 2 Years Matty’.

Well, fuck.

“I’m home!” Your mom says, walking through the door. You greet her half heartedly, barely moving your hand with a wave when another voice makes you jump. “Hi honey, how are you doing?”

Your eyes widen and your mouth dries, but you offer a semi-pleasant smile. “I’m doing well, Marylou. How are you?”

“I’m good,” She offers, turning back to conversation with your mom. You’re almost 100% sure she had mentioned your letters, but you’re grateful Marylou doesn’t bring them up when you return to your room.

Matt lays on the couch, his girlfriend cuddled up next to him, staring at your message. He doesn’t know what he expected, but maybe he was hoping for more. A jumping point to start a conversation, perhaps.

“What are you looking at Matt?”

“Nothing,” He replies, shutting his phone off and wrapping an arm around her.

“Can we go to McDonalds?” Chris asks, walking down the stairs.

“Yeah-” Matt says, beginning to stand.

“We have to finish our movie first.”

“How long is left on it?”

“An hour.”

Chris groans, turning to walk back upstairs. “Hold on,” Matt says, shrugging his girlfriends hold off so he can stand. “We can go now, I don’t mind.”

“But Matty-”

“I’ll be back in a minute, I’ll get you something.” He tells her, rushing out the door. Chris follows closely behind, unwilling to face her wrath.

Nick: I’ll stay, I need to finish this. You know what to get me.

Matt shrugs some tension out of his shoulders, turning the key. “Nick?”

“Not coming. He’s editing.”

Matt nods, pulling out of the driveway and beginning the trek. He’s normally talkative, but things are weighing on his mind; like how to break up with his girlfriend of two years on their anniversary. Chris takes it upon himself to fill the silence with ‘shitty trap music’, but even that doesn’t get Matt talking.

“Order when you’re ready.”

Unfortunately for Chris, the ride back is just as quiet and thick. He’s played all the music Matt hates and still hasn’t been smacked- something is wrong.

“Did I make you leave?”

“No, I wanted to.”

Chris shakes his head. “Something is up, I can tell.”

“I want to break up with her.”

Chris immediately inhales a fry, beginning to choke.

“You can’t do that, you’re soulmates!” Chris tells him, but Matt only shakes his head.

“(Y/n) was right, she lied.”

The truth is, he’s received his 4th and 5th letters, the ones that confirm his soulmate, and it’s not his girlfriend. He’s kept them a secret from everyone- his mother, his brothers, his girlfriend, and you.

“Are you sure you haven’t gotten your letters yet Matty?” His girlfriend had asked. He had always disliked that nickname; it made him feel small, but she claimed it was cute. “I haven’t. Maybe the system malfunctioned,” He offered, lying through his teeth.

“If you say so, Matty.”

You’re lying down, tapping through her posts for the 4th time today. It’s 10 p.m. when you tap on her story, ‘Happy 2 Years Matty’, but it’s not there. You shake your head, blinking. That’s not right- it shouldn’t be deleted yet.

You tap out, reloading the page. You half expect to be blocked; maybe you’d accidentally liked something and she realized. She’d never liked you much, even going as far as asking Nick And Chris to stop inviting you over because your presence made her uncomfortable. You reload the page, maybe you’ll be blocked now. Still a no, but her latest 2 posts containing Matt are deleted. Reload, and more are gone. You’re stuck in a loop until all of her posts containing Matt are gone, and you head to his page.

His posts are gone too.

Matt: Hey, I’m coming to Boston. Can we hang out?

[bqstqnbruin]

See You Again

I'm actually posting a fic for the first time in seven months aka the first fic I've finished in seven months peace love teaching

anyway, I wrote this for the lovely @wyattjohnston's summer fic exchange! I got to write for @selfindulgentpoorlywritten but I've never written for Nico before, so I hope you like this (I was fully inspired by my own mess of a life)

Edit since I’m a dumbass thank you to @kat-hearts for reading this first and being amazing ily 😭

One of the characters, Nat is nonbinary, and I did my best to make the reader gender netural, which I haven't done before on either account, so I hope I did it justice (if something is glaringly wrong, please let me know!)

Warnings: I was mean with the ending? A little? Also, some swearing, drinking, almost physical fighting

Word Count: almost 2.8k

_______________________________________

“When was the last time you saw him?”

You tried to shift through your memory to figure that out. In person, the last time was sometime in the first week of December about two years ago. Thinking about him, which thankfully didn’t count, would involve you giving a much more recent answer, way more recent than you would really like to admit. “I don’t remember.” 

“Well,” your roommate Nat says, looking down at their phone. “I have bad news.”

“Fucking hell,” you moan, tilting your head to hit the back of the seat of the Uber. You knew what they were going to say before the words even started to come out of their mouth.

“Nico is going to be there tonight. With all the guys.” You let out another groan, the Uber driver giving you a scowl through the rearview mirror. “I’m sorry! Jack didn’t know he was coming, or he would have told us way before we got ready.” 

You stare out the window, trying to think of all the ways that you could get out of this situation. You already paid for the Uber and didn’t want to pay for another one. You weren’t about to go somewhere by yourself, especially since the bar you were heading towards wasn’t within a reasonable walking distance if you were to go somewhere by yourself, and no way was Nat going to leave with you without Jack, and Jack, of course, wasn't going to leave without his teammates. 

“We can go back right now and I’ll tell Jack to have fun with his team instead,” Nat tells you as if they could read your mind. They put their hand over yours, trying to give you any sense of calm that was setting into your panic. “We do not have to be around Nico.” 

“What kind of person tells someone they like them but not enough to date them?” you mutter, knowing you and Nat have had this conversation many times on your kitchen floor, drunk and crying together at 2 in the morning. They had introduced you to Nico one night after a game when the team went out to celebrate. They had been dating Jack for about a year at that point, meeting him through his brother at Michigan and reconnecting when they both realized they were going to be in New Jersey together. Quinn had used the reasoning of, “he won’t know anyone in the state,” only for everyone to realize later that he knew Jack had been smitten with Nat since they met. If only you had been so lucky. 

You had known of Nico, obviously. How could you not? He was the captain of the Devils, the team you grew up surrounded by, the number one draft pick in the sport your roommate never shut up about. He covered your social media feeds without you really wanting them to and everyone you knew talked about what a great game he had the night before. You couldn’t escape the idea of him, no matter where you went. 

When you met him that night a few years back, there was something about him in person that you were drawn to. He had been just an idea to you, not someone you could think about as being real. You spent that entire night with him, your friends either wandering off or you too enthralled with Nico to notice that they were there. Nat and Jack were heading back to your place before last call, and you were left knowing that you had to see Nico again.  

He asked if he could kiss you, making you melt as his hand gently snaked its way to your cheek, pulling you close when you said yes and covering your mouth with his. You waited for his text the next day, anxiously checking your phone until he finally did after 3 pm. From then on, you told each other everything, texting each other whenever you could, him calling you and heading over to your apartment whenever he didn’t have an obligation to the team. You fell hard for him and you had believed that he felt the same about you. 

“The kind of person who doesn’t know what they have until it’s gone,” Nat tells you, trying to pep you up. “Hey, we can find you a guy that is just as hot as Nico tonight.” 

“I’m gonna move to Ireland and isolate myself with the spuds.”

“Act like you can be away from me for that long,” they tease, earning a laugh from you. “I’m serious, though. Tell me what you want to do, or who you want to do, and Jack and I will make it happen.”

You didn’t want someone just as hot as Nico, you wanted Nico. You hated the fact that there was more than one time that you had pulled up his messages on your phone, part of you unable to delete that conversation thread even though you knew it would be the healthy thing to do. But you weren’t known amongst your friends for doing what was best for your mental wellbeing, so you kept them, going back through the conversations you had in the four months you were seeing him. The last text was what haunted you the most, him telling you that he was going to be back in Switzerland for the summer and that he ‘didn’t want you tied down to one person’ while he was gone.

He said he would text you when he was back. 

He never did. 

There were multiple times when you wanted to text him, but you never did, either. 

“Yeah,” you manage to choke out. “Let’s do it.” 

You spend the rest of the ride in silence, trying to think of where in the bar you would be able to hide from Nico so that he wouldn’t see you. The guys were already inside, Jack telling Nat about 10 minutes ago that they went to start drinking as fast as they could. 

The bar was somehow muggy inside, as if the beer itself hung in the air rather than the sweat of the nearly one hundred drunk people that were crowding every square inch of the floor. Jack was easy to spot for Nat, his five foot eleven frame not the largest of his teammates, but still distinct enough that your roommate had left your side within seconds of entering to be with their partner. 

So much for finding you someone tonight. 

You tried to stay away from him, closer to Nat and Jack as best as you could, but they kept wandering off from you. The last thing you wanted to do was go with them when they were both on their way to drunk and have a history of doing slightly illegal things in the bathrooms at bars. 

You had to find someone to talk to. Any person who looked interesting. Any other guy on the team who you were friends with, but that was really only Jack, and that was really only because he’s dating Nat. Your phone was your only comfort, finding a table that had been pushed up against the wall and hoping that there was something you could doom scroll on that would distract you from looking towards Nico. 

He had the right to do what he wanted at the bar with his teammates. You weren’t together. 

“You ok?” you hear during a lull in the music, pulling you away from your phone for a moment. You didn’t know who was standing in front of you, one of the newer guys from the trade deadline that Nat definitely hadn’t introduced you to. He was waiting for you to respond, looking like he had wanted to sit down with you.

“Yeah, just, not a big ‘going out’ person.”

He lets out a nervous laugh, a smile that sends a jolt through your system that you hadn’t felt in a while. Since Nico, if you were really willing to be honest with yourself. “Me neither, honestly. I’m just here because I didn’t have anything else to do.” 

“I got dragged here with my roommate so they can be with their boyfriend,” you tell him, gesturing to Nat and Jack trying their best to sneak out of the bathroom, Jack’s shirt buttoned wrong, both of their previously neatly styled hair in a mess that you only saw after hearing them the night before. 

“So that’s the infamous Nat,” he says, taking the seat beside you. You nod as he continues, “Jack never shuts up about them. Not that Jack shuts up about anything or anyone, ever, but especially not Nat.” 

“I always knew he was a good one,” you tell him, introducing yourself so he knew you as more than just, ‘his teammate's partner’s roommate.’

“I’m Timo.” 

You spent the rest of the night bouncing between the table and the bar with Timo, him buying you every drink you wanted. There was something about him that was different, but you couldn’t focus all of your attention on him. 

He was talking about his time in San Jose while you were waiting for your next round of drinks. You couldn’t focus on a word he was saying, Nico within your line of sight talking to a girl. A really attractive girl, you might add. You felt your heart drop, feeling a lump in your throat forming faster than you could lie to yourself about that scene having no effect on you. Naturally, Nico would talk to other people. You hadn’t talked to him in two years, let alone seen him in person. Just because you couldn’t get over him, no matter how hard you tried, that didn’t mean he didn’t get over you.

“And then I got traded here, and I love it, so far,” you tune back into Timo, who is suddenly much closer than you remember. It’s just because the bar is loud, people are starting to crowd for drinks, and, fuck, you have to admit, he’s pretty hot. 

Nico was still watching. 

Timo took your hand, leading you off to the table where you were before, the drinks in your hand probably not ones that you needed to begin with. His free hand snaked its way to your waist, pulling you close to him. You could feel your heart racing faster with every inch he got closer to you. You wanted him to kiss you. 

You thought you did. 

“I’m sorry,” you pull away right as his lips were about to meet yours, tears starting to form in your eyes, leaving the drink he bought you in his hands as you ran from him. Your breath catches in your throat while you try to find Nat and Jack, just praying that they weren’t back in the bathroom or too intoxicated in general to help out. 

You heard Timo calling after you, somehow, through the volume of the music and your own drunkenness, breaking through and getting to you. You didn’t want Timo calling your name, you wanted it to be Nico. 

You needed it to be Nico. 

“Hey, hey,” you hear, feeling a familiar hand gently place itself on your arm. You turn around, Nico’s face a mixture of concern and fury. “What did he do?” 

“He, he,” you stammer, the tears falling faster the more you looked at him, every memory you had with him suddenly rushing back into your mind. “He didn’t do anything. You did.”

You yank your arm from him, trying to find anywhere to be in the building that didn’t have one of Nico’s teammates looking at you causing a scene. You knew he was following you, calling your name again and again over the music. People were starting to stare, but no part of you cared, trying harder to not let the tears that were burning your eyes fall down your cheeks. 

Nat and Jack were nowhere to be seen, the rest of Nico’s teammates trying to figure out what was going on when you burst through the front door of the bar, the cold fall air hitting your face as soon as you did. You let out a sob, trying to steady yourself against the wall of the building, sliding down to the ground while people waiting to get in tried to figure out if they should help you or if you were just another drunk person having some sort of meltdown that was none of their business. 

“Hey,” you hear, a soft voice coming from above you. “I’m so sorry if I did something wrong.” Timo slid down next to you. “I read the situation wrong, I thought you were also into me.”

“I am, I just,” you start, trying to think of what to say. 

“Hey, what the fuck did you do?” Nico yells, pulling Timo off the ground. “What did he do to make you cry?”

“Nico, stop,” you let out, Timo looking both confused and terrified by his new captain’s hand on his shirt collar. “He didn’t do anything.”

“What the fuck did I miss?” Timo asked, slowly trying to back away from Nico staring you down. 

“Why can you talk to other people and I can’t?” you ask him, feeling your sadness turn into anger. “You had no issue not talking to me for the last two years.” 

“I’m gonna go,” Timo lets out, barely loud enough for the two of you to hear and sneaking away before you could notice. 

“You didn’t want to talk to me,” Nico counters, taking a step towards you. “But you wanted to talk to TImo instead?”

“Where the fuck did you get that idea?” 

“You never texted me. You’ve spent the entire night avoiding me. You think I didn’t see you when you were by yourself on your phone?” 

“You were in Sweden. And you could have come up to me and talked to me, what was stopping you? Oh, that’s right, your new girlfriend.”

“Switzerland. And she’s not my girlfriend. I haven’t seen anyone in ages.”

“Wherever you were, you weren’t here,” you tell him, your back against the wall. How long had it been since he had last seen someone? There was no way you had been the last person he was with. “You told me you didn’t want to be tied down while you were back home. You didn’t even want to talk to me, because if you did, you would have.” 

“You’re joking,” he scoffs. “You think I didn’t want to talk to you? Every fucking day I have thought about how our conversations would go when I saw you after you get home from work. I would think about you telling me about your day, about everything you would tell Nat, or whoever you were seeing at the time. Every single person I saw in the last two years, I wanted them to be you.” 

You didn’t know what to say, letting Nico’s words sink in. “Then why didn’t you text me when you came back from Switzerland?” 

Nico took in a deep breath, closing his eyes and tilting his head up to the sky. “Because I thought there was no way someone else wouldn’t have realized how amazing you are. There was no way I could be someone who you thought was worth waiting for.” 

Nico takes a step towards you, his hand gently taking yours. This was a moment you had been thinking about since he left for Switzerland two years ago. You knew he was going to kiss you, having you pinned against the wall of the building. His free hand cupped your cheek.

“There you guys are!” Nat interrupts, them and Jack clearly having just finished up doing something they weren’t supposed to be doing. Nico steps away from you, clearing his throat, the red in his cheeks so noticeable there was no way even your roommate wouldn’t comment on it later.  “We’ve been looking for you, for um.”

