#Sorry the first prompt is not at all descriptive lol | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

m1ckeyb3rry · 5 months ago

Note

Hello,

I have a writing prompt for Michael Kaiser (Blue Lock): Kaiser gets into a pr relationship with an actress and they eventually bond and fall in love.

I think he would have a hard time because of his feelings of worthlessness, but this guy has so much potential, I swear, I love him so much.

If you want to go for a "dark side of Hollywood" type of concept, imagine: a young girl who was raised under the pressure of becoming "the perfect star" and surrounded by the chaos of the industry (Idk, the movie Black Swan comes to mind, or the typical representation of Marilyn's life, something along the lines). I think he could bond with someone who is in a similar mind space as him, but who externalizes it differently, remaining kind and such. He definitely needs someone who is empathetic and can see through his insecurities, and I really like the concept of two characters who are hurt helping each other heal.

If you don't want that much drama, scratch the idea of a hurt oc. Think about someone with an "entrepreneur" mindset: someone ambitious, confident, and level headed, who (again) is empathetic and would call him out and help him grow (I'm thinking about sae, but emotionally competent lol).

You don't really have to go for any of this though, it's just meant to get you inspired to write something for my boy Kaiser. I hope it's not too much. Also, there's no rush at all!!

Thank you in advance. I hope you have a good day 🩷

── THE INSTRUMENT

Synopsis: Michael Kaiser is like a rose, and you are the songbird he cannot bear to lose.

Event Masterlist

Pairing: Kaiser x Reader

Chapter Word Count: 6.8k

Content Warnings: fake dating trope, implied/referenced abuse, call me tabito karasu the way i assassinate kaiser’s character in this, open ending, relationship dynamics many would consider…interesting…

A/N: hiiii anon ty for requesting!! i hope that i wrote kaiser in a somewhat satisfactory way 😫 this is my first time writing for him so idk if i got him right 😓 also i have NO idea why but for some reason i decided to write this in the present tense which i literally have never done?? so if it sounds off that’s why 💔 i’m so sorry i really don’t know what possessed me SKDJFSHKL

Additional: part of my 500 follower event! see the event description and rules to make a request of your own.

It’s hot and like a bruise, your first phone call with Michael Kaiser. He’s that brand of aggravating and just shy of painful to speak with; morbidly, you wish for the conversation to manifest as some kind of actual injury, perhaps on your upper arm, so you can poke at it until it is tender and blooming. But of course, that sort of thing isn’t possible, so you amuse yourself by tapping your fingers against the counter and considering what you might eat for dinner.

“Did you hear me?” he snaps when you do not respond to his proposition immediately. He speaks with an accent, clipped and short, lending severity to his words even when he’s saying nothing of note. “Miss L/N. It’s in both of our best interests to cooperate.”

He’s not wrong about this. It’s the only reason you’ve stayed on the call for as long as you have — it’s in your best interest. It’s the same for him, too, and the thought almost makes you laugh, because who would’ve expected your interests and his to ever align?

“Of course I heard you,” you say, twisting open your bottle of water, taking a sip and idly wondering if he can hear an accent when you speak, too. It’s difficult for you to notice your own, but maybe to him, you sound as odd as he does to you. “You should learn patience, Mr. Kaiser. Such a heavy request you’re making of me, and yet you demand my answer immediately?”

He huffs. “It’s not something you need to dwell on.”

“It might be,” you say, though it’s not at all. Your mind was made up the moment he asked; everything after that has been nothing more than a ploy to irritate him. You’re good at that, at irritating people. Michael Kaiser is not an exception.

“Miss L/N,” he says again, something like a darker version of pleading creeping into his tone. “Your answer. Now.”

“Well, you already knew before you asked, didn’t you? Naturally, I’ll do it,” you say. “It’s a mutually beneficial partnership. Though I expect you to really try your best, Mr. Kaiser, or else it’ll all be for naught.”

“I could say the same to you,” he says.

“Between the two of us, who is the actress?” you say, chuckling when he is silent. “I am sure that I will be convincing. It’s you who I worry for. Hiding your true feelings has never been one of your strengths, has it? Or you wouldn’t be speaking to me at all.”

“Shut up,” he says after a moment has passed. “I doubt your acting skills are anything to brag about.”

“I know you’ve watched my movies,” you say, and when he doesn’t refute this, you beam. “Have you really?”

“Only because someone I know suggested I should,” he says. “If I want to love you, then I have to understand you. That’s what he told me.”

“And what did you think?” you say.

“I thought that I don’t plan to love you at all, and then I told him as much,” he says, the force of his eye roll transmitting even over the phone. You’re not sure if he’s acting deliberately obtuse or if he really thinks you care about this inane conversation he’s describing, but either way you sigh, because his answer is so telling of his personality.

“I was talking about my movies,” you say.

“I don’t prefer the genre,” he says, and then he’s hanging up with a promise to call you later, if he is so inclined. He doesn’t tell you not to call him, but you feel like he implies it, so you vow to set your phone aside and pay him no mind for the rest of your evening.

I’m dating Michael Kaiser, you type in the body of your email to your manager, who you are certain will be so delighted by this news that he will combust spontaneously upon hearing it. You want to type it again, this unbelievable turn of events, so you do. I’m dating Michael Kaiser. Then you delete the repetition, reverting it once again into a formal email, instead of a giddy celebration over an event which should not prompt giddiness or anything resembling it.

It’s a relationship meant to salvage his ruined reputation and boost your career in one fell swoop, and so it’s a relationship that can only work if it’s formed between you two in particular. He, who is a foul-mouthed soccer prodigy, known better for his crass treatment of others than any actual skills he may possess, and you, a rising star who will do anything to be famous and are already of a serviceable status to be seen with him.

Despite your burst of excitement, the prospect of dating Michael Kaiser isn’t actually a thrilling one. The rumors of his horrid demeanor aren’t rumors, and you know this well, albeit through secondhand accounts. Cruelty is the way that he operates, his so-to-speak basal mode, and because it is so intrinsic to his being, you do not fancy that he will deviate from that malicious rule, even for you.

But you are accustomed to a false existence. Donning a facade and masquerading as a person who you are not is the only thing you are good at, are good for, and this time is no different than every other. You will put on the mask of a woman who is loved by Michael Kaiser, who has tamed that mad emperor and turned him into her sweet pet, and you will once again fool the world into believing you.

He’s doing an interview today. You’re only aware because he texts you right before and tells you to turn on the TV to a channel you’d never choose if you had a say in the matter. But you’re intrigued and he refuses to explain further, so you do as he commands and find yourself watching as he reclines back in a leather armchair and smirks at the host, who’s clearly nervous.

She’s pretty, her hands shaking but her expression serious. You’ve never seen her before, which means she’s new. Of course, that’s not a surprise; only someone very inexperienced or very stupid would invite Michael Kaiser to their show, and she does not seem to be particularly stupid, so her affliction is the first.

“Um, Mr. Kaiser, it’s a pleasure to have you with us,” she says, like she cannot quite believe that he is actually there, or like she is afraid of what he might take offense at, or some combination of the two.

“It’s a pleasure to be here,” he says, all roguish and self-assured, which is such a contrast to his typically surly demeanor that you have to commend the girl for keeping her composure.

They speak at length about his soccer career, throwing around words you do not understand and do not care to. It’s so boring you almost power down the television and tell him you think as much, but then the girl clears her throat, her face turning a comical shade of red as her fists clench the paper she’s been reading off of.

“This last question is from our viewers, but it’s personal, so if you don’t want to answer, then it’s not a problem,” she says, squirming in her chair, probably hoping he does not humiliate her. It will be bad for her career if he does, even if by now everyone knows what kind of person he is.

“Go on, then. I feel like we’ve built a rapport here, so I don’t mind it as much if it’s from you,” he says. It’s a perfectly packaged sentiment. His PR team must have tortured him into this new persona. You try to imagine it — it’s definitely a humorous thought, picturing the Bastard München representative slamming Michael Kaiser’s face into a bowl of water for every snarky comment he makes. Unrealistic, though. They would never risk compromising his performance like that.

“There’s rumors that you’re seeing Y/N L/N, the actress. A source who claims to be close to you both mentioned it online, and people can’t stop talking about the possibility. Neither you nor Miss L/N have addressed it, though, and our viewers were hoping you might…?” She cringes back, already preparing for one of his tirades, but he only smiles genially and winks at the camera. You remind yourself to tell him later that he’s laying it on too thick, even if you are enjoying this new character that he’s playing up for the sake of it.

“Y/N L/N? I’m shocked that you think I’m handsome enough to date someone like her,” he says. Your phone buzzes — it’s your manager, crowing about how impressed he is with your ‘boyfriend’ and his presence of mind.

“So it’s a no?” the interviewer says, almost hopefully. He’s mysterious when he shrugs, mysterious and more than a little coy, as if she’s flattering him and he’s too shy to accept the praise.

“If Miss L/N ever deems me to be worthy of her, then it’s a yes in a heartbeat,” he says. It’s an excellent setup for his redemption, and the girl plays into it so beautifully that you tell your manager to send her flowers or some chocolate at the earliest possible opportunity.

“I think that you’ve shown yourself to be an excellent candidate today,” she says.

“Have I? I’ve really been trying to prove myself,” he says. Dreamy sighs ripple through the live studio audience. Someone whistles. It’s all very romantic and fairy-tale-esque, although he is far from being any kind of prince.

“You’re doing great,” the girl assures him. “I’m sure that, if Miss L/N is watching, she’ll have no choice but to be smitten.”

“If she’s watching? Oh, the thought didn’t even cross my mind,” he says, rubbing the back of his neck. You shouldn’t have doubted him and his audacity; he’s fallen into the role as if he were born to play it. “How embarrassing. I’ve just confessed to her on live television without even knowing if she’s interested…”

He’s actually blushing. You are doubly awed — he’s a natural-born talent. It’s a shame that he’s devoted to soccer; he could make it out like a bandit in the acting industry.

“No, no, don’t be embarrassed. How could she ever reject someone like you?” she assures him. How, indeed! At the moment, you are so pleased that you could kiss him. He’s better than any co-star you’ve ever had to work with, in that he is making your job exponentially easier instead of exponentially more difficult.

“If she really is watching, then I can only pray she heard you say that part,” he says, waving in greeting, presumably at you. “Hello, Miss L/N. I really admire you, so if you find me at all agreeable, then I would quite like it if you would say yes to the date I’m going to ask you on.”

He’s made the world swoon and your social media mentions triple. People are begging you to say yes, to give him a chance, to see how he has changed. They want to live through you, and you will let them.

When he calls you, you tell him you were thrilled by his performance. This causes him to shoot back that he finds you insufferable and condescending, to which you say that it’s what makes you and him such a perfect pair. Then you recite an address, and he asks you what you’re going on about. You answer that it is the place where you will have your first date, and then you hang up before he can respond, just so that you can deny him the chance to do it to you first.

Cameras flash in your faces as you enter the restaurant your manager has booked a reservation at. Michael Kaiser’s arm is wrapped around your waist, and it’s nauseatingly domestic, the kind of scene that would be the cover for one of those coming-of-age movies your agent loves booking for you. You wait for the frantic sound of camera shutters to slow, and then you tug on his sleeve.

“What is it?” he says. It’s quiet enough that no one else can hear, which is why it’s devoid of any warmth, but you are unruffled.

“Your tie,” you say. “It’s not crooked, but we will pretend that it is, and I’ll fix it so that there is something sweet to accompany the tabloid articles that will come out tomorrow.”

Your hands reach for his neck, and he does something you do not comprehend — flinching back, he shakes his head. When he realizes he’s done this, he grits his teeth, like the anger can make up for the temporary weakness. You do not press the issue, merely furrowing your brow and gazing up at him, doing your best to ensure that your eyes remain soft, so that the exchange is not misinterpreted by the parasites around you.

“No,” he says. “Do something else, but leave my tie alone.”

“Alright,” you say. It’s not sensible for you to argue, and anyways it doesn’t matter much what you are doing, as long as you are doing something. Humming to yourself, you adjust the lapels of his jacket. The cameras go off again. You pretend like you do not notice, like the world consists of only you two, and then you interlace your fingers with his, allowing him to drag you into the restaurant behind him.

It’s your turn to be interviewed. You’re wearing a dress, your legs crossed at the ankles — it’s demure and practical and prevents anyone from leering at you, so it’s been a habit of yours for quite a while. The interviewer is female, though, which calms you a bit. She’s older, around your mother’s age, and the wrinkles on her forehead remind you that you should call your parents and arrange for them to meet your doting boyfriend.

“Miss L/N, I can’t begin to tell you how excited I am to finally meet you!” the woman says. You think her name may be Anne, but she hasn’t introduced herself to you yet, so you’re not certain.

“You are too kind. If anything, it’s an honor for me to be here,” you say. The audience really likes that, when you are humble and shy and so darling. It’s palatable and easy for them to digest, or that’s what your manager tells you.

“Tell us about your upcoming projects,” she says after giving you the appropriate amount of praise for your charming personality.

“I’m currently shooting a new romantic comedy, but I’m afraid it’s all very hush-hush, so I can’t say too much about it. I think you all will really enjoy it, though, and I’m looking forward to the day that we can discuss it at length,” you say.

The conversation goes on like that for a bit, but you know she’s going through the motions because she has to, not because she wants to. There’s only one question she cares to ask, but if she just talks to you about your boyfriend and not your own accomplishments, then she’ll be blasted online as an anti-feminist. You hear quite frequently that this is akin to suicide in the world of marketing, so you can’t blame her.

That doesn’t stop you from having some fun. When she’s exhausted every possible avenue of questioning you about your future plans and past successes, you make as if you’re going to stand up and leave. Panic leaps across her face, and you snicker.

“We’ve spoken at such length about my acting career. You can’t possibly have any more questions about it, hm? You probably know more than my manager does!” Your attitude is balanced out by the joke. The audience laughs. It’s a fine line that you walk, but if you do not have the chance to act sharper every now and again, you believe you will die — internally if not externally — so you take such risks when you can justify them to yourself.

“You’re dating Michael Kaiser now, aren’t you?” she says. It’s a rancid curiosity she hides with a motherly type of concern. You brush off your legs, recross them, and tuck a piece of hair behind your ear.

“I am,” you say. You don’t have to play the games that he did; you both are established now. Official. A bona-fide couple. Anyways, it’s more appealing if you are outright with it.

“How has that been? You’ve really made a difference in that young man’s life, it seems,” she says.

The best way to lie is to tell the truth. “Yes, I suppose I have, but he has made an equal difference in mine. He is as good for me as I am for him; truly, I never understood what it meant when my parents called each other their ‘better halves’ until we met.”

In an hour, there will be thousands of posts online about this. If Y/N and Michael break up, then I don’t believe in love anymore! Maybe soulmates are real! Couple goals! These are the kinds of captions you are anticipating. The two of you will send screenshots to one another and laugh about how gullible the world is, and then you will strategically plan which comments to like and posts to favorite so that your message goes through. That’s the extent of your relationship with him, really, at least when the two of you are alone. The detachedness makes things much easier than they otherwise would be.

“There’s a popular theory going around that the two of you have had a secret wedding already. Is it true? Am I speaking to Mrs. Kaiser at the moment?” she says, eyes glittering like a vulture’s. She’s ready to pounce on any hesitation, any brief indecision that you might show, but you have spent more time in the spotlight than in your own parents’ home, so you don’t even waver.

“Marriage! I think we’re a bit too early in our relationship to be considering such things, and a bit too early in our lives to be rushing into major decisions like that,” you say. “If and when the time comes, you’ll be the first to know, but it won’t be for a while.”

It won’t be at all, actually. This relationship is not going to last for more than another month. Once the buzz surrounding you two dies, you and he will quietly split. It’ll be as if you never met in the first place.

Your phone rings as you’re leaving the studio. The caller ID says that it is Michael Kaiser, and the thought that he was watching your interview in the same way you watched his makes you feel odd.

“Hello?” you say.

“I’m not gonna marry you. Never-fucking-ever. If you’re expecting a ring, then put it out of your mind.”

“I wasn’t,” you say. “How else would you have liked me to answer that question?”

“Fuck if I know.”

Neither of you hang up on the other — you don’t think you can summon the wherewithal to, which is out of character for him but typical for you — though you both also don’t speak any further. He stays on the line while you drive home, breathing softly like he is sleeping, but you are sure that he is not. The point of it is lost on you, but then you drive into a tunnel and the call ends on its own, so it’s moot anyways.

Your parents are excited to meet Michael Kaiser. They’ve read up on him extensively, watched all his interviews and even his game highlights. Your mother calls you the night before just so she can gush to you about how handsome he is, how you’ve really done well for yourself this time around. Her approval is nice to have, though superfluous, like a luxury soap or perfume.

Your father is the one who suggests you all go golfing. You don’t know how to play, and neither does your mother, but you recognize it’s his attempt at connecting with who he thinks is your boyfriend, so you accept. You’re not sure if Michael Kaiser knows how to play golf, or really anything besides soccer, but he is game enough to come that you suppose he must.

It’s warm out, the sun beating down on your father’s brow as he lines up the ball with his club. Michael Kaiser stands on his left, and you think he’s somehow beautiful in this lighting. Not beautiful how your many attractive coworkers are, but in a manner which is distinctly him and therefore utterly irreproducible. His body is lean and graceful, his hair shaggy and gold, though he’s dyed the tips blue in what you’re sure is a statement. The shade matches his eyes, and also the inked roses on his neck. You have long ago come to the conclusion that the flowers are also a part of that same statement, but you have yet to discover what that statement might be.

“He’s an improvement from that last boyfriend of yours,” your mother says, leaning back so that she can pour the last few drops of soda from her empty can into her throat. You and her are sitting together in the golf cart, seeking refuge in the shade of its plastic roof, sharing the drinks that your father had bought for himself and forgotten about the instant he stepped onto the golf course.

“He is,” you say. That’s not an exaggeration, nor is it something incredible. Your last boyfriend was an old classmate of yours who loved your celebrity more than he loved you. Michael Kaiser doesn’t love you, either, but he is honest about it, and you do not love him back, so there is no resentment between you and him.

“I like the way he looks at you,” your mother says. There’s a hiss as she opens a new can of soda. It’s a vice, but whenever you remind her of it, she dismisses you. She wants to have fun while she’s on this earth, apparently. Maybe drinking five cans of soda in one sitting means her life will be shorter, but life without soda isn’t worth living anyways, or something like that. The reasoning is stupid, but you know she is loyal to it, so you have to accept it. “It’s refreshing. So gentle. You’ll be talking to someone else, and he’ll just be staring at you like he can’t quite believe you’re his.”

“I hadn’t noticed,” you say.

Your mother is about to say something else, but she is interrupted by a loud whoop. Michael Kaiser has hit a hole-in-one, and before you can tell him to stop embarrassing himself, your father is cheering, throwing his arms around him and calling him son.

“Your father likes him, too,” your mother said.

“Oh, he needs to stop that! I can’t believe he’s making things so awkward,” you say, getting up to reprimand him before realizing that there is an entirely foreign sheen to Michael Kaiser’s eyes as he rests his chin on your father’s shoulder. He is not quite smiling, but it is a close approximation of the expression, and when your father ruffles his hair and says that it may have been beginner’s luck but he’s proud regardless, the curve of his lips becomes deeper.

You don’t understand, but you don’t need to. You may have facilitated it, but the moment belongs to him, and your presence is as unwanted as it is unnecessary.

You sit back down and take a sip of your mother’s soda. She grins knowingly and says that you look like you are in love, too. You don’t have the heart to tell her the truth, so you hum noncommittally and say that you might be.

You are growing fond of Michael Kaiser. It isn’t a slow realization — actually, it hits you very suddenly one day. He hands you a bouquet of flowers before opening the passenger door of his car for you. You ask him why he’s brought you peonies instead of roses, and he says it’s because he despises roses. It’s such an absurd answer and he says it with such a straight face that you have to cough in order to disguise your choked laughter.

“Those must be some other kind of flower, then,” you say, pointing at but not touching his tattoos, at the delicate petals which fold over his pulse, azure and bright and silky.

“No, those are roses,” he says, his knuckles growing white on the steering wheel. Normally, you wouldn’t ask further, but today you want to prod at his bruise of an existence, so you turn the music down and hug the peonies to your chest.

“But you despise roses,” you say.

“It’s a good reminder,” he says. “No flower lies quite as well as a rose does.”

That is when you are certain that you are partial to him. It is an unavoidable fact and also a treacherous one, but true notwithstanding.

You put the peonies in a vase of water when you get home that night and hope they never die, although you know that they will be gone within the week. It’s how time works. The peonies will die and you two will break up and you’ll have nothing but a bare kitchen counter and thoughts of his intricacies to remember him by.

There are no paparazzi around on the night when he wraps your hands around his throat. You are alone with him, sequestered away in the living room of his mansion, a bowl of popcorn shoved between the two of you while a movie plays in the background. This seclusion defeats the original purpose of the relationship entirely, but you sense that that original purpose is no longer fully applicable, so you do not refuse when he calls you and demands you come.

There’s a blanket tossed over your legs, the brilliant colors of his soccer club’s emblem faded from repeated washes. It’s warm, and if you were not busily eating most of the popcorn, you’d pull it up around your shoulders. As for Michael Kaiser, he’s facing the screen, his hair tied back in a knot, a pair of glasses resting on the bridge of his nose and reflecting the visage of the lead actress as she laughs. You observe him as you snack. You’ve seen this movie before and didn’t really like it, so you’re not missing much. He’s more interesting by far.

“I know that woman,” you say, so that he has to acknowledge you.

“Hm,” he says.

“She’s a jerk,” you say.

“Sounds like your kind of company,” he says. You scoff, because he’s not wrong. He keeps watching the movie, and you keep watching him, until a thought occurs to you.

“Can I call you Michael? Even when it’s just us two,” you ask. He purses his lips. The actress screams. Her character has just died, but the scene is poorly shot and even more poorly acted, so it’s not as heart-wrenching as it should be. You would’ve done better, but your agent doesn’t want you taking any gory roles, and your manager agrees. In his professional opinion, it’ll ruin the doll-like persona you’ve spent so long cultivating. He’s probably right. It’s hard to adore a doll once you’ve watched it die so gruesomely.

“You can do whatever you want,” he says.

“Okay,” you say, swallowing another mouthful of popcorn, the salt lingering on your tongue long after the popcorn itself is gone. “Michael.”

“Yes?” he says.

“Nothing,” you say. “I just wanted to say your name.”

“Okay,” he says. “Y/N?”

He’s never called you that in private. Of course, when you’re out and about, he must refer to you with such familiarity, but in private you’ve never been anything but Miss L/N. It’s a change but a good one. You don’t want to ever be Miss L/N again. Not to him.

“Yes?” you say.

“I’m trying to watch this movie,” he says. “It has high ratings, so be quiet and allow me to finish.”

“It’s shitty,” you say, yawning and leaning back against the mountain of pillows you’ve created for yourself. “Overly gratuitous with its use of fake blood.”

“Right, because that’s a cardinal sin,” he says dryly.

“Sorry, but it’s hard to enjoy films when you know how they’re made,” you say. He picks up the remote and pauses the movie. You blink, because that’s about the last thing you expected from him. Then he turns the TV off entirely and you realize you’ll probably never be able to predict what he does next, so you should stop trying already.

“I know how movies are made,” he says.

“Did you have a secret acting career you never told me about?” you say. It’s a joke, but you also wouldn’t be surprised if it’s true. He’s taken to performing like a fish takes to water, and every day you tell him he should quit soccer and devote his life to cinema because of this uncanny skill.

“Not me, but my mother was an actress, and my father was a director,” he says.

“Was?” you say.

“Maybe they still are,” he says. “I don’t know. We’re not on speaking terms.”

“Why not?” you say. He takes your hands in between his, and you can make out immediately that his instinct is to hurt you, to press his fingertips into your wrists so hard that they leave marks. It’s to his credit that he fights back the urge, fights it back and arranges your palms against his carotid arteries. His jaw clenches and his pupils dilate as he waits for you to realize; when you do, you rip your hands away for fear of wounding him further.

“Don’t pity me,” he instructs you, unpausing the movie like nothing happened. “And don’t ever bring it up again.”

Now that you have his permission to refer to him only by his name, you develop a strange fascination with saying it. He’s amused by your new fixation, answering you in a lilting tone every time you call for him.

According to him, you are like a small nightingale, always warbling, always happy, fluttering around beside him and changing his mood for the better. Well, if you are like a nightingale, then he is like a dog, and you tell him as much when you are sitting across from him at a coffee shop.

“A dog?” he repeats, his face pinching. He’s just taken a swig of the black coffee he always orders, but you know his disgusted expression isn’t a symptom of the beverage’s bitterness. “Take that back.”

“Not in a bad way,” you say. Your own drink is sweet, so you sip on it slowly to prevent a stomach ache. “I’m not calling you pathetic. I just mean that you are amiable and lively. It’s a compliment.”

“It’s not who I really am,” he says. “Have I deceived even you? Amiable? Lively? Remember why this entire scam began in the first place — because I am neither of those things.”

“Right,” you say. “A peacock, then. Terribly vain and entirely alluring.”

He relaxes and raises his cup to his mouth again. He’ll be up late tonight, he always is when he has coffee, but it never stops him from drinking it. “That’s better.”

The reminder that whatever you have with him is not real stings more than it should. You throw away your drink almost untouched, which does cause him to raise an eyebrow, but thankfully he refrains from commenting. It’s a relief, because you don’t even know how to explain it to yourself, let alone him.

He walks you to your front porch and waits with crossed arms as you fish for the key in your purse, shoving it in the lock once you have it in your grasp. His farewell when you open the door is stilted and abnormal, so you stop him with a hand on his arm before he can go.

“Michael,” you say. You’ve never said his name like this before. It comes from a place raw and deep within you, a place that you are certain is purple and black like a wound. You say it like you love him, and you think it must be because you do.

“Yes?” he says. It’s the way he always responds to you, his voice like a song, a small smile on his ordinarily strict face — though today, he is not smiling. Instead, he is frowning, like he has come to an understanding that he would have rather not reached.

“Never mind,” you say. “Goodbye.”

“Goodbye,” he says. He drives away, his car disappearing around the corner, leaving you standing alone in the still-open doorway and wondering how you will survive the day when he disappears permanently.

You’re not sure what it is about him that makes pretending difficult, but suddenly, it’s a struggle for you to maintain your aloof front. You find it disconcerting, that he has taken this aspect of your identity and rendered it entirely null and void; it’s even more disconcerting that he has done it unwittingly and unsympathetically. If you loved him any less, you would hate him, because he has stolen who you are and left you blind and fumbling, but you fell for him, and the way you landed broke something fundamental, so that it is impossible for you to get back up.

“I think that I love you,” you say. You are on his couch again, and there is a movie playing again, which is all too similar to a past scenario that you think about when you are lonely. Tonight, it’s some soccer documentary that you find so tedious you are driven to irrationality.

He drops the glass of water in his hands; you reach out and catch it before it can spill, setting it on the table in front of you.

“What?” he says. You shrug.

“I love you,” you say again, and you’re flippant about it because you’re not telling him in the hopes he loves you, too. In fact, you know that he does not, so you are using him as a confessional; after all, the minimum he owes you is sharing the burden of this sin.

“There’s no one around,” he says. “You don’t have to lie. It won’t gain us anything.”

“It hasn’t gained us anything in a long while,” you say. It’s true — your relationship isn’t trending anymore, and most of your dates are in locations where you will not be recognized.

He stands up. The documentary continues as he paces, and a referee blows a whistle while he tangles his fingers in his hair and pulls. You stay on the couch, your eyes following his erratic movements, your hands folded in your lap.

“No, you don’t,” he says.

“I don’t what?” you say.

“You don’t love me,” he says. He wants to sound callous, you are sure of it, but the effect is lost on you. He sounds more lost than anything.

“But I do,” you respond. “Who are you to tell me I don’t?”

“Don’t,” he says. “Stop it. This instant.”

You laugh incredulously. “Do you think it’s that easy? I wouldn’t feel like this in the first place if it was.”

“Why?” he says. He’s still pacing. It’s like watching a tiger in a zoo. You want to study him, but he demands your attention in a different way. “Y/N. Why me? Why at all?”

“The reasons don’t matter, do they? I can tell you, but they won’t change anything,” you say, shrugging. “If you find yourself in the kitchen, bring water back for me. I’m thirsty.”

“Drink mine,” he says, pointing at the cup you had narrowly saved from disaster. “And quit your avoidance. Tell it to me plainly. Why?”

“Because you are you,” you say once you have drained half of his glass and your tongue is not quite as papery. “It’s a series of things; there’s not just one concrete reason. You hate roses and only drink black coffee. My mother thinks you’re handsome and my father is convinced you’re a golfing genius. You are a dog but also a peacock and then again an emperor. Don’t ask ridiculous questions and expect me to answer them when I cannot.”

“I’ll hurt you,” he says. “I’ll hurt you, Y/N, and I don’t — I don’t want to. You’re the only one who I don’t want to hurt, so just give up. It’s for the better if you do.”

“You won’t,” you say. “I don’t think you can.”

“Of course I can,” he says. “It’s the one thing I’m capable of. The only way I know how to love someone is by hurting them. I’ll do the same to you if you let me, and if you’re telling the truth, then you will let me.”

“Because I love you?” you say. “You think I’ll let you hurt me because I love you? For shame, Michael. I thought you knew me better than that.”

“Please,” he says. It’s a word he’s never said, not to you and not in his life. Its weight hangs before you, pulsating in the air like it’s tangible. “If I love you, I’ll destroy you. And then you’ll leave, and it’ll destroy me.”

It’s a selfless desire that he’s disguising as a selfish one. You’re good at pretending, but you’re not good at telling when others are. That much is obvious, because if you had any talent at the latter then you would’ve seen that he’s loved you for as long as you have loved him, maybe longer. He loves you and so he’s urging you to flee, to destroy him before he can do it to you first.

“Damned if I do and damned if I don’t, huh?” you say, exhaling and finishing off the rest of his water. “Listen to me.”

“No,” he says. His obstinance is endearing, but you throw a pillow at him instead of cooing like you want to. He catches it and tosses it back. It lands beside you with a thump. You pat it for emphasis.

“Yes,” you say. “I love you.”

He plugs his ears with his fingers. “Nope.”

“I love you, I love you — hey, I know you can hear me!” you say.

“La la la,” he shouts over your voice, sticking his tongue out petulantly. “I can’t hear you, I can’t hear you!”

“You’re cruel,” you say. “I won’t deny it. I know who you really are, Michael Kaiser. You possess cruelty in spades, but it’s in the way that a rose does. You have grown malice like thorns so that no one may come near your heart, and you think these thorns will tear me apart when I extend my hand past them. What you aren’t accounting for is that I have done so already. I have reached your heart and still I am intact. Now, what is there to cause me harm — a mere flower? But a flower can’t cause anyone harm, least of all a person such as myself. You can’t, or more importantly you won’t. I believe that you won’t.”

He stares at you. The soccer team in the documentary still playing behind him scores, and the crowd roars in approval. You stare back at him and wait.

“I hate roses,” he finally says. “I hate them a lot. They’re the worst kind of flower.”

“I don’t know about that,” you say. “I quite fancy them.”

“They prick your fingers,” he says.

“Not if you are gentle,” you say. “Not if you understand them.”

He buries his face in his hands. “Go home, Y/N.”

You do as you are told, flagging a taxi and shivering while you wait for it. You wish for things to be different, but the amount of unfulfilled wishes you’ve made outnumber the stars in the sky, so you add this one to the list and vow to move on.

You have no desire to leave your bed the next morning, but you are also hungry, and your hunger wins out over your despair. You muster up the energy to roll out of your sheets and trudge downstairs, but you are miserable as you do so. You are utterly miserable, and the fact that you are only worsens the feeling, trapping you in an endless kind of loop.

When you enter your kitchen, you are surprised to see a pot of flowers sitting innocently on your counter. You didn’t put them there, so you should feel afraid, but they’re roses, and they’re the same arresting shade as the sky, so you don’t. You only grin, slowly and then all at once as you begin to giggle helplessly.

There isn’t a card or an explanation provided, but you don’t need either. You already know who they are from.

#kaiser x reader #kaiser x y/n #kaiser x you #michael kaiser #bllk x reader #bllk #blue lock #reader insert #fake dating #m1ckeyb3rry milestone #m1ckeyb3rry writes

167 notes · View notes

corazondebeskar-reads · 5 months ago

Text

show me where it hurts

Marcus Moreno x gn!nurse!reader

for @iamasaddie's writing challenge 3.0! my prompt was marcus moreno and nurse play, both of which I have never written about before!

summary: the heroics have a clinic on-site, so you're not sure why marcus moreno keeps turning up at yours.

words: 1.9k

warnings: non-graphic description of injury, the author knows nothing about medical care, the author saw 'we can be heroes' once, aphrodisiacs, implied sex pollen, dubcon associated with sex pollen, marcus is a little bit of a pervert, nurse kink, unethical medical care, unethical relations between nurse and patient, oral, reader has no name or description or gender, sorry if you're a marcus stan and I butchered your boy :( lol, subby!marcus, not even proofread oop

dividers by @saradika-graphics

You don’t quite understand it, until you do.

But for months, it makes no damn sense. You know the Heroics have a clinic at headquarters and medics on the team.

So why does the team leader come all the way here to your little walk-in clinic? Why does he pay in cash in full when the on-site doctors are almost definitely part of his benefits package?

You never ask. Not as the months drag to years and Marcus Moreno knocks on your door at any odd hour with no rhyme or reason, bloodied or bruised or both.

The first time, you didn’t recognize him. He had changed out of the suit into a worn pair of Levis and a soft cardigan patterned in reds and browns. Black framed glasses perched upon his nose, and the only thing you thought unusual about this man, other than his attractiveness, was the strange jagged border of the bite on his calf.

When you asked what type of animal caused the injury, he shrugged. “Alien dog,” he said, voice lilting as if he was asking you.

“Alien dog?”

He had the sense to look sheepish.

When he handed back the clipboard with his information and consent for treatment, you had heaved a heavy sigh. “Maybe lead with this first next time, Mr. Moreno,” you said, ushering him back to your single exam room.

“Sorry, doc,” he said.

“Not a doctor. Didn’t you read your paperwork?” you scolded with a teasing smile. “Or are those glasses just for disguise?”

“Not a doctor?”

“I’m a nurse practitioner,” you explained. “I do a lot of the same things as a physician. But I don’t have a doctorate, so you can’t call me doctor.”

“You’re a nurse?” he said, and you noticed a red tinge to his face.

“Are you feeling warm, Mr. Moreno?” you asked, reaching for the thermometer and tucking it under his tongue before tugging his pant leg back up to check the borders of the gash for inflamation.

His temperature was fine but his blood pressure and heart rate were elevated. “I’m going to give you antibiotics,” you said, holding a finger up against his protests. “It doesn’t look infected, but your vitals are off, and ‘alien dog’ makes me concerned.”

