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peonyneko · 3 days ago

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To Know You Pt.2 | OldestSon!Nanami x YoungestDaughter!Reader

Notes: Once again, this fanfic is very self-indulgent, so many of you may not be able to relate to it... I don't know how often I will post, I just like writing about it. Requests are open?? But to be veryy honest, I'm not sure if I have for request, but I'm open to discussions through the inbox/request box. Send me any anon messages~

I'll clean up any mistakes soon!

Word count: 6k+

Genre: Angst(?), Fluff, A touch/sprinkle of suggestive content (not really), NO SMUT YET

Warnings: Grammar mistakes (I'll fix it), vomit, not good eating habits, cursing, and arranged marriage things(?)

Extra info:

Nanami's Friends: Gojo, Geto, Shoko, Utahime, etc

Nanami's Juniors: Mainly Yuji, Megumi, and Nobara, does include Maki, Yuta, and Toge.

Nanami is hinted to be in his mid/late 30s and reader is hinted to be in her twenties.

---

OldestSon!Nanami who woke up from the smell of something good. Looking at the clock, to realize it’s past 11 AM, but quick to also realize his father gave him a week off. One, to get to know you better. Two, to plan your honeymoon for later on.

He notices you weren’t in bed, so after freshening up he follows the delicious scent. He watches as you look through the cabinets, very quietly, familiarizing yourself with what's there. You sigh in relief when you see maple syrup in the cabinet.

He found it… odd, to be honest. He usually was the one cooking for others, especially his younger siblings. He banned his brother, at that time in his early twenties, from entering the kitchen after he had burnt milk… Milk! (Though he is now much better at cooking.)

So to have you cook something was… fresh, but normal for an adult nonetheless. He wondered if you cooked for yourself often.

“Good morning. It smells nice,” he says, his voice rough and deep. You turn around with a spatula in your hand and next to you what seemed to be strawberry pancakes on a plate.

You nod, “Good morning… Yeah, thought I’d make something before you go to work.”

It clicks that he never told you. Shit.

“My dad actually gave me the week off. I apologize for the confusion. I should’ve told you during our date,” he says, nearing you and grabbing a bottle of water from the fridge.

“That’s okay. We barely had the time,” you say, turning back to your pancakes and putting the last one on the plate. Another plate with scrambled eggs.

“Do you have work?” he asks and you shake your head.

“I’m off for a week too. My boss found out I was getting married out-of-nowhere,” you shrugged, the words leaving your mouth so casually.

“You didn’t tell them?” he continues, bringing out plates and utensils to place on the table.

You shake your head, “Not that I didn’t. I told them, but they didn’t expect it so soon.”

OldestSon!Nanami hums, being in a similar position himself. Everyone’s jaw dropped when they found out, from Gojo’s loud mouth, not himself. He didn’t even tell Gojo! His mom did. She adored that blue-eyed lunatic.

You fetch the water jug filling up the water cups. You both sit on opposite ends, a little far from each other. It gnawed at his chest, so he asked.

“Why did you want to get married?” The silence lingers for a while, and he could tell you, too, are looking for words to not hurt him.

“Don’t worry. I wouldn’t judge your reasons. I’m sure I’m no better,” he reassures.

You licks your lips. “For my family, I guess. My mom really wants to see me get married. She’s quite old and has health problems, so I agreed.”

Nanami noticed you held your guard up, keeping a distance between the two of you. Something you’re not telling him, but he doesn’t press.

“Do you regret it?” he asks and you shake your head.

“Not if you don’t,” you whispered before taking a bite of your pancakes. His gaze lingered on you. Not if he doesn’t?

“You’re my wife. I won’t regret the wife I chose. Yes, we don’t know each other, but I don’t want you to feel suffocated, so please do tell me anything and everything.”

You look back at him with sparkling eyes and then you change the topic.

He took a bite of the pancakes and eggs and was surprised. He could hug you for how fluffy and delicious they are. It didn’t even take a second to know it was better than any he made.

“What do you want to do today?” you ask.

He hums, “I have a few places in mind, where we can go, but where do you want to go?”

“Oh, what did you have in mind?” you ask and he tells you the locations after another big bite of the pancakes. His mind can’t get over how you made the pancakes this fluffy and good.