“Long enough,” Jack finishes their sentence, a stupid smile covering his face. You knew he was lying, but no part of your brain was letting you focus on that. Nico leaned against the building, his arm up over your head. “The uber’s almost here. Are you ready to go?”

No. “Yes.” 

The three of you leave Nico standing there by himself, Nat and Jack falling asleep in the Uber as soon as it gets on the highway. 

You check your phone for the first time in a while, a lone notification popping up on your phone that hadn’t been there in almost two years. 

‘Nico, iMessage.’ 

[fatuismooches]

a girl i liked likes someone else and i mayyy or may not have subjected myself to listening to her talk abt it bc she asked…HAPPY NEW YEAR, SMOOCHIESSSSS!! bc yk who wouldn’t like someone else and then make me beta read a poem they want to send?? MY DEAR HUSBAND PANTALONE <33

insanity he would write reader LETTERS all in the nicest cursive. but imagine when they were much younger, when his writing was less pretty and more chicken scratch. barely knew how to write, but he still wanted to send you personalized letters when you were working too hard. maybe his writing over the years has evolved, both the words he used and the way his handwriting slowly became more refined- the content has not.

(he gets a lil golden box for all of the letters he has been sent back for sure)

YK WHO ELSE WOULDNT MAKE ME DO THAT…MY MAN..CAPITANO ❤️ (he’s my husband and HE KNOWS IT). sure hes the captain of the entirety of the fatui, sure he’s fought in wars and won fights of grandeur. will he happily lift reader up to get a small jar at the back of the cupboards? YES. will he slightly remove his helmet only to give reader a kiss (probably two)? yesyesyes. him on one knee like a knight, promising to forever protect reader? uhm! yes!

- 💌 anon

(x, x) <- (Funnily enough I have some posts similar to this.) AND YES, HAPPY (LATE) NEW YEARS DEAR 💌 ANON! I hope your year gets better though, I'm really sorry that happened to you :( *hugs you tightly*

Pantalone's handwriting when he was younger was definitely nothing special... struggling through poverty, he was barely learning how to write. You would still read through his letters with his less than elegant handwriting of course, because it was from your friend who put in all this effort for you. But that wasn't enough for him, even at a young age he'd decided that you should be awarded only the best, as he already made up his mind to pay you back for everything you helped him with.

So as the years went by, he studied and practiced improving his handwriting, writing whenever he had the time to. Not just for himself and his goals, but for you too. Countless drafts not making the cut because he wanted the best perfection he could achieve at the time to be viewed by you. Picking up on the language from a multitude of books so he could portray your beauty and his love for you in a proper manner which you deserve.

(He keeps the box in his office so he can reread your letters when he needs a break... one could see how old the paper is, spanning from literally decades back, but he still keeps it in as pristine condition as he can.)

After Capitano begins to get over his fear of hurting you, he's the kind of guy who'd be a bit sad and disappointed you pulled a chair to get something instead of asking him... he definitely loves when you rely on him! Capitano may not be good at a lot of "normal" things, but he's always willing to help you. He probably makes you close your eyes when he takes off his helmet to kiss you... despite how much he loves you, it's still going to be a long road to see if he can be vulnerable enough to reveal his true self. But even so, he swears to forever be yours.

[viisator]

Arguement with Shen Ricky

Title: Arguement with Shen Ricky

Pairing: Shen Ricky X F!Reader

Genre: Friends to lovers

Warning: Mention of s*x, kissing, cussing. (This thing's really cringy, idk wtf I did...)

Synopsis: Ricky is your childhood friend, you've had a crush on him since you were little but he's just really oblivious, you know you've done and said things that'll give him the hint that you like him, but one day you accidentally barged in the guest's room in a party and saw him with a girl naked in bed.

Short imagine • • •

-HI!! it's been a while since I posted! But to those who will read this and the ones that have already read this, plsssss like and reblog! Thanks!-

NOTE: Unfortunately, I will not continue any of my series, and the ones that are pending in my drafts! Sorry!!!

• • • • •

It was an ordinary day for Ricky, it was Sunday and he usually go for a walk at 6:30, but his usual isn't applicable at the moment since Y/n have already decided what they should do for the whole day.

"C'mon Ricky!" Ricky annoyingly scratches his ear as he heard the girl whine for the 9th time, and before she could complain any longer, he turned around and face her once again.

"I have a lot of things planned out. Y/n." Ricky said coldly as he shoots Y/n death glares, but the girl mind it not and just gave him an eye roll as she crosses her arms.

"C'mon, I say! I know you're just gonna stay the whole day in your room touching boobs and butts!" Ricky only pinched his nose in response.

"Haa... Y/n. That's what you think of me?" The girl in front nodded a solid yes and proceed to go past him and enter his house without his permission, well, it's not like he can stop her even if he says not to enter.

As Ricky follows Y/n inside, the girl flopped down on the couch grabbing the remote as if she own the place and Ricky could only stare at her coldly.

Y/n wears a white top and a pink crop blazer, white sunglasses on her head, a pair of white boots, and a skirt that's too short for Ricky's liking. But Ricky's sure he doesn't like Y/n romantically since their relationship has always been platonic ever since they were children.

"How come you have Disney+ and not Netflix?? How are you supposed to tell your girls 'Netflix and chill' if you don't have Netflix??" Y/n looks at Ricky disgustingly as the side of her lips goes up. Ricky then grabbed the remote abruptly throwing it to the side, then he grabbed Y/n quite harshly and made her stand up.

As they both glare at each other, Ricky can't help but to look at her tightly shut lips, while feeling something turn inside his stomach as he hears her fast breathing, but Y/n looks at him eyes widening, with her brows frowning looking at him as if she wanted to punch his face. Their position lasted for seconds only staring at each other while Ricky still tightly holds Y/n's wrists closer to his chest.

"Let go of me," Y/n told him off with shaky breath, it's as if she was holding her tears back. Ricky sighs letting her wrists down gently. He swear he didn't mean to be so harsh on her, it was just because of what she said, he doesn't like it, it was as if she was telling him his way of having fun are fucking every girl he sees, and he's not like that, but he knows it was because of last time that's why Y/n keeps on saying things.

Last month, Ricky was out at a party and he got badly drunk and ended up in the guest room, and because his luck was kinda bad that day, Y/n was looking for him and she opened the door when he was doing it with Y/n's classmate. He regretted it, and he was not on his mind that time, he didn't mean to scare his best friend. But Y/n kept telling him it was fine cause it's his life she has nothing to do with it, but he just know she was upset seeing him in that state.

"It was a month ago and I was drunk," Ricky said explaining once again.

"I don't care about that." Y/n crosses her arms again and avoided Ricky's solid look.

"Then why keep bringing it up?" Ricky's patience was thinning already and Y/n just gave him a mocking disgusted look.

"Who says it's about that? And I just know that that wasn't the last time and the first!  Who knows how many girls on the campus you already fucked! Looking at you right now, you're really disgusting!" Y/n was half screaming, her face was already growing red and she can feel her face getting hot, her arms are on her side while her fists are hardened stone. She was expecting Ricky to slap her or scream at her back, but she heard a small laugh.

"Why are you laughing? Do you think I'm being funny right now!" Ricky can't believe it, how come asking to go shopping turn into this bad argument that started a month ago?

"Are you jealous?" He looks at her half-lidded, a small smirk plastered on his face as he looks at her down.

Y/n was shocked hearing that, it's as if her face was telling that she was nakedly exposed.

"What?" She responded quietly.

Ricky steps closer to her and she steps back the movement goes on repeat three times when Y/n hit the edge of the cushion falling on her butt. Ricky stares down at her, his smirk earlier was replaced by a sharp look, while Y/n stares up at him with widened eyes. Ricky finds her big doe eyes so cute, it heats him up. Now he can be honest, he doesn't find his feelings for his best friend platonically at all. Right now, he wants her for himself only.

"Y/n...do you like me?" He quietly said, putting his hands in his pocket.

"What?" She stayed with an empty mind for a moment, as if she couldn't process what Ricky had said. "Wha- what do you mean!" Y/n said with a half-nervous laugh. Ricky likes it when she's nervous like that, she's really cute, and since Y/n's always confident, mean, and spoiled, he likes this side of her.

Ricky crouches down looking up at her. "I said do you like me?" Ricky repeated.

"Why would I like you!" Y/n said that, but he can see the deep red on her ears and cheeks, so he just responded with a chuckle.

"Really? Then why do you sound so jealous mentioning the girls you assume I've fucked?" Y/n can only swallow in response, she doesn't have anything to say back.

"I--WHY ARE YOU EVEN ASKING ME THAT!? YOU'RE JUST SO DENSE YOU KNOW?! I--" She stopped for a second and suck a bunch of air and closed her eyes and open them again "I LIKED YOU SINCE GRADE SCHOOL, YOU'RE JUST SO DENSE AND WHEN I SEE YOU THROBBING YOUR ASS OFF WITH THAT GIRL I WAS REALLY HEARTBROKEN, AND NOW YOU'RE ASKING ME THAT? ARE YOU JUST OUT OF YOUR MIND?!" Y/n didn't realize she was tearing up, and Ricky was surprised hearing that, to think he was the only one thinking this relationship was platonic is stupid of him.

Y/n huffs her breath waiting for his response but he just stared at her still surprised. But he advanced closer to her, holding her face while staring into her wide eyes, Ricky closes the gap between their lips, hers is so soft and fluffy, he can feel her face burn up, and seconds later, she finally relaxed and kissed him back, his kiss is so passionate, but that passion turns to something else when Ricky grabbed Y/n's waist closing the gap of their chest, his hands slowly goes downs when suddenly Yunjin opened the door and closing it again after seeing them for millisecond, and they were left laughing after, and Y/n's plan of shopping was fulfilled when Ricky decided that sometimes his usual is better when Y/n interrupts it.

(OMG!! my first fanfic that is not enha!)

Enhypen masterlist

Zb1 masterlist

©® Viisator 2023

[grippingbeskar]

salt, ice and fire | frank castle

chapter twenty six - you bring me home

frank castle x fem! reader

warnings: 18+ content minors dni! (car sex lmaooo, mxf nothing you haven’t seen before, its pretty sweet <3) swearing, canon typical violence, mention of scars, injuries, blood, literally packed everything into this chapter its a big one

a/n: wow. this was so rough oh my god. the entire first draft deleted itself and i had to re write the whole thing from memory, so i lost my planned chapter. i really hope i got everything in here, and im sorry for the wait AND how long it is lmao but i just. can’t believe i really finished it. ill rant at the end, but if you only read this part, i love you. thank you for letting me share the absolute vomit that is my brain. you are the best.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

“How was the drive?” Franks voice sends a shiver down your spine, even hundreds of miles away through a crappy phone line.

“Boring.” You sigh, pacing around the tiny motel room.

“You were meant to call an hour ago. Got me waitin’ up for you.” He sounds tired, and it makes your heart skip a beat. It’s stupid, but the image makes you a little giddy. Waiting up for you. 

“There was… traffic.”

“You get lost?”

“Fuck you.” You bite automatically and he groans.

“So yeah?” 

“Yes, Frank. I got lost.” He laughs, the sound managing to take your mind off the dark room you’d managed to secure for the night, the bedside light doing nothing to brighten the small space.

“I gave you a map. It’s a straight shot from where you started.” Rolling your eyes, you look at the map you’d now bundled into a ball and thrown into the trash.

“Who uses a printed map? Seriously, how fucking old are you?” It’s playful and familiar, and all the frustration of driving for 10 hours melts into the bed.

Being a key witness in a now ongoing case apparently didn’t come with any frequent flyer miles, because both Matt and Frank had said you couldn’t risk going through airport security and being flagged in a system, so it meant you had to drive nearly 18 hours to Florida. You thought you didn’t mind road trips, but after today you think it’s only road trips with Frank you don’t mind.

“Maps don’t change, baby. Besides, you’d drive yourself into a god damn tree the second that voice in the car told you you’d missed a turn.” You hate that he’s right— even the thought of that monotone voice droning in your ear for ten hours makes you cringe.

“Whatever. Tell me about something. You said you were going to speak to Madani today?” He’s the one sighing now, and clearly the talk was about as fun as your drive.

“She’s all over the place. Some mishandled evidence fucked their entire case, and Bobby’s lawyers were too well paid to let it go. Murdock said they’ll be able to find more— the appeal’s already been approved cause of how high profile it is, but he’s got no new evidence. He said he doesn’t know if they can get him.”

“That’s… what I expected, I guess.” Frank agrees, and your sudden silence only serves to bring the real issue to hand. “You know where he is?”

“Yeah. I got it covered.” The line goes quiet, and you don’t really know what to say.

On one hand, you want Bobby dead. You know can’t do it- it wasn’t smart, and the last thing you were going to do is drag everything Matt and Madani had worked for through the mud for someone like him, let alone put Sam in danger. Some fucked up part of you is a little mad that it won’t be you, but Frank has every reason to hate him as much as you. You know Frank wants this, and that telling him to stop is like waving a red flag in front of a bull. Your hesitation would only spur him to do it faster, be more impulsive. You don’t want to say anything to put him off.

On the other, you just want him with you. You worry like some love sick child, scared he’s walked out the door and isn’t coming back. You worry he’ll get caught, and end up in the exact spot he was trying to get you out of. You’re scared he’ll get hurt, or worse. Every time you close your eyes you can see him bleeding out, dark red staining your hands until you can scream yourself awake. There’s so many things that could go wrong, and ten hours staring over the hood of your car gives you way too much time to think about hypotheticals.

“It’s gonna be okay.” Frank says softly, and you flop yourself back on the single bed.

“Are you?” He huffs like the question is irrelevant.

“Madani asked about your dad today.” He ignores the question, and you’re too interested to poke him on it.

“Oh?”

“Asked what he knew about your time there. If he ever worked with the Gnucci’s.” A lump forms in your throat.

“You think she knows about the weird... blood stuff?”

“Don’t see why she would. Either way, it’s not gonna matter once he’s dead.” The bluntness of it almost makes you laugh. “He’ll be gone, and no one will come for it. Or you.”

“You don’t have to do this for me, Frank.”

“I’m not.” He pauses, and then sighs. “Alright, I am, but not just that. The shit he said to me in there— the things he said about you. The way he looked at you in there… I watched that shit, and there’s no way in hell that asshole does what he did and lives.”

“What if he was found guilty? Would you of left it alone?” Maybe if you’d been more helpful to Matt and Madani, it would of gone better, and Frank would be here.

“You want me to answer that?” A part of you knew he wasn’t going to let it go. That wasn’t who he was. It shouldn’t make you feel the way it does to know that Frank would kill for you— just to make you safe. It does anyway, and heat flushes over your face.

“Maybe you shouldn’t.” He agrees, a low sound rumbling from his end of the phone. “I spent most of the day wishing you were with me, you know.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah. Turns out I fucking hate driving.” He laughs again, and if you could listen to the sound all night you think you’d sleep peacefully.

“You remember how mad you were that first time I didn’t let you drive?” Shaking your head, you flick off the lights slide under the covers.

“I was mad because you had a concussion and tried to fucking kill us.”

“Least I was gonna go the right way.”

“You tried switching drivers on the freeway, Castle.”

“Alright, I was a a bit out of it.” He says plainly and you smile so wide it hurts your cheeks. “Wished you were here, too.”

“I bet you did.” He groans, and you hear him shift on the bed. Your bed.