“I’m just… it’s not…” he tried.

“White coat syndrome?” you asked with a raised eyebrow.

“Something like that,” he mumbled, watching the ground with interest.

When you finally caught up on the news that night, you dropped your mug of room-temperature tea at the sight of the alleged alien dog. Understatement of the fucking century. The creature on the screen with Marcus Moreno’s leg in its jaws was less like a dog and more like a furry alligator.

It’s not that he comes by frequently, but it’s enough that you’re never surprised to see him. Mutant chickens flooding the streets? Marcus Moreno knocks at your door covered in peck marks. A league of supervillains arrives with a weather manipulator? Frostbitten Marcus Moreno. A hacker sends a hypnobeam through a mall full of holiday shoppers, leading to hours of line dancing? Marcus Moreno lags in with a limp leg.

This time, though, it’s unclear what his affliction is. Until it isn’t.

He had texted—you had given him your number sometime between the 20th and 50th witching hour visit—but all it said was “coming.”

It was only 2 p.m., but you flipped the sign to closed anyway, preferring to give Marcus some privacy. It was a good thing, too, since his text was apparently dual-purposed.

He’s splotchy all over like a blossoming rash and sweat-slick. His glasses are in his jacket pocket, having been abandoned when they just kept fogging up. He’s wavering on the spot and you reach out to grab him, freezing when you realize he’s still in his tactical suit.

He never comes here in costume. He especially never comes here armed, but sure as shit, there are two katanas on his back.

You reach to yank him inside before he draws attention to himself, but he recoils.

“Don’t!” he yelps. “Don’t t-touch me.”

Instead, he waits until you step back before he squeezes into the lobby and plasters himself to the wall opposite you.

“What happened?” you say.

“Don’t know for sure,” he says, panting. “I got hit with some kind of dart.” He holds it out for you to see, as well as you can in the light that filters through the dusty window and flickering, dim fluorescents overhead. It’s small with a very sharp needle and a clear glass body. You can see the viscous remains of a thick pink liquid, akin to Pepto Bismol.

“Mr. Moreno, this really seems like something beyond my capacity,” you start.

“Please,” he gasps. “I… I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have come here, I-I…”

You sigh. “At least come into the exam room so I can get a better look at you.”

He groans. “Please don’t say things like that,” he mumbles, but inches his way over to the door.

You go to follow, and he holds up a hand.

“How am I supposed to figure out what’s wrong with you if I can’t come in?” you say with your hands on your hips.

“You have to stay on the other side of the room,” he says through gritted teeth, backing up against the table when you enter the room and shut the door.

“Start talking.”

“F-fine. I… I feel…” his face is redder than you’ve ever seen.

It’s then that you notice how he’s shed his leather jacket and is struggling to look nonchalant as he holds it at his waist.

“Like you took ten Viagra?” you wager.

He groans again, covering his face.

You can’t help but think it’s adorable. He’s always kind of adorable, like a broad, superpowered puppy.

“Mr. Moreno,” you start.

“Marcus,” he insists for the hundredth time.

“Marcus,” you acquiesce, “this really is out of my wheelhouse, here. I don’t know how to treat you when you’ve been drugged with a strange aphrodisiac. You need to see medical at headquarters.”

“I did,” he whispers.

“And they wouldn’t help you?” The idea sets your blood aboil.

“No, they… they couldn’t.”

“What do you mean?”

“They said it has to run its course. That I need to… I need to…” but he can’t even finish the sentence. This is not how he wanted any of this to go.

The realization burns through you. “You didn’t come here for an exam. You came here for me to treat you. But then… why did you act like you didn’t know what was wrong?”

"I’m sorry,” he groans again. “You’re going to think I’m a total creep.”

And then it adds up. The way he always visits you. The way he blushes. You thought he was just shy or self-conscious. But no.

“Oh my god,” you breathe. “You’ve been coming here for spank bank fodder?”

“N-not just, oh god, please don’t say it like that. I didn’t-I wouldn’t…” he sighs and gives up. “It didn’t start that way.”

You can’t help the laugh that bubbles out of your throat. The disbelief. “What, is it some kind of nurse kink?”

You can tell you’ve hit his weak spot when he full body cringes.

“I’ll leave. I’m sorry,” he says, mopping the sweat off his forehead with his equally sweaty arm. “I thought if I just saw you that it might be enough to take the edge off.”

“Is that right?” you say, suddenly not finding it very funny. “Take a seat on the table.”

He opens and closes his mouth stupidly.

“Take a seat on the table, Mr. Moreno. I’m going to need to do a full exam. Would you like me to step out of the room while you undress?”

Both of you are equally floored by your boldness. It feels almost wrong, knowing he’s under the influence, but he had admitted to thinking of you while he jerked off, so you were feeling less guilty about getting off to YouTube compilations of him in action.

“Are you sure?” Marcus asks, though he’s already unzipping his suit.

You nod, mouth running dry.

He makes quick work of the suit, sitting before you in a tight pair of purple briefs that strain under the unrelenting pressure of his thick cock. They’re soaked, far more than just pre-cum.

No, it’s very apparent that he’s spilled into his pants multiple times already.

You tsk softly. “You should have come in sooner, Mr. Moreno,” you murmur, bringing your stethoscope to his bare chest and placing your fingers on the inside of his wrist. You don’t pay attention to the fluttering beats of his heart, though, instead taking in the lithe, sinewy muscle of his arms.

“Sorry, nurse,” he whispers.

Your lips curl into a satisfied smirk as you tuck the thermometer under his tongue, which darts out, pink and wet, to take it in. You can’t help but moan, imagining a much better use for it.

He sits squirming on the table, paper crinkling under his ass and a puddle forming in the front, as you continue your exam. Your steady hands move the stethoscope down his back, coaching him softly through deep breaths, and taking the opportunity to feel the planes of his rippling muscles.

“Sit still,” you scold, and he whines.

“Please, I can’t take it.”

“Be a good boy for me, Marcus,” you murmur, and his whole body shudders as he comes, soaking through the saturated cotton and spilling onto the tan padding of the table.

You can’t stop yourself from swiping a finger through it and bringing it to your mouth to taste, moaning softly.

“You’re killing me,” he groans.

“Hmm, that won’t do. Hippocratic oath and all,” you say, rubbing a hand over his thigh. “Now tell me, Mr. Moreno, where does it hurt?”

“You know where it hurts,” he whines.

“Show me how you were trying to fix it on your own,” you say, ignoring his rising, pathetic whimpers.

He wastes no time freeing his cock from the underwear and fisting it, not needing any lubricant other than his own come. He tugs at it fiercely and you click your tongue at him again.

“I think I see the problem,” you say, pulling his hand away and cradling his heavy balls in your own.

“Can you help me, nurse?” he says, practically sobbing from relief at your touch.

“Oh, I definitely can,” you say, kicking out the metal step and sinking to your knees on it. You think about teasing him, but he’s clearly tortured himself enough, so you just take him into your mouth.

He comes immediately, tearful apologies pouring from his mouth, but you swallow him down and shush him soothingly after, stroking his still-hard cock with one hand.

“Shh, don’t worry. I can make it feel better,” you say between kitten licks at his sensitive tip.

He’s writhing on the table again already and sobs in earnest when you take him into your throat and bob your head.

He fists the exam table, paper shredded under his hands, as you draw orgasm after orgasm from his overspent body until finally, finally, his cock flags a little. His heart rate is steadier, but he’s exhausted, flopped back on the table with tear-stained cheeks.

“M’sorry,” he whispers again once he’s gone soft.

“Me too,” you admit. “That’s not really how I imagined this going.”

He lifts his head weakly. “You imagined this?” There’s an unmistakable echo of hope.

“Yeah,” you lay your cards on the table. “I was going to tell you I couldn’t treat you anymore first though. Ethics and all that.”

“I was going to ask you out this weekend,” he confesses, tongue loosened by the night’s activities.

“Okay,” you agree.

“What?”

“Okay, ask me out for this weekend.”

He grins, sloppy and slanted. “Can I take you on a proper date?”

You match his grin. “Mr. Moreno, I thought you’d never ask.”

#writing challenge #marcus moreno fic #marcus moreno x reader #marcus moreno x you #marcus moreno x gn!reader

104 notes · View notes

blurredpurplemint · 11 months ago

Note

Ooo can u do jealous bi han scenario/one shot?

i didn’t have inspiration at first but it suddenly came to me, like, ok why not. was supposed to be short but is kinda more than i anticipated (0.4k words). lot of dialogue cuz i suck at description lol. not proof read (will do it later, maybe, i’m tired, its 3 am, i have school, i’m talking way too much, gn)

───────────────────────────

you've been tasked with organizing the cleaning tools and supplies as it's your responsibility to take care of cleaning the backyard today.

while absorbed in the task, you failed to notice someone entering the room.

“so this where you were…”

caught off guard, you dropped what you were holding.

“by the gods! you- wait. how did you know i was there?”

“unimportant.”

you sighed as you picked up what you had dropped.

“i swear you almost scared me to death…”

“death may be imminent for you depending on your answer to my oncoming question.”

you paused, reflecting on his words with closed eyes and furrowed brows, then shook your head.

“ok… what have i done?”

you replied as you continued with your task.

“don't assume I overlooked your actions with that foolish monk.”

you quickly turned around to gauge his expression, and you could discern his anger beneath the mask. the least you could said was that you were doomed.

“who? raiden?”

“the other foolish monk.”

in an instant, everything made sense in your thoughts.

“ohhhh… kung lao! haha…”

“is this amusing to you?”

“it's just that... i don't understand what you're accusing me of.”

“quit feigning ignorance; you know exactly what I'm referring to.”

you huffed.

“if only!”

you pivoted entirely to confront him.

“why not be more direct about what I've done wrong? it could help us make progress. just saying.”

“what was the reason for him holding you earlier?”

“ohhhh…”

you recalled the events from this morning.

“explain.”

you waved your hand at him, dispelling his concerns.

“it was nothing; i just lightly twisted my ankle, that's all.”

“what?”

he nearly rushed to you, but you halted him in his tracks.

“bi-han, i said "lightly." it was truly nothing, just a slight twinge of pain. that's why kung lao got a bit carried away and assisted me.”

he huffed, swiftly raising his chin in disdain.

“he didn't just assist; he practically enveloped you.”

“if you had witnessed the entire scene, you would have observed me leaping out of his arms.”

“i should consider tearing his arms off for this.”

“huuum, sexy~”

“alright, I'm done dealing with your attitude.”

you began to laugh at his irritated expression, prompting a deadly glare from him. he then turned away to leave.

“oh come on! don't give me the cold shoulder now!”

you spoke amid laughter.

he halted, slowly pivoting to cast upon you the most exasperated expression.

“oop- no pun intended!”

his sigh was so deep and prolonged it caused the room temperature to plummet by at least five degrees which elicited a shiver from you.

you shrugged apologetically, wearing a sorry smile, and approached him slowly. softly chuckling, you ran your hand over his torso, eliciting an eye roll of annoyance from him due to your feeble attempts to soothe his nerves. he subtly made sure you weren't limping.

“don't be upset with me. you're well aware that I have no interest in him.”

he didn't respond but glanced back at you with a raised eyebrow, prompting a smile from you. you couldn't resist the urge to tease him.

“you are incredibly cute when jealousy surfaces, grandmaster.”

“i am not.”

“oh yes, you are!”

you spoke as you gently tapped his torso.

“whatever you stance, i’ll leave you to it. i have duties to fulfill.”

he said as he walked past you, intentionally bumping into you to clear his way. you let out a small whine in response to his abruptness.

“bi-han! we are not done here!”

“in my perspective, we are.”

you sighed, crossing your arms. you knew he was thickheaded before, but now he's just downright childish.

you watched him leave, but he suddenly halted in his tracks and spoke without turning back.

“i will meet you tonight… we’ll dine out.”

you gasped in excitement, placing your hand over your mouth to suppress your laughter.

“ow… you big softie <3”

he grunted and shook his head, immediately regretting his statement.

279 notes · View notes

solaris-amethyst · 4 months ago

Text

💫Let's win together?💫

✨Pairing: non idol!Mingi x gn!reader ✨Prompt: We're both playing for the same obscure item. This is the fifth arcade I've seen you at... Want to join forces? ✨Word count: 1.4k ✨Genre: fluff, strangers to friends ☀️Authors note: I have never been to an arcade so apologies for my bad description of the arcade game lol, the left picture is what I was trying to describe😅 but what did you guys think? Did you like this one?💓

There he was, you had been looking for the tall man who you had seen at multiple arcades. The two of you had been next to each other at multiple games and you had overheard him complain to his friends about how it was darn near impossible to win the little penguin holding a little umbrella and wearing cute little rain boots and a little scarf.

It was said to be very rare and apparently the two of you had both been trying to win it and both had been equally unsuccessful in winning. Your plan had been to go and ask him to work with you and see if at least one of you could win the darn penguin. You kept glancing at him waiting for him to be alone, not wanting to go up and talk to him as he was surrounded by his friends.

His friends were all laughing with him and talking. It took around fifteen minutes before the group split up and the man was alone walking to the first game to play. That's when you walked towards him, sliding up next to him.

"Hello, sorry if this is weird but we're both playing for the same super rare penguin with the umbrella, the rain boots and the scarf. This is like the fifth arcade I've seen you at... Want to join forces to see if at least one of us could win it?" You said as he had turned to you in slight surprise when you had started to speak to him.

"Umm.. hi? Sorry you really shocked me." He said looking a bit flabbergasted at the fact that you had just slid up next to him to talk to him. You shifted your weight from on feet to the other when he looked at you not sure what to say next.

"Sorry I probably came across as like super weird just sliding up to you like this. Let me start over, hi I'm y/n, we've been playing next to each other at a few arcades and I over heard you want the penguin as well and thought that maybe if we joined together at least one of us would have the satisfaction of winning the cute penguin." you told him and a small smile morphed onto his face.

"I knew you looked familiar. I'm Mingi! Nice to meet you." He shakes your hand "you know what I wouldn't say no to working together with someone so good-looking like you to win the penguin." he said with a smile and a wink, now it was your turn to look at him slightly flabbergasted at the fact that he was so bold despite having looked at you with big eyes and a shocked face just a few mere seconds ago.

The two of you ended up laughing when you locked eyes after his comments finding the whole situation a bit weird yet funny.

"So shall we go to the two games where we can try and win the penguin with the crane?" you asked looking towards the two machines where a bunch of plushies were located.

"Sure let's go!"

The two of you took your places and put in some money to play for the penguin.

"So, what made you start hunting for the penguin and not something easier?" Mingi asked glancing at you with curious eyes before turning back to start moving his claw machine in hopes of getting the plushie.

"Oh I just thought It was really cute and I may or may not have gotten competitive when a friend of mine told me there is no way I could get it. So I wanted to prove them wrong!" You told him before groaning when you saw that the plushie you picked up was another penguin but not the one you wanted.

"Ah that's similar to me. Had a friend dare me to get it and I didn't get it so I lost that truth or dare round and decided I had to get the darn penguin."

The two of you were conversing, getting to know each other more and more as your pile of plushies on the ground next to you grew and grew. The two of you were sharing stories about your friends and laughing as you continued the game, Mingi decided to tell you a story about how his friend Wooyoung had gotten stuck in one of the games causing you to laugh even louder.

"Wait wait wait, you mean to tell me he got his arm stuck in a game like this one?" you asked having to stop playing to fully look at Mingi who were trying to keep his laughter in as he told the story.

"Yeah, he was trying to win a plushie for our friend Yeosang and it got stuck on the way out and instead of calling a worker for help he stuck his arm inside the space where the plush lands to try and reach it but he got stuck as well."

"I would have panicked if I were him and had gotten stuck, like can you imagine? I get like shivers just thinking about it." You confessed and he nodded

"Yeah I always worry now when I pick up the plushies I win that I will get stuck despite knowing that I won't because I'm not shoving my entire arm in there." He told you as he picked up another plush that he just won and dropping it into the pile you had now made joint.

It was big and people were beginning to stare as they walked past the two of you, not that neither of you cared you were too busy in your own world of chatting and playing to notice. It wasn't until a worker came up to the two of you that you realized how absurd it all looked.

"Um excuse me but I'm gonna have to ask the two of you to leave this game. You've played for far too long and the amount of plushies you have is enough." The worker told the two of you catching the both of you by surprise

"Oh im so sorry we didn't realize how many we had at this point." You told the worker whilst apologizing.

"Well stop playing we promise!" Mingi agreed, neither of you wanted to cause a scene so the two of you bent down to pick up all the random plushies as the worker walked away, happy the two of you would stop playing and let others play as well.

"Well... we sure got a lot of plushies but not our special little penguin." He said before giggling at the way the two of you were standing holding two gigant mountains of plushies.

"I can barely see because of all of the plushies." You said trying to see over them with barely any success.

"Why don't we go over to where my friends are hanging out, dumping them there and then going to another arcade to see if we can get our prize?" He asked looking over his own pile towards you.

"Sure! I would like that!" With that he lead the way to his friends to the best of his abilities. His friends were all talking and laughing until the two of you arrived with your mountains. That caused them to stop at the same moment Mingi dumped all of his plushies on the table before turning to help you unload yours as well.

"Hi everyone this is my new friend y/n. Can you guys watch our plushies for us? We're going to the arcade down the street to win that darn penguin plush! Great! Thank you!" Mingi said barely giving you time to say hello to his friends before he was steering you towards the exit. His friends were shouting a varying degrees of nice to meet you, yah Mingi and we'll call when we leave this place! As the two of you left them with the plushies.

Once outside you glanced at Mingi with a smirk before dashing off towards the next arcade shouting at him: "Last one there is a rotten egg!!"

"Yah!! That's not fair you got a head-start!!!" He shouted back before chasing after you to the next arcade. Neither of you really caring at this point if you got the penguin or not, just enjoying the new blossoming friendship between the two of you.

68 notes · View notes

coalswriting · 1 year ago

Text

reader with a broken arm headcanons - lottie matthews

a/n - i was really unsure of what to write for this even though the person that requested gave me a descriptive prompt :')) i initially had written 500+ words of an actual fic but i scrapped it because i was really struggling to write it!! did some headcanons though so i'm sorry for any disappointment </3

(approx 1k words)

=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

how it happened

you broke your arm during practice.

you were trying to catch up to laura lee to steal the ball off her.

you were having an off day, having slept through your alarm and coming to school late as a result, getting written up, and detention.

you just wanted to release your frustration on the ball.

you skidded on a mud puddle and were sent flying.

you shot your arms out to try and protect your face and heard a audible crack as you hit the ground.

you were lightheaded as lottie raced to your side.

she held your hand and told you to look into her eyes and match her breathing.

you groaned at the intense pain and looked down at the source to see your arm bent in a weird way halfway down your wrist.

you blacked out from the shock.

you woke up later, at the hospital.

your parents were on holidays for a few weeks so lottie had to sign you out and drive you home.

you had a small moment of panic in the car, realising you won’t be able to handle being alone and having to take care of yourself.

lottie offered to help you out, which you were very thankful for.

of course, she’d help you! you’re her girlfriend!

lottie trying to cook for you and failing

she’s not a good cook; she’s been pampered almost all her life, so when she offers to cook for you, you grimace and insist on getting delivery.

lottie is a bit huffy at first, but finally warms up to the idea because yeah. she’s not a great cook, and she understands. you do offer to teach her a few easy recipes once you’re feeling a bit better though!

honestly, the two of you eat SO much pizza that you start longing for home cooked meals.

one day when you’re particularly tired, lottie forces you to stay at home.

you decide to go online and collate a list of easy recipes for her to cook!

think tomato sauce, burgers, curries, you even find an easy recipe for homemade bread because you think it’d be fun to watch her bake something.

once lottie comes home, you show her the list and she’s so happy that she offers to cook for you straight away!

she makes you spaghetti bolognese – the pasta is way too mushy, the sauce is very watery and too salty, and the meat is burnt but you eat all of it because she put in the effort for you and her little puppy eyes are a great motivator.

lottie’s so delighted that she offers to make dessert and you convince her that you’re too full after her delicious dinner so that she won’t borderline poison you again lol.

the dinner she makes you the next day is way better; she only steady improves as she cooks for you every day.

helping you dress up

the first few days, you just wear pyjamas but once it’s time to go back to school, you’re a little stressed.

you don’t really have any baggy clothes so you can’t just slip the cast through the arm hole.

thank the heavens that your girlfriend is taller than you are though!! her clothes are way bigger and your wardrobe ends up consisting of her shirts and jumpers.

you show up to school one day with one of her bright pink fuzzy sweaters, much to the shock of the yellowjackets. normally you wear less … loud colours, so everyone is hit with whiplash when you sit in the cafeteria with them.

van starts calling you barbie with how much pink you wear; taissa bonks her over the head every time, but it doesn’t really bother you.

lottie always jokes about the fact that you’re wearing her clothes.

“nice jumper, babe. where’d you get it?”

“lottie. it’s literally yours. you made this joke every single day for the past week. please stop. it’s not funny.”

cue van slapping her knee and almost falling over from how hard she’s laughing.

bath time + sleeping!

the first day you’re back from the hospital, you’re all muddy and tired.

you just ask lottie to grab a wet rag and wipe your face down.

the next day, you offer the same thing, but she refuses.

“you’re gonna get all stinky, (y/n). i’ll just help you bathe.”

she then proceeds to struggle immensely trying to wrap your arm in saran wrap.

anyways, twenty minutes later, you’re in the bath with lottie.

she’s sitting behind you and she pulls you back a little, your head resting on her chest as she shampoos your hair.

you’re so relaxed that you almost start purring. almost.

this becomes a regular occurrence and you both end up spending way too much time in the bath every time, just cuddling and enjoying the warmth.

lottie starts bringing bath bombs and running bubble baths so that you two can play around.

once you’re both out of the bath and in your fluffy pyjamas, you always watch a movie or tv show.

one night, you stayed up until four am watching all the home alone movies in order. why? because you wanted to rank them from worst to best.

lottie ends up passed out with her arms draped around you and her head on your chest. you fall asleep shortly after; halfway through the third movie.

you can’t really fall asleep alone because you can’t fully cuddle your shark plushie but thankfully your girlfriend sleeps with you every night, keeping you warm and hugging you.

=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

you kind of get used to lottie babying you, and though you feel embarrassed about it at first, she reassures you that it’s okay because she loves you.

she’ll also get protective of you, telling people in the hallway to back off or force them to apologise to you if they bang off you accidentally.

seriously, people learn not to hurt lottie’s girlfriend.

you definitely end up becoming the princess of the yellowjackets. again, van jokes about it the most and you start playing into the title because you find it to be quite funny.

once the cast is off and you’ve fully recovered, you’re a little sad that lottie won’t be at your house every night anymore.

but!! it’s okay because she invites you to stay at hers.

she’s too used to your presence now :3c

#yellowjackets #yellowjackets x reader #lottie matthews #lottie matthews x reader

315 notes · View notes

suspiciouslypinkrosegarden · 2 months ago

Text

𓆝 𓆟 Armin Week 2024 𓆝 𓆟

Day 3: Prompt Nerd Armin

Description: Nerd Armin x Shy Nerd Reader. You sit behind Armin in class and want to get to know him! Relationship to Armin as well as school (whether it's high school or uni) is left undefined, for all ages, stages and how you personally see Armin. Gender neutral as always.

I didn't have too much time to edit/write, so sorry if flow isn't great! I wanted something quick and cute lol

Pretty blue eyes hidden behind thick black glasses, and a terrible habit of raising his hand with a level of excitement that no one else seemed to have. Armin was the boy who sat in front of you during this class, staring at the back of his blond head more than the white board most days as you zoned out to the background noise of lecture. He always seemed to shrink as the teacher would ask for anyone else to answer the question presented, as if suddenly ashamed he was ten steps ahead of the rest of his peers.

As he entered the classroom each day, the charms and pins on his back pack usually caught your eye, clinking of plastic turning your head in his direction. You admired the way he seemed to show off his interests without shame, everything he owned decked out with references to what sparked his personal joy. This was what helped you take notice of him in the first place, eyes immediately drawn to the wings of freedom sticker on his laptop he carried with him everywhere he went. You wondered if he was looking forward to seeing the finale in theaters soon to be released.

As a couple of weeks passed, summer gone as the leaves fell brown upon the ground, you found yourself collecting data on him subconsciously thanks to his decoration based transparency. A Star Wars notebook, anime keychains, ocean themed stickers, and assorted pencil toppers or themed pens which he’d occasionally chew on. He was a nerd right to his core, and suddenly your few items felt pale in comparison to his elaborately crafted image. Call Armin what you will, but you wanted to get to know him as someone with similar interests and no one to share them with.

In this new semester, you were determined to initiate a conversation somehow, neither of you usually speaking to each other unless instructed to do so for chapter discussions. He already had close friends unlike you, rushing off after class to join together as part of a solid trio, making it hard to say anything as the hour and a half came to a close. He seemed reserved as someone content with his friend group already, while you seemed reserved as someone usually too nervous to speak. But today you’d do your best to reach out to Armin yet again, hoping something small could come of it.

Before lecture, your hand stretched forward in an attempt to tap his back, stopping as he received a phone call from one of his friends about a movie tonight. You pulled away. As the teacher prattled on about an unrelated topic, you tried to make a joke regarding its lack of importance to what you were learning, but he just didn’t hear you. You stayed silent the rest of class. Instructed to share summaries on last night’s reading, he turned to look at the girl to his right instead of back at you. You almost audibly sighed. And once the clock reached its anticipated time, you stood up in another day’s defeat, spilling out the open contents of your pencil case sitting on your lap and not the desk.

The noise was loud, plastic and wood clattering against the shiny flooring as items rolled underneath the many rows of black chairs. You felt embarrassed, but for once Armin seemed to not want to rush out of class. As you knelt to start collecting your belongings, you watched as he leveled with you on the ground to start doing the same. His hands gently passed you your Sanrio pens, and it was him who decided to speak first.

“Your pens are cute…is Cinnamoroll your favorite? I’ve got a pin of him on my bag.”

You smiled, noticing how he suddenly seemed a bit timid.

“Actually, Mocha is my favorite, but merchandise for her is impossible to find. I noticed your pin a while back and actually, I’ve been meaning to tell you I like your keychains and such.”

You let it all out, ignoring how heavy any of your excitement might come across to be.

“I like your R2D2 notebook too…and I saw your Starship Enterprise charm on your bag-”

He brought his hand up to his face, pushing his thick black glasses further up the bridge of his nose as he cut you off. There was a faint dusting of pink on his cheeks, and you saw his shyness slowly melt away at the introduction of topics he was familiar with.

“So…you’ve seen the original Star Trek too?”

#aot x reader #armin arlert #aot #armin arlert x reader #arminweek2024 #armin week 2024 #snk armin #armin aot

41 notes · View notes

magicalbats · 1 year ago

Text

Day 14: Orgasm Denial

Rating: R-18+

Word Count: 7925

Warnings: Afab!reader, (lots of) gendered language, social power dynamics, boss/employee, upperclass/lowerclass, tbh I’m not entirely sure how to tag some of this xmdkxkdnd, manual masturbation, dacryphilia, I wanted reader to be a bit of a bimbo in this one so if she seems stupid that’s why lol

A/N: sorry this one is late! I am officially behind on my prompts now but regardless of how long it takes I WILL be completing this Kinktober challenge! Unfortunately the real world demands attention sometimes but I’m not giving up 😤

⭐

Stamping down the urge to nervously fiddle with your hands, you clutch at the front of your arpon to keep them still and try very hard to focus on what the man in front of you is saying. The Palais Mermonia housed a great many regular faces, some of which you only saw from time to time and could not seem to commit to memory, and yet you’d been seeing mister Danon’s more and more often than anyone else’s recently. You didn’t understand why that would be though, and had at first written it off as mere coincidence. A simple matter of happenstance and nothing more.

But then it kept happening at an ever increasing frequency until it seemed like you were running into him almost every day now. Only then had it occurred to you, in a far off, distant sort of way, that he must have been making a concerted effort to talk with you like this. That was the only reasonable explanation for it that you could glean, because the one person you saw at the Palais with any amount of real regularity was the honorable Iudex himself and certainly not the man who’s job description you could not seem to recall. But that didn’t exactly explain why.

You wanted to understand what would make him seek you out like this, so you attentively listen to mister Danon when he speaks even though you sometimes find him a bit difficult to follow. He seemed like he was probably a good person and respectable enough, but he had a strange habit of jumping from topic to topic without much rhyme or reason that you could discern. One moment he would be talking to you about matters of work, about documents he needed to have signed or the latest gossip that had everyone all in a buzz, and the next … why, he would suddenly say something off hand about recreational activities to do in the city or places to dine, a book he’d read recently and even the types of food he fancied.

It was all very strange, and listening to him talk does not help in the slightest. In fact, it actually seems to make it worse.

You didn’t have the slightest idea why he would want to discuss upcoming stageplays with you nor why he should feel the need to announce that his favorite dish was aspic as if it was something that should be of great interest to you. It was all really quite strange.

“You see, if you take a few fish when they’re still flopping around and fresh,” He tells you, eagerly gesturing his way through an explanation you hadn’t asked for. “That will guarantee their taste and ensure your aspic comes out just divine. Like something straight from the Gods themselves, if you want the honest truth of it. I don’t think I’ve ever tasted anything more sumptuous!”

“A - ah,” You make a valid attempt to smile politely but it was difficult to keep up with him like this. What did you care for the precise steps to make such an unappetizing sounding dish?

“You know, if you were interested, cherie … I could make it for you to try, if you would like. Ah, what I mean is — it might be nice if we can sit down together and chat over a meal at my residence. Just the two of us.”

Your brows slowly crawl straight up to your hairline. “Oh.”

Before you can think to say anything else, an attention grabbing thud against the marble floor makes you spin around and a smile quickly overtakes your face.

“Monsieur Neuvillette! It is a pleasure to see you today.”

The kindly man sends you a slow, vaguely bemused half-smile. “Good afternoon, mademoiselle. Mister Danon. You looked like you were having a rather lively conversation just now. I hope I didn't interrupt anything important?”

“Of course not, monsieur. It was nothing important at all.” You beam up at him, eager and happy to hang on his every word no matter how benign or minuscule. Much to your surprise, though, he sends another unreadable look over your shoulder and when you turn back to Danon you’re more than a little surprised to find him slouched as if in defeat. Your eyebrows quickly make the climb up to your hairline again. “Mister Danon, are you alright? Goodness, you suddenly look quite unwell.”

“Yes, everything is fine. Nothing to worry about.” He waves off your concern, but it doesn’t escape your notice that he makes a concerted effort not to look directly at you now and instead turns his attention towards monsieur Neuvillette. “Forgive me, your honor. I’m afraid I must be going now. My break is almost over and my presence will be sorely missed if I fail to show up on time.”

The stately Iudex inclines his chin in a brief nod of acknowledgment. “You needn’t apologize, mister Danon. On behalf of all of Fontaine, thank you for the hard work you do.”

Giving monsieur Neuvillette a stiff bow, he turns to do the same to you. “Mademoiselle.”

You quickly bob a perplexed curtsy back. “Monsieur?”

Ignoring or perhaps not hearing the question in your voice, Danon pivots on his heel and makes a hasty retreat down the long corridor without so much as a backwards glance. You can’t seem to shake the feeling you’ve said or done something wrong though, and you watch him go with a tiny flutter of anxiety in your chest until another soft thud of monsieur Neuvillette’s cane on the marble floor pulls you around again.

With a small frown in place, you tip your head back to look up at him when he comes to stand next to you. “Monsieur Neuvillette?”

He offers you a small, gentle smile, no doubt meant to placate and soothe, though it does little in the way of good. “Please do not look so put out, mademoiselle. Would you like to accompany me to my office?”

Nodding, you fall into step beside him. You find yourself listlessly fiddling with your hands now, unable to stop it when it felt like you'd made some horrible faux pas, and they anxiously flit over your front to smooth out invisible wrinkles. What a strange and confusing situation to end up in, and with no idea how to navigate it either. It seemed like you’d done the exact opposite of what you’d initially set out to do … you didn’t understand it in the slightest.

“Forgive me for asking you such a strange question so suddenly, but … did I say something to offend mister Danon just now?”

Noising a quiet sound of consideration, monsieur Neuvillette thinks on that for a brief moment. “I am certainly no expert on the topic, mademoiselle, but if I am not mistaken I do believe mister Danon harbors a romantic interest in you. I believe he may have felt slighted when you said what you were discussing was of no importance, and he took it as a sign of rejection.”

You jerk to a sudden halt with an inelegant scuffle of your heels. “Romantic?” Eyes widening in mute horror, you feel your cheeks start to grow uncomfortably warm. That did make sense, you were more than just a little stunned to realize. The way he made the effort to find you wherever you were working, stop you and talk to you; the way he would casually sprinkle in bits and pieces of his personal life and subtly suggest food, diners, places to go and things to do … had he really been laying out suggestions this whole time hoping you would show an interest in him back? But — “But he never said … oh, monsieur Neuvillette, I had no idea!”

He looks at you with a soft, sympathetic smile where he’d stopped half a pace in front of you. “It is alright if you didn’t know. Situations like these can be difficult to — parse sometimes, and I do not think you acted with malicious intent. Come, let us continue this over a cup of tea.”

Embarrassed and roiling with a crushing sense of guilt, you slowly trail after the Iudex to his large, exquisitely furnished office where you quickly fall into your usual habit of preparing the chinaware while he situates himself on the ornate lounge. It is muscle memory alone that sees you through your task, motions practiced and subconscious after working at the Palais for so long, which comes as a great relief in that moment. You were far too preoccupied with this startling revelation to give the pouring of the tea much thought. Mister Danon’s intentions were shocking enough but, perhaps even more so, you’re surprised at your own lack of awareness on the matter.

You felt rather bad now, for listening to him so attentively and humoring the conversations he was always keen to share with you. Had he mistaken it for budding affection on your part? Have you unknowingly encouraged him to keep trying or, somehow worse, made him believe you were merely toying with his feelings this whole time? What a terrible thing to do to another person, intentionally or not.

Monsieur Neuvillette silently regards you when you bring the tea over on a silver tray but you can’t bring yourself to look at him while you set everything down on the low table in front of him. He was always nothing but kind to you despite your lower station of housekeeper, just as he was with all of the staff that kept the Palais functioning as it should. Everyone from the notarizers and the title clerks right down to even the janitors were treated with nothing but respect and dignity, and that very much included you. But you were a bit too ashamed, too guilty to meet his gaze right now, and you quickly shuffle back a polite distance once everything is laid out so you can further avoid his eyes.

A stretch of quiet settles over the room, and you have to try very hard not to start fiddling with your uniform again.

“Won’t you make yourself a cup and join me?” He ventures at last.

“I couldn’t, monsieur Neuvillette. But thank you.”