“Too much space in here. Didn’t even know we had this much blanket.” He makes a real noisy show of it, tossing around the blankets you usually roll yourself up in. It’s meant to be a light hearted thing, but for some reason the idea of Frank spread out on your shared bed, one that you’ve both used extensively— it makes your heart race.

“Dickhead.” He groans again, shuffling around some more. “This one’s too small. Probably have to sleep on top of each other if you were here.”

“M’alright with that.”

“Not a lot of room to move, though.” You look around at the room, hardly enough space to stand in the corner.

“We’d figure something out.” You let your eyes flutter closed, humming high pitched at the idea. “What are you thinkin’ about, sweetheart?”

“You.” You admit, and he seems to like it.

“Me too. Haven’t gone a night in this apartment without fuckin’ you in this bed. Drivin’ me crazy.” You hum again, pressing your thighs together to try and dissipate the heat that’s suddenly overtaken your whole body. “You thinkin’ about it now too, aren’t you baby?”

“Yeah, Frank.”

“Don’t say my name like that.” He growls, and you bite your lip to hide your laugh.

“Why not, Frank?” You practically purr the word, drawing it out and saying it all breathy like you do when he’s teasing you.

“Cause you’re gonna make me drive ten hours just to fuck you in whatever dirty motel you pulled off into.” You’re still smiling, but you think if you keep messing with him, he’d do it. He’d drive ten hours, a hundred of them if it meant teaching you a lesson. Or just being with you. “I’ll see you soon. Real soon, yeah?”

“Yeah.” You breathe out, knowing if you keep talking to him your entire plan will crumble in front of you, because you’re half considering driving home just to sleep next to him. “Soon. Be safe, okay?”

The words tumble out, and you try to hide the guilt you feel when you say them. He was only not safe because of you— because you couldn’t finish the job yourself. You’re glad he can’t see your face, because you hear him mumble on the other end and your eyes close listening to him.

“Always. Tell the kid I said hi.” With that, Frank hangs up the phone, and you slide it onto the table right next to the pistol you keep loaded and ready to fire.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Frank pulls the saturated beanie over his head, and it’s probably doing more harm than good at this point, but he doesn’t have a second to really give a shit. His eye-line is perfect— directed straight into the penthouse apartment Bobby Gnucci was driven to three hours ago. He’s been tucked away in the corner of the rooftop for just as long, watching the man pace and yell on the phone.

It had taken him a few goes to get the right frequency to listen in on the calls he was making, but once he had he took as much information done as he could. He’d had enough of watching, and now he was satisfied with the phones calls he’d listened to that the man was alone for the night; not counting his extensive security team layered through the apartment block. Frank felt the familiar hum in his veins, shoving his loaded pistol in his jeans and swinging the strap of a rifle over his shoulder, he headed down the stairs, across the street and slipped into the back of the building.

There’d be witnesses if he didn’t take the right route, and to make this work he needed every chance at an alibi he could get. He was so used to not caring— every time he’d gone into something like this, he didn’t have something to get back to. He had no preservation, no concern for what came after. Hell, if he was honest, he didn’t care if he went out doing something like this. He would of preferred it, maybe even hoped he’d die somewhere in the cross fire.

Even just talking to you on the phone had him itching to get back to you now. He wanted to be careful— something he never really thought of before. A heavy ache in his stomach that twisted something violent when he thought about not getting home, not making good on his promise from a few hours ago, it made him sick. He planned as much as he could, as much as he was capable of, and hoped to God it was enough.

Frank hid his body behind the corner of the wall. He hid his face, too, even though he’d already had Micro’s help shutting out the cameras. He knew it would set off alarms for the security team, but he planned for that. They’d spread out, follow orders that he’d listened to over the radio, three men on all the entries and exits, and then ten through the penthouse. If he timed it right, he could clear the first few levels before the guards arrived.

He didn’t care about making noise now— slamming his way up the fire access while Gnucci’s men no doubt got into position. He’d just past a number 6, and Bobby was on the top floor. 23. He kept going, not hearing any doors open. When he passed 9, the door on the level below him cracked open and he jammed through the next exit he reached, getting into position.

He could hear voices coming from his right, and steadied himself as he turned the safety off his gun. He had a small army of men to get through, but he knew if he could make it, landing the hit on Bobby would be easy.

He wasn’t nervous. Pure adrenaline flooded him, like it always did, and he didn’t think twice before standing out of cover and pulling the trigger.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

“How have you grown so much?!” You nearly shout, hugging Sam tighter as he all but latches onto your leg. “God, you’re gonna be my height soon.”

“I missed you!” He says, words muffled in your jacket. You don’t even have to bend really, he’s that tall. It is even possible for him to grow that much in just a month? “Come! I want to show you my stuff. Me and Niko share a room, and it’s the coolest thing…”

You let him drag you around the house, showing you the bunk beds that are set up for him and Nikolai. He shows you books he’s brought home from school, and it makes you smile how chaotic his room is. There’s piles of books and papers everywhere, stuffed under the bed and nearly toppling on the tables. It looks like it’s lived in… like a home, and your heart warms and breaks all at once.

When he finally finishes his impromptu tour, he pulls you outside where the rest of the family has set themselves up, and runs out into the giant back yard to chase after Nikolai. You hardly had a chance to say hello to them, but if you were honest you hadn’t thought of anything but Sam since you saw him.

“Did he show you the bunk beds?” The doctor— Zaed, you remind yourself, comes up behind you on the deck. “He hasn’t stopped talking about showing you.”

“I thought he was gonna explode.” Zaed laughs, and you turn to look at him. He’s still sporting a scar across his forehead, and it somehow makes his older features look slightly hardened. His face was still soft, something about him gesturing kindness, an observation you never made in the months you were locked away. “He told me you made them.”

“It took me weeks. I am not very… handy.” Smiling, you turn back to watch Sam and Nikolai screaming and laughing as they chase each other with Nerf guns. “I am sorry for what happened with the case.”

“So am I. If he’d gone away, you wouldn’t have to stay in Witness Protection.” He nods, turning away for a second only to return and offer you a can of something. “What is it?”

“It’s Russian. You’ll like it— it’s strong.” You crack it open and take a long drink, hoping to drown the rising anxiety that kneads the back of your mind at the thought of what Frank was doing right now. “We don’t mind it so much here.”

“Florida?” He nods.

“We want to stay. Corinne thinks the children— with what they’ve been through, shouldn’t move too much. They seem happy here.” You hum in agreement, listening  to the light squeals of the youngest girl, who’s name you haven’t learnt yet, who’s got the biggest Nerf gun of all and is shooting the shit out of both boys. “It was my idea. To offer to take him in. If you are upset, please lay the blame with me—“

“Upset? God, why would I ever be upset?” He blinks in surprise, looking to you.

“You are here with him, and yet you still seem far away. I figured the suggestion was weighing on you. We only offer because… well, we have all grown quite fond of him, and for you— to you we owe our lives. I thought if we could make any of this easier…” You shake your head, finishing the bitter liquid in the can.

“You looking after Sam is about one of two good things I have going right now.” Zaed seems to relax, leaning forward onto the railing as you both stare out to watch the kids. “I think he’s happy here.”

“He is. He misses you, but he is happy.”

“And safe.”

“Of course. I pity anyone who would try to get past Corinne now.” You laugh at the tinge of genuine anxiety in his voice, as if he imagines it, but his eyes are full of admiration.

“I want to talk to him about it… make sure he’s okay, but if he wants to, I think him staying here would be the best thing for him.” Zaed doesn’t answer right away, just lets the echoed laughter of the kids fill both of your ears before he nods simply.

“He will be safe. And I am sure you will learn to love Florida, too, with how much you will visit?”

“What?” Again, a look of surprise crosses his face.

“Sam did not show you the spare room? We have cleared a space for you— whenever you need it. You… it is the least I could do. You saved my life—“

“Hardly.”

“I owe you it. My families life. My own. Whatever you should need here, the door would be open to you.” You have to look away, because it’s too much, and you don’t know when you became so soft that shit like this made you tear up.

“You don’t owe me anything. You keeping Sam safe is everything I ever wanted. I think we’re even now.” You laugh, your throat suddenly feeling a little tight.

“I couldn’t help but notice you arrived alone.” He questions, and you hide your face, unsure if the way you chew on your bottom lip gives too much away.

“Yeah.” No amount of alcohol could drown out the thought of Frank. You hadn’t heard from him in a day. Zaed looks at you, his eyes crinkling as he assess you.

“I thought he was going to drown with you that night. When he saw you go into the water… I recognise that look in a man’s eyes.” It seems so long ago now, and your hand instinctively goes to your stomach, where Frank sewed you up the first time. “He is coming soon, I assume? I doubt he would let you get too far from him right now.”

“Yeah, he’s…” You trust Zaed— but there’s only one person who takes precedent over the people taking care of your brother. “He’s just finishing up some stuff with the case in New York. He should be on his way now.”

“Ah.” He says, his eyes lingering on you in question. You say nothing, just sink a little more of the can. “Well, when he kills the ублюдок, I hope he makes it last.”

Before you can recover and wipe the shock off your face long enough to ask him how the hell he guessed what Frank is doing, Sam and Nikolai are in front of you, and Zaed disappears back into the house.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Frank grunts, a loud nearly animalistic sound vibrating off the walls as he clears the 23rd floor. Every time he breathes out, blood sprays out of his mouth. He can’t tell if it’s his own or he’s just covered in so much that it’s dripping off him. Either way he can’t help it, chest burning for oxygen after he laid the lower floors to absolute waste.

He’d ditched the assault rifle somewhere between the 18th and 19th floors, not even bothering to pull out his pistol. No— he’d fought every single one of them with his bare hands, and anything he could find scattered between dead bodies.

His right hand was fucked, and he’s pretty sure he got shot. Somewhere on the right side of his body, there’s a shooting pain between his thigh and his ribs, but it’s not enough to slow him down. He shoves his body weight into the penthouse door, throwing himself into guards he knows are ready and waiting for him. He reaches for his pistol, shooting three guys in the head before his eyes adjust to the dimmer lights in the room.

He hears them shouting orders, and he kills three more as he crosses the living room. One of them he puts through the TV screen, glass shattering under his hand as he crushes the man’s skull between the hard surface. The other two he shoots, and then moves towards the last four. All of them shield the door to the bedroom— putting their lives on the line for a man who doesn’t deserve the air he’s wasting.

Frank doesn’t have a moral compass when it comes to revenge. Not when it has to do with the people he loves. It’s why he clears the round of bullets in his gun on all four of them in less than thirty seconds, watching the lifeless bodies pile up in the doorway, there isn’t a single moment that he hesitates.

“Bobby!” Frank shouts, his voice horse and so loud he’s got no doubt the dead hear it.

He hears shuffling, and drops the pistol before stomping his way through into the bedroom. He sees Bobby, crawling across the floor in an attempt to reach for a gun dropped by one of the guards, but just as he goes to reach for it, Frank slams a bloody boot down on top of his hand, feeling the crush of bone under his weight.

“Fuck!” He shouts, and Frank smiles sickly, blood dripping from his teeth. “Get the fuck off me, you animal!”

Frank kicks him in the face, two of his teeth flying out and scattering across the carpet. As he rolls over, Frank grabs him by the collar and sits him up, watching his head lull to the side.

“Wake up.” Frank slams his fist into his skull. There was no way he was passing out this fast. Not after what he’s done. “Wake the fuck up.”

His hands shake with how hard he’s holding Bobby upright. So hard he feels the bone of his collar begin to give, and Frank chases the idea. Bobby thrashes, screaming as his eyes shoot open, the sound kicking Frank back into gear. He lets go of his shoulder long enough to pull back, only to drive his fist and crack the rest of his shoulder.

“Help m—“ Bobby tries to shout, but Frank shuts him off with another well placed shove of his weight into Bobby’s stomach, winding him. He wheezes, the pathetic sound something like music to Franks ears.

He punches him again— over and over. Not enough to kill him, though. No, Frank wasn’t done, he was just feeding the thrill. He’d been waiting too fucking long for this, and there was something satisfying about seeing this man— this weak excuse for a man being blinded by his own blood as he cries for someone to help him.

“Ain’t no one comin’ for you.” He growls, and grabs Bobby’s face so it hangs straight. His jaw is slack, but his eyes go wide when he feels the blade at his ribs. “You know that? That there ain’t a single person out there comin’ for you. No one gives a shit about you. You’re alone in here— your life in my hands.”

“Haaa—“ Bobby tries but whatever it is fades out into a scream when Frank slides the blade between his third and fourth rib. Slowly— real fucking slow. “They… they’ll come. Th-They’ll come f-for me.”

“No one’s comin’. Dead. All of ‘em. You’re alone.” He slides it a little deeper, watching the realisation wash over his face.

In truth, Frank wasn’t doing this for him. Sure, it felt fucking good, and Frank was enjoying the sight of the life draining out of his eyes, but he wants him to know why. Why he’s here, why he took out every last man in this building so he knew there was no hope. No one for him to go to.

He knew that’s what it was like for you. Frank couldn’t give you back those years, and he couldn’t take that much time with this— he’d thought about it, but he wanted this to end here and now. He could do this here, for you. Could make him know just how it feels to have all that power beat out of you, and know that there’s no one out there coming to save you.

“Stop…stop!” He wails, and Frank hits him harder. Every crack of his fist sends Bobby further into unconsciousness, and when he manages to stop himself, he shakes him awake again.

He gurgles on his own blood, dark red pools choking out of his mouth. His face is unrecognisable, already starting to blow up as he strangles in a few short breaths.

“I can… I have money. I can p—“ The effort of the words sprays another load of blood out of his mouth, and even though he’s exhausted, Frank laughs.

“You think I want money?” He leans down, yanking the knife out of his ribs and shoving it in again.

“Fuck! What do you—what do you want?!” Bobby wails again. Frank smiles.

“I want you to know that she’s the reason you’re dead. The last thing you’ll know is me— my face, and you’ll know it’s because you ended up just like you made her. Except she got out, and you never will.” Frank loses sense of time, his injuries starting to catch up with him as he yanks the knife out one more time, before slamming it home into Bobby’s skull.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

“I’m watching!” You shout as Sam lines up again, taking a few steps back before rushing forward and kicking the ball towards their make shift goal in the yard. You have to admit, for only been playing a few weeks, he’s got a hell of a kick on him.

“See! I’m getting better— my coach says next year I can try out for the first grade team if I keep training!” He’s smiling so big, and then he’s gone again, picking up the ball to take another shot at Nikolai who’s got goalkeeper gloves on, ready to catch it.

You’d be happy to watch this all day, but then Corinne calls out to you, telling you your phone is ringing, and you all but leap over the railing of the deck. When you race inside, you expect to see Franks name, and your heart sinks when you don’t. You knew he wouldn’t be able to call until it was over, but it’s been nearly two days since you’d heard anything. Then, you see it’s an unknown number calling, and your hands are shaking when you disappear into what is meant to be ‘your’ room to answer.

“Hello?” You recognise the voice instantly when she says your name. “Fucking hell, Karen. You scared me. Are you okay?”

“I’m fine, but are you?!” She nearly shouts, and you are still coming back to your mind with relief it wasn’t someone telling you Frank was dead. “I don’t even know how you did it, but I don’t want to. The way they found him… Jesus.”

“Wait. What? Karen, I’m in Florida.”

“What?”