He seems to deliberate over something for a short beat before half turning his body on the lounge to look up at you. “I must apologize for prying like this but what about the situation with mister Danon has you so upset? If you didn’t know what his intentions were then you certainly cannot be held responsible for not acting accordingly.”

You hesitate to discuss this matter with him, well aware that it was improper and impolite to talk over such things with not only the aristocracy but also the man who was effectively your employer. It felt very much like an unspoken boundary that should not, under any circumstances, be crossed but … when you take in monsieur Neuvillette’s imploring expression your resolve starts to crumble. He was a wise and exceptionally astute figurehead who always treated every case laid out before him no matter how small or insignificant with the utmost care and consideration. Perhaps he would have some insight to share with you, or at least some advice.

“Well,” You finally relent, tipping your chin down to shyly regard your buckled shoes. “I’m aware that this might sound a little odd but I just feel so guilty about everything … I should have realized sooner why he kept seeking me out like he did. As silly as it is, I can’t help but feel like I tricked him somehow.”

“That is a silly thing, isn’t it?” He agrees in a soft, endlessly patient tone. “How could you have tricked someone if you weren’t aware of what they wanted from you? In the unlikely event that a case such as this were presented to me, I wouldn’t even be able to rule in favor of misrepresentation on the defendant’s part. You have to act with knowing and intention to be held accountable for trickery.”

You despondently mull that over for a long stretch. Logically, you knew what he was saying to be true and you, as everyone else in Fontaine, trusted his judgment implicitly. It wasn’t so much that you doubted him but, rather, your guilt was so great that it couldn’t accept this answer. The thought alone that you might have broken mister Danon’s heart after stringing him along for months almost brings tears to your eyes.

“Does that mean you wouldn’t deign to punish me for it?” It’s barely more than a whisper.

“No, not unconscionably. No one in their right mind would.”

It feels like you're withering on the spot. You didn’t understand it yourself, why you were so upset to hear this rather than relieved at finding you hadn’t broken any laws or regulations that would hold you accountable. Even if mister Danon were to try to file a suit against you to mend some of his bruised ego it sounded like he wouldn’t even have a case to stand on — and that was good.

So why did it feel as if you were skating by without making proper amends for the transgression?

“Mademoiselle?”

You finally bring your head up to look at him. “Do you think mister Danon will forgive me if I apologize?”

Monsieur Neuvillette’s expression softens, taking on a truly remorseful edge. “I don’t know, little one. He might. I can’t see into the future any more than you can, but I think if it’s something that bothers you so much then it certainly wouldn’t hurt to talk to him about it.”

Blinking back a sudden deluge of tears, you take an impulsive step towards him with the tray clutched to your chest. “Oh, monsieur Neuvillette, I don’t know what to do! How can I possibly ameliorate my actions if he might not even accept my apology? I — I didn’t mean to lead him on!”

Very neatly, calmly, monsieur Neuvillette folds his gloved hands on his lap and studies you for an indeterminable amount of time with that closed and shuttered expression. You aren’t sure how many minutes pass when you’re a right mess inside, all your emotions kicked up into such a veritable whirlwind that it’s all you can do just to hold it together. But, at length, he eventually draws a careful breath.

“What I’m hearing is that your guilt over this matter will not be dissuaded until you feel appropriate action has been taken against you to right what is, in your mind, a very serious wrong, intentional or not. Is that correct?”

You blink, more than a little surprised at how concisely he’s grasped your thoughts on the matter. It almost sounds foolish when he puts it like that, in such blunt terms, but there is no denying the pang that resonates within you. “Yes, monsieur. I feel terrible for what I’ve done …”

He seems to hesitate, his brows drawing inward almost imperceptibly. “Guilt can function as its own form of punishment as well, and a very effective one at that. But you must understand something, mademoiselle. The law simply is not applicable here. There is no legal recourse and, therefore, no system in place to enforce any sort of repercussions against you.”

You take another step closer, feeling fervent and hot. “Then will you punish me, monsieur Neuvillette?”

Abruptly, he goes very still. “I am hardly in any position to mete out such discipline,” He says slowly, carefully. “And, far more importantly, I’m not quite sure what you would have me do. I don’t believe this situation would call for a monetary fine or even any corrective action on an employment level … and I’m certainly not going to spank you over my knee like a child.”

Flustered heat crawls up your neck to settle in your cheeks. You hate the way your knees grow weak and knobby at the thought of that, but you were decidedly in agreement with him. It would have been inappropriate for him to strike you in any capacity, least of all over something like this. Still, though …

“Isn’t there something to be done?”

Monsieur Neuvillette’s expression settles back into that somber mask again, eyeing you for a drawn out beat before he finally issues a clipped sigh. Leaning back to recline against the lounge, he stiffly crosses his legs and once more settles his folded hands atop the bent knee. “Come here, little one. Stand next to me.”

Your feet almost don’t want to move from the spot but you force them to uproot so you can cautiously shuffle forward. You aren’t sure what to expect when your cotton stuffed head was such a mess, but all he does when you come up beside him is hold out an expectant hand. It takes you a moment to realize what he wants and you flush even hotter as you pass him the tray. Taking it from you, he sedately sets it aside on the cushion before fixing his attention on you once again.

“This is another topic in which I lack expertise but I might have something in mind that could satisfy your need for penance. However, I will not force or otherwise coerce you into it, and you will likewise be free to walk away at any time. Once you have decided you’ve made the appropriate dues for leading mister Danon on, as you put it, then this arrangement will end immediately. Is that agreeable to you?”

You bob your head in a quick nod. “Yes, monsieur Neuvillette. Thank you.”

Squaring his broad shoulders, the usually kindly disposition with which he carried himself outside of the courtroom fades and is replaced by the stern set of his mouth, the slight tension along his brow, to indicate that it is the Chief Justice sitting before you now. A chill runs up your spine at the change in him, so subtle yet unavoidably obvious, and a sharp look from pale lavender eyes stops you from saying anything. You’d never before been subjected to such a hard expression from him and you can’t quite stop yourself from sympathizing with whoever was unlucky enough to find themselves standing before him in court. It really wasn’t any wonder why he held the title of supreme judge in all of Fontaine when you saw him like this.

“Do not thank me yet, mademoiselle. If you would be so kind, please lift your skirt for me.”

Your spine stiffens with a tremor so powerful it very nearly bowls you over on the spot. Obediently, though, you reach down with numb hands to gather the full, flouncy material of your uniform and shyly hike it up along with the lace petticoat underneath.

“Higher.” He commands, intently observing the slow ascension of your skirts. “That’s it, up around your waist. Good.”

Sucking in a faltering breath, you sway unsteadily on your feet and try not to lose your nerve. The thought that you would be able to alleviate your guilt with this steels your resolve though, and your hands start to shake as your stockinged upper thighs are revealed to him, the simple garters holding them in place and, finally, your lace panties. Your face is on fire while you nudge everything up a little further to make sure it was satisfactory and to his liking despite still harboring some very real doubts about this in the back of your mind.

He did say he wasn’t going to spank you … didn’t he?

Casually, monsieur Neuvillette reaches out a hand to slip long, elegantly poised fingers into the space between your thighs and you suck in a sharp gasp when he nudges them up against your cunt just so. The touch is featherlight and barely there, but it makes more blood rush into your face to leave you rattled and a bit dizzy. But you don’t pull away from him as he takes his time petting over the apex of your fleshy mound and the slit running along your body, determined to see this through. Somehow having him touch you like this was not nearly as embarrassing as the way his expression doesn’t change while he does it, you’re quite ashamed to realize.

“Are you sensitive here?” He asks you softly, prompting you to swallow. Hard.

“I … I don’t know. I’m not sure.”

Quietly clicking his tongue, monsieur Neuvillette presses up against you a little more firmly, gloved fingertips digging into your defenseless clit to make you jolt and give a startled yelp. “You seem responsive enough to me. I only know of this particular activity in theory but … well, it doesn’t really matter. I believe we should have no problem at all using this method for your penance.”

“W - which is, monsieur?”

“I believe I’ve heard the people call this ‘edging’ before. It sounds rather dreadful, doesn’t it? Like some sort of barbaric torture technique.” Carefully observing your face, he pushes up even harder to grind tight, mean little circles against that sensitive pleasure button, and your eyes grow big as you stiltedly rock forward on your toes. “I suppose it could still be called that, depending on who you asked. The instigator or the receptee. I’m sure they would have drastically different opinions on the matter.”

Whimpering, you numbly readjust your hold on your skirt to make sure it stays up and out of his way while he’s doing this. Not that you were entirely sure you liked this specific method in terms of punishments when it was so obvious your body was eagerly responding to it – from the way your pussy clenches around nothing and starts to slick for him and even to the way your nipples stiffen against the inside of your shirt – but perhaps that was a good thing. Would you have really been able to say your penance was paid in full if this trial were not appropriately challenging?

“Wh … where?”

Blinking at the little mouse squeak noise, monsieur Neuvillette just keeps rubbing over you with that steady motion of his hand. “I beg your pardon?”

Trying valiantly to keep the fluster off of your face and failing miserably at it, you shyly avert your gaze. “I was just curious … where did you hear of this?”

“A reasonable question.” He relents, allowing the smallest note of humor to color his voice. “While it is true I don’t often partake in such crude conversations, it can be a little hard to avoid at times. Even here, in the Palais Mermonia. I believe they refer to it as ‘water cooler talk’.”

“Oh.” You’d overhead such things before too, now that you thought of it. The other women who worked at the Palais were more prone to gossip, joint complaints about their husbands or beaus, fawning over babies and first days of school, and academic achievements, while the men … they would sometimes change topics when they saw you coming but more than once you’d caught snippets of inappropriate conversations. A recent visit they’d had to a brothel or perhaps how they fantasized about doing certain things to their partners. You always felt mildly scandalized whenever it would happen, shocked that such discussions were being entertained at the Palais, and yet —

Letting out a slow, stuttering breath, you carefully glance down at yourself to look at monsieur Neuvillette’s hand disappearing between the soft pudge of your thighs. This was vastly more inappropriate than any ‘water cooler talk’ and that realization embarrasses you a great deal. Your cheeks feel a little hotter, your blood pumping harder, and you whine, very low in your throat. Was this really an acceptable form of punishment?

You think it probably is, because the shame that comes with it is potent and cloying, especially when your hips give a weak judder at what he’s doing. To think that the Iudex himself was touching you like this …

“Does that feel good, little one?”

Twitching at the sound of his voice, you give a stilted nod. “Yes, monsieur, thank you … but — but I don’t think I quite understand. Are punishments supposed to feel good?”

“Not necessarily, no. But this is only a part of it. Relax, sweet girl. I will ensure your guilt is appropriately mitigated in due time.”

You still don’t truly understand it, but you allow yourself to ease into it anyway. Relax into his touch. Slipping your eyes closed, you just take a moment to feel the sensation of him rubbing over your cunt. The press of his firm fingers pudges your lips to highlight how soft and pliable they are, the blunt tips of his gloves sinking into the slit. Even the thin layer of your panties is not enough to lessen the drag in any meaningful way, and it doesn’t seem to take long at all for you to start feeling sticky with arousal. It’s copious and excessive, almost implausibly so considering that he’d only touched you in this one specific spot thus far. Hardly at all.

You hadn’t thought you would be so easily excitable and yet the proof of it is in the way you tremble for him, the way your breathing gradually picks up to make your breasts heave under your blouse, and it quickly becomes difficult just to stay standing in place. You wanted to twist and pull away, give your drooling cunt even a moment's reprieve, but you don’t give in to the urge. That wasn’t what he’d agreed to, and you trusted his judgment …

So you stand there, trembling, while your stiff nipples cut up into your shirt in search of the same friction, and you try not to cry out. Your pussy tingles against his hand, the pressure it exerts so constant and steady that it rapidly starts to feel like the building pressure in you is reaching critical mass. Much sooner than you could have anticipated or guessed, it was as if your body was particularly weak for monsieur Neuvillette’s dutiful attention.

Softly wheezing when your legs buckle and threaten to give out, you subtly tip your pelvis further into his hand and it becomes that much more apparent how wet you really are. How stiff and engorged your clit had gotten. A violent shudder tears through you at the meaty, swollen drag of it under his fingers, head tipping back and. - -

He retracts his hand so suddenly it leaves you lurching in place. Raggedly gasping at the sudden loss, you turn wide, wild eyes on monsieur Neuvillette but he merely gives you that same somber expression as he interlaces his fingers on top of his bent knee once again, unfalteringly casual about it.

“That will be all for right now, mademoiselle. Thank you.”

You just gape at him, stunned and confused, with your skirts still hiked up around your waist like a shameless fool. “Wh - wha —“

A look of sympathy flashes across monsieur Neuvillette’s face. “This is the penance you wanted so badly. As many times as you like, I will bring you close to orgasm but I will not let you actually reach climax. It is the only suitable punishment I could think of for your specific … transgression.”

It takes a great deal of effort for you to do it, but you suck in a slow, shuddering breath to steady yourself. “I … I see. Thank you, monsieur. I understand now.”

“Very good. Now, run along. I’m sure you’ve got work to do elsewhere.”

He offers you a small smile that you think is meant to be reassuring but it does very little to distract from the throbbing ache in your cunt or calm your pounding heartbeat. Numbly, you drop your skirt and petticoat back into place and run your hands over it to smooth out the (now real, not imagined) wrinkles as you slowly make your way towards the door. It was like you were in a trance.

“And mademoiselle?”

You pause, turning to look back at him. “Yes, monsieur?”

“I would like to see you in my office again around noontime. Please do not forget and don’t be late.”

~*~

It hadn’t taken you long to realize just how insidious and cruel this strange brand of punishment truly was. You left his office such a sticky mess between the legs that even trying to clean yourself in the powder room did little good against the slick oozing out of you to stain your panties and make them stick to you, moulding against your cunt. It serves as a near constant reminder of how close you’d been to climax, how monsieur Neuvillette’s fingers had felt touching such an intimate part of your body, and how torturous it had felt to have that friction taken away so suddenly.

The wisdom of the Iudex impresses you even now though, for you did indeed see why he’d deemed this the only appropriate corrective measure that would fit the crime. You had unknowingly strung mister Danon along with your feminine charm and wiles, so it did indeed make sense to turn that back around on you in some way.

And although it does take a while, the distracting pulse in your cunt slowly fades into an afterthought in the back of your mind while you flit about the Palais tending to various tasks and seeing that everything was as it should be. At some point you even start to forget how your damp panties cling to you and that makes it much easier to view this trial as an easy obstacle to overcome. You would simply allow monsieur Neuvillette to carry out this task a handful of times, consider your self flagellation completed and then move on with your life.

Yes, this really was the best method of making your peace with the situation.

Comforted in your conviction, you return to monsieur Neuvillette’s office at the appointed time and issue a gentle rap at the door. His voice filters through without missing a beat, calling for you to come in, and you enter without reservation.

Perhaps you should have been more wary of underestimating him or this game you were playing but you think nothing of it as you make your way across the room to stand in front of his stately desk. He looks up at you with a brief smile that inexplicably makes your pulse thrum a little faster, and that surprises you slightly. Catches you off guard.

“Thank you for your punctuality, little one. I have a meeting scheduled after lunch is over so I wanted to tend to you before I got too busy.”

Self consciously, you avert your gaze. “Are you sure this is alright, monsieur? I don’t want you to go hungry because of me.”

“Nonsense. I planned accordingly and already ate before you came by.” Not lingering on the thought for very long, he takes a moment to straighten a stack of papers and neatly set them aside, out of the way. Nudging his high backed chair out from under the desk, he half turns and situates himself first before reclining against the backrest and finally looking up at you again. “Come. No need to feel shy.”

His words have the opposite effect of making you feel ten times more shy than you originally did, and you can feel yourself starting to blush again as you slowly round the desk to come up beside him. Standing just a scant few inches from him like this it occurs to you, suddenly, that you probably should have been a bit more apprehensive about returning to his chamber like this. He was going to touch you again … oh, perhaps you had not thought this through all the way.

“Here.” He says, drawing you back into the moment with a gentle pat against his leg. “Sit on my lap, little one. This should make things a bit easier for both of us.”

The flush that crawls up your face is an intense and overwhelming one. “M - monsieur, I — I couldn’t possibly be so presumptuous!”

“Is it presumptuous if I’m telling you to do it?”

Your spine stiffens at the slightly hardened tone in his voice, the edge that seems to cut across any of your weak excuses, and you quickly realize it is once again the Chief Justice sitting before you now, not the kindly monsieur Neuvillette. And he was looking at you very expectantly.

Swallowing your nerves, you reluctantly shuffle closer and turn to lower yourself onto his leg with a slow, stiff motion of your body. The firm pressure and warmth of him underneath you is almost enough to send you running from the room in hysterics, but before you can even think to change your mind his arm comes forward to secure itself around your middle. A surprised little yelp bursts out of you when he hauls you back against him to settle more firmly on his lap, completely disregarding how you tense up and shudder on top of him.

“There. Isn’t that much better?” He softly coos at you, tugging you back to lean against his front. Your face feels like it’s on fire but you don’t fight it, only whimpering quietly when he at last has you situated how he wants.

“M - monsieur …” You mewl into the suddenly statically charged office, unable to stop it, but he just quietly tuts at you as he turns his head to press his mouth against your hair.

“Now, now, you’re alright. I’ve got you. There isn’t any reason to be so nervous.” A violent tremor tears through you when you feel his lips purse against the side of your head in what you think must be a brief kiss — but you don’t get the chance to fully process the significance of that as he bends a little closer to put his mouth near your ear now. “Spread your legs for me, little one. Let me see you.”

Dizzy with the surge of white hot arousal that abruptly crashes into you with all the force of a sack of bricks, you give a weak, twitchy roll of your body against him and reach down with trembling hands to grab at your skirt. Slowly inching it up, you tip your chin down to watch with him as more and more of your thighs are revealed. The soft pudge around the tops of your stockings embarrasses you somewhat but not nearly as much as your panties do. Even from this angle you can see a dark, wet spot staining the crotch when you ease your legs open and you whimper softly at the sight of it.

“Goodness, you certainly soaked yourself earlier didn’t you? Poor thing,” With a quiet click of his tongue, monsieur Neuvillette reaches down past cotton and lace, and voluminous frills to slide his hand over your mound. Your breath hitches as you watch him do it, cupping your pussy with an almost apologetic squeeze, and you quickly turn your head away before you can say or do something else you’ll regret today.

You had to admit, it was very naive and shortsighted of you to consider this an easy penance just because it was not a constant, pressing concern at the forefront of your mind. How very foolish you had been.

“I was thinking about it earlier and I found myself quite curious,” He admits, still just holding your cunt in the palm of his hand. “Would it be too impolite of me to ask how often you usually pleasure yourself?”

Your chest dramatically heaves with the ragged gasp you suck in. “Monsieur Neuvillette, that’s … why would you ask me something like that?”

“Oh dear, I hope I haven’t offended you. That was not my intention, little one. Please forgive me.” A pause, while he turns his head to press his lips against your hair again. “It is just that you are so shy and your body is so sensitive. I wondered if perhaps you were too ashamed to take care of your own needs in this manner, that’s all. I’ve heard some women are.”

Lungs painfully constricting inside your chest, you stiffly lift your hands up to cover your face. Having the Iudex pet you so intimately was one thing, but discussing such matters with him was something else entirely!

“P - please forgive me, monsieur … you haven’t offended me it’s just — I have no experience with this sort of thing. I do it, sometimes. Pleasure myself like that. But I’ve never had anyone else t - touch me in that way before …”

“I see.”

Silence settles over the room for a long, drawn out stretch that soon starts to ride the line of being uncomfortable. You can just start to feel the sting of hot tears creeping through at the corners of your eyes when he gently pats your cunt with the flats of his fingers, startling a surprised noise out of you. Lowering your hands enough to see, you gape down at yourself as he somewhat possessively cups his hand around you again and gives the pudge of your labia a light squeeze.

“Such a silly thing you are.” He says against your head, displacing some of the little flyways there to send them dancing at your peripheral. You barely even notice it though, trembling at the faintest hint of a growl in his voice when it sets your guts to vibrate and seems to reverberate inside your chest cavity. You’d never heard him sound like that before but don’t get the chance to linger on that thought or question it, because he nuzzles further into you until it feels like he’s speaking directly into your ear now. “In the future you should try not to be so forthcoming with your body when it comes to men. Had I been any less honorable I could have all too easily taken advantage of you earlier and I could still do it now had I wanted to. I understand your desire for wrongs to be appropriately righted as that is the very foundation Fontaine was built on but this is not the way to go about it, mademoiselle.”

Your mouth warbles open but nothing comes out. All you can do is sit there, quaking on monsieur Neuvillette’s lap, while his fingers slip into one side of your panties and tugs them aside. The sight of your own cunt lips, puffy and flushed with arousal, surprises a faltering animal noise out of you that seems to echo endlessly inside the room. He pays it little mind though and simply curls his thumb to brush over your slit and the clitoris hiding within, smearing sticky slick with that fine leather glove and nudging your body into opening up to him. Legs twitching, you jerk your hands down to latch onto the arm locked around your middle, clutching at him even as you fitfully writhe against the sensation.

All at once your earlier arousal comes crashing back with a vengeance, temporarily forgotten but not near as snuffed out as you would have liked it to be. Your clit thrums under his stilted caress as if the climax you’d been close enough to taste but not able to experience had lain dormant this entire time while you ensured the water pitchers were filled, the snack tables stocked and the fireplaces were appropriately stoked wherever they were needed. It shocks you a great deal to realize how powerful your arousal truly is, and you buck your hips with a whiny moan that would have embarrassed you under better circumstances.

But better circumstances would not have found your cunt absolutely flooding with a deluge of fresh slick, nor would your clit have been swelling as eagerly as it does. You can feel the meaty, engorged drag of it under the soft petting of his thumb, almost idly drawing it back and forth with a total lack of urgency that makes your head spin perhaps even more so than the sharp stabs of pleasure do. You wanted to cum, and the knowledge that he would not permit you to just makes you want it even more.

“Please, monsieur —!”

Softly humming, he presses his thumb down a bit more firmly. “Are you already getting close, little one?”

You tip your head back to rest on his broad shoulder, panting up at the ceiling while shuddering waves of yet unrealized ecstasy crash over you, each somehow more powerful than the last. Instinctively, you inch your legs further apart even as they tremble fiercely for him and you think, idly, you probably would have vibrated right off him had he not been keeping you pinned against his front. You’re helpless to do anything except sensitively quake like this, and you do so with great enthusiasm.

“It is too much … I - I can’t take it!”

“You will.” He assures you, his voice soft again but it still carries that subtle hint of an edge underneath the surface. You didn’t understand it, why he would sound like that. What had brought it on. Was he even more displeased with you than he’d suggested?

The thought alone brings tears to your eyes almost as much as the cresting pleasure making you writhe on his lap, and you squeeze your eyes shut to keep them at bay. You didn’t want to make him feel bad for causing you to cry when you were the one who had asked for this … but oh, it was so very hard not to give voice to the sobs threatening to wrack your body when it was all so much. The firm, weighty pressure of his thumb petting over your cunt, his other fingers idly teasing along your slit where they were still holding your panties aside. The smell of him, the taste of him lingering on the back of your tongue, his sturdy weight underneath you. It was all too much, and it felt like you were drowning in him.

“Let this be a lesson to you,” He continues, unconcerned with the way you twist against him and choke on stuttering gasps. “Even more pressing than the matter with mister Danon, I’m far more concerned about how easily you gave yourself up to a man to do with however he pleased for the sake of penance. Needless self sacrifice is not justice, sweet girl. I do hope you’ll remember that.”

Bending his head close once more, monsieur Neuvillette presses his mouth to your hammering pulse, and you mewl at the contact. It is not so much a kiss, you abruptly realize, as it is a not very subtle threat. Like there was a beast lurking beneath that kindly gentleman facade …

“Oh, monsieur, I — I’m going to —“

“No, you are not.” He cuts across you, practically hisses it against your jugular, and you nearly jolt right off him when the arm around your middle slides up to lock across your front at an angle. Suddenly he pinches your nipple through your shirt where it’s stiff and straining against cotton, giving it a mean little tweak to make your back bow. Trying to twist away proves futile and you yelp at the pleasure laced pain even as your cunt drools even more obscenely in response.

You felt like you were going crazy. Truly wild with potent, cloying arousal so powerful, so overwhelming, you can’t even process what’s happening to you while you shake right to the edge of your release.

And just like that, the hand on your pussy retreats, pulling away altogether to leave your panties shamelessly askew in favor of latching onto the swell of your inner thigh and keeping them spread when you frantically buck your hips in search of that fleeting touch. You heave and groan, reeling at the total loss of friction, but it is useless. Monsieur Neuvillette is an unyielding presence at your back no matter how earnestly you squirm against him, and his gloved fingers give your aching teat another cruel tug to further stave off your release.

You’re more than a bit horrified, in a delirious, hazy sort of way, to find that the pain serves its purpose in chasing away your climax enough to leave your pussy absolutely throbbing in the wake of this denial. No longer teetering right on the precipice, it seems to force you back a pace or two and all you can do is look on longingly at the promise of oblivion beyond with yearning and desperation. Wanting, but not allowed to have.

You truly had underestimated just how tortuous this punishment technique could really be …

Through the murky fever you feel monsieur Neuvillette brush his mouth across your cheek to press at the corner of your eye, effectively drawing you out of your groaning stupor. Sucking in a ragged gasp, you clutch at his arm all the tighter and try in vain to lean away.

“M - monsieur?”

“You’re crying.”

Noising a soft sound of confusion, you blearily blink your eyes open to realize that they were in fact clouded with a swimming sheen of tears making them burn. Sniffling sadly, you start to reach up to swipe them away in shame but the hand on your breast comes up quicker and locks under your jaw, physically turning your face towards him.

Laying spread out on top of him with your head forced back against his shoulder, you look up at monsieur Neuvillette from just a scant few millimeters away. His expression is still somber and unreadable but … the glint in his pale lilac eyes makes your chest hitch. It wasn’t hunger the same way you’d on occasion caught other men looking at you — men like mister Danon, you realize in retrospect — but it is a hunger all the same. Something old and primal, from a long forgotten dark age that inspires a slow curling tendril of uncertainty low in your gut. You don’t think it’s lust per se, not in the usual sense, but a kind of lust, perhaps. One you didn’t have a name for.

One you weren’t sure if you wanted to learn the true nature of.

After silently studying you for a long moment, he finally drags his gaze from your face to regard the tall, stately clock standing sentry in the office, the only witness to this lurid state of affairs. “I still have some time before my meeting. I think we should be able to squeeze in one more session before I have to go.”

You very nearly give voice to a hysterical, broken sob, just barely managing to choke it back with a frazzled whine instead. “Monsieur —“

“Hush, little one.” He murmurs and leans close again, stunned surprise washing over you when his tongue flicks out to lick up a wet tear from under your eye. You gape at him in shocked disbelief when he pulls back enough to look at you again, leaving behind residual moisture on your skin, but he doesn’t even look the least bit put out or sorry for it. Like it was a perfectly normal thing for him to be doing. Perhaps it was. You had no idea – and if he recognizes your surprised reaction for what it is, he certainly doesn’t show it. “You have nothing to fear from me. I will ensure your punishment is properly administered and then we shall further discuss your other behaviors in greater detail. Rest assured, you will be appropriately corrected in time. I will personally see to that myself.”

⭐

Crossposted: here

#genshin impact #neuvillette #neuvillete x reader #self insert bullshit

148 notes · View notes

jasntodds · 2 years ago

Text

Migraines | J.T.

Pairing: Jason Todd x Reader

Request: Anon - “Hey I get pretty bad migraines, and i was going the injury prompt list and #4 and #6 kind of remind me of how my lovely s/o takes care of me when i have an episode. I’d love to see those prompts with jason todd! Prompts: (from here) #4: Trying to hide your injury from them, but failing miserably once you faint right in front of them #6: Staying the night in case they need your help, being asked to sleep on the bed instead of the couch/floor

Summary: You have a migraine and try to hide it from Jason until you manage to faint in front of him, sending him into a worrying spin over you

Warnings: Description of migraines, friends to lovers, mentions of being nauseous from the migraine, fluff, hurt/comfort (kind of)

Words: 4,595

A/n: I am both a big sucker for injury prompts and Jason Todd so here we are lol I also get migraines so anon, I’m sorry you’re dealing with them 😭 I did friends to lovers just because I thought it fit a little better with the second prompt!! If you wanna be added to my tag list, click the link below, send me an ask, or comment!! You can also follow my library blog @jasntoddslibrary !! If you like this, please reblog it and/or talk to me about it!!

masterlist | request info | tag list

It starts as a mild headache. It’s just an ache in the beginning of your head at first that’s a bit annoying but nothing horrible. However, with your history of migraines, you take your precautions to prevent it from turning into a migraine. The thing about the migraines is they tend to send you out of commission until they go away. You always play it out to be just a mild headache or that you’re just tired and take a nap. Jason doesn’t actually know how bad your headaches (migraines) actually are. He’s Robin! Jason could have ten broken bones and still go out swinging. You get a migraine and want to explode.

After about two hours though, the mild headache has turned into a full-blown migraine. It’s throbbing in the front of your head. Your stomach is nauseous with the pain and every bit of light in the room makes you cringe. You’re in the library of Wayne Manor with Jason, sitting with him while the two of you read and reading is making it worse. You swear you’ve been on the same page for twenty minutes, unable of focus your eyes or your attention on the book. Everything hurts, even moving your eyes is agonizing.

“You good?” Jason looks over at you, noticing you haven’t turned a page in a while.

“Oh, yeah.” Your voice is quiet as you give him a fake smile and a very subtle reassuring nod, almost wincing with the movement.

“You don’t look good.” Jason sees the grimace across your face. “Seriously,” He puts his finger in the book to hold the page while he closes it. “What’s wrong?”

“I’m just tired.” You shrug it off. “I’m just gonna take a nap.” You smile sweetly but faintly.

“You’re a bad fucking liar.” Jason chuckles softly as you get off the couch. “I know something’s wrong, can’t hide it from me, babe.” There’s a cheeky grin tugging at his lips when you turn to face him, knowing he’s trying to get the real answer out of you by being cheeky.

“Jay, I’m fine.” You insist, giving him a toothy grin as if that’s enough to convince him but the window is right behind Jason and you moved too quickly.

Everything is spinning and throbbing and pounding and your vision is blurring in and out. Everything is agonizing and all you want to do is curl into a ball and melt away. Your heart is starting to race while your legs are starting to feel weak and shaky.

“Y/n?” Jason calls, the grin completely vanishing as he watches the look at your face turn distant and shallow just as your legs give out.

Jason scrambles to his feet, catching your head just before you hit the ground. Panic courses through Jason’s blood as he holds your head in his hands, unsure of what just happened. You’ve never fainted before. He knew something was wrong but something wrong enough to make you faint? He never would have guessed and he’s kicking himself for not realizing that it was something that bad. He should known better, paid closer attention maybe. Something. But, then your eyes open slowly, you barely coming to with your head still pounding like a kickdrum at a rock concert.

“Hey, holy shit, are you okay?” Jason’s words are slurred as he looks at you but you can’t make them out. Everything sounds mixed together, hazy even. “Y/n?” Jason asks and as your vision starts to steady slightly, you can make out his brown eyes laced in worry, forehead wrinkled.

The jig is up.

“Migraine.” You mutter out.

Jason lets out a sigh, wondering why you didn’t just tell him. You both make fun of each other with little stuff. It’s all fun and games though, Jason tends to take some low blows when he gets mad but it’s never anything too horrible and you know where not to cross a line. Had you just told him you had a migraine, he wouldn’t have made a joke or yelled to make it worse. He would have just let you rest. Jason knows his constant training even with an injury isn’t normal, most people know when to tap out. He doesn’t want you to end up like him, unable to take a break even from just reading a book with him.

“Come on.” Jason slides his hands out from under your head as you sit up. “Get your ass to bed.” Jason stands up, offering both of his hands to you to help you up.

You take his hands gingerly in yours, carefully and slowly getting up, trying not to move too much or too fast. “I’ll be fine.” You brush it off once you’re on your feet.

You don’t want to bother him with it. Migraines are debilitating but it’s still a headache. It just sounds so pitiful in a way. You have to nap in the middle of the day over a headache. Jason shouldn’t be bothered with it or you. You’ll take a nap and maybe you’ll feel better later.

“Yeah, then ya fucking fainted.” Jason scoffs, not realizing he was still holding your hands.

“Mhm.” You hum, your mouth dry from the nausea of the throbbing headache.

“I’ll walk you.” He offers, realizing your hands are soft in his.

His heart swells with the idea but he lets go and opts to move to your side, resting a hand on the small of your back. He gestures for you to start walking, him walking right beside you and not moving his hand just making sure you don’t fall or faint again.

If your head wasn’t a throbbing and pulsating mess right now, you’d have some comment about how nice he’s being. Jason can be a little less than nice at times with people, but he does have these really nice moments with you ever since you followed him to Gotham. It’s….domestic in a way. At Titans Tower, there was this ruggedness to everything and this hardness that almost surrounded him, a bitterness that ate at his bones. But, when he’s here, he’s kinder. He’s still rough around the edges, that’s just Jason but he’s kinder and you’d be lying if you said you don’t like the kinder side of him that mixes with his sarcasm. And maybe if your head wasn’t causing such agonizing pain, you’d notice him looking more at you instead of where you were walking, his eyes laced with worry. It’s just a headache he tells himself, but he worries anyway because it’s you.

Jason gets you to bed, you swearing you can get into bed just fine but he doesn’t take that for an answers. You fainted in front of him and now he’s determined to not let you do anything until you’re feeling better. You’re his best friend and while it’s a migraine, he doesn’t want you to hurt yourself more or prolong the pain. So, he pulls the blankets over you and takes your phone from you before putting it on silent and putting it on your nightstand.

“Did you need anything?” He asks, trying to hide his concern from his voice.

“No,” You say softly, comfortable in your bed now and glad to be able to sleep. “Thanks.”

Jason nods, sticking his hands in his pockets. “Text me if you need something, alright? Don’t go getting up and making shit worse.” Jason offers an awkward laugh.

“Yes, sir.” You mutter, giving him a soft smile.

“I mean it.” He warns as he starts walking towards the door.

“Thanks, Jay.” Your voice is a little louder this time so you know he’ll hear you.

Jason smiles softly. “Yeah.” He nods at you before leaving your room, shutting the door slowly and quietly to allow you to sleep.

Jason leaves you alone for a few hours, casually passing by your room every fifteen minutes just in case. Of course, Jason doesn’t realize he’s passing by so often. He’ll go into one of the living areas and then conveniently remember he needed something from his room which is next to yours. Or he’ll go back to the library only to realize he needed something from the kitchen which means he has to pass by your room. He plays this little game for a few hours, getting an eyebrow raise from Bruce every time Jason passes him in a different room. After the fifth time, Bruce finally just asked what was going on. Jason tried to brush it off with “Forgot something again.” Bruce didn’t press but figured it had something to do with you. Jason isn’t the forgetful type and it made Bruce chuckle softly to himself.