“I’m with my brother in Florida. I came up here two days ago after the trial.” She goes quiet, and you can hear the commotion in the background. Remembering it’s a Tuesday, and that she must be at work, it only furthers your suspicions. “Who’s dead?”

“Bobby is. They found him. They found his body— but…”

“Karen, tell me.” All you need to hear is Frank wasn’t found. That he got out of there before anyone saw him. It would be your fault— all of it would be your fault if he was found. You needed to get back, you needed—

“Sorry. Sorry, I just thought… with everything that happened before, I thought it might of been you. Bobby’s dead, but… there’s nearly 50 men in the building with him. They’re all dead. And Bobby; he was hardly recognisable. It took them nearly 24 hours to identify him.”

“24 hours?” Frank needed to get out of New York as soon as he killed Bobby. If the police had been crawling around there for nearly a day… “Karen, I gotta go. Thank you for calling.”

You cut it off before she responds, and call the only number saved in your phone. It only rings twice before he answers, and you could nearly cry when you hear his voice.

“Stop fuckin’ ringin’ me, Murdock. I don’t know shit and I’m busy.” He grumbles through the phone, and you choke out something between a laugh and a sob. “Oh, fuck. Sorry— hey, sweetheart. Was just about to call you.”

“It’s… did the— job go okay?” You try to calm your voice as best you can, knowing that if anyone traces the call he’s done for.

“It took me longer than I thought. Had to get stitched up, then Curtis drove me halfway— passed out for most of it.” Before you can ask, he answers. “I’m fine, don’t do that.”

“You’re okay?” Relief floods your body, phone nearly slipping out of your hand with how hard you were gripping it. “Everything’s… everything’s okay?”

“Come see for yourself. I’m pulling up.” Like a kid on Christmas, you toss the phone and basically sprint to the front door, hearing an unfamiliar truck rumble down the isolated street.

He’s driving, clearly having ditched Curtis, but when he gets out he’s got a limp, and his hand is bandaged. You don’t run, instead you stand in the driveway and soak up the image— Frank; leaning against the door of the truck, sunglasses covering up what you have no doubt are black eyes. Alive. Favouring his left side and still with dried blood on his head, but fucking here.  

“You’re hurt.” You say it when you finally reach him, but it sounds pathetic, closer to the tone you’d whimper his name in.

“Don’t worry about it.” He says huskily and reaches out, yanking you forward and slamming his mouth to yours.

The soft touch of his bandaged hand is opposite to the greedy grasp of his free one, the one wrapping around your back and fisting the material of your shirt, pressing so you were flush against him. Both of your hands cup his face, feeling the rough surface of his skin. You lose yourself in the taste of him as your fingers trace the patterns of scars peppering around his head— a constellation you’ve memorised a million times over, and yet it still feels as illuminating as the first.

He groans your name, sliding his hand up to grip your jaw, thumb tugging on your bottom lip. You lean back slightly, staying at close to him as possible. His eyes look you up and down, and there’s a glint in his eye; a hunger that never seems to be satiated when he looks at you. He’s still feverish for it, and it makes your toes curl in your shoes.

“Fuckin’ missed you.” He mumbles against your lips, and it makes you smile against his.

“I can tell.” His other hand forgets it’s injury as he searches your body, gripping your hips and pressing you closer.

“Get Sam. Let’s go home.” He tucks his head lower, mouth kissing under your jaw, and as much as you do want to get the fuck out of here with him, you pull away.

“He’s… he’s staying here.” Frank pushes the sunglasses off his face, looking at you through what is actually only one bruised eye.

“Staying?” You nod. “You sure?”

“I talked to him about it. He fucking loves it here, Frank. He didn’t want me to go again, but you should of seen him with them. They treat him like their own, and he adores them. It’s so much better than anything I could of thought.” Frank wraps his arms around your back and hugs you right, and your eyes flutter closed. “And you can’t just leave. They’re expecting you to come in and say hi.”

“Why?” The way he says it makes you laugh, as if you’d just asked him to drink gasoline.

“Come on.” You tug him by the wrists, and even though he groans and leans on you up the driveway, you both stagger inside and follow the sounds of Sam’s laughter, leaving everything else behind.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

“They were being nice.” You haven’t wiped the smile off your face since you slid into the passenger seat this morning. “Well, I slept great. I don’t know what you’re complaining about.”

“Mhmm.” Frank grumbles, clearing having a much worse sleep than you did.

It was sweet, and truely, you wanted to take them up on it. When Frank dragged himself through the front door of  where Sam had been staying, everyone had nearly jumped on him. Sam couldn’t contain himself, clearly trying to play it cool but simultaneously thinking Frank was the coolest person he’d ever met. It was sweet, the way Frank was with the kids, the sight making you both smile and want to cry.

Either way, when Corinne and Zaed had offered for you both to stay the night, Frank agreed and all but dragged you down the hallway after dinner. The spare room was nice— set up clearly for two people, and you were only human.

It would have been perfect— had the room not been sharing a wall with your brother and his new best friend. A very fucking thin wall. One that was nearly vibrating with how loud they screamed every five minutes playing some game on the TV. The louder they were, the more it became apparent that neither of you would be getting a lot of sleep, and not in the good way.

Having Frank that close all night but not being able to do anything about it reminded you of the start of this whole thing. How you shared a bed with him but had to force yourself to keep your hands to yourself. It was borderline painful, but eventually you managed to drift off to sleep, not missing how hard Franks hands were gripping your hips like he had to physically cement himself to stop from fucking you through the bed.

When you woke up, Frank had all your shit shoved in the car, and was outside cooking pancakes with Sam. You took your time saying goodbye— making sure to thank both Corinne and Zaed properly, and then promising you’ll be back. Soon. ‘So soon you won’t even have time to miss me’ you’d promised Sam, and he grinned and hugged you before disappearing to get ready for school.

“Where are we going, anyway?” Frank looked to you before shifting in his seat, one of his hands resting on your thigh and squeezing.

“Got a stop to make before getting back to New York.”  You’d been driving for a while now— about half way between New York and where you’d left Sam. You turned in your seat, resisting the urge to roll your eyes.

“Don’t be cryptic.” You try to sound assertive, but you can’t seem to hold any resentment when you could feel the warmth of him palm on your thigh.

“It’s close, alright? Promise.” The words eased something in your chest, the same way his smile did when he looked at you.

A small silence drifted between you as a Billy Joel song hummed softly on the radio, and your head dropped, eyes tracing over the bruises left on his knuckles. Your fingers dance around them, careful to keep your touches light. You follow the lines of black and blue up over his wrist, watching them disappear under the arm of his jumper. Your curiosity gets the better of you, and when you push up the sleeve just slightly, you swear loudly.

“Fucking hell! Is this broken?” You pull the sleeve up higher, and you tighten your grip on his wrist when he goes to pull away. If you hadn’t watched him so closely, you would of missed the way he winced, and you let go immediately. “Sorry. Sorry— fuck, Frank. Is this all from—“

“I’m fine. Just a couple scratches.” He says, keeping his blackened eyes trained on the road. It would of been easy to miss— not seeing him without clothes since he’d come back. Bile rises in your throat at the thought he was hurt because of you— because he was doing this for you. Suffering for you. Like he has the entire time.

“Are you lying?” He shakes his head, and you lightly poke him in the side. He hissed loudly, flinching away from you and swerving the car. “Pull over.”

“I’m not pulling over.” Frank groans.

“You’ve been driving for hours, just—“

“It’s fine. We only got a few more miles till—“

“Please.” There must have been something in your voice, some kind of soft vulnerability that even he isn’t used to hearing, and then the car is pulling off the side of an empty highway, dusk rolling over the hood of the truck.

You reach out, pulling the sunglasses off his face to reveal him slowly. This part you’ve seen, but it still knocks the wind out of you. The cut along his cheekbone, not deep enough to need stitches but you know it will scar over. His right eye is a deep purple, the left nearly green. You go to draw your fingers over his face, but hesitate, worried you’ll hurt him. He sees you pulling back and catches your wrist, placing your palm between his cheek and his own hand.

“Don’t do that.” You choke out a laugh, smoothing your hand over and back into his slightly longer hair, pulling him closer over the console of the car.

“I’m not doing anything.” You say softly, something guilty in your voice. When he hears it, he shakes his head at you.

“Can read you like a book. You got nothin’ to do with this, alright?”

“I have nothing to do with it?” You want to laugh. “I’m the reason you were there. The reason all this happened.”

“I would of been in the same place with or without you. This part?” He gestures to himself, his torso that you know all too well is littered with scars. “This isn’t a part you blame yourself for.”

“But it is. My fault.” He opens his mouth but you talk first. “All of this… watching those kids today, watching Sam— all I ever did was put him in danger. And you. It’s better for him to be there, away from all this. Away from me. Maybe now all this is over, it would be better…safer, if you—“

“Stop. I don’t wanna hear that shit. You know how selfish you sound?” You blink a few times, eyes meeting his. At some point he’s leaned even closer, and you can feel the heat of his body thawing you out. “You’re right— I wouldn’t of gone back to New York the past two days if it wasn’t for you. You know why?”

“Listen—“

“No. I wouldn’t of gone back because I would of killed that asshole six months ago and been home in time for dinner. I’ve been doin’ this a long time, and there’s nothin’ you could of done that would of changed how this ended.” He holds your face up to his, rough hands holding you as gently as they could, and his thumb traces the scar just above your eyebrow. “Sam is safe with them, but don’t think for one fuckin’ second he’s better off without you. God knows I’m not. You’ve done nothin’ but good for that kid, and I’d… fucking hell. I’d be dead without you, you know that?”

“No you wouldn’t.” Your voice was so soft it hardly broke the silence, but he leaned in, his forehead pressing to yours. “You could probably jump out of a building and walk it off.”

“Maybe. But now I gotta be careful nd’ come home to you, don’t I?” He smiles, and then kisses you and you forget where you are. Words die on your tongue and are replaced by the taste of him, mind freezing over when he touches you. He does it every time. Every time he manages to take your breath away with one whisper of your name, one swipe of his thumb over your mouth. It’s intoxicating and dependant, something you never thought you’d want, but it feels so good with him. His hands drop to your waist, their pull demanding and needy as he yanks you up and over the centre console and onto his lap.

“I’d do it again. All of it. Kill every single—“ You kiss him again, squeezing your eyes shut, and he groans as you shift on his lap. “Fuck, baby we should wait till…”

“Till when?” You say breathlessly, and despite his words his hands are already sneaking underneath your shirt, his cool hands meeting your feverish skin. You can hardly keep your eyes open, and your hips roll forward again, seeking him out. “I want you now, Frank.”

“Fuck it. Doesn’t matter.” He says and then crashes into you, your back nearly pressing against the dash with how quick he moves. Your gasp of surprise is lost in his mouth, and you can feel the sparks he makes in your chest crackling their way through you, toes curling in your shoes.

Your half bent backwards, legs in either side of his as he keeps your chest pressed to him, both arms wrapping around you to hold you steady. You tug at his shirt helplessly, getting it stuck around his arm and he smiles against your mouth, leaning back to look at you before whipping it over his head.

In the dark of the room last night you wouldn’t of seen it, but now the lights streaming in from the car window, and Franks torso is nearly a rainbow in it— blue, purple and green bruises all up his side, with a short but deep cut on the low right side of his abdomen. He’s taken the bandage off it too early, the stitches still healing, but you can tell it’s expert work. Much better than the botched job you did a month or so back, something he still bares the reminders for.

“Just… just a couple scratches, huh?” He grunts something illegible and hauls you back to him.

“Shut up.” He keeps you pressed close, not giving you a chance to say something back, but then his hands dip lower and you’re a goner.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Yeah. Fuck waiting.

He’s got you here— now, on top of him, and he can’t even fucking think of anything else. Your hands are being so gentle and cautious when he really couldn’t care less about the pain, but you do. You always do.

He wasn’t gonna waste another second, and seeing your eyes close the second he got your pants off and dipped his hands between your legs… it’s pretty much as close to heaven as he was going to get.

You fall forward, Frank catching you with one arm and pulling you close while the other continues slow, teasing circles just how he knows gets you all worked up. Your head tucks away into his neck, and he lets you hide for now, but when he’s got you home— real home, then he’ll be able to look at you as much as he god damn wants.

Your hips move against him, chasing his slow rhythm, and he feels your teeth scrape agains this neck, wordlessly rushing him along. 

“You need me that bad?” He says lowly, and watches in awe the way his words wash over you and yank you closer to the edge. “I’m sorry, sweetheart. Shouldn’t of left you so needy—“

“Fuckkk… right there—please.” Your voice was so high it cracks a little, and it fucking sets him on fire.

“Get my belt for me, baby.” He whispers, feigning a bit of self control as he watches you quickly fumble with the buckle. The slight brush of your hands could finish him then and there, and he had to squeeze his eyes shut to try and remember why he wanted to wait. He had just one more card to play— one that you’d seen him play a few times before, but he doesn’t think you expect it this time, and he needed some semblance of composure to remember it.

A real house, white picket fence and all, smack bang on halfway between New York and Florida. He couldn’t leave New York, not ever, but he had a new anchor now, one that deserved to have it all.

Frank planned to take you straight home. Make a ten hour drive and keep his hands to himself, but how the fuck could he when you were like this? Looking like you do, touching him so fucking sweet and soft and saying how much you missed every part of him— it was a dream come to life, and one of the few moments he’d let himself go in.

You shuffle as close as the seat allows, your now naked chest pressing against his. He dips his head, kissing your jaw, and he’s suddenly surrounded by you. Arms around his neck, warm and soft as your fingers thread in his hair, both of you moan at the feeling of him sliding into you. It’s white hot and nearly painful, how even with the way you’re dripping down your thighs, it still takes you a second to take him all the way. You wriggle your hips, trying to settle yourself and Frank nips at your neck, slowing your pace just slightly. He can hear you sigh, but you listen. You always fucking do.

“Shit— so fucking good. You can take it.” He hums and runs his hands over your skin. You lean into the touch, and when you sigh again he sinks your hips lower, a short punch of your name bursting from his chest when you slam yourself down. “Fuck. There you go.”

He’s a wreck underneath you, and your hands slither away from his hair to his face when you pull him up to kiss you. As much as he loves the feeling of your hips grinding down ever so slightly right now, it’s this part he loves the most. The slow intimacy of it— how he knows he can stay right here for the rest of the day and nothing will change. He can feel how much you love it, how much care you handle him with, and it cracks something old and hard in his gut.

You shudder as he lifts his hips, keeping your mouths together and kissing hungrily. He’d think you’d both been starved for a year the way you two act, but he’d admit it to anyone that asked that he was gone for you. He knows it well and true, in his chest and in the way you bounce in his lap, moaning into his mouth like he’s breathing air into your burning lungs.

“Fuck— fuck, I love you. I fucking… Jesus Christ, you’re so good. I love you.” He can’t shut himself up, and your breath gets faster. He knows you love it when he talks. “C’mon, baby. Let me see you— wanna feel you. I know you want to.”

“Slow… Frank, you’re gonna hurt yourself—“ You suck in a breath and squeeze your eyes shut. His hands stay tight on your hips, and he feels the pleasure buzz under his palms, your skin nearly alight with it on top of him. “Oh my god, don’t stop.”

He wraps his forearm around you and fucks you harder, any pain and injury burnt out by how tight you are around him, and how perfect you fit him. He’s close, so close that he’s hardly able to kiss you now. You both collide in a mess of tongues and sighs, and when he hears you croak out his name into his mouth, he knows you’re cumming for him.