But, after that few hours, Jason got a bit stir-crazy worrying about you. You’re his main form of entertainment here. You’re both either training (to Bruce’s dismay) or joking with each other or reading. You show him a lot of movies and TV shows he’s missed. You’re always together and now he’s just bored and worried. So, he makes his way to your room around 10pm with a glass of water and he knocks softly, hoping it wasn’t too loud but that you heard him. You don’t answer though and Jason feels a bit more worried, so he opens the door just slightly to look inside.

You’re asleep in the same exact position he left you in. Your room is completely dark, the currents drawn and the TV off. But, Jason shines just enough light into your room to stir you awake. Your eyes peek open, catching a blurry glimpse of him in your doorframe, able to make out his dark hair.

“Jay?” You question, barely noticing the throbbing of your head slightly better than it was a few hours ago.

“Sorry.” Jason mumbles. “Wanted to make sure you didn’t die or some shit.” He brushes the worry from his words, trying to act casual.

“I’m alive.” Your voice is weak, stinging Jason’s heart.

Jason takes a step in the room, leaving the door cracked so he can actually see you. “Feeling any better?” He asks.

“Migraine is still kicking.” The sarcasm in your voice is even weak and Jason feels so bad for you.

And he’s still worried because you don’t normally nap this long. It makes him wonder if you nap just long enough to ease some of the migraine but still keep up appearances. But now he does know, so maybe your migraines do last this long after all this time and he feels horrible.

“Well,” Jason walks over, resting the water on your nightstand which you definitely take note of. Was that the excuse he was going to use if you were awake? Bringing you a glass of water? That’s kind of sweet. He sticks his hands in his pockets. “I’m going to get my stuff then.” He holds his head up high, chest puffing out slightly. “Gotta make you sure you don’t croak in your sleep or something.” Jason nods his head, giving you this half-cocked grin. “Or,” Jason clears his throat. “Just in case you need something.”

“In case I need something?” You wanna make fun of him so bad, you love making fun of him. It’s how you two show affection but, you’re actually curious where this is going. The migraine might still be kicking, but the curiosity has now taken over.

“Yeah,” He shrugs casually. “I don’t want you to suffer longer so if you need something, you won’t have to deal with it.” He shifts his weight from his toes to heels.

“Awww.” You manage the quip with a smile.

“Shut the fuck up.” Jason chuckles softly, dodging his eyes from you for a second. “So, I’m staying in here tonight and you’re just gonna have to suck it up.”

“Fine.” You try to sound stern but there’s a smile playing at your lips and your chest bursts of warmth with having Jason stay in your room.

That’s something neither of you do. You are friends and the flirting sometimes gets a bit…too flirty. There’s a difference between two friends flirting and joking around and whatever the hell the two of you do. You always get just a little too close to Jason and Jason always comes up with a quip that’s said a little too seriously. There is this invisible line neither of you have ever crossed because it overcomplicates a fun situation. Jason doesn’t think you’re into him that way and you think if you were to ever tell Jason, he’d laugh or make it weird. But, maybe this is a good opportunity to try something a little less flirty and fun and try something a little more casual and soft.

When Jason comes back, he’s in grey joggers and a loose black t-shirt. He has a pillow with a beige pleated pillowcase under one arm and a matching blanket draped over the other arm. He said he’d go get his stuff but you were certain he was just being dramatic. Jason has always had a flare for the dramatics. And a part of you thought for sure Jason was just going to slide into bed with you with a cheeky grin because that’s just Jason. But, he doesn’t. He puts his pillow on the floor beside your side of the bed. You eye him with suspicion, not moving your head and you want to laugh but you know it’ll just hurt.

“What’re you doing?” You ask once Jason sits on the floor.

He looks at you with, what you swear seems to be innocence. “Sleeping on the floor?” He questions back, not sure why you’re asking.

You let out a huff, smiling down at him. “Can you just sleep in the bed with me, please?” You ask and at this point, you don’t even want to deny the fact having him next to you would at least bring you comfort. You always sit close to him because it’s comforting but having him sleeping next to you now with a throbbing migraine? That might be the only thing you actually want, besides the pain to stop.

Jason gains this smirk and devious look in his eyes. “Oh, want me in the bed, huh?”

“Shut up.” You groan. “I said please.” You pout a lip at him and Jason swears he thinks it’s the cutest thing in the world.

“Since you asked so nicely, babe.” He emphasizes the word and your stomach spins with butterflies.

Jason walks to the other side of the bed and gently flips the blankets up to get underneath them. He tries to play this off in the cool, calm, and collected way he tries to play everything like this, getting a little too close to you. His heart is thundering in his chest and he tells himself that you’re just being nice because he’s being nice. This is a nice, friendly thing to do to make sure you’re okay and he doesn’t wake up with back pain in the morning. This is a casual, friendly thing you’re doing.

You roll over slowly, careful not to move your head too much. The migraine is just barely starting to subside but you know if you move too much or try to stay awake, it will come back with a vengeance. So, you remain careful as you move closer to Jason. He stretches his arm behind your head almost instinctively, careful not to hit to your head with the movement. Your head lays on his chest and you have to admit, he is so warm.

Jason brings his arm around you, pulling you closer to him and this is kind of nice. He wishes your head wasn’t in pain so maybe this would be something a little more or something would come out of it. But, he’s so sure that you’re only willing to cuddle with him like this because you’re in pain and for a reason he doesn’t fully understand, you find comfort in him being here. Your head is aching but this is the most comfortable you’ve been in forever. Jason is comfortable.

“Thanks for checking on me.” You whisper to him, your eyes closed as you listen to his heart still thundering in his chest. “And the water.”

A bashful smile comes to his lips. “Yeah,” You feel him huff under you. “‘Course.”

“Why is your heart beating so fast?” You ask.

Jason pauses, his eyes widening. How is he somehow at a loss for words? He’s never at a loss for words but how’s he supposed to answer that without admitting anything? Your question and his running through about it just made his heart beat faster.

“Are you...nervous?” A gentle chuckle leaves your lips, you wincing with the throbbing.

“Fuck off, no I’m not nervous.” Jason groans.

“Okay, Jason.” A snicker comes from you. “Seriously, thank you for staying.” Your voice is quiet and coated in a honey-like sincerity.

Jason sucks in a breath and honesty isn’t exactly his thing. Not that he lies, he just doesn’t say how he feels but you’re kind of really important to him.

“Yeah, well, I’d kind of doing anything for your ass.” Jason chuckles.

“I know.” You smile to yourself. You know he would. He’s a bit rough around the edges and he has his issues that he’s kind of trying to deal with, but you know he’d do anything for you. “I’d do anything for you, too.” You admit, just sensing the deadpan expression he’s giving you. But before he can turn it into some type of flirty, taunting banter, you continue. “Goodnight, Jay.”

“Night, Y/n.” Jason lets out a sigh, rubbing your back lightly.

You fall asleep first, the migraine fully wearing you out and Jason offers the perfect amount of comfort. He’s soft and there’s a firmness of his chest that isn’t hard or too stiff. It’s just firm enough to offer support and just the right amount of soft. You think he makes a better pillow than your own (which is insane since Bruce did not skimp on the pillows). Jason, on the other hand, he stays awake a little longer.

It’s been harder for him to fall asleep ever since Deathstroke. But, tonight, that’s not where his head is focused and he has to admit, it’s a bit cathartic. He’s so careful not to move or tense up with you so peacefully asleep under him. He doesn’t want to disturb you because of your migraine and he doesn’t want to disturb you and make you move away from him. You keep him calm and turn his brain off for a little bit. He always chalked it up to you being friends. You’re one of the only people who ever really listened to him anyway and that always helped a bit but, he’s looking down at you with this gentle smile and that’s his real ‘oh shit’ moment.

It’s not just flirting for fun or the joking banter, but a genuine liking between him and you. Deep inside, he knew why he was worried about you and why his heart was beating so fast. Deep down he knew why he didn’t risk immediately getting into bed with you, because he didn’t want to scare you off and risk you turning him away from the room altogether. But, right now with the dark room and you asleep on his chest, finding comfort in him, he knows and he knows he won’t be able to ignore the warmth in the pit of his stomach. So, he closes his eyes and settles with the thought of maybe. With the thought of maybe something happening between the two of you and the thought of maybe this becoming your thing because that’s where he finds comfort. In the thought of maybe.

The next morning comes around and you wake up first, bright and early. Your head is a bit groggy from the migraine but you’re finally away from the pain. As long as you get some food and water, it should stay away. You’re in such a state of relief the migraine has finally released you from it’s grip, you almost don’t realize your head is still on Jason’s chest. It only takes less a minute for you to realize it but it’s long enough to surprise you.

You sit up slightly, looking at him and for once, Jason Todd looks peaceful. There’s a blooming happiness that pulls at your heart as you watch him. He’s had it rough and he never really looks at peace, not fully but he does right now and you adore him so much. You don’t think he sees how happy he makes you and you wish he did. Jason Todd also deserves to live in peace and happiness with love and acceptance and that’s all you ever really want for him.

“Hey.” You whisper, poking his cheek softly. “Jaaaayyyyyy.” You hold out his name, poking his cheek again as he scrunches his face and you swear it’s the cutest thing in the world.

“What?” He mumbles, voice drenched in sleep, almost incoherent.

“You’re kind of cute when you’re sleeping.” You keep your voice a whisper and it’s the most graceful alarm Jason has ever had. Alarm even seems like too harsh of a word to call you.

He peaks an eye open at you, managing this expression of a cross between annoyance and teasing. “Just my face, babe.” He has this tired smirk that gets your stomach in a twist.

“Eh.” You shrug at him while he opens his other eye. “‘S alright, I guess.” You tease him and the annoyance evaporates from his expression.

“How long’ve you been up?” Jason asks, enjoying the lively expression back on your face.

You look like the sun now which he thinks is a cheesy thought but it’s true. Last night, you looked like a rain cloud and not even the cool ones that are large and fluffy, consuming the whole sky in lumps of deep greys and blues. No, last night you just looked like the rain smog around Gotham, gloomy and tired.

“Just a few minutes.” You answer casually before running a hand through his hair. It’s wild this morning, curly strands standing up and scattered about the pillow.

“What’re you doing?” Jason laughs, eyes looking up at your arm and back you.

“Messing with your hair, it’s shockingly soft.”

“Shockingly?” Jason chortles. “The fuck is that supposed to mean?”

“I don’t know.” You laugh back, pulling your hand away and resting it on his chest. “Thought it would be stringy.”

Jason’s brows furrows, the smile still tugging at his lips. “Yeah, okay, perfect sense.” He jokes with you and there’s something about how this feels right now. It’s not the tension-filled flirting the two of you do. There’s something so domestic about it that he really likes. “You hungry?”

“Starving.” Your eyes widen dramatically.

“Alright, what do ya want?” Jason wiggles his brows at you. “I’ll cook.”

Your brows shoot up with surprise. Jason has cooked for you a handful of times, but it’s not that he really offers. He just kind of makes something and then tells you to try it. “What’re you up to, Todd?” Your eyes narrow at him playfully.

Jason shakes his head, smile turning down and then twitching back up. “Just being nice.”

“Well, I won’t turn down food.” You laugh softly before telling him one of your favorite breakfast foods.

“You got it.” Jason nods at you while you get off of him so he can get off the bed.

“Are you gonna bring it to me?” You pout up at him as he looks down at you. He thinks you look pitiful in the cutest way possible.

He shakes his head and he wants to argue it, tease you but he can’t. “Fine, but you owe me.” Jason has a one-sided grin as he points a finger at you jokingly.

“I’ll take that.” You beam a smile up at him, shocked he actually said he’d bring it to you.

Jason tosses the idea around in his head and you’re clearly feeling better, so why not? “How about a date then?” The words are much smoother than the frantic thoughts in his head. He’s a bit panicked that he just asked that, thinking maybe you’d actually say no or laugh. He’d be devastated if you did and then probably hide out in the Batcave for the rest of the day.

The smile falls from your face for a second, unsure if he’s joking or not. He doesn’t look like he’s joking. He actually looks pretty serious despite the devious grin on his face. There’s a pleading in his eyes that tells you he’s completely serious and you just can’t believe it. You thought Jason just liked flirting and maybe he does, but you thought that’s all it was. It was something you just accepted after a few months at Titans Tower. You just accepted that’s all it would ever be but now? It seems as if it’s real.

“Seriously?” You ask, your voice not giving Jason any indication on how you feel about it.

He shrugs a shoulder, trying his best to play it off. “Yeah, why not?”

The smile comes back to your face and you can feel the heat coming to your cheeks. “Yeah, okay. When do you wanna go?”

Jason’s heart is exploding into fireworks across his chest. You actually said yes. But, he didn’t think he’d get this far into the conversation so now he’s just stuck making it up on the fly. “Tomorrow?” Jason asks, figuring tomorrow would be better in case you need today to recover from the migraine.

“It’s a date.” You’re beaming up at him and the giddiness consumes your bones like a kid in a candy story for the first time.

“Awesome.” Jason smiles widely, looking to the floor and back to you, a few strands of his hair bouncing onto his forehead. “I’ll go make your breakfast and bring it to you then.”

“Thank you, Jay.” You give him a toothy smile. “You’re gonna eat with me right?”

“I guess.” Jason wrinkles his nose, his cheeks starting to ache from the smile.

“Okay, well hurry up, I wanna hear about this date you have planned.” You tease him and watch him stiffen just slightly.

“Just for that,” Jason says as he heads for the door. “I’ll take my sweet ass time.”

“Or, you could hurry up and come back to bed.” You taunt him, brushing your hand over his side of the bed and you can see his jaw clench.

“Fuck, yeah, alright.” Jason groans, knowing he’s lost and you fall into a fit of laughter, a sound Jason adores. “I’ll be right back.” Jason says before quickly leaving the room, leaving your door open just a bit.

You fall back into the pillows, ecstatic that you have a date with your best friend and he’s making you breakfast. A part of you finds it funny that this whole thing is because you fainted over a migraine.

masterlist | request info | tag list

Tag list: @fairyofshampoo // @jasontoddsmentaldisorders // @purplerose291 // @lovelessamai // @makaelaseresin

#jason todd #jason todd x reader #jason todd fanfic #jason todd fanfiction #titans #titans fanfic #titans fanfiction #jason todd one-shot #jason todd one shot #request #i too cannot believe i wrote 3 whole things of fluff back to back #who am i #actually writing fluffy jason was fun i had a great time

697 notes · View notes

kingofbodyrolls · 8 months ago

Text

My Heart's Home (m) | pjm | three

🐴Chapter summary: You win some and you lose some— isn’t that how the saying goes? But when you keep messing up, how long does it take for your sister to get enough of your fuck ups? 🐴Chapter title: Sometimes 🐴Pairings: jimin x reader (main), jungkook x reader (only happens once in the first chapter), jungkook x OC (jessi), namjoon x OC (jessi), yoongi x hoseok, namjoon x oc, seokjin x oc, taehyung x oc 🐴Characters: female reader (isn’t mentioned by name and no “y/n”), Jimin, Jungkook, Namjoon, Yoongi, Hoseok, Seokjin, Taehyung and four female original characters. 🐴Genre/AU: ranch!au, slice of life!au, soulmate!au, cowboy!au + smut, humor, fluff, romance, slow burn and angst 🐴Rating: mature/explicit/R18 – this is mature/explicit content, so minors, please do not interact!

🐴Disclaimer: I do not own BTS or know them personally and this work of fiction is purely fictional and for entertainment purposes only. The actions and personalities described in the story do not reflect those of BTS— it’s just fiction. Also, if you would kindly read the tags/warnings before reading, that would be lovely: and if you don’t like whatever is described in the tags, just hit return and find something else to read. Thank you 🌸 🐴Chapter warnings: some sexual tension and angst! A storm is brewing ⛈️ + a horse in pain (colic), also Jessi is a real pain in the ass in this chapter, sorry. 🐴Status: completed 🥳 🐴Word count: 11.8k 🐴Taglist: @kookswifesblog, @kiki-zb, @babejinnie, @ownthesunshine, @allie-is-a-panda, @glllhjh, @bergandysam, @13-manggaetteok, @jeonsbabygirlsworld,

*tumblr isn’t letting me tag you! There could be a lot of reasons for that, check out this lovely post about it.

🐴Now playing 💿 “Sometimes” by Rebecca Lavelle. [Wanna listen to the serie’s playlist?] 🐴Author’s note(1): I’m not a vet okay– so some of the descriptions regarding veterinary treatment of horses might not be 100% spot on, lol.

Also, I know that you all want MC and Jimin to get together, and it is coming soon— I promise! 🫶 The next chapter is actually one of my favorites 🥰

It’s been cross posted to AO3 if you prefer to read there. Wanna see the book cover?

← previous | s.masterlist | m.masterlist | next →

“Sometimes at the edge of sight Something moves which isn't there You turn to look but it's gone, it's gone Was it ever really there Yet it touches you Softly touches you And then it begins again” - ‘Sometimes’ by Rebecca Lavelle

Perplexed, you question why Jessi deemed it a brilliant idea for you to single-handedly corral the sheep into the pen. You move at a measured trot, employing subtle cues with your legs on Marshmallow to orchestrate the intricate dance required to guide the sheep to their destination.

Eager to excel and make a lasting impression, you're determined to master the task your sister entrusted you with. The desire to earn Jessi's approval fuels your determination, pushing you to strive for excellence in her eyes.

With a subtle click of your tongue, you skillfully guide the reins, prompting Marshmallow to gracefully trot to the right and deftly corral a stray sheep back into the fold.

A sense of surprise washes over you as you realize just how adept you are at this task. It feels surprisingly easy, and a newfound energy surges within, allowing you to even whistle a tune as the ranch comes into view on the horizon. The girls await your successful return at the shed, a testament to your growing confidence. Almost there.

Grinning ear to ear, you reach the gate of the pen and energetically wave to Ara, Soo-ah, and Ha-rin, your sister nowhere to be seen.

Approaching the gate, you deftly lean over Marshmallow, swing it open, and expertly turn the horse around. With determination, you guide the sheep into the pen, where the girls await, poised for the upcoming shearing.

“You did such a nice job!” Soo-ah's voice echoes with admiration, her wide smile and doe-like eyes expressing genuine appreciation. You nod in gratitude, turning Marshmallow toward the barn to return him to the field, a sense of accomplishment swelling within you.

Guiding Marshmallow into the barn with deliberate ease, you orchestrate a gradual slowdown. With a practiced motion, you swing your leg over the saddle and dismount, grounding yourself with a gentle touch on the barn floor. “Such a good boy,” you murmur affectionately, your hand caressing Marshmallow's neck, eliciting a delighted response from the appreciative horse.

Effortlessly unhooking the girdle from the saddle, you carefully lift it off Marshmallow's back and return it to its designated spot on the saddle hook in the corner. He stands patiently, awaiting your return to relieve him of his bridle. A soft click of your tongue signals him to follow as you lead him gracefully to a paddock.

As you swing the gate open for Marshmallow, you marvel at the grace with which he bounds into the paddock, joining the rhythmic dance of the other horses. A peculiar warmth envelops your heart, a sense of fulfillment washing over you. The silent camaraderie among these majestic creatures stirs a deep nostalgia, making you keenly aware of how much you've yearned for the company of horses.

With a heart brimming with affection, you stride purposefully back to the shed where the girls await assistance in shearing the sheep. The prospect of shearing, an uncharted territory for you, looms uncertainly. Doubts flicker like fleeting shadows—will you navigate the shearing process with finesse, or fumble in your attempt? The anticipation lingers, but optimism threads through your thoughts as you hope for a seamless endeavor.

The girls deftly corral sheep, ushering them one by one into the bustling shearing shed. Jessi, now a commanding presence, orchestrates the operation with vocal precision, her directives ringing out amid the flurry of wooly activity.

“Go grab a sheep!” Jessi commands, her voice cutting through the wooly chaos. You heed her directive, but the task is easier said than done. The sheep evade your advances, darting away like fleeting shadows, leaving you in a comical dance of pursuit.

Balancing on the delicate line between assertiveness and consideration, you tread lightly with the sheep. Jessi's voice echoes in your mind, emphasizing the significance of stress-free herding. You avoid being too imposing, a mindful dance to ensure the flock remains undisturbed by your presence. Struggling to find the right pace, you navigate the delicate task of herding without causing distress. Yet, your caution results in a slow, deliberate progress that doesn't align with Jessi's brisk expectations.

“What's the hold up?” echoes your sister's impatient voice from within the shed, prompting an audible sigh of frustration to escape your lips.

“They run away as soon as I approach! I can't catch a single fucking one…” you lament with a deflated sigh, watching Ha-rin effortlessly wrangle a sheep into the shed for Jessi to shear. The task seems so effortless for her, and you can't help but feel a sense of frustration settling in.

“You've got to assert yourself without stressing them out!” Jessi's instructions echo from the shed. Easier said than done, you think to yourself.

Why can't she take charge of the herding, leaving you to shear the sheep? After all, how hard can that be? You've handled clippers while cutting hair before!

“Can’t we switch places?” You groan audibly, surrendering and entering the shed. Inside, you find a visibly sweaty Jessi and Soo-ah hard at work shearing sheep. They sport tank tops, drenched in sweat, and you glance at your hoodie, realizing it's time to shed that too. Without second thoughts, you peel it off.

Jessi looks up, setting down the clippers after finishing with one sheep. As it walks off into another pen, she questions, “Do you really want to shear the sheep?”

“Yeah,” you affirm, standing in your tank top, determined to dive into the task at hand. After all, how challenging could it really be?

Jessi chuckles, clearly amused by your determination. She powers down the clippers and stretches her back, beads of sweat tracing a path from her hairline down her face. She breathes heavily, as if she's just completed a vigorous run.

She explains, wiping her face with a cloth, “Just pull this to start the clippers, and again when you're done with a sheep.” Her smile is encouraging as she heads outside into the brisk, hot sun to fetch sheep for you.

Jessi hands you a squirming sheep, and its resistance is evident as you grapple to steady it in your arms for shearing. The sound of Jessi's laughter echoes through the shed as you wrestle with the stubborn creature. You grasp the clippers, initiating their hum, and lower them toward the sheep's wool. Yet, the distressed animal resists, and your attempts to shear off even a single piece of wool are thwarted as it breaks free, darting around the shed in a state of panic.

Laughter erupts in the shed, a symphony of joy, and Jessi joins in with such enthusiasm that she clutches her stomach. Tears, mingled with sweat, streak down her face.

“You have to hold it down, gently though,” Soo-ah instructs, her hands expertly guiding the clippers through the wool of her own sheep. The ease with which she maneuvers the tool makes you realize that she's mastered the art, turning the seemingly complicated task into a graceful dance with the clippers. You watch, determined to learn, as she transforms the shearing process into a captivating display of skill.

“Okay,” you affirm, a newfound determination burning in your eyes as you prepare to make another attempt.

Jessi deftly catches the elusive sheep that had evaded you earlier, guiding it back to the pen with a gentle touch. She shares insights about the importance of letting the sheep de-stress before attempting to shear, imparting her seasoned knowledge in a blend of expertise and empathy.

Jessi strides out to fetch another sheep, its wooly resistance evident in the struggle against her hold. Passing the lively bundle of wool to you, she entrusts you with the task. Cradling the spirited creature in your arms, you activate the clippers, their hum filling the air as you carefully guide them over the sheep's body, determined to conquer the challenge of shearing.

The sheep surprisingly cooperates, holding still as you work the clippers through its wool. Just as you start feeling victorious, Jessi reenters the shed, her expert eye catching a potential mishap.

“Not that close to the skin, or you’re gonna cut it,” she advises, and a frown creases your face. Examining your progress, you notice the sheep's skin perilously close to being nicked. Quickly shutting off the clippers, you release the half-sheared sheep, which makes a hasty escape. Fortunately, Soo-ah intercepts and expertly completes the shearing process.

Frustration bubbles within you as you groan, “Fuck. This is hard.”

The sense of failure looms large – unable to smoothly handle the sheep, struggling with the clippers, you question your competence. What, in this unfamiliar environment, can you actually accomplish?

The stifling air in the cramped shed starts to feel suffocating, prompting an urgent need for a breath of fresh air.

“Did you expect it to be easy?” Soo-ah inquires, a knowing smile playing on her lips. Your head shakes in uncertainty. Perhaps. All you yearn for is to excel, to instill a sense of pride in your sister, to debunk the notion that you're merely an inept city dweller. However, in this moment, that's precisely how you perceive yourself.

“You know what– I'm going to take a breather and catch some fresh air,” you declare to the girls, conceding once more. This situation is not to your liking; you yearn to contribute meaningfully on the ranch. Yet, you can't shake the feeling that you're merely impeding everyone's progress.

The girls offer silent nods as you exit, no further words exchanged. Your head hangs low; pride in your performance is absent. You could have done so much better. You just feel so fucking useless.

Your feet guide you outside, greeted by the blazing sun and its intense heat. Grateful for the comfort of a tank top, you make your way to the paddock where the horses leisurely graze. As you open the gate, a mental note reminds you to turn around and ensure its secure closure this time.

Your steps lead you without a clear destination, winding through the landscape until, unexpectedly, you find yourself atop a hill. From this vantage point, the entire ranch sprawls beneath you, yet you choose to avert your gaze. Instead, you turn to face the captivating expanse of the blue sky meeting the rolling green horizon.

As you exhale, your body gives in to a slight slump, settling onto the soft grass. The weight of perceived failure rests on your shoulders. Despite the rational acknowledgment that shearing sheep for the first time comes with a learning curve, the nagging desire to impress Jessi fuels your frustration.

Why can't you do better?

It's a question echoing in your mind, a silent plea to yourself to rise above this initial struggle.

As thoughts of obtaining Jessi's signature to sell your share of the ranch swirl in your mind, a surprising realization hits you—you're starting to embrace the charm of this vast, open land. The expansive landscapes, the crisp air, the vibrant green grass under the endless blue sky, and the twinkling stars at night, all things the city never offered. Despite labeling yourself a city girl, you're slowly discovering a newfound connection to the land you used to call home. Could this place, once abandoned, become home again?

Now, as the landscape of the ranch paints a new picture in your mind, you question whether you could reclaim that sense of home. The uncertainty hovers, a cloud casting shadows on your future. Is this rural life meant for you? While Jessi revels in your recent misadventures, you can envision her sharing a beer or uncorking a bottle of wine with the girls the moment you depart. A smirk tugs at your lips as you ponder her probable preference for beer, and you find yourself smiling at that fact.

A yearning for deeper understanding tugs at your core as you grapple with the realization that you might not know your sister as intimately as one would expect siblings to. The echoes of your departure from this place, a mere kid back then, reverberate through the unspoken words that now hang heavily in the air between you and your sister.

The scars of the past loom large, raising the daunting question: Can time and memories ever bridge the chasm caused by years of separation and untold pain?

As a sigh escapes your lips, a subtle uneasiness takes root in the pit of your stomach, casting a shadow over your thoughts. The gentle caress of the wind on your face seems to mock your inner turmoil, and a low groan escapes you. Despite the reluctance gnawing at your resolve, the undeniable truth lingers – you must return to the shed and confront the unfinished task that awaits.

Maybe you could do something different instead of shearing or gathering sheep. You don’t really want to do that again anytime soon. Maybe you could collect or sort the wool that the others have sheared?

As you gaze up at the vast expanse of the sky, its hues shifting subtly with the passage of unnoticed time, a realization dawns upon you. It's a silent cue to return to the shed and rejoin the collective effort. As you descend the hill, the silhouette of a black and a blue Ford Ranger gradually comes into view, parked near the paddock. A peculiar flutter dances in your chest, a subtle rhythm that you attempt to dismiss, choosing to bury it deep down.

As you approach the shed, the crescendo of voices builds a symphony of anticipation. Upon pushing open the door, a medley of scents assaults your senses—sweat, the unmistakable essence of hard labor. The scene unfolds before you: men toiling away, clad in tank tops, their bodies glistening with the evidence of their exertion, each droplet of sweat a testament to their dedication.

At first glance, your eyes lock onto Jimin, his tousled blonde locks clinging to his perspiring forehead as he skillfully shears the sheep handed to him by Ara. His muscles ripple beneath the strain, defining every inch of his biceps—a visual feast that leaves you momentarily captivated. Unconsciously, you find yourself licking your lips, entranced by the alluring spectacle of him immersed in his work.

The veins in his arms dance beneath the surface, as if daring to break free from their confines, a mesmerizing display of controlled strength as he maneuvers the clipper with precision around the sheep's body. A surge of something indefinable stirs within you, igniting a cascade of flutters in your chest. Flutters dance in your chest, and the heat intensifies, making it suddenly challenging to draw in a simple breath in the midst of the scorching atmosphere.

The beads of sweat cascade from his hairline, tracing a rivulet down his face, and the droplets rhythmically dance along his arms as he deftly pulls the lever, silencing the clipper. The sheep, now freed, scampers towards the other pen, leaving a tangible sense of accomplishment lingering in the air.

Entranced by his every move, you find yourself in a spellbound reverie. When his gaze locks onto yours, revealing that he's caught you stealing glances, a mischievous and knowing smile curves on his lips.

In that moment, you sense the impending danger he poses to your heart.

As your gaze shifts to Jungkook, you observe beads of sweat mirroring his brother's exertion, his muscular biceps defined beneath the strain of wielding clippers on the sheep. The strands of his black hair cling to his head, forming enticing curls at the ends.

As your eyes traverse the scene, they settle on Hoseok, his luscious brown hair adhering to his face due to perspiration. In a tank top that clings uncomfortably to his sweaty body, he expertly drags sheep from the pen to join Jessi, Jimin, and Jungkook, who are engrossed in the current shearing process.

Next, your gaze descends upon Yoongi, immersed in the task of sorting the wool. With silver hair that curls at the ends from the heat, he emits a groan of frustration while scrutinizing the wool. Intrigued, you approach him, a curious lilt in your voice as you inquire about his current endeavor, genuinely captivated by his activities.

“What are you doing?”

“I’m classifying the wool,” Yoongi's fingers deftly navigate through the wool, inspecting it for imperfections as he classifies it. When he looks up at you, his gaze locks with yours, and a hint of invitation colors his voice as he asks, “Do you want to help? It's easy,” he adds, extending the offer with a subtle challenge in his eyes.

You smile warmly at him, nodding in agreement. The prospect of contributing in a meaningful way lifts your spirits. Yoongi takes the lead, guiding you through the intricate process of classifying wool. He imparts the nuances of the task, pointing out imperfections that could downgrade the wool's quality.

Yoongi proves to be excellent company. While he remains mostly silent, the occasional grumble escapes his lips as he meticulously identifies imperfections in the wool.

Out of the blue, you turn to Yoongi, curiosity lighting up your gaze. “Do you like horses?” His response is a subtle smile accompanied by a nod. In the quiet exchange, you sense that he might be a man of few words, his thoughts and emotions hidden beneath the surface, waiting to be unraveled.

As you glance upward, you find Jimin's eyes fixed on you, an intensity that seems to penetrate your very soul. Uncomfortably exposed, you quickly shift your gaze away, unable to withstand the weight of his stare. It's as if he possesses the ability to see through your every layer, leaving you feeling vulnerable and laid bare.

As you approach the halfway point, beads of sweat dotting everyone's exerted faces, a welcomed break arrives. Ha-rin swoops in as the savior, distributing ice-cold water bottles to the parched crew. You practically guzzle down an entire bottle, the refreshing liquid providing a much-needed respite from the relentless heat.

Cool water trickles down your collarbones, and you sense Jimin’s gaze lingering on the droplets. Sweat continues to bead on his face as he dives back into the task of shearing the remaining sheep.

Jessi reenters the shed, her sudden return catching you off guard. You didn’t even know she left. “What the hell is this?” Her eyes narrow at the sheep tags, a visible frown creasing her face—oh, she’s not happy.

Your fingers pause their work on the wool as you look up, meeting Jessi's intense gaze. The tension in the air becomes palpable, and you can't help but feel a knot forming in your stomach. “What’s wrong?”

“These are the wrong sheep,” Silence descends like a heavy shroud as Jessi's words cut through the air, freezing every motion in the shed. Her revelation hangs in the space between the hum of the clippers and the suspended breaths of everyone present. Your hands, once deftly working with the wool, now hover in limbo, caught in the gravity of her words. All eyes converge on you, and the weight of your mistake settles like an anchor in the pit of your stomach. Unable to face the accusing gazes, you avert your eyes, well aware that you fucked up big time.

Your sister marches towards you at the wool pressing station, her voice cuts through the air like a whip, each word laced with frustration. “You gathered the wrong sheep!”

Her accusation lands on you like a blow, and you instinctively shrink under the weight of her anger. Hovering over you, she delivers her disappointment with venom, making your body tense in response. The air thickens as she paints the picture of the setback you've caused, and the realization of your mistake casts a shadow over the shed.

“Now we have to gather the right sheep and shear them too..” Frustration lines her face, and beads of sweat form a trail down her hairline, leaving traces on her tank top.

In the blistering heat of her frustration, your sister's words cut through the air like a searing wind. “We are going to be behind! And it’s your fucking fault!” Her accusatory finger points directly at your retreating form, each word a sharp pang echoing in the shed.

The weight of your mistake presses down on you, and you can't bear it any longer. Stepping back, you find yourself in the spotlight, all eyes still fixed on your figure. The suffocating tension hangs heavy in the air, leaving you with a sense of regret that matches the scorching heat around you.

As you retreat towards the door, you catch the remorse and sadness in Jimin's eyes, a silent acknowledgment of the chaos unfolding. Pushing yourself outside, you crave distance – an escape from the suffocating atmosphere, from the weight of your failures, and from the relentless series of mistakes that cling to you like a shadow.

Without warning, your feet break into a sprint, the sting of unshed tears threatening to overflow. In the midst of your rapid escape, you acknowledge the bitter truth – a familiar refrain that echoes in your mind: you should have seen it coming; after all, you have a knack for unraveling everything you touch.

Barely a few steps away, a familiar silhouette catches up – it's Jimin. As you reach the outskirts of the main house, standing in the yard, he utters words that echo with a plea, “Please come back,” his voice infused with a tenderness that tugs at your heart.

You exhale a heavy sigh, pausing before taking tentative steps toward the house. Slowly, you pivot your body, facing him with a mix of reluctance and curiosity.

“I fuck everything up Jimin,” you confess, releasing a heavy breath and exhaling deeply. “I feel utterly useless on this ranch.”

You sense your mind descending a ladder it shouldn't tread, but you can't resist. The overwhelming feeling of uselessness sends your thoughts into a tailspin.