He can’t hold himself back, chasing you into that high with blinding abandon. It hits him like a freight train, bowing him over you like he’s taken a hit, but it feels so good he can’t register that he isn’t breathing like this. He keeps kissing you until he’s sure he’s going to pass out, and only stops when you pull away, eyes darting to the highway where headlights slowly flicker on the horizon.

“Shit.” You say breathless, and you laugh. He can feel it, the sound shuddering through him from where he was still deep inside you, and your giggles soon turned to something less innocent when you heard Frank groan into your chest. “C’mon. Someone’ll see us.”

“Don’t move yet.” He puts his hands on your waist, fanning them out to reach as much of you as possible.

“Mhmm.” It’s like your body gives out at his request, slumping forward and moulding into him like you were made to fit this way. This was what he was talking about. The way you fit together— something that should be out of the question for him fits so right. “I love you, too.”

“Mhmm.” He copies and feels you smile against his skin. His hands trail up your spine, tracing the line of bones lightly to leave goosebumps in his wake. “What time is it?”

“Who gives a fuck?” You mumble, the words half muffled into his neck.

“I want you to see the house in the light, but you wanna go at it blind, be my guest.” It takes you a second, a scoff coming out of you before you sit up abruptly, making him groan again.

“House? What house? Another safe house.” Frank couldn’t keep a secret to save his life when it came to you.

“It’s a house. Twenty minute drive from here.”

“But New Yorks not—“

“I know. Good thing we got cars, yeah?” Your eyebrows are crossed together, and Franks thumb slips over the small scar he left on your face. The movement shifts your gaze to something softer, and he feels the brush of your eyelashes on his finger as you blink up at him.

“You did it on purpose. It’s right in the middle.” You say softly. “Jesus, Frank. You didn’t have to… I mean you—“

“Take a breath. I didn’t buy it. Was a gift from the US Goverment. One thing those guys are good for is their money. I just picked the spot.” He could nearly hear the rave of your heart, and you crushed yourself into him, words hushed and mumbled into his ear, but they melt him to the core all the same.

He’ll never get over hearing you say things like this to him. That you’re grateful for him, that he’s doing a good thing. It’s like nothing he did before you was ever good enough. There was always the next job, always the next group to track, but nothing would be enough. There wasn’t a light at the end of the tunnel for him. But here you were, telling him that he was the reason you were gonna be alright, and if he squints he can see it. The flicker of something hopeful, and if he holds onto you as tight as he can, he might just live to see it light him on fire.

“Did you say… you said twenty minutes from here. Why didn’t we just wait until—“

“Would’ve ruined the surprise.” You laugh again, and the feeling has him gripping you tighter. He leans closer to whisper in your ear, his voice low. “And I wanted to fuck you here and now. Don’t want there to be a single fuckin’ surface where I ain’t had you.”

“Better get driving then, Castle. Sounds like you got a job to do.” The glint in your eye nearly makes him drag you outside and bend you over the hood, but the kiss you give him after is sickeningly sweet, so much so that he lets you slide off him and back into the passenger seat without so much as a nip of his teeth. “Tha–”

“Wait. Wait til you see it.” Frank said, and something about the way he looked at you had you nodding simply, and watching the trees race by as he sped you home.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

You were asleep on the balcony again, and Frank moved as slow as he could to let you stay that way.

In the two weeks you’d been here, he could count on one hand how many times you’d actually slept in the bed. There were no neighbours for miles, nothing interrupting the stretch of sky all the way to the hills. Even Frank had to admit it was a killer view.

He came inside, pouring himself a drink, and a strange pit in his stomach settled after the burning liquid soothed his throat. He can’t seem to kick that feeling when you’re asleep. When you were awake, next to him, there wasn’t anything else he could think about. But alone, walking around a house he owned, a life he might try and live staring him in the face, he felt guilty. There were parts of him he wouldn’t ever get back, but this wasn’t something he thought he’d ever have. Peace and quiet, time to himself. A woman he loved within eyesight, buried under blankets cause she was too stubborn to come inside when it got freezing. He couldn’t figure out why now, of all times, was the time to be thinking of Maria. The weight of the ring around his neck was like an anchor. He knew it was stuck on the bottom of the ocean, but he couldn’t find it in himself to let go. He would sit there, hand cut up and bleeding, holding on for dear fucking life if no one moved him, waiting until he drowned.

Your footsteps were soft, in a way that he knows you can’t help. You tread through the open double doors, and Frank would roll his eyes at the way he could hear your teeth chattering if he wasn’t so distracted.

“You should of woke me.” You say, voice muffled from the mess your head was buried under. He took a step toward you, pushing it back so he could see your eyes.

“It’s late.”

“Couldn’t tell.” He can hear the smirk in your voice.

“You finally frozen to death, smart-ass?” You grumble something in reply, and he catches a few curse words before you look at him again. It’s nearly scary, the way you can read him with one sweep of your eyes. You clock his tone, the way he isn’t leaning into you with his full weight, and squint your eyes.

“What is it?” Frank sucks in a long breath, and kisses you.

He’s a complete idiot. That’s what it is. He can feel the buzzing pulse you wake in him, every movement of your lips on his rooting you deeper in his soul, chipping off ice until theres only warmth. How’s he supposed to tell you, after you’ve just kissed him like that, that he was thinking about his–

“You can talk to me about her, Frank.” You say with your head against his. Not it, her. Before he can ask, you smile a little. Even just a hint of that smile and he’s forgetting how to breathe. “You play with the ring when you’re nervous. It’s actually a bit of a tell.”

“Yeah?” He manages, hands trying to search their way through the blankets for you.

“Yeah. You have a lot of tells. For someone in your line of work, it’s actually a bit worrying.”

“You got me all figured out.” He says and means it, but you just roll your eyes.

“And you lean to the left when you think you can’t make a shot. You think it helps your angle.”

“Who woulda thought you were so observant.”

“You know, I actually did watch you when you were teaching me how to shoot.” Frank smiles, your skin finally under his palms. His hands splay on your back, and you lean closer.

“You were trying to fuck me the whole time. Don’t blame me for being surprised.” You try to whack him but your arms are pinned under the layers. Your laughter carries through him, skittering into his chest until he can’t help but laugh too.

“You came onto me.” He laughs harder. “It was very unprofessional. I was there to learn.”

“Damn fucking right I did.” His voice is low, and you shuffle around under his hold until your hands snake up behind his neck. His hair is too long, but he hasn’t cut it just yet. He tells himself that he hasn’t had time, but truthfully he likes the way it feels when you sift your fingers through the ends of it. Like now.

“You can tell me.” You say again, softer. He’s softer too– more malleable now you were here.

“I can’t help it.” He looks over your shoulder, and you follow his gaze to where the sun is now just starting to rise. “She woulda… woulda liked it here. The kids, too.”

“You think so?” He nods, still staring into the orange sky.

“Probably would of had a lot to say about the inside, though.” You wrap around him tighter, head on his chest. “She was so good with those things. She loved when we painted our house. She had all these colors painted next to each other on the wall. All these different kinds of green. Everyone kept sayin’ it all looked the same but she... she could tell the difference. I could see what she meant when she put the couch next to it and shit, you know? She was real good with that stuff.”

“We could use her help around here. This place is sort of… ugly, on the inside.” He laughed again, his throat feeling tighter as he looked around. There was those same colour swatches, but none of them were coordinated like he was remembering. Pinks, blues, oranges and grays were all mixed together in big, sweeping strikes along the wall, stopping right above where your arm would be able to reach. “What would she have gone with?”

He looks down at you, your face washed in the light of the sunrise.

“The light orange. It looks good with the brown.” He nods over to the couch, an old leather one you’d made him pick up off the side of the road.

“We’ll do that one, then.” You tuck yourself under his chin, sighing.

“I think about ‘em everyday. What the kids would have looked like now. What they’d be doing. How Maria and I would of… raised ‘em. I was away all the time, but I just-”

“I think you would have been just fine.” You say into his chest, and Frank takes a shuddering breath.

“Why’s that?“

“Cause she was in love with you.” His chest tightens, and the grip he’s got on your waist gets a little tighter. “I’m… I’ll never be able to fix…that. It’ll always be with you, and nothing will change what happened, but I want you to know that they will always have a place here. You don’t have to apologize for talking about them– the kids, or Maria. I will never, ever not listen, and it will never be something I don’t want to hear. If they’re always with you, they’ll be with me, too.”

Frank takes two steps forward, and your feet pick up just in time to catch yourself before he throws you back on the couch. He’s never been good with words for things like this. He doesn’t think he should try to shove it all in a sentence, either. Not when theres so much he wants to say, but even more he wants to do.

You lay back, and he moves slowly. He wants you to know every move, every brush of his hand and his mouth is by design. He wants to know every square inch of you inside and out like you know him. He wants his hands to pull the strings, letting you hear all the things his mouth could never possibly form.

“Perfect.” Frank sighs against your mouth, over and over again. It was. You were. Are. The pit in his stomach disappears, pushed out and engulfed by the flames in his chest. There was no room for anything, not a single other feeling or word could possibly fit the way you two fit together. Your fingers tug at his shirt, and he takes it over his head. Your hands run and smooth gentle lines over his chest, over the healing wound on his side. It's jagged and wonky, and it nearly spelt your name. Frank thinks it’s the first time he’s looked down at himself and not hated to see the scars.

He unravels you like a gift to himself, savouring every moment even when you try to shrug off the blanket. You hadn’t dressed since last night, and Frank liked it even more this way. You sighed his name, and Frank shuddered, sealing his mouth over yours again. When his eyes opened for a split second, he could see your face, washed in orange light, and your hair swept to the side. He shut his eyes and kissed you again, the image seared into his mind forever.

Frank had faced a lot of bad things in his life. He had been shot, stabbed, pulled apart and put back together more times than he could remember. He thought he’d seen it all, felt it all before, but there was nothing like this. Nothing made him as weak as your fingers in his hair, and nothing made him as strong as the way you moaned his name. Nothing felt as good as sliding inside you, and nothing felt as empty as when you were gone. It made him lightheaded and brought him to the brink of consciousness, but he knew that this was right.

It could of been minutes or hours that had passed when he let himself go, but no amount of time with you under him would stop him from wanting more. The sun was up now, and Frank had you tucked to his side on the small space of the couch, legs tangled together in the blankets and each other. He felt you shiver against him, and the blankets wrapped around you had come loose. He bent to fix them, and when he moved you did it again.

He looked down, seeing the cold line of metal pressed against your bare back. The ring at the end was hanging over your ribs, and when Frank touched it, it was freezing. Holding it in his palm, it didn’t feel as heavy as it used to, and when he read the engraving on the back, he still felt cold.

Looking down at you, how you rolled over and sought him out even with your eyes closed, he leaned down to kiss the scar on your forehead. Then, like it was the simplest thing in the world, he slipped the necklace off over his head, and placed it in a neat circle on the coffee table next to his head.

They would always have a place here. But it wasn’t them who gave him warmth anymore.

When he tucked himself back under the covers, he knew it was you. It was always you.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

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okay theres going to be an epilogue at some point, but it will probably be small and have very little plot, so this is the end of the main story. so, heres a little rant for you. if you read it, thank you, and if you dont, thank you anyways. knowing anyone is reading my words is a gift enough.

i think i have been writing this series for like 5/6 months ish?? thats fucking wild. i dont have an exact word count, but all i know is its fucking long. i cannot believe i wrote this much about a fictional character, but damn. that is a lot.

basically all i want to say here is thank you. to anyone who has read, interacted, or will read in the future, thank you from the bottom of my heart. it might be a lil dramatic but having people read stuff i write, let alone actually enjoy it makes me so incredibly happy. starting to write on here, and for frank especially, is probably one of the best decisions ive ever made. this series was a struggle to finish for so many reasons, mainly my incredible lack of planning and overall dumb writing schedule, but i have met so many incredible people along the way, and i am just so grateful to have a lil space to share my work.

frank castle will probably always own a giant spot in my heart, so thank you for letting me share my version of him. and letting me add as much smut as i want to this with no complaints bc i fuckin needed it okay!!!!!! i love you all. rant over. series over. damn!

p.s. i am never not going to write frank. dont worry. i already have an idea for my next series lmao!!!!!!!! luv ya!

[vampiresdontbelonginfairytales]

In two minds as to whether to post this because I HOPE I'm going to do a comic arc of it.

But since I'm currently incredibly slow to do comics and also because I spent the last three days solid on it... Here it is.

But I guess if you'd rather see it in comic form and care about spoilers then don't read it?

EDIT: I wrote a follow up scene and then I wrote a follow up scene to the follow up scene and... Long story short, or rather, short story long, it's a book manuscript now. I've got 18k words so far

No book spoilers though! (The current book is coming along very well but isn't quite ready). << EDIT: this refers to a different book that is close to a final draft

----

“Um... I d-don’t have a l-lot, but...” Victor held out the canvas bag. The three of them had agreed to do a book swap, or rather, a manga swap. Lucinda had been bringing books to Fairyland for Will, as books were somewhat hard to come by, and she had offered to bring him books too. Victor, having no idea what books he wanted, not being savvy on the selection of Earth books available, and not daring to do such a bold, daring thing as taking a friend up on an offer, hadn’t asked for any yet. Hettie was positively itching to get her hands on Lucinda’s manga – “As the Otherworlds’ first magical girl, it is positively my duty!” – and Victor had some manga too. Only a few volumes... The yokai peddlers only had a small selection that passed inspection by his mother.

Lucinda sat cross-legged on the floor after taking the bag, and had plonked two of her own on the rug. They were in one of the guest parlours, little drawing rooms that were previously for nobles to sit and relax in, but were in the process of being turned into bedrooms and common rooms for the expected magical school students. This one needed very little doing at it, and had become their hangout area. There were comfy couches and a little table and trolley for drinks and snacks. Victor had brought them some tea – books weren’t the only thing he’d picked up from his brief visit home – and it was rapidly cooling as the girls were far too excited by the manga to worry about little things like staying hydrated.

“Oooh this is really rare!” Lucinda picked up one of the more battered copies with a pair of girls on the cover; one with bright pink hair, the other with an equally striking shade of purple. “It never came out in the UK at all, and in the US it was this limited run tied in to the anime they decided to air at like, 5am on a Saturday morning, so it never got a big following and never got reprinted in English. I swear sometimes they WANT shows to fail.”

“I... didn’t understand most of what you said. Sorry, it’s what?” Hettie looked up from where she was already a good chunk into volume 1 of something called Sailor Moon. “I understood ‘rare’ and then you might as well have said ‘and the hoop-de-doo sqoodled the squaddle’.”

“Yeah, sorry.” Lucinda stayed quiet for a minute before rephrasing. “They only printed a small number of these in English because the television show version of it wasn’t popular. And it was never printed in my country at all.”

“Ah.” Hettie sighed wistfully. “Oh to have print runs available. We just get whatever the yokai peddlers have with them. It’s pretty erratic. You’re lucky if you can get more than four or five volumes of a set. Sometimes they have really big sets of one thing, but they’re so expensive.”

“I guess I am pretty lucky to be able to find as much as I can,” Lucinda reflected. “They even have manga in the library.”

“You have to stop, you’re making me far too jealous!” Hettie held a hand out dramatically.

“Um,” Victor interjected. “They have m-manga in the library here, too.”