“It’s to be expected. You’ll get better.” As he attempts to reassure you, his words only partially register, drowned out by the surging frustration within. A turbulent blend of anger and irritation courses through your veins, and you clench your fists, struggling to steady the rapid rhythm of your heart.

Out of the blue, you throw a question at him, breaking the silence. “Do you think I belong here?” The unexpected inquiry catches him off guard, evident in the momentary gape on his face.

“I do,” he starts, his words carrying a subtle plea, and you're left wondering why. What prompts this earnest assurance from him?

“I believe you just need time,” he adds, a reassuring smile gracing his face.

“I don't think I fit in, and I feel like an imposter,” you state, the words escaping your lips with a blankness that mirrors the emptiness inside. It's as if all the fight has been drained from you. Thoughts of returning home and calling it quits start to seep in, contemplating whether this life is truly meant for you. The allure of the city beckons, a retreat from the challenges on the ranch and perhaps a way to keep a safe distance from your sister. The idea lingers, tempting you with the notion that everyone might be happier that way.

You feel the raindrops patter on your skin, a cascading rhythm that mirrors the tumult within. Jimin appears unfazed, embracing the downpour without hesitation. The deluge intensifies, nearly drowning you in its relentless flow, mirroring the suffocating feeling of your struggles on the ranch. Is this torrential downpour a sign, urging you to contemplate the idea that perhaps it's truly time to head back to the city?

“We should get back,” Jimin suggests, attempting to guide you back, but the allure of the rain refuses to release its grip. The downpour descends heavily, clinging to your hair, a weight that feels like both burden and baptism. With raindrops tracing trails down your skin, it’s almost as if you’re being cleansed. As he observes your entwined hands, Jimin releases an audible sigh.

“You belong here,” he whispers, his voice a gentle caress, and a distant memory awakens within you— Childhood days resurface, a time of carefree laughter, a handsome boy uttering those same words when your father tore you away from this very land.

His touch crackles with an electric charge, igniting your skin in a dance with the pelting rain. It's a strange collision of fire and water, the contrasting elements creating a sensation that defies the damp surroundings. Instead of quenching the internal fire, the rain seems to stoke its flames, the intensity growing and nearly overtaking you.

His simple words act as a catalyst, reigniting the spark within you. With a heart fluttering to the rhythm of a wild stallion's gallop, you sprint back to the shed hand in hand, a small newfound determination propelling you forward in the pouring rain.

The lingering sense of uselessness persists, a relentless storm within. The weight of failure bears down on you, exacerbated when Jessi emphatically states that wet sheep can't be sheared. Her reminder echoes in the air, emphasizing the crucial task of gathering the right sheep after the sun works its magic to dry and warm their wool.

Amidst the tumultuous events, a haunting trio of emotions persists – regret, failure, and the sting of embarrassment.

As you move, the gentle yet commanding gaze of hazel eyes tracks your every step, sending a tingling sensation across your skin, creating an undercurrent of anticipation.

Frustration fueled by recent setbacks propels you to reach for your phone, fervently scouring the internet for information on handling your inheritance. Can you maneuver through the legal intricacies to sell your share of the ranch without the elusive signature of your sister?

In a moment of urgency, you delve into the unexplored territory of your inheritance, frantically searching on your phone. To your surprise, the results reveal a glimmer of hope – selling your share of the ranch without your sister's consent is not just a possibility, but a potential reality.

Despite the unsettling churn in your stomach at the thought of selling your share without your sister's knowledge, there's an undercurrent of reassurance. The knowledge that you have this option as a fallback provides a sliver of comfort, a lifeline in case Jessi refuses to grant you her signature.

Even as the warmth of this place and its people seep into your heart, the truth remains unchanged—you were never destined to stay. The allure of a potential sale, with its promise of financial security, continues to beckon, a lingering reminder of the transient nature of your stay.

As Ara flashes you a warm smile while tidying up a horse's stall in the barn, she extends an invitation, “Do you want to come into town with us?”

You're already lending her a hand, a task you're proficient at among the few things you've mastered during your stay.

“Sure,” you respond with a nonchalant shrug, the prospect of joining them in town offering a welcome diversion. With nothing pressing on your agenda, the possibility of a change of scenery beckons.

After completing the task of clearing out the stalls, you step into the yard, heading towards the pickup truck where Ha-rin awaits. The afternoon briskness plays with the strands of her short black hair.

As you all squeeze into the car, Ara takes the driver's seat and steers towards town. The road stretches out, and a contemplative silence envelops the vehicle. Unsure of what to discuss, you resist the urge to fill the void with forced conversation, allowing the rhythmic hum of the engine to create a canvas for unspoken thoughts.

Ara, surprisingly swift behind the wheel, navigates the journey to town in under two hours, leaving you both impressed and slightly questioning the safety of the speedy drive.

Nevertheless, here you are, immersed in the charm of the small town, wandering the aisles of the local grocery store.

Your trio navigates the aisles in unison, methodically checking items off Jessi's list. The simplicity of the task doesn't escape you, and you're determined not to let this be another thing you mess up.

As your gaze sweeps across the formidable grocery list, you notice an abundance of canned goods, sacks of flour, bags of rice, heaps of pasta, and an array of frozen items. The sheer quantity raises an unspoken question in your mind – is Jessi preparing for an impending event, or is this a routine restocking?

You cast a frustrated gaze away from the overwhelming list, you can't help but voice your exasperation. “Do we seriously need every single thing on this damn list?” The question hangs in the air, met with amused chuckles from the girls, their eyes twinkling with shared understanding.

Ha-rin offers a smile, her explanation accompanied by a purposeful stride as she guides the cart through the aisles, steadily accumulating the items on the lengthy list. “It's mainly for backstock. Stocking up helps us avoid frequent trips to town,” she shares, her words carrying a practical wisdom that resonates with the challenges of ranch life.

As you navigate through the aisle, the sultry tones of a familiar voice reach your ears. “Come on. It'll be fun in my car.”

Turning the corner, you spot the source—Jungkook, once again in the midst of his charming antics. A chuckle escapes you at the scene: his body leaning into the woman's like a predator and its prey. The pang in your chest is fleeting this time, a mere echo of the past encounter when you found yourself pressed against a wall with Jungkook.

Ara joins you, a shared chuckle escapes her lips as both of you catch sight of Jungkook's flirtatious spectacle. Deciding not to linger, you continue your journey further into the store, leaving the scene behind.

“I feel like I see Jungkook everywhere I go,” laughing, you share your observation with Ara as the cart, now laden with supplies, glides toward the cashier. The recurrent presence of Jungkook in unexpected places has become a quirky pattern in your days.

“Jungkook's reputation with the women in this town is legendary,” Ha-rin remarks, rolling her eyes with a smile. “Not that he's not sweet, but it's as if he's eternally searching, never quite satisfied,” she muses, the words more of a contemplative murmur than a deliberate statement.

As you ponder Ha-rin's remark about Jungkook, a fleeting thought crosses your mind. Could it be true that he, like everyone else, is on a quest for ‘the one’?

At the cashier, you efficiently load all your items onto the till, settle the grocery bill, and proceed to wheel the cart out to the pick-up truck. The teamwork flows seamlessly, and thankfully, the task is swiftly accomplished.

Securing the tarp over the backload of the truck, you turn to Ara and Ha-rin with a curious glint in your eyes. “Do you guys know when Jungkook moved here? I don't recall him being around when I was a kid,” you inquire, a tinge of nostalgia coloring your voice.

As you all climb back into the truck, you can't help but feel a sense of relief with Ha-rin taking the wheel this time – a decision that, for some reason, gives you a comforting notion of safety.

“Jungkook actually moved here shortly after you left,” Ara reveals from the front seat. The engine roars to life as Ha-rin takes control, steering the truck back towards the ranch.

“His mom married Jimin’s father, and they embraced the Park surname as their own. Jungkook’s actual last name is Jeon,” Ara shares, her laughter filling the truck's cabin as she turns to face you more directly. “And here's a tidbit for you: Jessi and Jungkook are actually best friends.” The revelation catches you off guard. Despite their apparent closeness, you hadn't realized the depth of their friendship until now.

“They’re always bickering,” Ha-rin chimes in with an eye roll, steering the car down the main road.

“They just need to fuck each other, that’s all.” Ara declares with a laughter that echoes through the truck.

You join in her laughter, though a peculiar unease settles in your stomach.

You sprint down to the main house, your feet drumming angrily on the dirt, the rhythmic pulse of your heart echoing in your ears. Bursting through the door, you dash into the kitchen, seeking out Ha-rin. Panting, you lean against the door frame, catching your breath.

Gasping for breath, eyes wide with urgency, you implore, “Do you have the vet's number?”

Worry etches across her face as she abandons the vegetables on the countertop. With a swift motion, she retrieves a piece of paper from the fridge, hastily jotting down the vet's number.

“What's wrong?” she inquires, concern lacing her words.

You spill the urgency in your voice, “It's Cinnamon, he's just laying down in his stall and I can't get him to stand. He seems to be in pain.”

“This is Namjoon’s number. Call him, and he’ll get here as soon as possible.” She hands you the slip of paper, and as you're about to turn away, heading back to the barn, you flash her a soft smile, gratitude lingering in your gaze.

“It sounds like he might have colic; do everything you can to make him stand up, okay?” She continues with a sense of urgency, turning her attention back to preparing the vegetables for tonight's dinner. You respond with a firm nod, then hastily leave the kitchen, the house, and sprint toward the barn, the piece of paper tightly clenched in your hand.

Cinnamon remains on the ground, emitting a strained whine that sends shivers down your spine. His condition is visibly deteriorating. Anxious, you retrieve your phone and the piece of paper bearing the vet's number. Your fingertips glide across the glass of your phone, tracing unfamiliar numbers before decisively pressing ‘call.’

“Hello, this is Namjoon. How can I assist you?” His voice carries a gentle warmth, hinting at a reassuring smile even through the phone.

“Hey there! My sister's horse is in bad shape. Any chance you could swing by and check him out?” you implore, crouching beside Cinnamon and gently caressing his soft coat.

“Absolutely,” he responds, and a brief pause follows, suggesting he's gathering supplies, the distinct rustling audible. “Mind filling me in on what's going on with the horse?”

After a brief hesitation, you gather your thoughts. Uncertain about Cinnamon's ailment, you decide to echo Ha-rin's suggestion, your voice conveying the worry that grips you. “I suspect it might be colic. He's lying down, and I can't get him to stand up.”

As Namjoon offers advice over the phone, the urgency in his voice becomes apparent. “It might be colic. Try your best to get him up and walk around if possible,” he instructs, the audible sounds of a car door opening and closing in the background. Then, he queries, “Where did you say you were again?”

You chuckle, realizing you hadn't given any information about yourself, let alone an introduction. “I'm at Bora Ranch,” you quickly provide, hoping the vet can navigate his way to your location without further delay.

The silence on the line for a few seconds feels like an eternity, but then his voice resonates close to the phone, “Wait... Are you Jessi’s sister? Is Cinnamon sick?” The urgency in his tone heightens the gravity of the situation.

You nod fervently, forgetting for a moment that he can't see you, and respond, “Yeah, that's right.”

“Okay. I'll be there soon,” he assures you before the line goes silent, the distant hum of a car engine starting in the background. Anxious, you pray that Namjoon arrives quickly; the agony of watching Cinnamon in pain becomes more unbearable by the moment.

You attempt to coax him with a gentle tug on his halter, but Cinnamon remains stubbornly unmoving. It's as if he's determined to stay sprawled on the ground. You wrestle with the conflicting thoughts racing through your mind – would it truly be detrimental if he stayed down? Uncertain, you recall the vet and Ha-rin's advice, urging you to encourage movement. Faced with uncertainty, you resolve to heed their counsel and make a concerted effort to get him back on his feet.

“Come on, buddy, rise up... I beg you to get up,” you groan, attempting to lift Cinnamon's head, but your efforts prove futile. Time seems to blur as you persist in coaxing Cinnamon to stand, your frustration mounting.

Just when despair threatens to settle in, the distant hum of an incoming car reaches your ears. A surge of gratitude washes over you as the vet's arrival feels like a lifeline in this desperate situation.

The nearing footsteps echo steadily, building anticipation until a towering figure emerges before you. Lifting your gaze, you lock eyes with the imposing presence that has just arrived.

His physique commands attention, a robust build accentuated by broad shoulders and encased in a blue coverall with sleeves artfully rolled up, revealing powerful biceps. Yet, his face carries an inviting warmth, and a friendly smile plays on his lips, instantly putting you at ease. Dimples grace his cheeks, adding a touch of approachable charm as he surveys you and the ailing Cinnamon.

“Greetings, I'm Namjoon, the vet,” he declares, placing his toolbox down before extending a hand for a firm shake. His neatly cropped black hair impeccably frames his face, and you take note of his confident yet gentle demeanor. As you introduce yourself as Jessi’s sister, you step aside, creating room for him to enter the stall and assess Cinnamon more closely.

“I'll conduct a thorough examination, but at the moment, colic appears to be a likely diagnosis,” he mentions, retrieving a set of instruments from his toolbox. With precision, he begins scrutinizing Cinnamon, attentively listening to the rhythmic sounds of the horse's stomach through a stethoscope

“Hmm. Could you fetch that tube protruding from my bag?” He motions towards his toolbox, and you swiftly identify the requested tube, presenting it to him. “Appreciate it,” he responds with a grateful smile, his eyes reflecting a mixture of professionalism and warmth.

“Could you hold the tube for me? I need to step out to my car and retrieve a bag of fluids,” he entrusts you with the tube before swiftly heading outside, returning promptly with the life-saving liquid in hand.

“Appreciate it,” he acknowledges, reclaiming the tube from your hands and linking it to the translucent bag of vital fluid. Squatting down beside Cinnamon, he gently coaxes the horse's mouth open, inserting the tube into his throat. The sight is unsettling, prompting you to avert your gaze; it's too distressing to witness.

“The fluids will aid in rehydration,” Namjoon enlightens you, sensing your reluctance.

“The tube is in; you can turn around now.” A soft laugh accompanies his words, prompting you to face the scene unfolding before you. Witnessing Cinnamon receiving the vital fluids is a reassuring sight, and you find a glimmer of hope in the expertise of the skilled veterinarian.

“I've administered some medication to help him relax and alleviate the stomach discomfort. You should be able to get him on his feet in a few minutes,” Namjoon explains, rising to his feet and offering you a reassuring smile. His confidence in the treatment plan eases your worry, and you feel a sense of gratitude for his expertise.

“Jessi never brought up having a sister until about a week ago, so your existence was a bit of a surprise,” Namjoon chuckles, casually leaning against the stall's wall.

“That's not entirely surprising. I left this place as a kid, and now I'm grappling with this unexpected inheritance that's become a puzzle I can't quite solve,” you admit, absently scratching the back of your head in a gesture of nervous uncertainty. It's not that Namjoon is making you uneasy; rather, it's the delicate balance of deciding how much of your story to unveil. Some cards, you’ve learned, are meant to be held close to your chest.

“You know, you could always stick around and build a life for yourself here with your sister,” he suggests, a contemplative smile playing on his lips.

“I've been thinking of heading back to the city... Things are a bit complicated around here,” you admit, reflecting on the numerous times you've stumbled and the strain it has put on your relationship with Jessi.

Without waiting for Namjoon's response, Cinnamon unexpectedly stirs, lifting his head with a renewed vitality. Rushing over, you grab his halter and gently coax him back onto his feet.

The tube slips from his mouth with a resonant clatter, and Cinnamon vigorously shakes his head, dispelling the fatigue that weighed on his robust frame. As he rises to stand firmly on all four legs, a wave of relief washes over you, reassuring you that he's on the path to recovery. You offer him a gentle pat, your touch a soothing affirmation of his regained strength.

“If you've got other matters to attend to, I can handle walking him around. My schedule is clear at the moment. I'll look after him until Jessi returns,” Namjoon suggests, securing a tow rope to Cinnamon's halter before leading him out for a stroll.

“Sure thing,” you respond, reflecting on Ha-rin in the kitchen, realizing she could probably use an extra hand. Expressing your gratitude, you head down to the house, relieved that Cinnamon appears to be on the mend.

Teaming up with Ha-rin, you dive into preparing tonight's dinner, savoring the lively conversation between you. A part of you acknowledges the inevitable longing for these moments once you return to the city. For now, you hold onto these cherished times with everyone on the ranch.

As the clock ticks towards dinner, and with no sign of your sister in sight, you notice Namjoon's car still parked by the barn. Determined, you make your way up there, ready to announce that dinner is served, extending an invitation to Namjoon to join if he wishes.

In the warm embrace of the lingering weather, you embark on a short walk towards the barn. The muffled voices of your sister and Namjoon greet your ears, growing more distinct as you draw near. As you gently push the barn door open, an unexpected sight unfolds before you—they share a tender kiss.

Stunned, your mouth hangs agape, and instinctively, you retreat behind the barn door, veiling yourself in the shadows to avoid catching their attention.

Your decision to conceal yourself feels somewhat irrational. The sight of your sister engaging in a kiss is surprisingly jarring—perhaps it's the sheer unexpectedness. In your mind, you didn’t think she had a romantic bone in her body, and this revelation leaves you in a state of bewildered surprise.

You push open the barn doors, breaking the tender moment between your sister and Namjoon. A faint blush tints your cheeks as their gaze shifts to you. “Dinner's ready,” you announce, a casual invitation extended to Namjoon. Without waiting for their response, you swiftly retreat, your steps carrying you back down to the house.

The unexpected sight quickens your heart, a strange warmth flickering within. It's comforting to see your sister finding solace, someone to lean on as you prepare to depart. Reflecting on your own shortcomings, you realize you've been more of a burden than a support. But perhaps, in Namjoon, she's found a source of stability you couldn't provide.

The dinner unfolds seamlessly, with Namjoon proving to be delightful company. A subtle undercurrent of emotion lingers between him and your sister, evident in shared glances and unspoken words. Witnessing this connection stirs a surprising sense of joy within you, a genuine happiness for your sister.

“Thank you for calling Namjoon, when you saw that Cinnamon was sick,” Jessi's gratitude catches you off guard, her eyes expressing a tenderness you've rarely witnessed. It's a surreal moment, as if a different, softer version of your sister is speaking. She’s even thanking you. Is this moment real?

Namjoon's words carry a reassuring smile, his gaze fixed on you. “Thanks to your prompt call, Cinnamon will be back to his spirited self in just a few days.” His words accompany a gentle smile, his touch offering comfort as he playfully nudges Jessi's shoulder.

At last, a glimmer of success amidst the string of mishaps.

A warmth blooms within your chest, and a genuine smile graces your lips. It's a small victory, but in this moment, you revel in the relief of having played a part in something that didn't unravel under your touch.

As the sun shines high, casting a warm glow upon the barn, the rhythmic symphony of saddles being fastened and horses being prepped fills the air. You meticulously saddle up Marshmallow, your loyal companion, while Jessi tends to Cinnamon, who has thankfully bounced back from his bout of colic. In the background, Ara, Ha-rin, and Soo-ah bustle around, collecting saddles and bridles for their own equine companions. Each of their horses, with coats of varying browns, don distinctive stockings, that makes it easier to tell them apart.

“Are the guys meeting us here?” Curiosity colors your expression as you inquire about the guys, your gaze following Jessi's skilled hands as she readies Cinnamon.

With the saddle securely in place and the bridle in hand, Jessi exudes confidence, her words carrying a definitive tone, promising the imminent arrival of the guys, “Yeah, they’ll be here at any moment.” Stepping out of the barn, she leads Cinnamon with purpose.

As you prepare to tack up Marshmallow, the task of fastening the girth on the saddle demands your attention. Yet, in the midst of the routine, Marshmallow stands patiently, a paragon of trust and reliability. With practiced ease, you secure the girth, appreciating the unwavering steadiness of your equine companion before moving on to put on the bridle.

While you meticulously attend to Marshmallow, the trio of Soo-ah, Ha-rin, and Ara prove to be swift in their preparations. The clatter of hooves signals their efficiency, and before you can lead Marshmallow out, they're already guiding their horses into the open, joining Jessi in the vibrant embrace of the outdoors.

After meticulously preparing Marshmallow, you guide him out of the barn to find the girls eagerly mounted on their horses, a scene brimming with anticipation. They sit poised, their eyes on you.

Gracefully mounting Marshmallow, you settle into the saddle with practiced ease, a seamless fusion of rider and horse. Alongside the girls, you wait for the guys to arrive.

On top of the hill, four men adorned with cowboy hats emerge as the charge down the hill with an effortless equestrian elegance. The rhythmic cadence of hooves makes your heart feel giddy with anticipation and you take a moment to appreciate how incredible they all look on horseback.

Jungkook commands a fiery red stallion, its thick mane billowing gracefully in the wind, embodying untamed vitality. Meanwhile, Jimin guides a sleek black horse, distinguished by elegant white stockings that accentuate its majestic presence. Trailing closely behind, Yoongi and Hoseok navigate their sturdy brown horses.

As they approach, the undeniable allure of these men becomes even more apparent. Is everyone in the country just handsome?

However, it's Jimin's eyes that captivate you instantly—deep pools reflecting a passion that seems to run as profound as the countryside hills. The cowboy hat sits stylishly on his head, allowing strands of his blonde hair to playfully escape. His green checkered button-down shirt clings snugly to his well-defined torso, sleeves casually rolled up. The denim pants and boots bear the marks of hard work, adorned with the earthy traces of the ranch.

Jungkook dons a shirt that molds perfectly to his sculpted pectorals, paired with snug denim jeans and sturdy boots. Yoongi opts for a white tank top, showcasing his lean arms and defined biceps. Meanwhile, Hoseok sports a loose gray shirt that complements his easygoing style, paired effortlessly with denim pants.

“Hi,” resonates in unison from the group of guys as they approach you near the barn. A smile graces your lips, but your attention quickly shifts to your sister, fully aware that she's likely crafted a meticulous plan for the upcoming cattle drive.

“Nice of you to make it in time,” Jessi grunts, a small smile playing on her lips, punctuated by a chuckle.

“Someone had to spend an eternity getting ready,” Jungkook quips, rolling his eyes and nodding toward Jimin. He follows it with a nonchalant shrug, not bothering to deny it.

“What’s the plan, boss?” Hoseok asks, brimming with eagerness to get started. Jungkook scoffs beside him, “Boss? She’s not your boss– I am.”

Hoseok burst out in a beautiful, contagious laughter, echoing through the air and drawing a chuckle from you.

“Kook, just shut up,” Jessi laughs, her voice carrying a hint of playful exasperation. Then, she takes a deep breath, steadying her posture, “We'll move the cattle from the northeastern paddock to the one closest to the Bell Ranch.”

Amidst nods from everyone, Yoongi leans down, patting his horse's neck with a soothing touch that elicits a deep, resonant whine from the animal. “Anything else?” he asks, his voice a calm undercurrent in the anticipation-laden air.

Jessi's gaze sweeps across the group, her eyes meeting each one in turn. A stern but determined expression settles on her face.

“This is a stress-free drive, so remember, no pushing the cattle!” Her words hang in the air, setting the tone for the upcoming task.

Jessi orchestrates the plan with precision, assigning roles to each member of the team. “Me and Soo-ah will take the front, Ha-rin, Hoseok, Kook, and you,” she points directly at you, “will cover the sides, and then Jimin, Yoongi, and Ara will handle the back of the herd.” Her directive gaze holds a sense of purpose, and a unanimous agreement ripples through the group.

“Let’s get going!” Jessi announces, her voice bubbling with excitement as she nudges Cinnamon into a spirited gallop. Eagerly, the rest of the group surges forward, and you, too, urge Marshmallow into a rhythmic canter, the rhythmic beat of hooves creating a lively symphony as the cattle drive begins.

To reach the north-eastern paddock, the journey takes you over rolling hills and through a small forest, where fallen trees create impromptu jumping courses. Jungkook, seizing every opportunity, guides his horse with finesse over the natural obstacles. Yoongi and Hoseok follow suit, while Soo-ah and your sister eagerly join in on the exhilarating equine adventures.

As the group revels in the joy of riding, laughter fills the air as they expertly guide their horses over logs and obstacles, showcasing their agility and camaraderie. Meanwhile, the rest of you opt for the smoother path, enjoying the less rugged terrain.

Amidst the playful antics of the group, you observe Jimin refraining from the lively jumping games. However, his infectious laughter resonates, and his eyes crinkle in mirth.

you sense his attentive gaze lingering on you as you ride, creating a flutter that dances in your stomach reminiscent of the last time you felt his eyes roam your body.

As you reach the paddock, Jessi gracefully maneuvers Cinnamon into position, opening the gate from atop his back. With a synchronized pace, you guide your horses through the entrance.

“Alright, everyone, let's find our positions. And keep in mind— stress-free!” Jessi's eyes pierce through the group, emphasizing the importance of a calm approach.

The importance of a stress-free approach for better cattle sales echoes in your mind, a principle she insists upon even when the herd isn't up for sale yet. It's Jessi's commitment to consistency, and you brace yourselves for the task ahead, determined to maintain the calm demeanor required for a successful drive.

Jessi and Soo-ah kick their horses into a measured trot, leading the way towards the grazing cattle. The rhythmic beats of hooves on the ground set the tone for the impending drive, as you and the rest of the group follow, creating a unified force propelling towards the herd.

With precise coordination, Ha-rin and Hoseok elegantly flank the right side of the cattle, while you and Jungkook synchronize on the left. Together, you form an unyielding circle, ensuring the cattle remain contained within your guiding presence. Bringing up the rear, Jimin, Yoongi, and Ara stand as guardians, securing the boundaries of the moving cattle.

As you gradually set the cattle in motion, your horses step purposefully, nudging the herd forward with a deliberate yet gentle momentum. The realization dawns on you that this endeavor could stretch into hours at the current pace. A silent acknowledgment passes through your mind – a subtle premonition that your ass is going to hurt after this damn long cattle drive. Sigh.

Adjusting yourself in the saddle, a subtle awareness creeps over you, when you feel a tingling sensation run through your body – the distinct sense of Jimin's eyes tracing your movements. Expectantly, you turn to meet his gaze, only to find his attention fixated on the cattle, his expression unreadable.

The vast expanse of open land surrounds you, the lush green grass beneath your horse's hooves and the endless blue sky overhead create a beautiful image, like straight from a painting. Despite the scorching summer heat, you appreciate the breathability of your t-shirt, confident it shields you from overheating.

Glancing at Jimin, clad in a button-down shirt, you can't help but wonder if he's feeling the heat, beads of sweat possibly forming beneath the fabric.

As the chatter of small groups fills the air, you and Jungkook maintain a contemplative silence, guiding the cattle towards Bell Ranch at a deliberate pace. The rhythmic hoofbeats and the collective murmur create a serene backdrop to your silent partnership, each of you immersed in your own thoughts as the herd moves forward.

Jungkook maneuvers his horse closer to yours, prompting a curious look from you. Leaning in, he turns his head in your direction and asks, “Are you alright?” His voice carries a genuine concern, and you find yourself captivated by the unexpected tenderness in his eyes.

His unexpected question catches you off guard, leaving you momentarily wide-eyed. A soft chuckle escapes him as you gather your thoughts.

“I'm fine,” you assure him with a gentle smile, the warmth in your expression matching the pleasant day unfolding around you.

His words hang in the air, laced with a playful smile that reaches his eyes. “I've sensed a bit of avoidance on your end since the barn party,” he says, punctuating the statement with a wink and a teasing smirk.

Your words rush out, a mix of surprise and reassurance. “I really wasn't avoiding you,” you start, hoping to convey that any perceived avoidance was unintentional.

“Are you hurt because you wanted a relationship with me?” His words, delivered with an air of casual curiosity, strike a chord within you. The nonchalant tone belies the complexity of the question. In the initial moments, a pang of hurt may have flickered, not due to a desire for a relationship, but from the lingering sense that there might have been more beneath the surface between you.

His unexpected question leaves you momentarily flabbergasted. “No, Jungkook. I've just heard a lot…” Your sentence hangs in the air, interrupted by his swift interjection, “That I fuck around a lot?” The weight of his reputation hangs in the air, injecting a charged energy into the conversation.

As you nod in acknowledgment, he erupts into laughter, exuding an undeniable sense of self-contentment. There's a certain admiration that sprouts within you, witnessing his unapologetic confidence.

“Yeah, I’m not exactly cut out for relationships. I just wanted to clear the air, make sure you weren’t expecting something more from me,” he grins, and you reciprocate with a smile of your own.

“I don’t, but I’d love to be friends with you?” His face lights up at your words, a radiant smile nearly outshining the sun. Laughter bubbles up from within you, a newfound lightness filling your chest now that you’ve cleared the air.

Just when you anticipate him riding away, he edges even closer, your horses nearly touching. “Actually,” he leans in, whispering in your ear, “I've noticed the way Jimin looks at you.”

Your ears and cheeks blaze with heat, and your heartbeat quickens, as if a spark could set you ablaze at any moment. Has Jungkook truly sensed the simmering tension between his brother and you? While in conversation with Jungkook, the weight of chocolate brown eyes drilling into your back intensifies, a silent observer.

A nervous chuckle escapes you, blending with Jungkook's laughter beside you. “I've also noticed the way you look at him,” he adds, his eyes glinting with a playful understanding that hints at the unspoken connection between you and Jimin.

This revelation tightens the grip of anxiety around your chest, your heart threatening to burst forth. You believed your feelings were veiled in subtlety, yet Jungkook's revelation suggests otherwise. Your palms turn clammy as his warm breath grazes your ear, a sensation that sends electric shivers coursing through your entire body.

Jungkook straightens up on his horse, creating some distance that allows you to breathe more freely. However, his words hang in the air, echoing in your mind. “You should make a move,” he suggests casually. Yet, his words echo in your mind, almost making you choke on the fresh air, and your eyes widen. Does he really think you should make a move on Jimin— won’t that be weird?

An awkward chuckle escapes your lips as you voice the concern that's been gnawing at the edges of your thoughts.

“I mean, he's your brother… Won’t that be weird?” The words stumble out, a bit disjointed, revealing the nervous energy that now dances between you and Jungkook. The admission of your attraction to Jimin hangs in the air, making the situation more delicate than ever.

His honest words wash over you, a tide of reassurance in a sea of uncertainty. “I don't think it's weird, at least not for me,” Jungkook confesses, and suddenly, the weight of apprehension begins to lift. His understanding response offers a newfound comfort, nudging you to consider the possibility of embracing your feelings for Jimin.

He leans back into you, his voice dropping into a conspiratorial whisper, “Also, he's looking at you now, practically undressing you with his eyes.” The words send a thrilling shiver down your spine, creating an electric surge inside your body and a charged atmosphere as you process the realization of Jimin’s lingering gaze.

You gulp, acutely aware of Jimin's lingering gaze that has been like a steady flame throughout the day, igniting a fire in your body that you're hesitant to stoke. Jungkook chuckles at your nervous reaction, and in that momentary distraction, you both fail to notice two cattle slipping away from your side.

“The cattle are out!” The urgency in Yoongi's shout pierces the air, and without a second thought, you and Jungkook kick your horses into a gallop, chasing after the errant cattle. Jimin swiftly takes your place at the side of the herd, seamlessly filling the gap left in your wake.

Side by side with Jungkook, you expertly corral the two stray cattle, seamlessly reintegrating them with the rest of the herd. Yet, a discerning glance from your sister reveals your momentary lapse in attention.

Her voice carries a hint of frustration as she scolds, “Didn't I emphasize a stress-free drive?” Her eyes reflect irritation as she shakes her head disapprovingly. Resuming your original positions with Jungkook, Jimin strides purposefully back to his spot at the rear of the herd.

Apologizing, you attempt to justify, “I'm sorry, but they were making a run for it…” However, Jessi isn't willing to accept your explanation.

Her frustration boils over, “You always mess things up—the feed, the tire, the gate, and now this!” With an exasperated exhale, she falls silent and resumes her position at the front of the group.

Your complexion drains of color, the weight of Jessi's accusations sinking in. Has she been keeping a tally of your every misstep? You're well aware of your frequent blunders, but Jessi's direct call-out stings.

Gripping the reins tightly, you feel frustration coursing through your veins. With a deep breath, you fight to regain composure, not wanting to distress Marshmallow with your unsettled state.

“It’s okay,” Jungkook attempts to offer reassurance, but you're in no mood to accept it. The exhaustion of another setback on the cattle drive weighs heavily on you. “It's not okay,” you groan, a sense of deflation settling in. It seems like setbacks always find a way to plague you.

You pivot on Marshmallow, addressing Ara with urgency, “Ara, can we switch places?”

Ara offers you a gentle, reassuring smile, nodding in agreement as she guides her horse to your side. With a turn, you position Marshmallow at the back, now flanked by Jimin and Yoongi.

Frustration envelops the atmosphere at the back, and it's mostly yours. A silent tension lingers between you, Jimin, and Yoongi. It crosses your mind that they might be hesitant to engage in conversation, a realization that irritates you further.

“Just let it go,” Yoongi utters, his gaze fixed ahead, and for a moment, it's unclear if the advice is meant for you. Your retort comes swiftly, “Easy for you to say; you're not the one stumbling at every turn.” A frustrated exhale follows, tension thick in the air.

“He did in the beginning,” Jimin chimes in, a playful smile accompanying his laughter. Yoongi, rolling his eyes at Jimin’s jest, contributes, “I did. You learn from each and every one of your screw-ups.”

“It's pointless,” you sigh, a heavy sense of defeat settling over you. It's time to call it quits.

Jimin visibly startles at your candid statement, a subtle flinch in his movements. The tension radiates through him, evident in the stiffening of his shoulders. Yoongi, wisely choosing silence, refrains from adding anything further, sensing it's not the moment to provoke.

The remainder of the drive proceeds with minor mishaps, and you successfully avoid major blunders in the back. However, upon reaching Bell Ranch, Jessi's dissatisfaction with your performance becomes glaringly apparent as she candidly expresses her discontent.

“I don’t want to get into it,” you share, burdened by your own errors and unwilling to hear your sister enumerate your shortcomings in ranch life. Surprisingly, she heeds your request, allowing you to brood in solitude while the others relish a well-deserved sip of water, celebrating the triumph of a fruitful cattle drive.

A somber cloud seems to loom over your head, making it challenging for you to partake in the joy and success radiating from the others.

“I’m going back to the ranch,” you announce to the group, their expressions registering surprise before they nod in acknowledgment. Striding purposefully, you make your way back to where Marshmallow is tethered to a post, swiftly mounting him. A gentle squeeze of your legs, and he bursts into a rapid gallop, carrying you away.

You surge over the undulating hills, the lush green grass beneath you, a cascade of dirt trailing in the wake of Marshmallow's swift strides. Granting him the freedom to unleash his energy, you, too, allow your emotions to unravel. This gallop, akin to the refreshing rain, brings a cleansing sensation, each stride lightening the burden on your mind.