“They do?!” both girls chorused.

“A lot of it is um... e-embarrassing...” Victor had a very low tolerance for what Hettie had informed him was called ‘fanservice’ but some of the stuff he’d seen must be the sort of service where someone takes a bullet for you and then takes your would-be assassin out with them while apologising that they won’t be able to get your supper ready on time for once as they are unfortunately dying, rather inconsiderately, without two weeks’ notice.

Hettie and Lucinda looked at each other.

“I’m not about to be put off by a bit of embarrassment, are you?” Hettie asked.

“Not a chance.” Lucinda hesitated. “Well, okay. Some chance. But.” They both turned to Victor.

“Lead the way?” Hettie suggested. “Or you can just give us rough directions if you prefer.”

“I’ll c-come with you.” Victor was not about to lose out on time with Lucinda over a few drawings, no matter how embarrassing they were.

“H-here it is...” Victor waved vaguely at the two aisles.

After a few minutes of pulling out volumes at random – and hastily putting some of them back – the girls were a little deflated.

“Are they all in Japanese?” Lucinda asked. “I’m trying to learn but I can just about say what my name is, greet people and count to one hundred. I can read maybe five kanji and some katakana.”

Victor frowned. “Yes? I think. B-but...”

Hettie sighed. “That’s really too bad. Perhaps we could ask your snow woman friend to translate?”

“I don’t want to ask her to do her job for free...” Lucinda replied.

“Um.” Victor pulled the nearest volume out a little, checked it, and pulled it all the way out. He flipped to what in a Western comic would be the back. “Did you check the front? There’s a lot of translation notes and things.”

Lucinda held up a finger. “I did not.” She pulled out another manga and instead of turning to the middle she checked front and back. “Oh. It’s not the type of translation I’m used to, but this’ll work.” She put the random volume back and started searching for the first one of the series.

“It’s silly, really. I should have realised the large yokai population here would have donated something to the library,” Hettie chided herself. “I can’t believe I never looked before. There must be several doors to Japan here.”

Lucinda looked up suddenly. “I. Wow. I never thought of that. Do you think so?”

“It stands to reason?” Hettie theorised. “The queen must know a door, at least.”

“I can’t believe all this time and I never... Do you want to go to Japan?”

“What, now?” Hettie asked. “Right now?”

“It should be possible, right?” Lucinda said, eyes shining. “Although...” Her face fell. She bit the end of her thumb as she thought. “I guess it will take a long time to get into the map room, and I’m kinda broke still...” She glanced over at Victor making him jump. “It’s kinda crowded in the cities, from what I know... That wouldn’t be good... But I don’t know if it would be harder in a small place, we’d be too conspicuous...” She slouched. “I guess we can’t after all... I got myself worked up for nothing.”

“You should go to Okazaki!” came a voice from the other side of the bookcase. There were footsteps, and Will leaned into view around the end of the aisle. “It’s a city, so it’s got all the stuff you’re probably looking for, but it’s really quiet. As long as you don’t go during commuter times, you’ll practically have the pavements to yourself.”

“Okazaki?” Lucinda repeated. “Where’s that?”

“It’s near Nagoya. Aichi Prefecture.”

“I’m sorry to say that doesn't mean anything to me,” Lucinda admitted, rubbing the back of her head. “We’d still need a door map though, and, well, a bunch of stuff. I don’t have any yen, for a start.”

Will waved a hand . “You don’t need to worry about any of that,” he said. “Wait here.”

The three of them exchanged a look. Lucinda and Hettie browsed the manga while they waited, pulling out the odd volume and looking back and forth between the translations and the pages. It was pretty difficult. They weren’t intended to be read in the aisle. Victor had borrowed a few of them and you needed a desk to spread them out on.

It wasn’t long before Will returned, holding an envelope and a piece of white paper, with a much folded look about it. Paper, not parchment.

“Here you go!” He beamed. “Just make sure you go when it’s not right before or after school, and you should be fine.” Lucinda unfolded the paper and all three of them peered at it.

“Door locations?” Hettie asked.

“I came via Okazaki to Fairyland,” Will explained. “I needed to make sure I had an escape route if something went wrong, but the doors you want are this one and this one.” He pointed at the one in the top right and the middle bottom. “Oh, and here.” He presented Lucinda with the envelope, holding the shortest end with a thumb on each corner.

Lucinda opened it. She gasped. “Does that say... ten thousand? Ten thousand yen?! And what’s this?” A large feather slid out with the bank note.

“It’s a feather. You’ll need it to get back here, so don’t lose it.” He pulled out a pencil from a pocket. “I’ll just make you some notes. You need to write the kanji for ‘gate’ in the air to open the return door.” He wrote the kanji next to the door. “It’s pretty easy. Oh and if you do lose the feather or something, THIS door here leads back to Stratford-upon-Avon. It’s quite a walk, to the door and from the door, like, maybe a full day of walking, but if you can’t get back here it’s the best option. I’ll give you my parents’ address. My mom is an Otherworlder, she can help you get home.” He scribbled the address on the back. “Oh and if things are bad in Okazaki for some reason... You can’t get the door to work or any other trouble, you go here.” He drew a star on the map. “Ask for Asakura Miho. She's the local Otherworlder concierge.”

“This... This is a lot of money isn’t it?” Lucinda asked.

“Not loads.” Will shook his head. “Only about £40.”

“Only?” Lucinda spluttered. “I can’t take this!”

“Sure you can!” Will grinned. “Look, you’ve brought me at least that amount in retail value of books, if not in second hand value. I was wondering how best to repay you for it.”

“But... ... I mean...” Lucinda hesitated. She stared long and hard at the note. Finally she said, “If it’s really okay... You’re sure it’s okay?”

“Positive.”

“Okay... Uh...” She looked round at the other two. “Who’s ready to go to Japan, I guess?”

The three of them made their way to the entry door. It was in the Northern Quarter of the capital; a gathering place for yokai.

“It should be... here!” Lucinda pushed on a patch of air and a slit appeared; a slice of blue sky and a rice paddy hung in the air, contrasting heavily with the brown walls of the tavern behind it. Lucinda let it close. Then she checked her phone. “It’s... about 9:10 in the morning. Will said avoid commuter times.” She bit her lip. “I think we should wait a bit longer to be safe.” She drummed her fingers on her arm. “I feel like I’ve forgotten something...”

“You waiting for the Okazaki door, kids?” a voice addressed them from above.

They looked up to see a yokai woman leaning out of the second story window. Her eyes were narrowed and her lips pouting.

“Yes?” Lucinda replied. “We were told to wait until the morning commute was over. That’s right, isn’t it?”

“Oh, yes, that’s right. It’s just... You’re going... like that?”

The parental tone and question was familiar to Victor as of late - his mother did not appreciate his change in wardrobe from the expected vampire evening dress to the everyday fairy tunics. The three of them looked down at themselves then at each other.

“Oh. Oh, I see what you mean,” Lucinda admitted. “We look like we’re going to a convention.” Lucinda had come straight from work and was in her prince outfit, Hettie was wearing one of her tea gowns and Victor was in a blue tunic and pants, tied at the ankle. “Not good for blending in.”

“L-let’s go change?” Victor suggested. “There’s p-plenty of time.”

“I’m not sure I have anything suitable...” Hettie said.

“D-don’t worry, Molly showed me where the clothes a-are for the f-fools, w-we can find something in there.”

“I think I still have some stuff from when I stayed here before,” Lucinda said. “I’ll check my old room while you do that.”

There were a few trunks of spare clothes in the servants’ quarters, mainly intended for fools but really for anyone who wanted them. Fairyland worked on a bartering system, so labour in the palace was exchanged for food, accommodation or occasionally other goods.

“Does this suit me? I think it’s a little big but beggars can’t be choosers...” She had found a wine red jumper; it was a solid colour with long sleeves that hung over the edge of her fingers. She pulled them back over her wrists, using a ribbon on the edges to tighten them.

Victor nodded. “I-it looks very nice. W-will these trousers fit you, d-do you think?” Hettie had also found a blue skirt, but it was a glaring mismatch, in both style and colour.

“Trousers?” Hettie took them uncertainly. “I, I really don’t know, I’ve never worn any before.”

“M-Miss Lucinda is often wearing them, e-even when she isn’t dressed for work,” Victor pointed out.

“Yes, must be nice not to have to worry about changing to come here,” Hettie observed. “Then again, I didn’t have to change when I visited her house. We pretended I worked for Rent-A-Legend too, which come to think of it, I actually did.”

“I’m a l-little jealous that y-you got to see Miss Lucinda’s house,” Victor admitted. He stopped short of asking what her room was like. That felt like spying, somehow.

“It was fun, Earth technology is incredible, a magic of its own... though it was incredibly nerve wracking... I had to keep Lucinda’s identity secret from her parents.” Hettie took the trousers and he turned away so she could change. “I doubt it will be as difficult out and about in a town setting.”

“W-were her parents nice?” Victor asked.

“I only spoke briefly to her mother to introduce myself, but she seemed nice,” Hettie replied. “You can turn around now. How do I look?”

“L-like you’re from Earth,” Victor replied. There were less options for him. Most of the clothing was dresses, or way too big for him. Maybe he would have to make do with his old clothes. He understood they were very old fashioned on Earth, but without his cravat and cape, he would at least look like an Earthling, if a slightly overdressed one.

“Any luck?” Hettie asked.

“No. I’ll h-have to wear my old clothes.” Victor pouted. “I sh-should get some Earth clothes s-sometime. B-but I d-don’t know how I’m going to. They’re s-so expensive a-and the peddlers never h-have anything my size.”

“Perhaps you can ask Lucinda for help?” Hettie suggested.

Victor shook his head. “I c-couldn’t do that.”

Hettie tilted her head to one side. “Whyever not?”

“I j-just... H-help how?”

“So you just automatically answered ‘I can’t’ without even thinking about it?”

“W-well, it j-just seems too imposing t-to ask for help,” Victor tried. “... What do you mean?”

“She literally lives there?” Hettie pointed out. “She offered to bring you books? It shouldn’t be that big a step up to help find some clothes. Maybe she knows some place you can get some cheap? Or she can ask Sara? You really won’t know unless you ask her.”

“B-but clothes are s-so c-complicated!” he protested.

“I don’t think they’re as complicated on Earth,” Hettie said. “Like I say, you won’t know if you don’t ask. Besides, Lucinda is your friend. I wish I could prove it to you that asking her for help isn’t a big deal.”

“N-no, i-it seems like t-too much...” He shook his head.

“Victor...” Her brow furrowed slightly, and Victor steeled himself for a lecture. She stared at him for a long moment before giving a short sigh. “Well, I for one plan to ask Sara where she gets her Earth clothes, so if find out anything useful I shall pass it along. I’m ready, so shall I wait for you here or at the gate?”

“Th-the gate,” Victor answered, relieved. “Please apologise t-to Miss Lucinda for me.”

When he had changed into his old things, he found one of the glassless windows that lined the upper corridors and launched himself out of it, becoming a bat in mid-air. He didn’t much like being a bat, but it would be faster than walking down and he didn’t want to make Lucinda wait any longer than he already had. He made a mental note to learn a new animal transformation spell as soon as possible. He had learned how to become a bat at about age seven, normally a little early for even a vampire to start learning magic, but the death of his father at the hands of a mob when he was six had made his mother keen to get him learning escape spells as soon as possible. He could also turn into mist. That wasn’t much fun either. The only real upside was that you were pretty much impossible to kill. Stay that way too long though, and you’d find your mind starting to dissipate too. It was like being in a dream. You had to force yourself awake again.

“H-here I am!” Victor said, turning back a little way above the ground and landing on his feet. “S-sorry for making you w-wait.”

“We’ve got plenty of time,” Lucinda reassured him. “And it’s definitely not commuting time now.”

“I was just telling Lucinda how difficult it was finding Earthling clothes for you,” Hettie said. “She says you can probably have a look in Okazaki.”

“It’ll be interesting to see what second-hand clothes they have in Japan,” Lucinda remarked, smiling at him. “I’m not expecting to find a shop full of kimonos or anything but there’s got to be some cool stuff, right?”

“O-oh. Um, r-right. Yes.” Victor shot his cousin A Look, but she just made a half shrug and a smirk that said ‘See?’.

It was impossible to be mad that she was correct about just asking, or as it seemed, just mentioning, and he spent the walk back to the Northern Quarter wondering what sort of clothes they would have and how they fit without a tailor. He was aware that they didn’t usually have tailors any more. They bought things ‘off the rack’. Maybe they bought everything a size too big and sewed it to fit themselves?

When they got to the door, they found the yokai woman from the tavern waiting there. She had it open the tiniest possible amount, sticking a fingernail in it to keep it from closing. She looked round as they approached.

“Much better.” She nodded approvingly. “I’m just waiting for my partner Mitsuki to get back with supplies. You go ahead... if you’re ready?”

“I think we are.” Lucinda hesitated. “Um. Do you have any other advice?” she asked as she tentatively put a hand on the door. “It’s our first time in Japan.”

“Don’t talk loudly in public, the doors SLIDE, do NOT cross the street when it’s red, you’re expected to pack your own shopping bags at the supermarket AWAY from the cashier, get a little hand towel each for public bathrooms - I recommend Daiso for that – don’t hand money to anyone directly, it’s bad luck, that’s what the little trays are for, oh and I hope you kids like mayonnaise because we put mayonnaise on everything.” The woman thought for a moment longer. “You know a return door, right? From your lack of luggage, I assume this is a day trip?”

Lucinda nodded. “We have a few options.”

“You got a feather?”

“Yes, we have a feather,” Lucinda reassured her.

“And you know the rules for going to and from Earth? It’s not like the other Otherworlds, you know that, right?”

“I’m from Earth, yes,” Lucinda replied.

“Oh. You’re more prepared than you looked.”

“I was just a bit overexcited and I tend to forget what I’m wearing,” Lucinda admitted.

“Off you go then,” the woman said. “Have fun. Try some dango.”

“I will. Thank you.”

Lucinda had just put her hand flat on the door when Hettie piped up suddenly;

“I completely forgot! I have a thing with Lolotte today!”

“You do?”

“Yes, I shall have to go immediately,” she announced. “Don’t want to be late.”

“Oh.” Lucinda took her hand off the door and turned round. “Oh, that’s too bad. We can go another day, then? Lolotte can always come with us?”

“No, no, I won’t hear of it!” Hettie protested, bodily turning Lucinda back to the door. “You and Victor go ahead! You went to the trouble of getting changed and everything. You can go and find all the fun places and show me next time. You’ll have more money between you, too.”

“I guess but... are you really sure? I do want to go but-“

“Then go.” She gave them both a bright smile. “You’ll be more inconspicuous without me, anyway. Much better for a first visit. Can’t be too careful.”

“But-“

“Must dash! See you later!” She gave them a little wave before turning into a panther and bounding away.

“Well... I guess we’re going then.” Lucinda scratched her head before smiling apologetically at the yokai woman. “If that’s okay? With just me?” She addressed this to Victor. Who almost didn’t hear her over the internal screaming.

“Th-that’s fine,” he replied, a little shocked to find he meant it.

Yes, he reassured himself. Fine. He was alone with Lucinda. Not a problem. It had ended horribly the last time, but fine. So it was his first visit to Earth. And not a ‘Western’ culture like he was used to at home. So he didn’t speak the local language. So what if he couldn’t use magic there. So what if there were humans all over the place?