As the ranch emerges on the horizon, you guide Marshmallow into a brisk trot, the anticipation building with each step. Upon reaching the barn, you meticulously strip away his gear, setting him free into the paddock alongside his equine companions, the sun casting a warm glow on the familiar surroundings.

Determined to shift your focus, you stride purposefully toward the main house, contemplating the idea of preparing a hearty dinner for the returning group. The uncertainty of their arrival lingers, but the thought of a satisfying meal upon their return fuels your motivation to create something special.

Seeking refuge in the kitchen, you throw yourself into the rhythm of meal preparation, attempting to drown out the echoes of your perceived failures. However, just as you find solace in the routine, a gentle pattering on the roof and windows interrupts your thoughts – the subtle arrival of rain.

As you lose yourself in the culinary dance, time becomes elusive. When you finally lift your gaze from the bubbling pots, a captivating sight unfolds outside the kitchen window – the girls, drenched from the rain, riding back on horseback. The tantalizing aroma of dinner fills the air, and with their return, you hope to satisfy not only their hunger but also the unspoken cravings lingering in the rain-kissed atmosphere.

In a swift transition, they sweep into the house, their laughter mingling with the aroma of the rain outside. Together in the kitchen, a collaborative symphony ensues as you and the girls put the finishing touches on dinner, setting the table in the warm glow of the living room. Despite the subtle undercurrent of Jessi's irritation, you forge ahead, determined not to let it cast a shadow over the convivial atmosphere you're creating.

Amidst the shared warmth of the dinner table, Ha-rin expresses her gratitude, breaking into a chuckle that echoes the sentiment of relief. “Thank you for taking the reins in the kitchen,” she acknowledges, savoring the anticipation of a meal without the familiar duty of preparing it.

As you share a smile with Ha-rin, a peculiar tension lingers around the table, casting a shadow over the meal. Your appetite wanes, reduced to absentmindedly stabbing at the food on your plate.

“Why do you keep messing up?” Jessi's voice pierces the air, frustration palpable as her gaze locks onto you. The question hangs in the room, demanding an answer you're not sure how to provide. Honestly, the reasons behind your repeated slip-ups elude you, leaving a disconcerting silence in their wake.

You release a frustrated sigh, the weight of uncertainty pressing down on you. Clenching your hands in a bid to contain the brewing storm of emotions, you admit, “I... don't know.”

The confession hangs in the air, a raw acknowledgment of your own confusion and struggle.

Jessi's frustration explodes, her voice cutting through the air like a sharp gust of wind. “I give you clear instructions, but you manage to mess it up every time!”

Her words reverberate across the table, a storm of tension settling over the room, leaving the rest of the girls in hushed silence, their eyes darting between the two of you as the confrontation unfolds.

“I'm well aware that I mess things up, but damn it, I'm trying!” Your voice echoes with a mix of frustration and desperation, the words carrying a weight of both anger and a plea for understanding.

“If you can't handle it, then I don't want you here,” she declares with unwavering determination, and you find yourself gaping at her. The simmering anger within threatens to boil over, your hand involuntarily unclenching as the tension in the room tightens like a coiled spring.

“Maybe I should just leave then! Sell my share of the ranch,” you retort with a sharp edge, your heartbeat quickening as anger boils inside, transforming your thoughts into a seething red haze.

She scuffs, “Just go, but you’re never getting my signature.”

“I don’t need your signature. I consulted a lawyer, and he said I don’t need it,” you assert, crossing your arms firmly over your torso.

Jessi's face turns pale at your revelation, and she hisses, “You wouldn’t dare!”

She's fuming, but you don’t care.

Unaware of the startled looks from the girls, Jessi has risen from her seat, poking her finger at you. “You wouldn’t dare,” she repeats, her voice seething with disbelief.

“I would,” you declare with unwavering certainty, rising from your seat across from your sister. The air crackles with tension as both of you yell at each other, and it feels like there's no turning back now.

Blinded by rage, you find yourself panting and seething, the room tainted with the color of your fury. The atmosphere becomes oppressive as Jessi slams her hands down onto the table, her words cutting through the air like venom. “I don't want you here. Get the fuck out, and I mean it this time,” she commands, each word carrying the weight of finality, stinging and lingering in the charged silence that follows.

“FINE,” you hiss, your hands clenched in frustration, a turbulent storm of emotions swirling within. It's a bitter realization that this place isn't for you, that your sister neither wants nor needs your presence. With a resigned exhale, you retreat from the table, striding out of the dining room and into the solitude of your guest room, the weight of rejection settling heavily on your shoulders.

You yank open your bags, tearing the closet apart to gather your belongings. The relentless rain pelts against the windows, mirroring the storm of emotions inside you. Frustration wells up within you, and as you navigate the room to collect your scattered belongings, the blur of tears makes it challenging to see.

Damn it.

This wasn't the outcome you anticipated.

You never quite found your place here, and perhaps you never truly belonged. Uncertainty engulfs you, a whirlwind of thoughts storming within your mind. Yet, now you're bound for the city. Your heart tightens at the prospect of returning, leaving behind a place that, against all odds, had grown dear to you.

But in the grand scheme of it all, none of it holds significance now. You hastily cram the remaining belongings into your bags and sling them over your shoulders. Your initial packing was minimal, and your city friend's contributions were modest, a reflection of the short-lived stay you had anticipated from the beginning.

A heavy sigh escapes you as you exit the guest room, traversing through the familiar dining room. Pausing in the doorway, you let the weight of the moment settle, and with a resigned tone, you utter, “I suppose this is our farewell.”

Ara, Soo-ah, and Ha-rin bid you a somber farewell, their eyes reflecting sadness, but as you turn to face Jessi, her gaze remains stubbornly averted. The palpable tension weighs on you, causing your shoulders to slump in defeat. With a heavy heart, you step outside, making your way to your parked car.

As the rain continues to cascade around you, you disregard the wetness, traversing the distance from the main house to your car. The downpour soaks you thoroughly as you hurriedly stow your bags in the vehicle. Seated inside, a poignant moment unfolds, mirroring the tears glistening in your eyes with the relentless rain outside.

With a heart weighed down by the burdens of departure, you insert the key into the ignition, the mechanical click echoing the emotional weight within. As the engine hums to life, it serves as a reluctant melody to the bittersweet symphony of leaving.

An unsettling sense of déjà vu envelops you as you bid farewell to this familiar haven for the second time. Yet, this departure bears the weight of your own volition, amplifying the melancholy that lingers in the air.

Regret creeps in, leaving a bitter aftertaste as you press down on the gas, steering the car away from what you once called home, now fading into the rearview mirror.

Author’s note(2): Thank you so much for reading! 🌸 I would very much appreciate it if you reblogged the chapter, if you liked it ✨ A small review or a comment would also mean a lot to me, and even a like. But please, don’t be afraid to let me know what you think; your kind words makes me extremely happy 💜 I’m not really feeling very well at the moment. I’m very depressed and I was even hospitalized last week because of trigger warning suicidal thoughts… anyway. I’m struggling, but I enjoy writing this, and I’m gonna see it to the end, even though I feel very disheartened by the notes (I really shouldn’t look, but I’m only human, lol. And I’m comparing it to my other works, not other’s because that can get dangerous real fast!). But anyway. Writing is therapeutic for me, but posting seems to be the hurdle for me now… so I’m thinking— only thinking, that this story might be the last one that I post. I don’t know yet. Just a thought. Anyway. I’m very happy to have some lovely friends here— thank you guys! You already know who you are 🫶✨

← previous | s.masterlist | m.masterlist | next →

#jimin x reader #jimin smut #jimin fanfic #bts smut #bts fanfic #bts x reader #my heart's home series #reader: female #au: cowboy #au: ranch #au: soulmates #au: childhood friends #au: friends to lovers #au: slice of life #theme: summer #vibe: smutty #vibe: romcom #vibe: angst #vibe: fluffy

74 notes · View notes

hotchsofficialwifey · 1 year ago

Note

Heyo, I'm about as new to requests as you are to writing fanfictions, so please also bear with me if I do this wrong xD Also, just write and don't say sorry, after all we should be thanking you for putting your content out there :3 Thanks for doing this! Looking forward to your stories :-) So for the prompts:

- Jonathan Crane date with scientist!reader (I'd be really interested in something completely different from Crane's interests, like computer science/math). Maybe they know each other from university and get in touch again when he works at Arkham and appears on the news or sth.

- Neil Lewis smut where the reader crushes a little too much on a character in a movie (👀) and Neil gets jealous.

- Jonathan Crane fluff/smut where the reader has a nightmare and Crane tries to comfort them while also being turned on by the fear? xD

hi! thanks so much for your request, sorry it took me so long to get to it. I'll try to do all of your requests but i'll start with the last one. thanks again, hope you enjoy!

summary: your sleeping over at your boyfriend Jonathan's house when you have a terrible nightmare. thankfully, he's there to help.

pairing: jonathan crane x fem!reader

warnings: light smut (jonathan's horny but nothing really happens, more smut to come later ;) ), fluff, descriptions of a bad dream (nothing too scary, dw), use of fear toxin, hurt/comfort,

You're sitting on a field, eating ice cream on a sunny day, and the drizzling rain doesn't deter you from enjoying your summer afternoon. The world is bright, fun, colorful, and at ease.

But it all passes as soon as it came. The drizzling rain turns into booming thunder, and it pours and pours like buckets. You run into a nearby store, soaking wet and praying for a safe place to wait out the storm. The sky is a nauseating shade of grey, you notice once in the safety of the store. Then, you see it. A shadow lurking in the walls with red piercing eyes. Your breath catches in your throat as you inch away from it.

It, however, lunges towards you, and initiates a chase. You're running through the pouring rain, heart pounding and screaming for help, but the world is empty. Silent. Under different circumstances, maybe even peaceful. You run faster and harder, wailing and begging for help, but when you turn around...it's gone! You sigh in relief, but hide behind a tree for safe-keeping. You wait a few moments, but the coast seems clear. As soon as you begin to walk back to the store, your snatched by a shadowy claw wrapped around your neck.

You wake with a jolt, gasping as your eyes shoot open. It was a dream, you think. Just a dream.

"You okay?" A gravely, half-asleep voice asks. You turn to see Jonathan's soft brown eyes, and your heart slows at the sight of him.

"Yeah, yeah I'm fine." You say, still slightly breathless. But upon remembering the dream, tears resurface in your eyes. " I just had a really fucked up dream." You say with a quivering voice.

"Oh, baby." Jonathan coos, wrapping his arms around you. "It's okay..." He murmurs. His voice is sweet as honey, but his mind is far from it. The tightening in his pants only grows as tears begin to stream down your face and land on his white shirt. He shifts uncomfortably, hoping you don't notice how flustered he is as his hand rubs your back carefully.

"Jonny?" Your sweet voice calls. "You okay?"

He nods quickly, trying to play it cool.

"Yeah..." he smiles. "Yeah, I'm fine. Let's just go back to sleep, sweetheart..." As you both lay back down, he quickly hides the can of fear toxin he used on you.

a/n: yay, first fic on here!! not my best work, but i wanted to write a little something because i feel like I kept y'all waiting for too long lol. hope this was okay, much more to come soon!

#cillian murphy #cillian murphy smut #cillian murphy x reader #fanfic #jonathan crane #Jonathan crane fluff #light smut #hurt/comfort #nightmares #dc universe #the scarecrow #scarecrow #cillian murphy fluff

116 notes · View notes

jahayla-parker · 2 years ago

Note

Hey 💜💙 I was wondering if you could do a Tom Holland x reader fanfic with #19 from the kissing prompt list? The scenario can be that Tom and the reader are in a secret relationship because the reader is his personal assistant. Tom and reader have had sex before with other people in prior relationships but this will be their first time with each other so this will start with kissing and end with a good amount of smut if that makes sense at all lol

Getting Personal: Tom Holland x Reader Smut

Description: 13.5k wc smut where Tom falls for his personal assistant y/n and the heat between them is palpable but he struggles given their professional relationship.

Warnings: 18+ smut content, jealousy, p in v, unprotected sex, riding, mentions of orgasm, cum, masterbation, etc. teasing, and similar sexual content.

“So Tom here are the posters you need to sign for the fans” y/n says, setting the papers down on his desk as he looks up from his script.

As she pulls back, her hand brushes against his bare arm, sparks shooting through her as a result.

Tom seems to feel it as well as he tenses but smiles up at her as she stands behind him.

“Thank you y/n, do you mind grabbing me a new sharpie for them?” He asks kindly.

“Do I even want to know what you did with the last one?” She laughs, shaking her head as she walks to the door.

Tom secretly watches her hips as she walks away from him and mentally yells at himself for fantasizing about his personal assistant.

“Harry lost this one, I swear” Tom defended, making her laugh again before exiting the room.

“Girl” y/f/n gushes, coming up to her.

“Hmm?” Y/n asks already knowing where it was heading.

“You’ve gotta act on this. Look at the dumb grin on your face each time you leave his office” y/f/n smirks.

Y/n rolls her eyes, “there’s nothing to act on”.

“He can’t stop staring at you regardless of where we are, gives you secret smiles across the room, always checks to see your thoughts on projects you have no business giving input on, and you’re saying there’s nothing there?” Y/f/n groans, following y/n to the supply closet.

“That’s what I’m saying, yes” y/n says as she hides her now red cheeks behind the shelf.

“So oblivious” y/f/n scoffs before walking back to whatever she should actually be working on.

“Tom?” Y/n asked, waving a hand in front of his face.

He shook his head rapidly as he began blinking to stop staring at her, “sorry”.

She giggled and shook her head, “it’s okay, are you alright?”.

“No” he admits, sighing.

“What is it? What do you need me to do?” She asked quickly.

“It’s not that….I'm afraid I can no longer keep this professional situation going” he muttered.

“Oh” she whispers, “okay. What did I do though? If it was because I came in three minutes late last Wednesday, I-“.

Tom smirked and shook his head as she rambled an explanation due to misunderstanding his statement.

He grinned to himself as she tucked her hair behind her ear as she continued talking.

Tom felt a strong pull and instantly wrapped his arms around her waist to get her closer.

He looked down at her now closed lips before looking back into her eyes to see if she was okay with where this was going.

When he felt assured she wasn’t against it, he pressed his lips against her’s softly.

Tom smiled as he felt her lips start moving in sync with his after a few seconds of surprise.

He rested his forehead on her’s when they pulled back.

She blinked slowly up at him, “You kissed me."

"You kissed me back” Tom pointed out with a smirk.

“And I'm not here to apologize." She smirked back, tangling one hand in his hair.

“You need to stop doing that” he purrs, closing his eyes.

“Hmm, why?” She asked, and while he hadn’t opened his eyes yet he could hear her teasing tone as he tightened her hold on his hair.

“I think I wanna do a little more than just kiss” he admitted with a groan.

Before y/n could respond, there was a knock at the door, making the pair separate instantly.

Tom rubbed the back of his neck as he walked to answer it.

“No, no, let me. It’s my job “ y/n laughed nervously, desperately trying to find ways to ensure the guest didn’t know what had happened seconds before.

“Oh, Uhh.. right “ Tom agreed, sitting back at his desk.

Y/n straightened herself out before she opened the door and let Tom’s brother Harry in, offering him a kind welcome.

From that day on, y/n decided she had the upper hand and would utilize it.

It was not her first rodeo teasing men with their desire, so she knew just what to do.

As she walked into his office again, she smirked as she saw him reading his script.

He looked up and gave her a shy smile before going back to reading.

She sat down in her chair across from him, making minimally provocative sounds as she rubbed her neck as if it hurt.

Tom glanced up from his script as he tightened his grip on the packet.

He forced himself to focus back on the next line he had to memorize.

But he soon found himself distracted yet again as y/n moaned as she stretched.

“Y/n” Tom warned, seeing the teasing shine in her eyes.

She raised an eyebrow at him In feigned innocence as she raised her arm to stretch more.

As she moved her arm across her body, it pressed her breasts up further, exposing more skin, as she made another moaning sound.

Tom glared as his grip crumpled the edges of the papers in his hands, “Would you be quiet? l'm trying to work"

“I’m not doing anything Tom “ she said quietly.

He rolled his eyes, “don’t tease me”.

“I would never do that” she scoffed with a faint smirk as she let him get back to reading his script.

“Are you ready?” Y/n asked, stepping into his office as she tugged her dress down a bit.

“Yeah, I just need to g-“ Tom choked, his eyes widening as he faced her.

He couldn’t hide the way his eyes lowered to her chest, then to the slit leading from her thigh to her hip, then back to her lips.

“I'II take it that you like what you see” y/n winks, spinning so he can see the low cut back.

Heavily breathing, Tom whispers “I am not affected..."

Y/n giggles, walking to him and placing her arms on his chest, “no?”

Tom glares at her before he caves and pulls her to him, his lips aggressively moving against her’s.

He pulls back suddenly, his eyes scanning her features, “Do you want to do this?”

Instead of responding, she simply pulls him against her, her lips passionately pressing on his as she licks his bottom lip.

When they pull back, y/n smirks at him, “not affected huh?”.

He groans, looking away from her eyes, “fine, I’ll admit the dress is making this hard.”

“This or you?” She teases, biting her lip.

“Ha. Ha. You know, I would prefer you naked, but that dress also looks breathtaking on you” he admits, his hand resting on the dress material right above the slit on her hip.

She bites her lip harder as she stares at him, unable to speak.

"I can't wait until we're done with this event. There are so many things I want to do to you right now” he mumbles, eyes tracing her body again.

“Y/n?” Tom grinned, as she silently stared at him.

“The way your eyes get darker when you get aroused, is making me lose my mind” she whispers.

Tom chuckled, pulling her hip closer to him and leaning down to press a teasing kiss to her neck just below her ear., “Want to find out what we can get away with before someone comes looking for us?"

She took a shaky breath, “I will get in trouble if you’re not on time”.

Tom hummed, interlocking his hands behind her back, “fairly certain I will not get you in trouble love”.

“No trouble? Not even a little?” She teased, licking her lips and playing with his tie.

“You know l'm holding back from fucking you over this desk, don't push your luck” he grumbled, pressing his face into her collar bone.

She ran her hand down his chest with her bottom lip in between her teeth.

Tom groaned, grabbing her hand with his, “Stop being so hot please, l'm trying to get my work done”.

She chuckled, stepping back to give him some room, “Says the one who was just trying to get me to allow him to skip the event”.

Tom sighed, “You said the fans won’t be there for another hour yes ?”

Y/n nodded, playing with the necklace resting just above her bust.

“Well if we won't be missed for awhile, we should take advantage of that." Tom winked, stepping closer to her.

Tom’s hands went around her again, this time grasping her hips as he lifted her slightly off the ground.

She gasped and clung to him as he carried her to his couch.

Tom gently laid her down before hovering over her.

Y/N’s eyes lowered to his button up shirt, her fingers playfully toying with the buttons.

Tom dipped his head and began placing open mouthed kisses along her neck.

He started at the bottom, just above her collar bone and worked his way up, savoring the feeling of her skin and scent of her perfume.

Y/n began unbuttoning his dress shirt just as his lips pressed on a sensitive spot just below her earlobe.

Tom smirked against her skin as he felt her body twitch under him and a small gasp left her lips.

He opened his mouth more and began to suck on the tender point.

“T—Tom” she moaned, tugging on his hair to pull him back before he could leave a mark.

However, that only made him even more turned on, his lips now buzzing against her skin as he hummed.

As his cold fingers pushed up the hem of her dress, he lifted his gaze to look at her face.

He nearly moaned as he saw the lust in her eyes, “love, your eyes are already saying yes, now I just need your mouth to tell me the same."

Y/n grinned and whispered “yes, now.”.

Tom smiled, holding her waist, “Turn over, love."

Y/n complied, Tom’s hands assisting her spin around.

Tom delicately lowered the zipper on her dress, his lips coating the newly bare skin.

“God, love, you’re so soft” he breathed against her skin.

Y/n smiled into the padding of the couch under her as Tom lowered the shoulder straps off of her body.

She reached back, her hand blindly finding his upper thigh.

Tom groaned, glancing down at her hand before going back to the task at hand.

Y/n stretched her arm until her hand cupped his bulge through his dress pants.

He moaned loudly and dove his head down to her shoulder, his lips pressing hard against her upper spine.

“Shhh, you gotta be quiet or we're gonna get caught" y/n warned, moving her fingers to undo his zipper.

Tom quickly helped in removing his pants, lowering them enough to be out of her way before towering over her again.

He gasped as she blindly searched his waist for the hem of his underwear, her soft fingers tickling his skin, “I want you. Now”.

She smirked into the couch, before spinning around to stare up at him.

“Settle” she teased, rubbing his hip before slipping her fingers between his underwear and bare skin.

Tom growled lowly as she stroked his length, twisting her fingers to squeeze his balls.

He threw his head back in pleasure, his eyes closed as he moaned her name.

“Feel good?” She asked, letting the tips of her fingers dance along his already twitching tip.

He moaned again, looking back down to smile at her.

“How good?” She asked, licking her hand before wrapping it around his length and sliding up and down.

Tom gritted his teeth as he tried to be quiet, “fuck, reality is even better than my dreams”.

“You’ve dreamt of this?” She questioned, massaging random spots.

Tom was certain his face somehow became even more flushed at the confession but nodded, “of us. All the damn time, I just- ahh”.

Y/n smirked, her own cheeks brightening, “and this is better Hmm?”

“Still just as damn gorgeous as always” he hummed, his hand lowering to her waist as he finally came back around to the task at hand.

“But- hhhhh- your hand feels much better than my own” he admitted, smirking as y/n blushed over the idea of him masterbating to the idea of her.

Tom grinned wickedly as y/n moaned when his pointer and middle fingers suddenly pushed past her underwear and dipped into her.

“Quiet, baby, the others will hear." Tom teased, his fingers roaming her walls gently.

“Please, keep going!" She begged, squeezing his length as her body convulsed faintly.

Tom moaned and felt himself twitch in her palm but complied with her wishes, pressing slightly harder against her as he trailed every inch inside her.

He noticed her smirk disappearing as she gave in to the feeling, her hand slowly sliding down his erected penis.

Tom decided to take advantage of this and flip the situation on her, hoping to make her feel as desperate as he had been with all of her teasing as of late.

“Is it good when I touch you here?” He whispered, his voice deeper as he danced his fingers over a warm patch inside her.

She closed her eyes and nodded faintly, hips lifting to his hand.

“Or maybe here?" He asked, turning his finger to the side and prompting her leg to shake slightly.

She hummed, prying her eyes open to look at him lazily, “d-don’t stop”.

Tom nodded with a wink, slowly pushing another finger into her.

He licked his lips as her hips bucked upwards against his hand, “stay still, don't move your hips."

She groaned, “I c-can’t Tom. I need more”.

Tom nodded, glancing at her questioningly.

Once she nodded back, he pulled his fingers out easily due to her arousal.

Tom drunkenly glanced up at her before he brought his fingers to his mouth, seductively licking her arousal off of him.

She fluttered her eyes as she smirked up at him.

“Shit, you taste amazing” he complimented, his eyes unconsciously dropping down to her exposed core, “I want it. I want to taste you."

Y/n hummed, as he peered back up at her for permission she dragged her eyes slowly from his face to her waist.

Tom grinned excitedly and quickly lowered his face until his nose was pressed just above her mound.

He felt his heart beating out of his chest as he rubbed her thigh comfortingly before his tongue slid down her throbbing lips.

“I knew you looked good enough to eat” he mumbled against her.

“Thomas, you take any longer and I'II do it myself” she groaned, her hip twitching as his breath teased her skin.

His wide eyes flashed up to hers before he smirked and complied, his tongue finding her entrance.

Tom hummed as his tastebuds became coated in her.

She clenched at the vibration from his pleasure and tugged on his hair.

He moaned into her, causing her to buck her hips again.

Tom firmly set his hands in her hips and pushed them back to the couch, his words muted from their proximity to her skin but never less demanding, “don’t move”.

His tongue danced around her as deep as it could reach.

As she got comfortable, Tom moved his left hand towards her chest.

He squeezed her breasts through her bra, pleased by her shared moaning.

She kept her hips in place but hooked her legs around his shoulders, using her legs to pull him closer to her center.

Tom chuckled to himself, bringing his right hand up and pressing his thumb onto her clit.

Y/n gasped loudly, slamming her hand over her mouth.

“Ahh, you like it when I fuck you like this?” He asked, pulling his mouth back to breathe.

She nodded faintly, staring at the ceiling.

“Yeah you do” he agreed, rolling his thumb in a circle, feeling her clit harden slightly in arousal.

Y/n all but screamed into her own hands, Tom smiling proudly as he watched her swollen core drip onto the couch below them.

Tom left his hands where they were but contorted his body so he could kiss her lips quickly, “what pretty noises you're making for me... am I making you feel good?"

“Tom, no one's ever touched me like this, fuck” she cried out, reaching one hand towards his waist.

He felt an immense amount of pleasure and pride at her statement, his head lowering back down to her until the tip of his tongue replaced his hand on her clit.

“Fuck- T-Too-Tooomm” she moaned against her palm, scratching at his back with her free hand.

Tom groaned, palming her warm labia.

“I need you” she muttered, tangling her hand in his hair.

Tom nodded, leaning up from her waist enough to speak, “I’m here”.

“No, not enough” she argued, pushing him back slightly.

Tom slid back, looking at her in confusion.

She grinned and placed her arms behind her to push herself up slightly, before reaching for his waist and tugging him to her.

Tom smiled but bit his lip, “I do-don’t have a-“.

She nodded, “I’m on the pill. And, I trust you”.

Tom nodded, hands resting on her hips once again as he lined himself up.

Once he heard her whispered approval as he stared at her, he desperately slid himself in.

He moaned as her tight walls opened enough to let his girth inside, “you feel so good!"

Y/n tried to giggle but it came out more as a grunt from the pressure her lower half was under.

“Are you okay baby?” Tom asked, restricting himself from entering her further until he knew she was okay.

She nodded, “jus-…ahh”.

Tom stroked her cheek, tilting her gaze towards him, “need me to stop?”.

Y/n shook her head, taking a deep breath and Tom felt her walls loosen around him but he stayed frozen until he was sure.

“You’re, yo-you’re just big Tom” she praised, hand pressed against his chest.

Tom closed his eyes and squeezed her ass with his right hand as he moaned, thanking her for the compliment.

Y/n knew he always enjoyed getting praise, so it wasn’t surprising to learn he did in fact have a praise kink in the bedroom too.

She grinned innocently up at his heavenly sculpted face, her arm aggressively dragging his waist towards her, shoving his erection further into her, “it’s incredible”.

Tom was certain he was going to die in that moment.

He’d been dreaming of this moment for longer than he’d ever openly admit.

But the way she felt was far better than anything his mind could have imagined.

She tasted so unbelievably delicious, making him crave her instantly.

And the way she would take control when he practically melted in her arms only made him even more aroused.

Not to mention that he noticed she’d picked up on his praise kink, already driving him wild.

He threw his head back so far the back of it touched the base of his neck.

“I never thought I'd hear you say that, fuck, that's hot." Tom admitted when he came back around, his eyes instantly finding her face.

He wanted to just freeze the moment, being able to feel her while taking in every beautiful detail of her face.

Y/n smirked, and opened her mouth to say something but only gasped loudly as Tom pressed himself on her until he was completely inside her.

Tom moaned as her walls clenched around him shakingly, her frantic legs moving so much it drove him upwards a little.

As she tilted her head backwards in ecstasy, Tom dove and began sucking on the sweet spot he found minutes before.

She circled her hips against him, moving his dick with her as she let him have his way with her neck until she felt a bruise might be forming from the suction.

“Tom” she moaned, nails digging into his back as he hit her favorite spot.

Tom moaned back, his hands playing with her buttcheeks as he pushed into her more; all without stopping the suction on her neck.

“Y-you’re going to- fuck-“ she breathed, intentionally clenching her walls around his length and grinning as he moaned so loud she could hear it despite his mouth being covered by her neck.

“You’re going to leave a mark” y/n warned, dragging her nails across his sweaty chest.

“Mmmm” he nodded, sucking harder.

“I want to give you a hickey” Tom explained, licking her skin to relive some of the pain he figured she’d feel.

“So everyone can see how I feel about you” he added quietly, his arms firmly pulling her ass towards him, her hips slamming upwards into his.

They both moaned loudly, forgetting they needed to stay quiet.

Y/n shook her head, politely pushing his head from her neck, “we have an event tonight”.

Tom shrugged, a side smile and wink being sent her way.

Y/n rolled her eyes, “people will talk. Besides, it’s my turn”.

Tom sighed at her argument but lifted an eyebrow at her last remark.

She grinned and lowered her hips, shoving him off of her by his chest.

Tom’s back hit the edge of the couch, his arms slamming into the seat to stable himself.

As his eyes widened and he licked his lips, y/n stood up and walked to that end of the couch.

Tom’s eyes traced her entire body, his length twitching against his stomach as he waited to her next move.

She grinned down at him, towering over him and giving him a soft kiss which he desperately followed, his head moving towards her as she pulled back.

She reached over and grabbed his underwear from the floor, flirtingly tossing it back at him with an evil smirk.

His mouth dropped and he audibly scoffed.

“We have to get going” she winked, grabbing his pants next.

Tom growled, reaching for her, “Get back down here, we're not done yet."

Y/n chuckled and bit her lip to suppress the moan trying to escape her lips at his orders.

She turned to look at him, more than pleased by the desperation in his eyes as he laid there before her in the corner of the couch in his office.

Never did she think she’d be in this situation.

Sure she’d been with other coworkers before, but not Tom- her boss- and not in his office.

She wished for this many times, but never imagined he’d be sitting there looking so drunk off of her and like he’d give her the world if she asked for it.

She bent down, her ass just out of reach, as she put her heels back on after having kicked them off earlier.

Y/n watched his eyes plead with her as he palmed himself aggressively, his facial muscles struggling to keep an authoritative expression.

As she rose back to standing, she licked her lips and strutted closer to him.

She stopped just before him, smirking at his eyes snapped to her’s and silently screamed for her.

She kneeled over his waist on the couch, her calves pressed against his outer thighs as her feet and heels dangled loosely off the edge.

Tom moaned, rubbing himself so hard the skin burned.

Y/n smirked again and tore his hand away from himself, “that’s not your’s”.

Tom eyes froze and stared at her as his hands reached for her waist.

She curves both hands around his swollen dick, one thumb rubbing the tip and the other rubbing his base.

Tom whimpers under her touch, his back pressing into the couch cushion more.

Y/n proudly smiles to herself before tilting her head down and kissing his collar bone, her fingers still pleasingly teasing him.

Tom rested his head against the couch and closed his eyes, squeezing the couch material in his fists.

Y/n lowered her head in a tauntingly slow pace, Tom visibly squirming for more friction.

She moved one hand from his dick to his thigh, holding him in place.

“Faster! Please, let me cum!" He begged, cupping her face as her tongue danced between his tense abdominal muscles.

She smirked against his chest, twisting her hand that was still on his cock, “soon”.

Tom moaned, throwing his head back again as she tasted more of his chest while his hands tangled in her hair.

He nearly jumped out of his seat as she placed an open mouthed kiss against the skin just above his dick still in her hand.

His eyes shot open and he bit his lip hard as he looked down at her, not wanting to beg her to suck him off, especially this early into their real-whatever this was to her.

However, he could have sang her praises when he noticed she was already planning on doing that.

She licked her lips as she examined his cock, his sperm already dripping faintly from the tip in anticipation.

Y/n hummed, peering up at him as she slid off his lap and onto the floor, her hand moving to pull his hips towards the edge of the couch.

Tom eagerly scooted his butt to the edge of the couch, his legs opening wider as her hands trailed up his inner thighs.

Y/n looked at him through her eyelashes before licking her lips again and looking back down.

Tom moaned louder than he recalled ever having done before as her swollen lips surrounded his cock.

His hands found her hair again but he tried to hold back from tugging her closer to him, wanting her to take whatever time she needed to adjust.

Y/n resisted the urge to gag as she pressed her head into his lap further, his dick hitting her tonsils aggressively.

Her lips quivered slightly but she quickly recovered, her tongue licking lines up his length as she pursed her lips together.

Tom moaned, slamming his face into the cushion beside his head to silence himself.

Y/n laughed, the action shaking his cock in her mouth, making him moan again, his hands tearing at her hair now.

She pursed her lips into a tighter hold, sucking in air, his cock throbbing against her tongue as Tom sank into his seat.

“You like that?” She asked, pulling back just as she felt he’d cum.

Tom assertively nodded, stroking her cheekbone, “so damn much darling”.

Y/n smiled proudly, her fingers trailing over his wet lap teasingly.

“Mmm, come on love” he begged, his eyes heavy

“I like you begging” she admitted, Tom groaning as he pulled her closer by the grip he still had on her hair.

“Open your mouth for me, baby" he asked, tilting her head towards his lap.

She looked up at him, her mouth wide open.

Tom groaned and shook his head at her painful teasing, “fuck, please”.

Y/n laughed at him but nodded, her hand moving his dick until it was in the spot she wanted.

Without any further warning or teasing, Tom found himself in her mouth again.

He moaned as she let her tongue explore him as her hands held his testicles.

When she began bobbing her head, her lips and suction moving around his dick fearlessly, he felt himself tense.

“Love, I’m.. I’m going - darling-“ he rambled, incoherently.

But y/n knew what he was trying to say and nodded, her head not leaving his trembling cock as she began sucking harder.

Tom leaned back as he let himself relax knowing she was okay with him cumming in her mouth.

However, he soon desired to be able to watch her pretty face suck him off; and found himself pushing himself up enough to see her.

She lifted her head, her lips moving to the top of his dick and let just the edge of her teeth glance over his tip before aggressively slamming her mouth back down his length.

Tom moaned loudly, his previously broken record shattering as he felt the most intense orgasm take over his body.

He let himself explode inside of her mouth, pleasantly impressed as she simply licked it from his cock without choking.

Tom hummed as she swallowed around him, his hands holding her hair again, this time pulling it out of her face so he could see her.

“Holy fuck y/n” he praised as she finished licking him clean.

She grinned at him as she rocked herself back from his open lap, licking the few drops of his semen from her lips without breaking eye contact.

Tom shook his head, his heart beating out of control, “god you’re amazing”.

She winked, “thank you, Sir.”

Tom froze at the nickname leaving her mouth, his grip in her hair tightening in reaction.

Y/n noticed and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, “amazing enough for a raise?”

Tom saw the playful look in her eyes but nodded affirmatively, “whatever raise you’d like, fuuuck”.

Y/n laughed loudly, standing up with a shake of her head, “how about we get to that event Hmm?”.

Tom furrowed his eyebrows at her as he watched her grab her underwear from the floor.

“You didn’t cum yet” he stated simply, pushing himself off the couch.

She shrugged, stepping into her panties as she tried to reassure him “I did have an orgasm though, so it was better than most hookups”.

“Hey” Tom whispered, spinning her around by her waist.