“Okay. Just stick close to me and if it’s too busy we’ll turn back, all right?” Lucinda offered. “Will said it would be quiet, so I guess we’ll just see. I’m... a little bit scared, but at least I won’t be alone. I mean, I’ll still go alone, if you change your mind. You don’t need to worry about me. I’ve been doing this for two years. I’ve been to scarier places than Japan, that’s for sure. The crime rate’s supposed to be really low. And there’s zero dragons.”

Victor considered this. They were stood in what was a foreign country to both of them right now. In Fairyland it was allowed to eat people who didn’t have a resident’s permit and there were at least two species of flower that killed you if you looked at them funny. And while he’d managed to shake off most of what he’d realised were his mother’s prejudices about humans, he was still nervous around strangers. To be fair, he was also nervous around any type of people, most animals, quite a lot of plants and the occasional rock. But objectively Japan was not scary.

“I-I’ll tell you i-if it’s too much,” he said. Oddly, it helped to know Lucinda was also a little scared. And that he was helping. He’d never helped someone else to not be scared before.

“Let’s go then.”

The yokai woman opened the door, looked around quickly, and tilted her head to indicate that they should indeed go. As they stepped through, a tanuki slipped past them the other way. They turned in surprise to see the tanuki take a human form, peering at them curiously as the door closed.

“Just some otaku kids-” they heard before the sound was cut off.

Victor looked around. He’d thought they were in the countryside but the rice paddy they’d seen through the door was next to a building... A few buildings. There was a row of houses behind them. A narrow, concrete road was painted with white stripes to serve as the pavement edge and some letters he couldn’t read.

“Oh. Uh. Wow. We’re actually really here.” Lucinda looked around at the scenery, shading her eyes from the sun. Though, the sun was nothing compared to her smile. She beamed at the scenery like it was a long lost treasure. She bounced on her heels with her hands clenched. “What should we do first? Oof, it is warm.” It really was very warm, much like Fairyland. His shirt probably wasn’t the most appropriate for the heat, but at least it would protect his skin from the sun. “Glad I put on sun cream already for Fairyland.” Lucinda fanned herself with a hand. “Do you need sun cream?”

“Sun cream?” Victor asked.

“To protect you from sunburn? Do fairies have a potion for that instead, maybe?”

“I d-did... b-but this morning.” It was late afternoon in Fairyland.

“We’d better get some then.” She tutted to herself. “I am not, in fact, well prepared at all.” He expected her to be annoyed, but she laughed. Still with a smile a mile wide she continued, “We need to break this note anyway. What did she say... Mini hand towel...for bathrooms... Ah, where did she say would be good for that?”

“D-Daiso,” Victor said.

“Great. Thanks!” Lucinda pulled out her phone. She’d brought a small bag. It was a croqueted tote; pale green with a white flower. It went well with her outfit; a pink frilly top and long white skirt. “Let’s see... Daiso...” She tapped her foot for a minute while she waited for something. Her smile finally turned to a frown. “Data is HOW MUCH per megabyte?! Someone’s having a laugh. All the way to the bank.” She shrugged and her smile returned. “Ah well. Not like I use my data for much since I’ve no signal half the time. Ooh, there’s a Daiso really close! Basically straight up this road! This way.”

“A m-map on your phone?” Victor queried.

“Yeah, it connects to a thingy in space or something,” Lucinda explained. “Oh, if you need to translate something, it can do that too. Not WELL, but enough that we should get by.”

“H-how is your phone N-NOT magic, again?” Victor asked, staring at it. It could show pictures, moving images, play music, he’d seen her use it to do maths and he knew there was a library in there too. Multiple libraries, from what he could gather. And yet Earthlings would be amazed he could turn into a bat.

“Honestly can’t argue,” Lucinda admitted.

As they walked, he thought again about the bat thing. “Um, M-Miss Lucinda, if you could turn into a-any animal, what w-would you choose?”

“Good question.” Lucinda stopped as she thought. Someone on a bike rode past them. Victor didn’t have time to react. They were already long gone even as he registered the intrusion. As he looked behind him to see where they went, he realised the jester had been right; the street was deserted. It was a tiny side road, that he could see, but this was much better than he had hoped. “I don’t know.” Lucinda’s reply startled him out of his observations.

“You don’t?”

“I’m not sure I’d want to turn into an animal at all,” she said. As he drew breath to question her further, she gasped, “Oh look, it’s right there! Right across the road!”

“O-oh. Th-that’s what she meant by ‘d-don’t cross when it’s red’,” Victor observed.

“Yeah. We call that the ‘green man’ in the UK. Interesting cultural difference,”-she held up a finger-“here they say ‘it’s blue’ instead of green.”

“The G-Green Man?” Victor raised an eyebrow. “L-like the forest spirit?”

“Oh. Oh yeah. I... think I’ve heard of that. Not the same guy, from what I know. Incidentally... It’s blue.” As they crossed she added, “And where I’d say ‘your face has gone white’ they say ‘your face is dark blue’.”

“Interesting... Wh-where did you l-learn that?”

“I’m not sure.” Lucinda cupped her chin. “Probably from manga translation notes or possibly from a research rabbit hole on the internet.”

They stopped at the edge of a large concrete area in front of the store. It had a few cars on it, with lines indicating where they should stop. He’d never seen a car before, but was vaguely aware they could kill you or explode. Luckily there were only two, and both were on the same side of the car area. They could see quite well into the store via the glass panelling all along the front. It wasn’t busy. There were four or five people in there he could see, all spread out.

“Do you want to come in with me or wait here?” Lucinda asked.

“I’ll... I’ll c-come in,” he decided, steeling himself. Even though they were at a BIG crossroads, bigger than any he’d ever seen, it was still almost devoid of people. Despite the size, it was still quieter than the Dark Capital’s streets. Logically, it was silly not to go in.

“Okay.” Lucinda led the way. He froze momentarily when the doors opened BY THEMSELVES at which Lucinda didn’t so much as blink. More Earthling ‘science’. “Oh no,” she almost whispered. He stopped again. “Everything. Is so. CUTE.”

“I-is that bad?” Victor’s voice quavered. Cute was not a quality he had hitherto associated with the phrase “oh no”.

“It is bad,” Lucinda replied solemnly, “because I want to buy it all.”

He relaxed somewhat. “What were we l-looking for again? H-hand towels?”

“Oh. Yes.” Lucinda snapped her fingers. “And sun cream. I’ll look up the word for sun cream while I remember.”

Heart pounding, Victor followed her along the shelves. He barely noticed the goods at first, instead keeping a surreptitious eye on the other customers and the shopkeepers. But he gradually came to the realisation... they weren’t paying him any attention at all. The shopkeepers would glance in his direction, smile and say a greeting. But then carry on with their work. He was completely unremarkable, apparently. It was liberating.

After a little while of browsing around the shelves which contained the wildest assortment of goods Victor could never have imagined existed, Lucinda stopped and took a very deliberate breath.

“Okay I have to make a rule for myself here,” she said. “This is the first shop we’ve been in and there is already so much cool stuff. I have to wait until we’ve had a proper look around. Comic Con rules.” She thought for a moment. “Um. Not that I’ll stop you from buying stuff you want.” She paused again. “I know Hettie said to spend the money on ourselves but I think we should save her some of it anyway. Let’s say... 2000 yen each? And we’ll try to save the rest. I know Will said we can just spend it but... I just wouldn’t feel right.”

“Y-you really d-don’t need to worry about me,” Victor protested.

“Don’t be silly,” she chided. “At the very least you need some food and drink. Speaking of, I know I said I’d wait to buy things but I have spotted some sweets I DEFINITELY want. They’re technically food. And is that an ice cream freezer I can see?”

“Ice cream w-would be nice,” he admitted. It was far too hot to say no to something as nice, luxurious and above all cold, as ice cream.

“Lemme just...” Lucinda checked something on her phone again and made a low whistle. “Wow, okay that is cheap. Is this a Japanese pound store??” They couldn’t read everything but the flavours were obvious enough and some were also written in English.

“I-I’ll have the earl g-grey one,” he said. “I-if you’re really sure.”

“Good choice. I’m super tempted by that one too but I think I’ll try the ice cream mochi.” She took one of each out of the cold box and looked around. “Oh. Self-checkout. I have never been so glad to see one before. I was working myself up about having to talk to the cashier for nothing.” She approached some boxes with words displayed on a screen. It was almost like a big version of her phone, he noticed. “Oh and there’s an English option, even.”

“Wh-what does ‘w-working yourself up’ mean?” he asked.

“That I was making myself really stressed,” Lucinda replied.

“You w-were stressed??” He hadn’t noticed.

“Yeah, to be honest I was dawdling a bit because I was stressing about having to talk to the cashier,” she admitted. “Sorry. I’ll try not to. I’m going to have to talk to at least one cashier today I’m sure.”

“D-don’t apologise...”

They took their ice creams just outside and ate them right away. There were a couple of big boxes out here too, that also looked like the cold boxes he’d seen inside. They had rows and rows of... something?

“Oh right, I forgot to get a drink.” Lucinda eyed the nearest one. “Is that... tea? COLD milk tea? That’s ... different. Though I suppose you get iced tea without milk AND iced coffee however. I’m gonna try it. We have change now.” She selected an option. Something clanged in a compartment below the rows of drinks and she reached through a flap and took out a can. “Hey, this is hot?! What the heck??” She studied the rows again. “Oh. OH. This one with the red must be hot and... the blue ones are cold? How the heck do they do that??” So there WAS some Earthling science she was baffled by. She turned from the machine and wiggled the can at him. “Want one? They’re pretty cheap.”

“Y-yes please.” While he still felt he was imposing, she was right that he couldn’t go all day without anything to eat or drink. Technically he had had lunch... back in Fairyland, some hours ago. And he was thirsty.

“This is very sweet,” Lucinda remarked, after taking a swig. “I think I like it.”

Victor tried his. “Y-yes, very.” He couldn’t decide if he liked it or not. Sweet things were a luxury at home, and carefully rationed, as he mustn’t damage his teeth. Come to think of it... she had said drinks were okay, and it WAS important. “C-can I also um, g-get some water?”

“Sure.” She double-checked something on her phone before making a selection. “Yep. Should be water.”

“Th-thank you.” Once he’d finished the tea and ice cream, he took a good few mouthfuls of water, swishing it around a bit. Seeing Lucinda looking at him curiously he said. “U-um. For-” He opened his mouth a little and pointed to his fangs.

“Oh. Yeah. Too much sugar would really mess you up, huh?” She tapped her own teeth thoughtfully. “I’ll keep that in mind. Want me to carry that?” She indicated the water bottle.

“Um. Please. Th-thank you.” Was Hettie right? Was it really this easy?

“We should look for where we can buy clothes next, I guess. Oh and sun cream. Here’s the sun cream.” She handed over a small bottle. “Uh-”-she lunged forward and grabbed his arm-“-you don’t drink it. You rub it on your skin. Just where the skin is showing.”

He lowered the bottle, feeling his face colour and wordlessly opened the top, looking down to avoid her gaze. He squeezed some out and rubbed it on his face.

“You need a mirror?” Lucinda tapped her phone and turned it to face him. He jumped, seeing his face on the screen. “There’s a camera on it,” she explained. “Two cameras, actually.”

“Is there anything it doesn’t do?” he said, mystified, forgetting his embarrassment.

“Lots of things but admittedly none I can think of right now,” Lucinda replied. “Right. Clothes,” she said when he’d finished. “There’s a place right up the street. Book-Off? Sounds like a weird name to pick if you sell clothes.”

It was a straight walk up the very big street. It was so big there were trees and sculpted bushes between the pavement and the road, as well as a line specifically for the bicycles. Yet there were still hardly any pedestrians. The occasional bike whizzed past. They still made him jump, but he was finding himself less bothered about any of the humans around. It helped that this place was like nothing he’d ever seen. Some of the buildings were huge. Not just big, like his grandmother’s mansion, but wide AND tall. Incredibly tall. Fairyland trees tall. Maybe taller.

“This is... a supermarket?” Lucinda frowned. “Where is the clothing place?”

“I-is it up there?” Victor pointed to a strange, moving metal stairway.

“Well spotted.” She moved towards it and looked up. “Looks like there’s more floors too. Shall we go up?”

Victor nodded. He watched her as she stepped onto the moving stairs, then copied her. There was a handrail to hold; it moved at the same rate as the stairs. Earthlings had thought of everything. His fingers stiffened on the rail as they neared the top – how did you get off? What if he didn’t do it right? Lucinda merely stepped off at the top. He wobbled a little and half-jumped off, as his toe bumped the metal barrier at the top. He straightened up immediately and spun around, backing away. When they didn’t explode, stop or otherwise herald disaster, he turned away and looked around. The floor below had been filled with food from what little he saw, but this one was full of clothes, tableware and a lot of stuff he could only categorise as ‘Earth things’. There was a floor above them that seemed to be full of books. Lucinda noticed it too.

“First we’ll look on this floor, then we’ll go up and look at the manga and DVDs and stuff then we’ll go get some dinner from the supermarket,” Lucinda suggested. “Sound good?”

Victor gave a nod. “I d-don’t r-really mind what we do.” He really didn’t. This was a good place for his first ever Earth visit, he realised; everything was as fascinating to Lucinda as it was to him.

“Wow, there really are kimonos here!” she pointed to a section full of robes and wraps. “Or maybe they’re yukata. I’m not confident I can tell. Ooh and are those bowls and things? I am definitely getting a bowl or a cup or something.”

They browsed for a while. Victor tried to keep Lucinda in his eye line, but it was difficult as the clothes were organised by type. He didn’t want to bother her, but became quickly apparent that he needed some help.

“U-um... H-how do I know i-if the clothes will fit?” he asked.

She put a finger to her lips for a minute. “I never thought of that. Clothing sizes are different in different countries, so I guess I’m not sure what size fits me, either. Um... If I can figure out what size you are in UK sizes, I can probably convert it to a Japanese size.” She got out her phone again. “You’re roughly my size, and I’m a size twelve, sometimes a ten, probably need to go with a twelve or maybe even a fourteen to be safe. It’s easier to make a garment smaller than it is to make it bigger.” She tapped on her phone for another minute, her face a mask of concentration. “We’re looking for size 11 or 13, or just M for medium. You find it on the clothing tag, here.” She pulled up a little white label on the neckline of a nearby shirt. “Do you want me to help you look, or...?”

“N-no,” he said quickly. “I-I should be able t-to look by myself now.” He didn’t want to take up more of Lucinda’s time than necessary.

“Okay.” She gave him a thumbs up. “You want me to give you your share of the money or you want us to go to the counter together when you’re done on this floor? I wouldn’t say I speak Japanese, but I can at least count and I have my phone if it gets more complicated.”

“T-together, please,” he said, cursing inwardly that he’d be holding her up after all.

He browsed the clothing as quickly as he could manage. He had no idea what he was looking for, exactly. He stiffened up every time someone else appeared in the aisle, far more on edge now Lucinda wasn’t with him. He tried to focus. Think. What did he actually need. The plain, black trousers he was wearing were fine apparently, but his white shirt was too formal. A shirt, then. He should try to find a casual shirt.

He was absorbed in the task when he noticed a boy a little further down the aisle, about his own age. He hadn’t seen him approach.

‘Don’t panic,’ he thought to himself. ‘He won’t even look at you.’