She finished raising her underwear before looking up into his eyes and nodding.

“Love, you know this-“ he said, looking around the room, rubbing his neck shyly.

“Tom, it’s okay, it doesn’t have to mean anything” she told him, his lips curving into a frown.

“What?” He asked, grabbing ahold of her wrist.

“This isn’t my first one night stand Tom” she giggled, kissing his cheek, “I know it doesn’t mean anything to you. It’s not a big deal”.

Tom wanted to scoff and pull her to him, kissing her until she understood just how wrong she was.

Instead he sighed, scolding himself for acting on his feelings so primally that she misinterpreted what the moment meant to him.

He had wanted to ask her out and take it slow, letting her have time to be comfortable dating her “boss”.

But when she walked into his office the way she did, he couldn’t think clearly any more.

She smiled at him softly and kissed his cheek again as she stepped back and grabbed her dress.

Tom stood frozen as he watched her slide the dress back on, the material instantly clinging to her body.

His mouth watered but he swallowed and opened his mouth to try and explain.

However, she spoke before he could, “can you zip me?”.

Tom nodded slowly, carefully sliding the zipper up from her tailbone.

“Wait, one more” y/n giggled, wiping the tissue against Tom’s neck as she removed another lipstick stain.

Tom silently let her work, his frown still present.

Once she knew he looked fine and there were no more signs of their scandalous behavior on his body, y/n stepped back and sighed.

“Why are you so pouty?” She groaned, rolling her eyes, “if it wasn’t for your cum painting my esophagus earlier, I’d think you didn’t enjoy what we did”.

Tom blushed deeply, “it’s just… you… you didn’t-“.

“Cum? I know, you said that already Tom” she laughed, “but again, I’m fine. Besides, I promise if that changes I’m more than capable of taking care of myself later”.

Tom shook his head in frustration over the fact she misread what he was going to say but then scoffed as he realized her second statement.

“If that happens, I deserve the chance to make up for it” he argued, “let me take care of you if that happens”.

“There’s nothing to make up for Holland” she rolled her eyes, resting her hands on his chest as she adjusted his tie, “most guys don’t make me cum”.

“Your boyfriends have never-?” Tom gasped, looking into her eyes to see if she was simply trying to make him feel better.

She shrugged with a small laugh, “they have Tom. Never thought I’d have this conversation with you, but yes my exes… well, most of them, have made me cum at some point. I just meant it’s not that often”.

Tom huffed, “then they need to be putting in more effort. You deserve-“.

A knock came from the door, making both of them freeze.

“Tom? Y/n? What’s taking so long? The guests are waiting” Tom’s friend Harrison shouted through the locked office door.

“Coming!” Y/n assured him, dropping Tom’s tie into place and stepping back.

“Well that’s ironic” Tom joked, grabbing her hand.

Y/n gasped and smacked his arm, shaking her head as a small laugh left her lips.

Tom smiled and pressed his lips to her temple, “one last thing before we go”.

She paused and turned to him in confusion.

“You really do look divine y/n” he complemented, squeezing her hand.

She cursed herself for actually blushing over the compliment given what they’d just finished doing.

Tom smiled and tugged her towards the door.

“Mate, god, could you stop for like one day?” Harrison groaned, shaking his head at Tom.

“Stop what?” Tom asked, glancing over at his friend.

“Eye-fucking her” Haz laughed, nodding towards y/N’s direction as she talked to one of the guests.

“I-I’m not eye fucking her Harrison” Tom defended.

Harrison rolled his eyes, “the hell you’re not. Mate, you’ve had a crush on her forever. You’ve been in love with her for at least a few months now, everyone can see it”.

“Really?” Tom asked, his eyes darting back to y/n, his heart speeding up as Kolby put his hand on her back.

Kolby was one of the guys Tom knew y/n had seen.

He wasn’t sure if they dated, her never wanting to discuss such matters in the office, but he knew they’d at least been together.

Tom knew he shouldn’t care, especially since he had now been with her as well.

But Tom wanted more than that.

He wanted to be the last one she was with, the only one she was with.

Tom knew this much to be true even before tonight.

But she made it clear she did not see tonight’s events the same way he did.

So all he could do was toss back his drink as he tried to calm himself down.

“Yes really. Fuck even when I point it out, you don’t stop staring” Haz laughed, shoving Tom’s shoulder.

“Everyone can tell?” Tom clarified, his heart pounding in anticipation.

“Duh” his friend teased.

“Even… even y/n?” Tom asked, breaking his eye contact with the scene across the room from him.

Harrison stopped laughing and set his hand on Tom’s shoulder, “mate, I don’t know. Probably, I don’t see how she couldn’t by now”.

Tom shook his head, “I need a drink”.

Harrison sighed, stepping around his friend to block him from moving, “you’re already drunk off y/n, so nice try”.

Tom groaned, his eyes flickering to y/n across the room; her smiling as she looked his way.

He forced a kind smile in return but it fell instantly as Kolby dropped his hand lower on her back as she talked to some woman.

“Mate” Harrison laughed, waving his hand in front of Tom’s face as his eyes traced where he was looking.

“We-we-“ Tom muttered, his conscious stopping him from confessing, but his predicament and lack of focus fighting to blurt it out.

“You what? Tom just make a move, she’s probably interested in you too. Just ask her out” Harrison encouraged.

“I can’t “ he argued, the tension in his chest doubling as Kolby’s hand dropped to y/N’s ass.

Harrison began talking but Tom’s attention was stuck on y/n.

He watched as y/n turned to Kolby with a confused look on her face, politely stepping out of his embrace until his hand wasn’t on her butt anymore.

Tom smirked to himself as Kolby froze in surprise.

However, Kolby wasn’t giving up.

So he moved forward when the woman they were talking to left, his hands grabbing y/N’s hips.

Even from across the room, Tom could see Kolby’s thumb intentionally resting on the exposed skin of her thigh.

Y/N’s eyes flickered as she looked back to where she last saw Tom, her eyes locking on his before she faced Kolby and picked his fingers off from her.

“Excuse me” Tom murmured, moving in her direction, not having heard any of Harrison’s comments.

“Mate!” Harrison laughed, blocking him again, “just ask her out so you two can date already”.

Tom glanced over and saw y/n was okay and back to talking with guests so he returned his focus to Harrison.

“You said you think everyone knows, even her” Tom sighed, “if that’s true… I already know her answer”.

“Shit Tom, why the low confidence?” Haz scoffed.

Tom shook his head, he wasn’t having low confidence.

In fact, he felt on top of the world after the moment earlier.

Especially considering it had been with y/n.

But despite his confidence, he allowed himself to realize if Haz were correct, she only wanted to sleep with him.

If she knew Tom liked her the way he did and was interested in him the same way, she wouldn’t have called their lovemaking a one night stand.

“Thomas” Harrison complained.

“We slept together” Tom blurted causing Harrison’s eyes to nearly spike up to his hairline in shock.

“Shit, tonight huh?” Harrison grinned, “that’s what you looked so happy about this event! You weren’t happy, you were satisfied”.

Tom growled but nodded, “but she called it a one night stand”.

Harrison sighed and nodded slowly, scratching his neck, “oh… geez… I’m sorry mate…”

Tom bit his lip and sighed, “it’s fine. Don’t get me wrong, I love that she even looked at me that way… I just…”.

“Wanted more” haz concluded for him.

Tom nodded once in agreement, letting his eyes roam to where she was, “so much more”.

“I mean normally one has to push their mates to keep finding ways to try and hook up with someone, but since you’ve already done that” haz smirked, earning a shoulder punch from Tom, “in this case I’m going to push you to keep trying to get her to be interested”.

Tom glares at him protectively, “I’m not going to force her to date me and I’m certainly not going to trick her into it or into being into me”.

Haz smirked at Tom’s sudden change of tone, glad he wasn’t sulking anymore, “just saying you should let her know how you feel”.

Tom stared at Harrison silently.

“I know, but maybe she didn’t see it the way everyone else did. Maybe she just thought you wanted to simply sleep with her” haz shrugged, glancing over at y/n, “can you blame her? Most of the guys here want to get with her just to say they did”.

Tom grumbled to himself and while Haz couldn’t make out what he said, he was sure it was something about y/n being worth more than the sexual target of the office complex.

It wouldn’t be the first time he made such a remark, Harrison often laughing and positioning out they were in an office building with a ton of stuck up celebrities and their assistants so it shouldn’t be a surprise.

“How about a drink for confidence?” Haz asked, grabbing a glass from the waiter who roamed by them.

Tom took the glass from him, tossing it back and letting the alcohol burn his throat.

He sighed as he realized he could still taste her, so much so he could hardly taste the alcohol; as if his mind was stuck on every lingering detail of her.

“Okay” Tom mumbled, shaking his hands loose at his side’s nervously.

“Hey Tom…” y/n whispered, appearing behind him, Haz smirking at Tom as he turned around.

“Y/n, love, you alright?” He asked, setting his glass down on the nearby table and reaching for her hand.

She smiled softly, raising her hands until he grabbed ahold of them both and squeezed.

Tom stared at her silently, looking over her stressed features as he allowed her time to breathe before explaining why she looked so worried.

“I’m okay, I…” she mumbled, glancing behind Tom’s shoulder at Harrison.

Haz got the hint and smirked as he shuffled out of the area when Tom followed her eyesight.

“What is it?” Tom asked, tugging on her hands so she stood closer to him.

She glanced up at him before hesitantly letting go of his hands and snaking one arm around his waist.

He watched intently as she looked up at him for approval as to if she was okay.

They’d been closer than colleagues before tonight, practically best friends, minus the big secret desire between them.

So this behavior wouldn’t be unusual to the guests present but Tom suspected she was uncertain where they stood after what happened a few hours ago.

He nodded and smiled down at her, his hand softly resting on the covered area of her hip as she relaxed into his side.

“Did you tell Makayla?” Y/n asked lowly, biting her lip.

Tom shook his head instantly, “course not, why?”

Y/n glanced across the room towards the woman in question who was about a year older than y/n.

Y/n knew that Tom and Makayla had slept together at some point in the last year, and suspected the woman’s behavior towards her tonight was out of jealousy after hearing what y/n had done.

“Love? Are you alright?” Tom asked, rubbing her hip calmingly.

“Sorry, yeah” she laughed breathily, “it’s just Jake and her are being assholes more than normal tonight”.

Tom glared over in the direction of the two in question, his hold on y/N’s waist tightening and pulling her closer unintentionally.

Y/n felt her heart surge at the behavior, mentally questioning if it meant he cared for her more than just a one night silt and or if he was just being possessive after this evening.

“What happened?” Tom asked her, turning back to look at y/n.

“Jake hasn’t left me alone tonight, being far more interruptive than normal” y/n rolled her eyes before looking over towards Makayla, “and she seemed jealous or something tonight is all”

Tom nodded, “there’s nothing between us. It was one drunken night after I lost that audition. That’s all, so I doubt it. She told me she is trying to make her way through the office”.

Y/n laughed loudly, covering her mouth with he free hand, making Tom smile.

“She actually said that to you?” She laughed.

Tom nodded and shrugged, “it’s fine, I didn’t have any feelings for her. But I’m just saying she’s not likely jealous about that, plus I didn’t say anything”.

“Hmm” y/n hummed “crazy she actually is doing that, whereas I have a few office flings over the years and suddenly I’m the office sl-“.

Tom stiffened, stepping back to stand in form of her, holding her in place before him as he looked into her eyes, “ don’t finish that”.

Y/n blushed but gave him a soft laugh and shrugged, “it’s what everyone thinks”.

“No it’s not. Not me” he argues, eyes staring into hers.

“Thanks Tom, but I don’t really care. Plus, it doesn’t say anything about you, even after tonight” she assured him, rubbing his bicep kindly.

Tom glares at her, removing his hands from her shoulders to cross his arms against his chest, “stop “.

Y/n raises an eyebrow at him, confused by his serious demeanor, “I promise. I’ve been with like two others here, most people know that but it just gives them something to gossip on without Makayla trying to slander them in revenge. But, it won’t taint your image or-“.

Tom groaned, rubbing a hand down his face, ��my god. I don’t fucking care y/n”.

She froze and stared at him in shock, him never having used that kind of language with her in such a serious way.

He noticed her body language and sighed, dropping his arms to his side as he took a deep breath, “I’m sorry. I just mean, I don’t care love. Okay? I’m pissed they’re gossiping about you, especially when I’m the one who slept with more people”.

Tom looked across the room, glaring at each of their semi-coworkers he suspected participated in the rumors.

He turned back to y/n, delicately grabbing one of her hands, “but I don’t care what it says about me. Even if it were true. I don’t care because I… tonight was….”.

Y/n looked at her heels and nodded slowly.

Tom felt hopeful it was a signal she misinterpreted his words, wanting to take it as a sign she was secretly disappointed when thinking he didn’t take tonight seriously.

As such just as she began to mumble something about understanding, Tom took a chance and held up one fingers pressing it against her lips.

Y/n slowly closed her lips, her top lip staining his finger red as her lip brushed against it.

Tom glanced around, hating there were so many people present for a moment he envisioned being private.

However as he looked back at her and saw the hope and fear fighting in her eyes, he ignored that thought.

“I was not done” Tom states, lowering his finger back down and tugging her closer with his other hand.

“I was going to say, I’m…” he took a deep breath, focusing his gaze on her eyes in an attempt to communicate his sincerity, “I’m in love with you. I was going to say tonight wasn’t just a hook up for me… or at least I hopped it wasn’t”.

Y/n froze in place her eyes boring into his as she took shallow breaths.

“I know it’s a lot. You don’t have to respond, nor do you need to feel the same” Tom mentioned, softening his hold on her hand.

“I apologize for making our profession relationship complicated and I.. oh god, I totally overstepped. I know I asked if you were consenting beforehand… but as your technical boss, I should’ve handled it differently “ Tom rambled, squeezing his eyes shut, “I mean I never saw myself as your boss, rather as a friend. I mean Haz is my friend and he was my personal assistant for awhile… oh fuck, I’m making this worse”.

Y/n pulled herself together as Tom kept rambling about him being sorry and that he should’ve made his feelings clear before sleeping with her and that he didn’t want to make her feel uncomfortable or violated.

She smiled as she digested his confession of being in love with her; shocked he felt the same way she had for months now.

“Tom” y/n whispered, Tom shutting up instantly and fearfully looking back at her.

“I’m in love with you too. Not because you’re my boss, but because you’re you” she admitted, slowly placing her hands on his chest so he could move away if he wanted.

Tom’s bottom jaw parted from his top jaw slightly before he broke into a wide smile as his cheeks reddened.

“Seriously?” He laughed, “shit I should’ve acted sooner then. I’ve been in hell for nearly a year”.

Y/n gasped, tugging on his tie to bring his face down to her level more, “a year?!”

Tom shyly looked away as she bit his lip.

Y/n smirked, pulling him the rest of the way to her by his waist, his chest now pressed against hers.

“Yes, you should’ve acted earlier” she whispered so lowly he struggled to hear her over the background music and surrounding conversations, slinging one arm over his shoulder.

Tom bit his lip aggressively, his hands on her waist as she pretended they were dancing but he knew better.

She smirked at him as she lowered one hand to his waistband, “I mean seriously, you had to keep me waiting this long?”

Tom chuckled, moving one hand to pull her head against his shoulder as he whispered into her ear, “I’ll make up for it”.

Y/n smiled into his shoulder, walking her fingers over the middle seem on Tom’s pants.

Tom moaned quietly into her ear, “easy now love”.

She shook her head against him, sliding one finger in between the flaps of fabric buttoned together over his crotch, “you love me, don’t you?”

“If you don't stop darling, I've no other choice but to take you right here and now against the wall there” he warned, looking to the closest wall.

Y/n lifted her head from his shoulder, slyly removing her finger from its place over his underwear.

She looked around and smiled at him before walking away.

Tom sighed, his eyes glued to her shifting hips and the way her ass moved as she strutted away from him.

He nearly headed her way when he saw Kolby approaching her.

Sure she admitted she was in love with Tom, but that didn’t mean he enjoyed the idea of her ex being all over her.

However he stayed where he was when he saw Y/n shake her head, say something to him, and he sulked off.

Tom smiled to himself, burying his hands in his pockets as he waited to see why y/n left his side suddenly.

He laughed as she grabbed a brownie from the dessert table and spun back.

She grinned at him as she bit into the dessert on her way back.

Tom rolled his eyes playfully, removing his hands from his pockets and resting them on her hips when she was close enough.

Y/n shrugged, taking another bite and smirking as Tom stiffened when she licked the crumbs from her lips.

She spun the last bite in her fingers for a second, glancing up at a confused Tom.

She wiped the frosting off the top of the brownie, slowly chewing on the remainder.

Tom glared as she smirked at him knowing how hard he was getting already.

She began to lick the frosting from her finger teasingly before she ran the finger across his white dress shirt.

“Oh, I’m sorry” y/n smirked, “Your shirt got a little dirty, how about we go take it off?"

Tom smirked, his eyes glowing as he firmly grabbed her hand, leading her out of the event center.

“Tom, where are you going? The fans are just arriving” Harry stated as the couple entered the hall.

Tom groaned, “y/n is.. I got my shirt dirty, I need to change”.

Baz sighed, shaking his head, “fine, you’ve got probably five minutes anyways. If that. Y/n please ensure he actually hurries, Harrison said he was already late tonight”

Tom blushed, his fingers dancing over the back of y/N’s hand at his side.

“Of-“ y/n began but Harry cut her off.

“You know, he’ll kill me for saying this, but normally when you’re here he’s actually on time, probably trying to impress you” Baz smirked, “so maybe now he’ll arrive when the fans get in”.

Y/n giggled, “Harry!” biting her lip to keep from smirking instead of pretending to brush off Harry’s comment the way she normally would prior to Tom’s confession, “I’ll take care of it”

Tom griped to himself as y/n got a shirt out of the closet in his office.

She always had at least one extra suit and one extra set of standard clothing in the office closet so that if Tom had a sudden meeting, event, or wanted to go for a walk without being noticed, he could without having to go back to his house first.

He pouted as she tossed him the other dress shirt, not turning to look at him as she requested the dirty one so she could put it in the dry cleaning bag.

“Y/n” Tom whined, making her turn around and laugh at him.

“Tooomm” she teased, hands on her hips as she walked to him.

“We had plans, screw Harry” Tom stated.

“You want me to screw Harry?” Y/n joked, “what weird ass situation did I get myself into”.

Tom glared and scoffed, “not like that, and you know it”.

She giggled, grabbing the shirt he finally removed, kissing his cheek before she left.

“People will know if you’re late again Tom” she warned, tossing the shirt into the bag and zipping it closed.

“So, let them. I’ll tell them myself, I told you I’m in love with you” he reminded her, buttoning up the fresh shirt she gave him.

Y/n set the dirty dry cleaning bag on the back of his desk chair so she would remember to take it in for cleaning later.

She smiled over at him, tucking hair behind her ear, “doesn’t mean they need to know we’re fucking in your office”.

Tom nodded in agreement, not wanting the other men to be thinking of her in that way.

Y/n approached him, helping him with the rest of his buttons and then his tie, “not saying I don’t want to fuck in your office”.

Tom chuckled, pulling her waist to him as he pressed his lips against hers in a needy manner.

The kiss got heated just as y/N’s timer on her phone went off.

Y/n groaned as she and Tom pulled back.

He grinned at the way her eyes still held his with a burning passion.

“I will take care of you soon love” he promised, kissing her softly before departing from her arms.

Tom smiled at the fans as he autographed the headshots his agency had printed for him for the event.

He glanced over at y/n, trying not to laugh teasingly as she shifted in her seat uncomfortably.

“You alright love?” Tom whispered in between fans.

Y/n glared over at him, wordlessly sliding another print his way to sign.

He grinned and placed his spare hand on her thigh under the table.

Her eyes snapped to his with a warning stare but he ignored it, rubbing her inner thigh slowly.

“Ello” Tom greeted the next fan casually, as if he wasn’t trying to edge his personal assistant under the table.

The fan squeaked and thanked him for signing the picture.

Tom smiled innocently as he thanked her for attending, his hand secretly never leaving y/N’s leg.

Over thirty minutes passed this way, Tom’s hand taunting y/n under the table as she tried to keep her composure.

Tom painted on yet another fake innocent smile when a fan asked for a photo.

However, his eyes darkened and widened as his fingers hit something wet this time.

He instinctively curled his fingers, causing y/n to grip the sides of her chair firmly in an attempt to stay still as her thighs shook under his touch.

Tom closed his eyes, claiming it was him blinking When the fan took the photo.

He removed his hand slyly, needing to compose himself for the photo.

Once the fan left, he glanced over at y/n, a faint smirk showing more in the glimmer in his eyes than on his lips as he whispered a warning , “y/n”

She looked away in annoyance and slid another paper to him.

Tom laughed and signaled for Harry to let the next fan approach.

“You alright love?” Tom chirped as he rounded the corner.

Y/n had stepped away from the table several minutes prior so once the last fan left, Tom sought her out.

She ignored him as she shifted her thighs, rubbing them together to relieve the tension between her hips.

Tom smirked, walking over and grabbing a hold of her hips firmly, “what is it you’re doing Hmm?”

Y/n rolled her eyes, “as I said early, I’m able to take care of myself”.

Tom shook his head, pushing her backwards until her back was supported by the wall, “still so horny? Even after I fucked you so well earlier?”

Y/n moaned as his warm breath hit her ear and his erotic words echoed in her mind, “yes”.

He pressed a firm kiss to her neck, just to the side of the spot he knew she desired, “I said I'd take care of you, did you think I wouldn't follow through on that?"

She shrugged, making him glare as he tightened his grip on her, one hand dropping to squeeze her ass as it pressed against the wall.

“Hmm, well maybe I’ll just have to show you I’m a man of my word then” he whispered, moving his mouth to her sweet spot.

Y/n moaned, gripping him desperately, “We're really going to fuck here? What if someone sees us?"

Tom laughed, “you’re the one who can’t seem to wait love”.

She took a shaky breath, “I can too”.

He shook his head at her stubbornness, “the grip you have on my shirt, and the placement of your other hands says differently darling”.

Y/n glanced down and blushed as she registered her hand roamed down to press against the bulge in his pants.

Tom licked her neck slowly, “don’t be embarrassed love, it’s hot how needy you are for me”.

Y/n fought to compose herself, not willing to be so submissive immediately.

She leaned back against the wall, making his lips separate from her neck, much to her disappointment but she knew it was needed.

“I’m not needy” she remarked, crossing her arms to increase the distance and allow herself to be more believable when the tempting contact broke.

Tom raised an eyebrow at her, “please, darling, you were basically begging”.

Y/n glared weakly, “I don’t beg”.

He smirked at the challenge, “wanna bet?”

She smirked back and nodded, “Loser pays for the date tomorrow”.

Tom agreed despite knowing he was going to pay regardless, especially since he’d suggested the date to begin with.

“Who is the one begging?” Y/n teased as Tom’s eyes roamed her exposed body, lust taking over his normally kind eyes.

“I never said I was too blind to appreciate your gorgeous body, my love” he argued, stepping back from the couch as he lowered his pants.

She shook her head, “what’s your plan then hmm?”

Tom rolled his eyes, leaning down to kiss her lips, licking them quickly, “I don’t need a plan. You’ll be begging soon, love”.

Y/n laughed but nodded, waving her hand over her body tauntingly.

He bit his lip as he undid his tie, getting an idea as he watched the way her hands went down to her core.

Tom tsked and grabbed her hand just as the tip of her fingers touched her outer lips, “no. There will be no touching. That’s cheating love”.

Y/n groaned, tugging her arm from his grip with an grin, “good luck stopping me”.

He smirked as his idea echoed in his mind, his hands lowering the tie from his neck, eyes flickering between the tie and her hands.

She seemed to catch on at that moment, eyes widening.

Tom smirked, but let his eyes soften as he looked for her consent when he grabbed her wrist.

She smiled at him and shrugged, “not going to help get me to beg, but sure”.

He scoffed and shook his head.

It wasn’t the end of his plans with her, but he suspected it would help more than she thought.

If nothing else, it would keep her hands off him which would help him not cave in to her touch before she began to beg for him.

He needed her, but he desperately needed her to beg him the way he had begged her earlier.

“Hands behind your back." Tom ordered, unbuttoning and pulling his shirt off as he waited to her to turn around.

She nodded and stood up, intentionally taking her time as she dropped her hands behind herself.

She made sure to let her hands smack against her ass as she waited to him to tie her hands.

Tom gritted his teeth as his eyes locked on the bounce of her butt under her soft hands.

Composing himself, he assertively gripped her wrists with one hand.

He watched as she squirmed slightly, her thighs rubbing, as he tightened his necktie around her wrists; pleased at how soon it had started to work.

“Now, I have work to finish” he told her, walking to his desk.

He tossed the garment bag off into the corner before settling into his seat, grinning at her across his desk.

She glared at him, “really? You’re not going to even touch me?”.

Tom smirked and shrugged, “how bad do you want me to?”

She scoffed at his pleased expression as she contemplated her situation.

“You know, you can touch me without it meaning you lost the bet” she told him.

He nodded, pretending to consider her idea.

She pouted over at him, walking over and sitting on the edge of his desk.

Tom gulped as his eyes noticed the way her bare ass was pressed against the desk, the corner making an indent in her skin the way he wanted his hands to.

Utilizing his turn on, she pressed her butt against his desk harder as she told him, “you can grab my ass Tom, you can even spank it if you want”.

Tom groaned as he saw her notice the way his cock visibly twitched.

He shook his head, ignoring her comment as best as he could as he pushed down his underwear to relieve the force compressing his erection down.

She wanted to cave as his enlarged dick flung up to his stomach, so she did the last thing she could think of in her current predicament.

“Kolby would do it” she whispered, not looking at Tom.

He instantly stood from his seat, grabbing her bound arm and pulling her up.

“What?” He asked firmly, staring at her.

“Bet or no bet, Kolby would smack my ass” she pushed.

Tom immediately gave in and brought his hand back before slamming it hard against her butt.

Y/n gasped at the contact, Tom watching as her eyes widened before being coated in a look of pleasure.

He shook his head, spanking her again, “don’t say his name again”.

Y/n nodded but when Tom sighed in relief, she added, “I’ll try… Jealousy seems to be a great motivator for you."

Tom glared at her, one hand smacking her ass again while the other gripped her inner thigh.

She arched her back as she moaned, her hands twisting in the restraints.

“I don’t want to hear his name” he replied, and while he was hiding it well, she could sense some sincere jealousy there, not just the teasing way she meant it.

“Tom,” she said, lowering her tone to a soft sound, “you don’t need to be jealous of him. Or anyone”.

Tom nodded, his hand squeezing her ass and pulling her closer.

Noticing some apprehension in his attempt to fully believe her, she bent her head to rest on his shoulder, ”I don't want anyone else. It’s you I’m in love with. Besides, no one else can make me feel like you do."

Tom grinned to himself, his grip on her ass cheek tightening as he tried to get her closer to him.

She groaned as his erected penis pressed against the outside of her outer lips in the process.

He smirked despite the growing desire in himself that risked him caving to her unspoken demand.

“Beg for it." He ordered, his thumb rubbing her mound before lowering his hand to his cock to pump it.

She took a shaky breath but remained bratty, “And if I don’t?”

Tom sighed and sat down again, “then, It's my thigh or nothing, I'm not helping you get off."

She furrowed her eyebrows at him in annoyance but took a seat on his thigh, her legs on each side as her privates rested on the muscles of his thigh.

He leaned back and watched her silently, keeping his face stoic.

Y/n scoffed and began rocking herself on him, Tom feeling her warm up against him.

He stretched, reaching his hands behind her to keep her from falling off as she increased her speed as he let out a seductive moan to entice her.

Tom’s stoic expression shifted to a taunting smirk as she moaned, her eyes closed, as she aggressively rode his thigh.

As he felt her arousal drip onto his thigh, he placed a hungry kiss to her collar bone while her head arched back.

“Fi-fine” she whimpered, tugging her restraints and whining as she tried desperately to increase the pressure on her core with his thigh.

“What’s that?” He asked, biting his inner lip to keep from touching himself or scooping up her juices.

“Fuck-“ she groaned, slamming her head forward onto his chest as his hand slipped to her and slapped her mound.

“Okay. I give in” she cried, “please give me more”.

Tom smirked, holding her head up as he looked into her pleading eyes, “I’m not sure I understand”.

She whimpered, shaking her head, “please Tommy. I can be good, I swear. I can be so good”.

Tom nodded, his head lowering to her neck as she leaned into him, “who would I be to deny you my love? But I just need to know what it is you need.”

She pushed her shoulder against him, Tom responding by helping her sit upright on his leg with her head up.

“Please! Give it to me!" She begged, the desperation clear in her voice and eyes by now.

Tom grinned in relief that he didn’t have to resist anymore.

He nodded sweetly, stroking her cheek and letting that hand trace her skin as he lowered it to her waist.

“Of course my sweet girl” he encouraged, pleased with the shock and intense pleasure that rushed over her as his first three fingers pushed into her without warning.

She gasped as he curled his fingers and moved around inside her, “oh god, yes”

He moaned, jerking himself as she clenched on his hand, “let yourself go beautiful”.

She nods once weakly before throwing her head back as she screams, Tom’s fingers firmly pressing onto her g spot.

Tom groans in discomfort as he tries to increase his own pleasure with his spare hand as he guides her through her high.

She rocks her hips against his hand, prompting him to improve the tempo and pressure of his fingers.

“Holy fu-“ she shouts, digging her nails into her own hands due to the tie, “god damn Tom”.

He removes his hand from himself as he feels her walls loosen, not wanting to finish yet.

Tom smiles proudly as she cums over his fingers, not stopping the tapping of her g spot.

She moans throughout the rest of her orgasm, leaning back as she stops cumming on him.

He quickly braces her back to keep her from stumbling backwards, “that’s it love”.

She glances down at him, lifting her legs off of him.

Y/n looks down shyly as she sees the mess she made of his fingers and thigh.

Tom winked, “you cum so beautifully my dear”

She blushed and moved towards his chest, using her thighs to push his apart.

“Words” Tom ordered, seeing the glint in her eye.

She chokes out a whine, “Tom, please, I need you”.

Tom bites his lip, his hands securing her hips as she stood before him.

Knowing he demanded more, she dropped to her knees, looking up at him.

And fuck, Tom thought that position, would be the death of him.

And a blissful death it would be.

The way her messy hair stuck to her flushed face, her hands tied behind her back with his necktie, kneeling before him, eyes begging with him, as she lowered her mouth to his crotch.

Tom threw his head back as her lips gripped his dick in desperation, her moaning vibrating against him.

It took himself several seconds into the blowjob and a near orgasm before he snapped back to his goal.

As she licked his member teasingly, he gripped her hair, pulling her back.

She groaned as she looked up at him, “I told you I could be good”.

Tom moaned, free hand pushing on his dick at her words.

“Not right now. As much as I love you letting me fuck your mouth “ he confessed, tugging her hair, “you mouth needs to be doing something else”.

She chuckled softly at his rambling prior to his order but nodded.

She lifted her thighs off her shins and pushed herself back to a standing position.

Y/n glanced down at Tom and whimpered, her eyes locking on his cock.

“How can I help you y/n/n?” Tom inquiried, dragging his hand down her shoulder.

She shivered under his touch, “please, I need you Tom. Just please help me, I’m begging, I can’t get myself off, I need you. Tom, please, please, please”.

“I told you, you would eventually start begging." He smirked, mockingly stroking her face with one hand, squeezing her ass with the other.

She arched her back slightly and moaned, “I know. You win, okay. Fuck-… Tom you win, just…”

Y/n gasped as Tom smacked her ass and pulled her hair while his eyes scanned her body.

“Please Tom, just fuck me already. I need you “ she sobbed, “I need your dick, I need you in me, please”.

He smirked and removed his hand from her tangled hair, dropping it next to his other one as he firmly cupped her ass, “god I love it when you moan my name”.

Y/n moaned as he gripped her cheeks tightly, enjoying the feeling of his hands on her butt, “Tom, please”.

Tom grinned and used the grip on her ass to pull her to him, firmly guiding her until her core was against his dick.

She gasped as his warm penis touched her.

Y/n glanced up at him with thankful eyes before she gently shook her arms.

Understanding her wish and also personally desiring her hands to be free, he whispered, “Be good for me and I’ll untie you”.

She nodded, “I - I will be good”.

Tom moved his hands to her wrists, grabbing the ends of the necktie restraining her, “promise? How good will you be for me?”

She whimpered, batting her eyes at him, “so good, Sir. Fuck, I’ll be so good”.

Tom moaned at the nickname, his fingers rapidly undoing the tie on her wrists.

Y/n sighed and tangled her hands in his hair, her lips pressing kisses all over his face.

He hummed, leaning his head back as he let her hands rover all of his skin, relishing in her touch.

“Sir, I want more, please, give me more!" She pleaded, her hands pumping his cock as precum dripped from it.

Tom’s heavy eyes met hers, “show me what you want, and beg for it, like you promised”.

Y/n nodded immediately, her hand squeezing his dick, “I need this, your enormous cock Sir, I need it in me. I need you railing me, please”.

His eyes flashed open, one hand tugging her hair and the other back on her ass again, “fuck y/n… no more sir, I need you to beg me. Not your boss. Me. Tom”.

She stepped back and pushed his legs together, straddling his waist within seconds.

“As you wish, after all, can’t disappoint the best I’ve ever had” she winked, playing into his praise kink.

Tom moaned, resecurring his grip on her and tightening his hold.

“Tom, handsome, I need you” she exclaimed, rocking her hips closer to him, “so so so badly”.

Tom nodded and groaned as he leaned against his desk chair.

“Please Tom, help me out, I need you, I can’t handle this anymore, I’d do anything “ she whimpered.

He immediately caved, hand leaving her hair to grab his girth and line it up to her.

“Me or you?” He asked her, giving in.

She grinned and sighed in relief, “I don’t care right now”

Before he could decide, she tore his hand away from himself and replaced it with her own as she aggressively pushed his dick into her opening.

They both moaned scandalously as their hands trailed each other and lips roamed the other’s body.

Y/n rode him as Tom audibly sucked on her neck, “you’re so good for me y/n”.

She hummed, making cursive letters with her hips as she lowered herself onto him further.

Tom cursed and aggressively slapped her ass as he bit her neck.

“Oh fu-“ she gasped, tugging his hair, “motherfucking hell Tom. Do that again”.

Tom smirked and repeated his actions and let out a hellaciously loud moan as she spelled his name in cursive with her hips as he kept spanking her butt.

Just as he noticed what she was spelling with her movements, he felt himself let go and finish inside of her without notice.

“Fuck, I’m s-“ Tom mumbled, leaning up and his breath hitching as his cock trembled against her walls.

She held one hand over his mouth, the other pushing him back down in his chair, riding him as he went through his high.

Tom was acutely aware of the insanely erotic sounds he was making, but kept squeezing her ass in his hands as if his life depended on it.

When he was done, his hands held onto her waist to keep himself inside her, “my turn”.

She gasped as Tom lifted them both up, her legs wrapping around him as she felt herself clench around him as he walked with his dick inside her.

“Tom” she moaned as he approached the table, them unknowingly having moved away during their erotic activities.

“Let me hear you love, no one else is here” he cooed, stroking her hair as he reached the desk.

“I don’t even care anymore, they can hear” she gushed, “I can’t help myself, you’ve ruined me Tom. I need you, please, I can feel another one”.

Tom chuckled, “oh I know. Don’t worry love, you’ll cum again”.

She whimpered at his words but moaned loudly as he slammed her back onto his desktop, his lips traveling her chest instantly.

“G-“ she gasped, scratching his bare back as he hovered over her, his dick still inside her.

“Gah, fuck Tom, no” she cried as he started to remove himself from her.

He smirked as he kept bringing his hips back for a few seconds before suddenly throwing his hips forward, making her scream his name.

“You like it when I fuck you on my desk Hmm?” He asked, grinning as she nodded wordlessly as she gasped for air.

“You just love it when I pound you like this don’t you y/n?” Tom teased, lowering his lips down to kiss her breasts as he thrusted his hips into her again.

“Fuck yes” she screamed, “please Tom, please don’t stop”

“Shit love, Your thighs are shaking so much” Tom commented, rubbing them delicately, “just let go baby”.

She whimpered, tugging on his hair, “I need your lips, kiss me please”.

He nodded within seconds, but backed his hips up, pulling himself out making her frown.

He laughed and smirked, leaning his lips down until they were mere millimeters from touching hers.

Tom thrusted his hips forward with as much force as he was sure she could handle, his mouth connecting with hers as he absorbed her loud moaning.

Tom groaned as he felt her warm cum engulf his dick in the already tight space he was working with down there.

As she continued to cum, her walls stretched, allowing more room for both him and the ongoing cum.

She kept moaning in his mouth as he sucked on her nipple, using his other hand to flick the other nipple.

When he felt her cum stop but walls remain flexed and wider, he pressed a kiss to her sternum before ramming her again.

“Tom!” She screamed, her eyes glazing over as she moaned loudly, “fuck, yes, oh my god. Again Tom! Please! Again!”

Gripping her hips to keep her in place so her movements wouldn’t mute any sensations, he removed himself from her.

He sunk his fingers into her core, grinning at her as he removed them and sucked her cum from his fingers, “I need some room”.

She moaned at his teasing and closed her eyes in pleasure as Tom delicately used his fingers to clean her out.

Once he felt confident he got most of it out without causing a significant amount more to release, he licked his fingers clean, moaning before lining himself up.

“That’s it, that’s my girl” he praised as she reached down and pulled his cock into alignment with her entrance in desperation.

Tom held her hips firmly again as he brought his ass backwards and arched up to the ceiling.

She whimpered as she watched his length quickly slide through the air and crash into her, feeling his length fill her as she screamed into his shoulder.

Tom smirked as he felt her cum even more this time, so much so he could feel his cock sliding out of her from the slippery fluids pushing against him.

“So good for me, look at how much you came” he cheered, squeezing her ass as he praisingly gazed at her dripping cunt.

She threw her head back against the wooden desk as she took a shaky breath, a pleased smile on her lips.

Tom kindly stroked her face, brushing the hair off her skin and placing sweet kisses in their place.

He gave her a passionate but gentle kiss to her lips, “y/n my love, you can give me another one, can't you baby? for me, please?"

She took a deep breath and nodded, fingertips dancing over his jaw.

“I’ve got you love, don’t hold back” he said, dropping to his knees before his desk.

“Tom?” She asked faintly, in a bit of a blissful daze from her last orgasm.

He softly tugged her legs towards him, sliding her until her butt on the edge of the desk, “I’ll do the work, you just relax”.

She mumbled an agreement and relaxed her muscles as he rose himself up until his mouth was at her entrance.

“You taste so fucking good love” Tom commented seconds before his tongue licked her outer lips.

“Mmmm Tom “ she whispered, pushing her hips and butt closer to him.

“Settle dear, I’ll take care of you. I promise” he encouraged.

He leaned back into a different angle, using the empty chair area of the the desk to position himself just below her cunt.

Tom took a moment to memorize every detail of this intimate part of her.

Then, he gave her hand a gentle squeeze as a courteous warning before he dove back in.

He swore he came again as he used his tongue to drag the cum out of her sensitive center and swallowed her.

Tom moved his mouth to her clitoris and pressed a soft kiss first, watching as she trembled under his delicate touch.

“Doing okay love?” He checked in, knowing he’d already given her several orgasms tonight.

“Great” she murmured, squeezing his hand that was still holding hers, “your lips feel so good”.

Tom smirked and pressed his mouth back to her clit, this time swirling his tongue around it and watched as she twitched over and over.

He sunk a finger into her vagina, curling it as he instantly found her g spot as if he knew every inch of her already.

Tom removed his tongue and began to suck on her clitoris needily as he tickled her g spot before pushing his knuckle against it.

As y/n screamed, her throat burning from the intensity of the force she was using, Tom moved his mouth to her opening and pulled out his finger.

Tom shouted her name loudly as he lapped up the cum dripping from her onto his mouth below her hips.

“Sorry” Tom panicked, pulling his hand back from her as she flinched.

She laughed faintly and shook her head, “I’m okay Tom, just a bit sensitive��.

He nodded, slowly lowering the wet towel back to her legs.

“I promise, you did good Tom. So good” she assured him, squeezing his arm.

Tom blushed and glanced up at her with a shy smile, “I didn’t go too hard?”

She shook her head, “I would tell you. You know, you don’t need to do the aftercare thing Tom, you’ve done more than enough for me tonight”.

He chuckled, leaning down to place a soft kiss to her forehead, “shh, I’m always going to take care of you and clean up my mess, love. It should only take a few seconds”.

She smiled as she watched him focus on cautiously cleaning their fluids from her body, seeing him double check each location to make sure he didn’t miss any.

“I suppose we don’t need to wait for the standard protocol of the third date to initiate sex now huh?” Y/n teased, her head resting against Tom’s chest as he held her to him as he laid on the couch.

Tom chuckled, kissing her cheek, “I hadn’t planned on it happening this way, but I’m not sure I can hide my physical desires for you after today”.

Y/n rubbed her head against his chest as she got more comfortable under the blanket he had draped over them, “that’s not quite what I asked”.

Tom laughed, tickling her sides, “I won’t tell you sleep with me before our third date, but I’d appreciate it”.

Y/n busted out laughing as she snuggled into his embrace, “god I love you”.

“I love you too y/n, I’m more than pleased we got more personal” he winked, stroking her hair to encourage her to sleep.

Tom Holland Navigation/Masterlist

My Main Navigation/Masterlist (All My Works)

Tom Holland Taglist (comment here to added): @galaxyholland @bigbirdstwins @mcushvft @fishingirl12 @raajali3 @justapurrcat @natswifey @directioner5life @ell0ra-br3kk3r @laylasbunbunny

#tom holland x reader #tom holland fluff #tom holland #tom holland x y/n #my writing #tommy baby #tom holland x you #requests #tom holland fanfic #Tom holland smut #thomas stanley holland #tom holland x reader smut #tom holland x you smut #tom holland x assistant #tom holland boss #tom holland x y/n smut #tom holland jealousy #original post

523 notes · View notes

sunflowersandsapphires · 1 year ago

Text

Down to the Meadow

When Skies Are Gray, Chapter 3

Series Masterlist Next Chapter

pairing: Frank Castle x fem!reader

summary: Frank’s life has reached a crossroads: he can either continue to seclude himself and pursue a dark, lonely future, or he can open himself up to connecting with someone again and maybe achieve happiness. Being the grump that he is, Frank has already committed to the lonely path, but his curious new neighbor might just turn that around.

warnings: swearing, descriptions of depression, descriptions of violence/gore (canon typical), more of Frank being concerned about what reader is eating (very vague ED references)

a/n: AHHHHH I AM SO SORRY THIS IS LATE! A huge thank you to the anon who reminded me that it was Monday LOL. I am so glad that someone else enjoys this story because I love writing it. This chapter delves into Franks trauma and mental state and I hope you all enjoy!

w/c: 5.5k

The dream evolved after the first iteration. Each time he closed his eyes, a new horror cemented itself into the sentient nightmare that was slowly consuming his entire life.

As with the first dream, it started with you joining Maria in his standard nightmares. Your beautiful figure sitting on the carousel alongside his late wife and kids as those assholes gunned you down. A patch of red slowly spreading across your pretty white dress as your smile morphed into a face of horror.

The weird thing was, his subconscious laced the nightmares with gorgeous, peaceful images of you. Like his mind was desperately trying to remind him that good things are easily ruined.

You pulling cookies out of the oven. Then, you being blown to bits in front of him in the field. You laughing at a joke he didn’t mean to make. Followed quickly by your screams as the life drains from your face.

You picking flowers in a sun kissed field, before a large black mass overtakes you, swallowing you whole.

Though his resting mind was eager to pry him away from you, to spare you a terrible fate, his waking mind was yearning to let him wrap himself around your finger. The fine line he was treading started to look more like a noose—and he was weaving it himself.

A cold, squishy object nudged Frank’s outstretched hand deliberately. Groaning, the Marine retracted his hand into the cocoon of sheets he had created in his uneasy sleep. A pitiful whine shattered the early morning silence and sent a white-hot strike of pain through his skull.

Pressing the heel of his hands into his eyes, his throat twisted in a silent cry of pain. Prying his eyes open, he was blinded by the daylight, searing an imprint into his eyelids.

Nausea burned in his gut as he contemplated opening his eyes again. He wanted nothing more than to lie here and rot all day, but Max clearly needed to go out. The thought of bringing Max outside the apartment right now was enough to make a gag rise in his throat. An idea rattled around in his skull, the pain of his hangover too intense for him to even remember that Frank Castle never asked for help unless he was on his death bed. Braving the sun’s unintentional inferno, he let his eyes slide open again.

A hiss of pain escaped his lips and he drew a hand up to block the rays as best he could while he took in his surroundings. He had fallen asleep on his couch after making a mess of his apartment, but his phone sat prominently displayed on the coffee table amid a smattering of empty bottles. Grasping it for dear life, he sent a message as quickly as possible before shutting it off and letting his head fall back to the pillows.

Frank: I hate to ask this but could you take Max out for me? I’ve got a bad headache.

A vibration let him know that you’d responded, prompt as always.

You: I’m sorry you’re not feeling well ☹️ I’ll be right over.

Breathing deeply, Frank heaved himself off the couch, stumbling to the door to unlock it before retreating to his created sanctuary.

Frank: You can let yourself in. Door’s open.

Drifting in and out of a painful consciousness, Frank hazily remembered the door opening, a cool hand on his face, the same gentle palm offering him some extra strength painkillers and a glass of water, before all signs of other life disappeared from his apartment.

When he woke again, you were returning with Max in tow—your ethereal form outlined by a halo of golden light as you crouched in front of him. Frank was vexed by the sight of the skirt of your beautiful dress pooling on the floor.

“Hey, big guy. Feeling any better?” Your voice was soft as your dainty fingers stroked his arm with a featherlight touch.

Frank grunted in affirmation, not trusting himself to look at your dazzling eyes and risk seeing honest concern. There was no way his fatigue riddled mind could resist you, it was too dangerous.

You gave him a small smile. “Well I took Max for a walk to and around Central Park, so he should be a happy camper for a while. Did you want me to stay?”

Blood rushed to Frank’s ears. This is exactly what he was afraid of. Do not say yes. Do not say yes. Do not— “Please.” His voice cracked around the word, making him cringe. You fucking asshole. You piece of shit.

“Hey, I don’t know what’s going on in that head of yours, but tell it to quiet down. It doesn’t seem to be helping.” Your knuckles brushed over his cheek and he leaned into the touch, weakening your worried frown.

“I just…I ain’t good company, sunshine. I shouldn’t let you stay, I can’t ask that of you.” Your pinched expression intensified as you listened to his deep grumble crack on the pet name he used for you. Cupping his cheek tenderly, a small smile slipped through as you reassured him.

“You don’t need to be good company for me to enjoy being with you, Frank.” You shuffled closer to the couch, hand moving to scratch lightly at his scalp which made him groan in appreciation, eyes falling closed.

Frank sighed, a strong sense of guilt ballooning in his chest “I don’t deserve you.”

“Oh stop. You deserve to be happy. Whatever and whoever helps you get there, yah?” Your voice was definitive, almost stern, which made the corners of his lips twitch up in a smirk.

“So bossy.” He murmured, his smirk growing as you gave his hair a small tug in retaliation.

“Can I sit?” You jerked your head to his couch and he nodded, sitting up to make room for you.

Ignoring his desire to let you care for him, he rested his arms across the back of the couch. The ghost of your body heat dancing over his exposed skin in an almost comforting waltz. It wasn’t a great placebo for your gentle touches, but it would have to do.

You were quiet for a moment, worriedly glancing around the apartment. Empty beer and liquor bottles littered the coffee table. While you wouldn’t dare call Frank’s place “messy,” your rigid, grouchy neighbor was never less than meticulous. He’d mentioned his military background to you once, which would explain his precision and attention to detail. And that was why the litter seemed so out of place, you supposed.

Preoccupied with brainstorming a way to assist, Frank nearly made you jump when he broke the silence.

“Sorry I ain’t much fun.”

You chuckled, poking his shoulder. “I already told you, tough guy, you don’t have to be fun. You can sleep more if you want.”

“Nah.” Frank’s face contorted with a grimace making you giggle.

“Ok, have you eaten yet?” You tilted your head at him, darling smile persisting even though his place was a mess and he was a disaster. His doubt began churning again. She deserves better. Send her away.

Frank just shook his head, both to clear it of the whirling thoughts and to answer your question, so you continued. “How does an incredibly greasy burger sound?”

The Marine groaned, “Like fuckin’ heaven.”

Giggling, you took his hand. “I know a good diner not far from here. Join me for lunch?”

“Sounds like a plan, sunshine.” Frank allowed you to pull him from the couch, appreciative that you took care not to jostle him too much. Armed with more painkillers and a pair of sunglasses, the two of you headed out for a meal.

The amount of care you took, in the short walk between his apartment and your destination, to ensure his comfort on the bustling NYC streets was honestly outrageous. How someone could give two shits about a man that massacred people without trying was beyond him, but he was grateful nonetheless. Keeping a tender hold of his hand, you led him around the other New Yorkers with immense grace, your sweet face bright with a smile the entire time. Thinking it would be best for his pounding head, you refrained from making conversation, simply turning around to grin at him every once in a while.

As you reached the diner, you pulled open the door for him before his outstretched free hand could touch the handle. Frank was always so chivalrous around you, it was time for him to get a taste of his own medicine. Smiling sweetly, you bit back a laugh at his narrowing eyes as he skeptically accepted your action.

“Thanks, sunshine.”

“Why of course, sweetheart.” You coated your voice with honey and Frank grumbled, furrow above his brow deepening. Bringing his calloused hand up to your lips, you placed a kiss on his knuckles before brushing over them with your thumb. “Relax, Frank. Let someone else care for you this time, hmm?”

The tension on his face ebbed before evaporating. Poking his cheek, that was now dusted with a rosy blush, you giggled, pulling him towards an empty booth.

Sitting across from you, Frank slid his sunglasses off to fully appreciate your appearance today while you read over the laminated menu. Dolled up in one of your signature floral sundresses, your hair was styled differently—pulled away from your face, revealing more of you to him. Natural light poured in from the window framing your booth, highlighting your slender hands and neckline that plunged deeper than normal. Frank found his eyes tracing the line of fabric down into the valley of your visible cleavage until your sudden movement spooked him from the trance.

“Ooooo the red onion and goat cheese burger looks good. That must be new or I would have tried it before. What are you going to get?” You beamed at him, blissfully unaware of the way his thoughts lingered on your skin. Stuck in his own head, he wondered if your melodic voice would respond to his touches the way he wished it would. What would you sound like if he ran a hand over your thighs? Would you get louder once it became his tongue?

“Frank?” You took hold of his arm that was resting on the dull plastic table, startling him. Your pretty brow pinched, eyes running over his face for any sign of distress. “Are you ok? Is it too loud or bright in here?”

“I’m a’right, sunshine. Jus’ lookin’ at ya, is all.” He grumbled, picking up his own menu as heat rushed to your face.

“Oh, well, er—everything is good, so whatever you choose will be, um, good.” You stumbled through the sentence, trying not to dwell on Frank’s consistent compliments.

A waitress eventually approached the two of you to take your order. Taking your cues from Frank, you ordered a strawberry milkshake with your burger while he requested a chocolate one—Frank seemed more than pleased about the addition to your meal and you weren’t quite sure why.

While waiting for your food, you and Frank were looking out at the flow of people through the window beside you. You happily commented on their outfits, and what jobs you thought they held. Though it was clear you were being overly goofy to lighten his mood, he encouraged it—asking you to describe their personality and voice along with their job.

Letting your lilting tone wash over him, he focused on the way your fingers fit so perfectly in his. Your thumb continued drawing patterns across his knuckles, even though your focus was outside.

While you were giving a ridiculous impression of a man in a full suit that clearly thought he was tough shit, Frank felt a confession bubbling up in his throat.

“Friday is my daughter's birthday. She would have been 18.”

“Oh, Frank…” The devastation in his statement made emotion well up in your own chest. “I’m so sorry.”

“Thought I owed ya an explanation. F’r the mess.” His hand circled towards himself lamely.

“You don’t owe me anything. Not one single thing, sweetheart. I’m here for whatever you need, explanation or not.” You squeezed his hand again, looking at him with concern, but not pity.

“I meant what I said earlier. You deserve better.” Keeping his eyes downcast, his heart plunged when your fingers stilled over the back of his hand before slipping out of his hold entirely.

Closing his eyes in disappointment, he assumed he’d rightfully lost your support until he felt a burst of heat settle against his side as you wrapped him in an embrace. Your hand buried itself in his hair and he let you pull him into your neck.

“You are exactly the kind of man I deserve, Frank. You’re allowed to grieve, and, honestly, if you showed no emotion that would be a huge red flag. It’s ok to struggle and it’s ok to ask for help. I am always always a door away if you need company or someone to talk to. I know I tend to dominate the conversation, but I have been told that I’m occasionally a good listener.” You pressed a kiss to his cheek, stroking over the spot of impact gently when he subconsciously leaned into the contact.

“I don’t doubt it, sunshine.” He idled in your hold before drawing back, pressing a kiss to your forehead as he moved away. “Her name was Lisa. She, um, she died in a shootout. Along with my wife and son.”

Before he could continue, your waitress returned to your table. Thanking her briefly for the food, you positioned Frank’s food in front of him, picking up a fry. Watching you turn to him expectantly, he found himself telling you everything. For the first time in his life, he understood why Red felt so strongly about his religion. Confessing his sins to you lifted a burden that he had lived with for so long, he had previously assumed it was a permanent piece of him. He’d found a new altar to kneel at, and he wouldn’t give that up, he couldn’t.

He talked for what felt like hours. Telling you about Maria, their meeting, their love, their marriage. He told you about Lisa and Frankie, how he felt like he had failed Frankie more so than anyone else because of the responsibility he’d unknowingly placed on the boy’s shoulders. While he didn’t go into detail about their deaths, he spoke about things that had haunted him silently. The pieces of his relationships with his wife and children that he kept so close to his chest, Curtis didn’t even know about them.

By the time he’d picked his plate clean, he was exhausted. Revealing his fears to you was relieving, but it took so much energy. Running a palm over his face roughly, he drained the last of his milkshake.

“I’m sorry, sunshine. That was…a lot.”

“Don’t be sorry. I appreciate you trusting me with this.” Your words were genuine. “Let me finish my burger and then we can go home.”

His heart fluttered at the small implication that his apartment was your home as well. You may not have intended it, but it’s warmed his chest nonetheless. As you worked your way through the rest of your food, you remained tucked into Frank’s side with his arm around your shoulders.

Letting his arm fall to your waist, he stroked a thumb over your hip gently, making you smile. Popping the last bit of sandwich into your mouth, you fell more firmly into his hold. Studying his face with a small smile, you brushed a few strands of hair off of his face, eyes landing on his lips for a moment before you looked away.

Flagging down your waitress, you started to hand over your card but Frank’s large hand settled over yours. Passing the waitress his card instead, his lips twitched in a tiny smile.

“I got this one, sunshine. Could she get the rest of that shake to go?”

You grinned at him, pressing another kiss to his cheek.

Frank was sure he hadn’t smiled this much in years. The pair of you traipsed along the city streets, under the impression that the sunlight would do you both some good. Of course, he’d needed to persuade you and your adorably furrowed brow that his headache had faded and could withstand the bright lights and urban ambiance. You’d once again woven your fingers with his as you ambled along, this time threading your arms together too. The heat of your skin pressed to his was a drug unlike any other. He was infuriatingly drunk on you and his heart refused to do anything about it.

Because it was you, with your brilliant smile and silvery laugh. He’d been constructing walls around himself for years, and you’d strode up with a basket of pastries, walking straight into his life and tidying it up like you had always been there.

Stuck in his own mind, Frank failed to see the teenager sprinting down the sidewalk. His growing daydream of you cementing yourself into his life was shattered as your hand was abruptly tugged from his grasp, your body falling to the cement under the weight of the gangly teen who’d toppled you.

“Oh gosh, are you alright, ma��am? I am so sorry! I didn’t see—“

“The hell?” Frank snapped at the kid, who turned white as a sheet as he stared up at the towering man.

Kneeling beside you, Frank felt his heart constrict seeing the crimson-tinged scrapes on your elbows, small trickles of blood spreading from them across your pristine skin. Not to mention, your beautiful dress was splattered with the remnants of your milkshake, the styrofoam crushed against your chest.

Snarling, Frank turned back to the boy, still crouched beside you, arm outstretched so you could pull yourself up. “Jesus, did ya even look where you were goin’? Or did ya just feel like injuring her and ruining her pretty dress.”

The kid’s adams apple bobbed as he gulped in terror, wide eyes watching Frank’s movements as he backed away in surrender. “I’m so sorry. I should’ve been paying attention.”

“Yah. Ya should’ve. Fat lot of good that does us now, though.” Frank spoke tersely, feeling a hand rest on his bicep.

Sitting up, you gave him a pointed look before smiling at the teen. “It’s quite alright, I just got scraped up, is all. Don’t worry about him, he’s a little protective. Are you ok?”

Only you would be able to experience a mess like that and worry about the idiot that caused it. The kid nodded, breathlessly running his hands through curly, brown hair.

“I’m fine, ma’am. I am so sorry, again, did you need help—“ Bravely (or stupidly), the boy stepped towards you with an arm held out, offering to help you up. Fists clenching, a low growl left Frank, scaring the kid back into his senses.

“Sorry, er, have a good day!” The kid chirped fearfully, dashing away. You giggled, craning your neck to watch him disappear into the masses. Grabbing Frank’s hand with your own sugar-stained fingers, you allowed him to help you stand, brushing a knuckle over his cheek when you saw his fierce scowl.

“I’m ok, tough guy. He didn’t mean it.” Giving him an earnest look, you withdrew your hand from his face, giggling when he slid forward on his toes to follow the warmth of your touch. Gently sliding your palm against his nape, you scratched at his hair—earning a deep, pleased rumble from him—and tugged him back into a moderate pace. “I would love to get this dress washed so it doesn’t stain, though. Let’s get home.”

Tense scowl easing, Frank gratefully let you guide him back to your building.

“Frank, really, I’m ok! You don’t need to—“ You pleaded, watching the man pace around his apartment, grabbing various first aid supplies to tend to your shallow wounds.

Frank ignored your bargaining tone, shuffling through his depleted kits for the supplies he sought. Armed with bandages, saline, and cotton pads, he kneeled before your seated form on his couch. “Course I don’t need to. I want to. That bother ya?”

Sitting before him in a cotton shirt and pajama pants, he felt his heart clench as he studied your soft figure. You shook your head at his inquiry, looking at him with eyes filled with an unrecognizable emotion. Had he upset you? Was he being too pushy?

“No, it’s just…” You trailed off, eyes avoiding his own as you worried your bottom lip between your teeth. His stomach tightened, waiting for you to reveal that he’d pushed you away, but the sentiment never came. “I don’t want to be any trouble, Frankie.”

Oh. Oh. It’s not defensiveness, it’s doubt. Guilt. He’d been so wrapped up in his own insecurities that he had forgotten you were fully capable of falling prey to your own. Setting the supplies aside, he took your hands, looking firmly into your eyes.

“Ain’t no trouble. Not to me. Not when it’s you.” His words were honest and the short, strangled gasp that escaped you told him you weren’t expecting it. A hint of a smile ghosted over your lips, making his mouth twitch in tandem.

Silently, he pushed up your sleeve and rotated your arm to expose the torn skin. Dampening a cotton pad with saline, he swiped over the injury as tenderly as he could, terrified of seeing you wince. Holding still, you smiled at him, free hand coming to rub circles over his back as he worked.

Focusing his eyes intently on the wound, he ignored the growing warmth in his chest, expanding with your continued touches. Though he was staring at your ravaged skin, his thoughts were elsewhere—leading him to put too much pressure on the wound. Your hand gave a barely noticeable twitch of pain, but he cursed his existence anyway.

“Shit, ‘m sorry darlin’.” Loosening his hold on you, he bandaged up the shallow cuts. You just smiled at him, tracing a finger over his chin.

“No need to be sorry, Frankie. Thanks for taking care of me.” He blushed, grumbling out a dismissive response and returning to his work.

Though the day had already worn him out, long strings of words spilled out his mouth. Stories pulled from him by your sheer magnetism. You gave reassuring touches and encouraging nods as he once again told you everything. How he’d been a trouble maker as a kid and ended up enlisting, the brotherhood he’d found in Curtis and Billy. There was no way your perceptive eyes missed the flinch he gave when mentioning his former best friend, so he moved on quickly. He spoke about coming home to Maria and the kids, dealing with the shenanigans of two elementary schoolers while struggling with PTSD, the way he’d grown to appreciate the quiet and the way he hated it now.

While you were more than comfortable carrying a conversation, he’d never found more solace in letting someone listen to him. You remained quiet, but present enough to stoke the embers of his energy as he rambled, squeezing his arm when he stuttered and smiling softly at the anecdotes. With a sigh, he placed the final bandage on your skin and pulled your sleeve to cover it. You were silent for a moment, studying the fabric of your top before his doubt got the better of him.

“I’m sorry, you can leave if you want. I didn’t mean—“

“Oh Frank,” Chuckling softly, you pulled him into a hug. While the gesture was unexpected, he was overwhelmed with gratitude as he melted into the embrace. Pulling back slightly, you pressed your forehead to his. “What on earth gave you the impression that I didn’t want to be here with you?”

Snorting at his own lack of control over his fears, he nudged his marred, crooked nose against your pristine one. “Wanted to give you a route to escape, is all.”

“Don’t want one.” You whispered, growing breathless as he ran his fingers along the soft skin of your cheeks.

The two of you sat there, slowly melding together, for what felt like hours. A cloud of hesitation and want steadily growing around both of you as you desperately sorted out whether or not to make a move. Before either of you could act on your desires, a shrill alarm rung out—startling you so intensely you shrieked, nearly toppling off the couch.

“Shit, sorry, honey that’s me.” Large thumbs fumbling over the screen of his crappy phone, he shut off the horrific noise and chucked the device across the coffee table. “You ok?”

You were panting, on the edge of giggles at your clumsiness, but you nodded. “Something wrong?”

“No, sunshine, nothin’ like that. My friend, Curt, he’s hostin’ group today. Asked me to come.” Frank wallowed in the disappointment of the ruined moment, cursing his own rotten luck for pushing you away.

“Oh, I can get out of your hair. Sorry to keep you!” Standing from the couch, you made to straighten the fabric bunched around your waist but a hand shot out to wrap around your wrist.

“It’s not for a couple a’ hours, if you wanna stay.” Frank’s dark eyes flitted over your face, scanning for any sign of required affection. Luckily, it didn’t take long for you to break into your signature dazzling smile and perch on the edge of his seat, practically sitting in his lap.

“Course I’ll stay. I could make something for you to bring, if you’d like?”

“Somethin’ like those addictive cookies?” Frank asked, raising a brow teasingly.

Leaning in close, your murmur danced across his chin as you grinned up at him. “Tell you what, I’ll teach you the recipe, then you can bring them whenever you’d like. You have to be careful though, these are dangerous secrets I’m revealing to you, sir.”

Frank laughed, pressing his lips to your forehead. “I’ll take ‘em to the grave, sunshine.”

Scrolling through your phone, you sighed as you switched apps yet again. Nothing was holding your attention and the boredom of it all was eating you alive.

Biting your lip hopefully, you flicked your screen to your message inbox, heart sinking when you saw there were no new messages.

You’d spent damn near 8 hours with Frank, yet you couldn’t help but mourn his absence this evening. It was well-known both to you and your loved ones that you were quick to get attached to people, especially if they were brooding or lonely. Leo always referred to this as your “penchant for strays” given your obsession with pitbulls and black cats in addition to society’s lone wolves. But there was so much more to Frank than his soft grumpiness.

Frank was sweet and protective, and his actions were proof that cared for you deeply despite only knowing you a few weeks. Your face felt clammy just thinking about the way he patched up your minor scrapes earlier today. You wondered if his tender first aid skills were developed during his short time with his wife and children.

It was no surprise to learn about Frank’s tragic backstory. Though you had done your best to keep his life private, you’d managed to piece together the key points of his service, his loss, and his downfall. Your conversations today had simply filled the gaps, and fueled your existing desire to learn more about him.

Despite your unassuming, feminine nature, you couldn’t help but empathize with Frank and his violent past. His actions didn’t scare you, revenge was something you’d dealt with intimately throughout your life, and you couldn’t help but feel grateful that so many dangerous individuals were no longer around to terrorize your beloved city.

Learning more about his past had only drawn you to Frank even more, as if learning about each segment of his being only strengthened the invisible current that washed you repeatedly against his rocky cliff side. His violence wasn’t unnerving to you, simply more evidence that this man was exactly as passionate as you’d interpreted him to be.

“The Punisher” they called him. The name was brutal, absolute. It wasn’t the image of the vigilante that you’d settled on. Yours was complicated, human. Just a man who loved his family so deeply that he was willing to bring hell to the people who took them away. His journey was one you couldn’t fathom, yet you understood.

So you continued to pursue a friendship, maybe allowing it to blossom past traditional platonic boundaries, but how could you resist. Spending time with him meant time flying past, sharing bubbling laughs and stupid jokes with a man who looked at you like you hung the moon. When Frank was with you, his attention was deliberate and profound. He was focused on you and only you, even when surrounded by a myriad of other people and stimuli. You basked in the intensity of his gaze, letting it warm you from the inside out like a bright flame on a dark night. Did the world really expect you to not stoke those embers?

As if your thoughts had summoned him, the unique text tone you’d assigned to Frank’s number sounded, igniting a bright smile on your face.

Frank: You might have created a problem for me, sunshine. These guys want me to bring cookies every week now.

You: All good things come at a price, sweetheart. Did you really think that you didn’t need to sell a piece of your soul to make cookies that good?

Frank: Pretty evil of you not to warn me. I’m starting to think this was your plan all along.

You: Damn! You found me out. What can I do to make it up to you?

Frank: Do me a favor?

You: What’s the favor?

A firm knock on your door startled you, making you drop your phone. Tilting your head quizzically, you shuffled over to peek out the peephole, grinning when you saw who had knocked. Pulling the door open, a very stern looking Frank—contrasted by the wiggling, excited pitbull at his feet—stood before you.

“Hey there, sweethearts! C'mon in!” Beckoning the pair into your apartment, you led them to the couch, happily letting Max jump into your lap.

“You’re spoilin’ him. He’s gonna think any furniture is fair game.” Frank’s gruff voice held a tinge of amusement but his face held a whirlwind of emotions you couldn’t quite decipher. Clearly, he was avoiding something.

“He’s the bestest boy, Frankie! He deserves to sit on the couch with me!” Squishing the pit’s face, you gave Max a kiss before looking at Frank expectantly. “Sooo…you needed a favor?”

Looking away from you, Frank sighed, rubbing at his nape. “Yah, shit, I hate to ask this, sunshine. I, uh, I was hopin’ you’d be willin’ to watch Max for a few days for me?”

Your heart pounded, body flooding with concern, and slight excitement. “Of course, Frank. Everything ok?”

He nodded, slouching forward so that his elbows rested on his knees, still refusing to make eye contact. “Yah, just a business trip, nothin’ crazy. I just wasn’t expectin’ it and couldn’t get him into his usual place. If you don’t wanna do it—“

“Frank,” You placed your hand on his forearm, stroking his skin softly as you tried to encourage him to relax. “Of course I’ll watch him. That’s not an issue. I’m just worried about you is all.”

Frank snorted quietly, letting you take his hand and pressing a delicate kiss to your knuckles. “No need to worry, sunshine. I can handle myself.”

Sliding out from under Max, you strode over to the broad man on your couch and knelt before him, taking his other hand. “Never said you couldn’t, sweetheart—but I’m going to worry about you anyway. Anybody going with you on this job?”

“Nah, just me. Why, you gettin’ jealous on me, darlin’?” Frank smirked at you and you shoved his knee, trying to ignore the fluttering in your chest at the new nickname.

“You wish, Castiglione. I’m cool as a cucumber.” Mirroring his tender affection, you pressed a kiss to his knuckles. “Just don’t want you to forget about me while you’re out galavanting, is all.”

“Don’t think that’s possible, sunshine. I can’t stop thinkin’ about ya.” Frank murmured, finally meeting your eyes. The two of you hovered mere inches apart, tension growing around you in a thick fog before Frank cleared his throat, dissipating it.

“Anyway, I can leave a key with ya, if that’s not too weird…”

“Yah, yah.” You let go of his hands, standing up to brush off your dress. “That works, Frankie. When do you leave?”

“Well, uh, now. If you’re truly ok watching Max?”

“I’d be honored. Just…promise me you’ll drive safe, sweetheart.”

Frank’s gaze was fervent, drawing you in and pushing everything else away.

“I promise, sunshine.”

Thank you for reading!! Comments and reblogs are incredibly appreciated!

Taglist: @cheshirecat484@xxdrixx@smhnxdiii@mattmurdocksstarlight

#frank castle #frank castle x reader #the punisher #frank castle x you #frank castle angst #frank castle fanfiction #frank castle imagine #frank castle x female reader #the punisher netflix #the punisher x reader #the punisher imagine #netflix the punisher #nmcu #my writing #gray skies #fc #jon bernthal fanfiction #jon bernthal

114 notes · View notes