The boy looked at him. And Victor had been looking at the boy. He’d seen him looking! Victor seized up. The boy’s eyes flicked to Victor’s hair. He’d forgotten about his hair. It was short and black, but with a thick, white streak in his fringe and around the nape of his neck up to his ears. In the Otherworlds, it was now a known sign of vampirism.

The boy gave him a smile. “It’s very cool!” he said in a thick accent, fingers brushing his own bangs.

“Th-thank you?” Victor replied.

The boy smiled a little wider. Then he looked away, and continued browsing.

Victor hurriedly looked away too, feeling his face redden. It would probably look bad to run away. He fought his every instinct, forcing each and every nerve to stay rooted to the spot. After a few heart pounding minutes that felt like hours, the boy left the aisle. Victor sagged in relief before nearly launching himself into the air when he felt someone come up behind him.

“I found this super cute dress, but there’s no way it’ll fit me,” Lucinda lamented. “It’s so unfair. I think I’ll get it for Erlina, though. Think Hettie would like this cup?”

Getting his breathing back under control, Victor nodded mutely. It was a pretty cup. It was pale blue with pink flowers. Lucinda was also carrying a bowl with a similar design, a spoon shaped like a mermaid and two pieces of clothing. One was the aforementioned dress, the other was a mauve and beige shirt with some writing on it.

“I'm shamelessly breaking my 'look around first' rule. How's it going?" She lowered her voice. “Hey, did you see that guy who was just here? He looked so cool!”

Victor tried hard to remember what the boy had actually looked like. Black, short hair, but with blond tips, and he was wearing a sleeveless black shirt and ripped jeans. He’d been wearing studded bracelets, a mixture of black and bright neon colours. “H-he spoke to me,” Victor said. “H-he said my hair w-was cool.”

“I just realised that in an Earth context, your hair looks like a fashion statement,” Lucinda observed. “I bet it would dye bright colours really easily, too.”

“Y-you can dye h-hair bright colours?” Victor asked.

“Yeah. Or pastel. Blonde. Whatever, really.” Lucinda took in his empty hands. “No luck?”

“N-not really,” he admitted.

“Do you want some help?” she asked. “If you tell me what you’re looking for, I can look too.”

“I’d l-like a shirt,” he said. “D-do you think m-maybe... s-something like that boy was wearing? But, n-not black. A-and with sleeves?”

“Gotcha.”

In the end they left with a n orangey-brown hoody-like shirt with colourful gashes in the sleeves, and some soundtrack CDs from the third floor, which Lucinda nearly fainted at, and which she’d talked about at length in a squeaky, high pitched voice that he’d probably have been able to hear better as a bat. Then they’d walked around the huge food market on the ground floor, picked out some dinner – technically supper – and now they were sat on some benches a street or two away eating some dango. It was sweet rice paste formed into balls, covered in a sweet, brown syrup. He had opted for a colourful version with no syrup; the balls were white, pink and green.

“These are so good,” Lucinda waved an empty skewer in the air. “Why don’t they make these in England? I wonder if I can make them myself...”

“These a-are also very nice,” Victor said. He yawned. It was getting pretty late in Fairyland.

“You know, I realised I only gave you half an answer before, and then I never heard your answer,” she said suddenly. “You asked me what animal I’d want to be,” she clarified, seeing his confusion.

“I-I asked because I d-don’t know,” he said.

Now it was her turn to look baffled. “What do you mean?”

“I d-don’t like being a bat,” he admitted, wrinkling his nose. “I w-want to learn a d-different spell, but I d-don’t have any ideas.”

“I imagine it is kind of a pain,” she sympathised. “Especially in the day. But I don’t know that much about bats. They’re cute and misunderstood, they have echo location, and that’s it, that’s all I know.”

“I l-like bats,” he pointed out, “I j-just don’t want to b-be one.”

“An owl, maybe?” Lucinda suggested. “Wait, no, same problem, nocturnal... Umm... Flying squirrel? Though, I guess you’d prefer something that can actually fly, not just glide... Hmm.”

“Wh-what about you, though?”

“Me? I’m happy staying the shape I am.” She leaned a hand on her cheek. “I wish I was a bit prettier... I guess who doesn’t...”

“Y-you’re pretty!” he protested.

“O-oh? Thanks.” She hunched her shoulders and smiled awkwardly. “I mean, it’s not like I think I’m ugly it’s just...” She dropped her shoulders again and looked away. “I don’t get to feel pretty a lot? I’m a prince for my job and my school uniform isn’t exactly flattering... So that’s at least 90% of the time I’m not dressed how I want. I suppose I’m done with high school really soon so that’s goodbye to the uniform at least.”

“D-do you not l-like working as a prince?” Victor asked.

“It’s not that,” Lucinda replied. “It’s just... tiring to pretend you’re a gender you’re not? I mean I don’t have to do a lot - Otherworlders just see the outfit and think ‘That’s a boy’. It’s both really useful and incredibly irritating at the same time. I don’t know if I’m making any sense.”

“I th-think I understand,” Victor replied. “I-I w-want new c-clothes because I d-don’t want people to l-look at me and just s-see ‘vampire’.”

“Do you... is it hard on you, being a vampire?” she asked.

“I d-don’t know, i-it’s inconvenient,” he replied, “b-but i-it’s n-not that I’m a vampire, i-it’s that I didn’t kn-know I was allowed to be a-anything else.”

“Yeah, it’s ... a whole thing, finding out something like that.” She flung a hand out in front of her. “It’s like, ‘You mean THIS was an option this whole time?!’ and it’s both annoying and great.” She laughed. “It’s better late than never though, right?”

He smiled to himself. “Y-yes...”

Lucinda rubbed her eyes. “Speaking of late... it’s something like 4am back home, and it's pretty late in Fairyland too.” She yawned. “I know we’ve only really been to two shops and a supermarket, but maybe we should head back? It’s up to you though. I can easily stay up longer.”

“W-we should head back,” Victor agreed. He was tired, and he was starting to suspect it wasn’t just the time since he’d last slept.

They got up, put their rubbish in the correct bin – there were several – and starting walking back. They’d been walking for just a few minutes when they were blindsided by a car. Lucinda jumped back. She hadn’t seen the crossing light - which was red - or the vehicle. There was a tiny side road with a wall blocking the view of anything but the main street. You couldn’t see the side street until you were practically on it.

“G-gomen nasai!” she said, bowing an apology. The driver didn’t look impressed; they were frowning hard. Lucinda shuffled back a good way from the road edge.

Victor, who had taken off as a bat in his panic, clung to the wall. It took Lucinda a minute to understand what had happened and spot him. She held a hand over her heart and breathed a sigh of relief.

“Are you okay?” she asked. They were now on opposite sides of the little road, but she didn’t try to cross.

“I-I think so,” he replied. “Th-that w-was close.”

“Yeah, I didn’t see that road AT ALL.” Lucinda made a face at the crossing light. She looked all around them and down the offending side street again. “It’s clear. No-one’s looking.”

“R-right.” He climbed around the corner anyway, just in case. And then...

“Do you want me to help block you from view?” she offered.

“Um.” He hung there for a minute. “Um... M-Miss Lucinda...”

“Yeah?”

“I c-can’t change back.” His voice sounded as small as he was.

She frowned and finally crossed the road, standing on the corner of the main street. “What was that?”

“I... I c-can’t change back.”

“Has that ever happened before?”

“N-no. N-not... to me.”

Her expression changed to match his own growing horror. “Lamprey...” Eyes wide, she bit her knuckles while she thought. “Did they ever... Couldn’t the fairies fix it? Or a witch?”

“It d-doesn’t w-work,” he answered, struggling to keep a grip on the stone as his whole body was trembling. “Th-they t-tried, b-but you end up w-with a regular h-human who still n-needs blood. B-but with a body th-that c-can’t handle it. I-it w-was worse a-and he w-would have died f-from n-no blood.” His grip slipped and he slid a few inches down the wall.

“Um. Do you want to...?” Lucinda held out a hand. He hesitated, before climbing on. She held her arms together a little away from her torso. “You know, one of the reasons I couldn’t answer you before about the animal thing... When I was turned into a raven that one time, it was really freaky how everyone else was suddenly a giant. So um, let me know if I’m being scary.”

“I-I’m u-used to it...” He glanced up at her before looking quickly back down. Her face was a mask of concentration.

“Didn’t Lamprey fall asleep as a bat or stay too long as a bat or something?” she asked. “I don’t remember the details but I know that he couldn’t turn back because he didn’t have enough magic. And he couldn’t drink enough blood to get enough magic to ever turn back because bats are too small.”

“Y-yes, that’s wh-what happened,” Victor confirmed.

“So... Um, so...” she began hesitantly, “since you only just turned into a bat, wouldn’t it work if you... drank blood, like, right now?”

“M-maybe, b-but... I c-can’t j-just... Who would...” Realisation dawned and he glanced up again.

“You could... drink... mine?” her voice cracked. “Wow, those words really just came out of my mouth. But there’s not a lot of options.”

“B-but-” Oh good. Now he had two different kinds of nightmare scenario to deal with at once, AND memories of The Incident were flooding back. His claws reflexively tensed, and he remembered that was flesh he was gripping, and forced himself to just flop. “B-but-” he tried again.

“I don’t think we’ve got time to argue,” Lucinda pointed out. “It’s at least thirty minutes walk to the return door, then a few hours from the return door to the palace.” She made sure no-one was looking, then ducked into the narrow side road, heading uphill. “Just need to find somewhere less exposed...”

“B-but-” He had absolutely no arguments to counter with.

“Look,” she continued as she powerwalked up the street, “I know I said don’t ask me for blood, and you didn’t, I offered. And, yeah, I’m uncomfortable and slightly terrified but you were literally just talking about how you don’t like being a bat and if I don’t do something you might be stuck as a bat forever and I’m a prince and rescuing people is my job and it doesn’t matter if I’m on Earth or I’m not getting paid, because you don’t get to choose who needs rescuing-”

“I d-don’t-”

“-so we’re both just going to have to speedrun facing our demons. Here should do.” She stopped in another side street, and leaned against a wall breathing hard. “Look, it’s not like that time with the potion. Just. Just go ahead? I promise it’s fine.” She hesitated. “Well all right, not fine, but as fine as I’m going to get. And we might have taken too long already.”

Unable to answer with any suitable words, Victor turned his attention to Lucinda’s arm. This was going to be a lot harder as a bat. And it was going to hurt. Human skin offered zero resistance to vampire fangs, but bat teeth weren’t anywhere near as sharp. He wasn’t even a vampire bat. Still, they weren’t herbivore teeth. He tentatively nipped near a vein. He felt Lucinda wince; she didn’t say anything, but she gave him a thumbs up with her other hand. He tried again, hearing a hiss from Lucinda, but he’d drawn blood. And still the inconvenience of being a bat wasn’t over, because he couldn’t cover the wound and suck. Bats lapped. He tried to avoid the actual cut, merely licking at the trickle of blood. He’d have to try and drink as much as he could stand; constantly stopping and failing to transform would only drain even more magic and draw this ordeal out. Determined not to look at Lucinda until he was done and frankly, possibly never again, ever, he focused on the blood. It wasn’t long before he couldn’t drink any more – he was a pretty small bat – and without thinking, tried to transform. The two of them toppled over, the sudden weight of a human on the girl’s arms not being conducive to good balance, and they ended up in a heap on the floor.

“It worked!” Lucinda beamed at him before extracting her arms from under him and pushing herself away.

Victor’s body was screaming at him. He was bruised and aching from the fall, he’d been up for nearly twenty four hours now and above all, he was thirsty. “C-can I-” He bit the question back.

Lucinda rubbed her wrist near the cut. “Do you... n-need more...?”

He gave a single nod.

Lucinda held out the still dripping arm shakily. “Well, I’m... already bleeding s-so...”

Victor shook his head furiously.

Lucinda started laughing.

He looked up in alarm.

She pushed herself up off her knees and into a sitting position, still laughing. “We are the worst two people for this activity.”

“Wh-why are you laughing?”

“I dunno, just, there couldn’t be any two worse people to have been put into this situation,” she remarked. “Well... maybe Sara,” she admitted after a moment’s thought. “Probably, no, definitely Sara.”

“A-are you okay...?”

“Doesn’t matter.” She shook her head. “Erlina fainted from not having enough magic in Bad Schwartz and that’s an area that actually has magic. Earth has barely any. I wouldn’t be able to carry you back to the door if you collapse, and if we tried and failed, you’d collapse in public, in a country where I don’t speak the language, and neither of us has a passport. Pretty sure that’s illegal, now that I think about it. So.” She held out her arm again, steadily this time.

“I c-can’t argue...” he whined, slumping back against the wall. Eventually he dragged himself back up and to where she was sat. He gingerly took her arm and put his mouth to the cut. It was inadequate, so he used his fangs. At least this way wasn’t painful.

“You know, this isn’t anything like any of the nightmare scenarios I had in my head,” she said. “I thought it would hurt, for one thing.” She rifled in her bag one handed and pulled out her phone. “Still okay for time.”

Despite what she said, he could feel she was tense through her arm. She held it rigid, while she kept a lookout for people and cars.

Eventually he let go and just let himself breathe.

“I should probably get a plaster or a bandage for this,” she began, looking at her arm. “Oh... It’s actually not bleeding that much. It’s stopped already?”

“Vampire bites h-heal v-very fast.”

“I’m gonna get some cute plasters anyway,” she said, standing up a little shakily and dusting herself off. “I’m always getting scrapes from my prince work and um, I... don’t want people to see the bite mark. But mainly I want to buy cute stuff. Is that okay? It’s on the way back. That Daiso place.”

“Y-you could tell me y-you want t-to tour the whole city by foot a-and I’d agree.”

“Is there anything you want?”

“I w-want to s-sleep for s-seven hundred y-years,” he replied. “A-and some more of th-that tea.”

They returned to the store and got more sweets and drinks, and a few interesting gizmos. It was now the wee hours of the morning in Fairyland, and it was disheartening to know that they had a few hours to walk before they got to the palace and more importantly, their bedrooms.

When they stepped through the door to Fairyland, they found a carriage waiting there.

“There you are!” Tyrian exclaimed with relief. “I thought something might have happened, so I came to wait for you. Will told me this was the return door he gave you.”

“We weren’t gone that long, were we?” Lucinda asked.

“I... suppose not, but it was getting dark and you weren’t back, and I know its not dark there yet, but I don’t know, it’s Victor’s first trip to Earth and everything,” he rambled. “Not that I don’t trust you Lucy!” he backpedalled. “So ah, was everything all right? No emergencies?”

“N-none at all,” replied Victor.

“Completely uneventful,” Lucinda reported.

“Very good then,” Tyrian said, opening the carriage door. “Get in.”

“You have no idea how glad we are that we don’t have to walk back,” Lucinda told him as she climbed inside. She settled herself into the opposite corner, on the same side as Tyrian.

Victor lay full length on the other seat, facing the ceiling.

“So, what did you get up to?” Tyrian asked brightly.

“N-no questions, please,” Victor protested.

“Agreed. No questions, only sleep,” Lucinda added, closing her eyes and getting as comfortable as possible.

“Hmm.” He peered at them both in turn before settling back himself. “Very well, as you wish,” he acquiesced.

They were asleep before they even reached the edge of the forest.

----

I have so much stuff to do right now but this INSISTED on being written.

Oh and... Lucinda is wrong about there being zero dragons. Just fyi.