“We can go there,” you say and his ears perk up.

“Where exactly?” he asks for specifics.

“The, um, restaurant, the Salt one,” you tried to repeat what he’d said early, only to fail.

“Ah, Saltspringlis?” he clarifies, telling you that he’ll take you tonight for dinner.

OldestSon!Nanami who notices you skipping lunch and asks you about what you wanted, only for you to say you’ll eat later, stalling on it. Hours go by and he noticed you were busy unpacking your things. He helped you, in hopes that you’d take a break and go eat, but you just continue unpacking, so he asked.

“Well, I had breakfast with you and I don’t want to be full for dinner,” you say, not paying mind to the utterly confused look on his face. Huh?

“I also forgot,” you mumble, folding another shirt into the drawer. He felt compelled to scold you, the way he used to scold his siblings for taking way too long to go eat. But he doesn’t.

“You should eat a snack,” he suggests, folding your pants and putting it in the drawer of pants. He leaves the room, bringing back an apple, then somewhat “orders” you to sit down and eat while he unpacks for you.

OldestSon!Nanami who neatly organized your clothes the way he noticed you organizing them. Who casually reaches inside the duffle bag beside the nightstand, only for you to tighten the opening, stops his hand from moving. Your eyes were panicked and with the apple in between your lips. He stops and there are a few seconds of silence between you two.

“Um, I have underwear in this,” you explain.

OldestSon!Nanami removes his hand from the bag, the feeling on lace and silk catching his attention as he does. Your face was red and he isn’t dumb. He knows that these were perhaps lingerie packed for activities, maybe by someone else. But he’s also not crass or rude. He acts like he doesn’t know what's inside, nor does he sexualize it.

OldestSon!Nanami who takes you to Saltspringlis, a seafood restaurant, but also invites some of his friends and company juniors. Gojo and Geto come with Yuji and Megumi, while Shoko arrives with Nobara and Maki. He was glad to know you got along with them, even if they did most of the talking, you still looked pleased but…

OldestSon!Nanami who wonders why you don’t touch your food, you just pick at it. You pick at the scallops and shrimp risotto. In the hour that passed, everyone had finished their plate except you. And soon it was time to leave.

He wasn’t angry, no, no, no! He was curious and maybe a little disappointed.

Your marriage was arranged. He didn’t dislike you, no it was the opposite. He liked you, platonically. But he noticed you barely ate your dinner.

He grew up being told to appreciate food and finish his plate. “Others aren’t as fortunate as we are, Kento,” his mother would say. His parents didn’t force him to finish his food if he really couldn’t. But he grew up learning it’s proper and respectful to finish what you got for yourself or what was served.

His younger siblings were told the same about finishing meals, but less tied to the rule. They weren’t kept on the table until they finished like he and another one of his siblings were. And as Nanami sees from your habits, you were probably given that leniency too.

You bit into the shrimp, eating maybe a quarter of the meal before never touching it again. And soon it was time to leave. He noticed others' questions if you were hungry. “You didn’t even eat much,” Yuji, who was around your age, exclaimed. You simply told everyone you’re full. Nanami told you to get it packed to-go and you nodded, doing just that.

OldestSon!Nanami who fought with OnlyChild!Gojo to pay the bill for everyone. In the end, Gojo beat him by a millisecond to tap it on the card reader.

OldestSon!Nanami who was a little surprised when your stomach growled in the silent car ride. He looked over to you for a second, suggesting, “Finish the food at the house.” You only nod, not saying much.

OldestSon!Nanami who was just a tiny bit irked when he saw the to-go box still in the fridge the next morning. So, once you told him with an avoidant gaze that you didn’t want it, he ate it himself.

OldestSon!Nanami and you went through the motions of your break, one week passing by fairly quickly. You both ate together for almost every meal. ‘Almost’ because you had a tendency to avoid meals and lean towards snacking. Though, at least you’d have breakfast and dinner. Two days into the break, he helped you settle in, encouraging you to decor the place however you’d want. He didn’t mind. He wanted you to feel like you belonged.

So there you were, day three of seven days of break, at a home goods store, gawking the prices as you tried to find the cheapest ones. Why are they so expensive?! Nanami, too, was looking but he looked rather unfazed.

You found one of the shelves to be beautiful, so beautiful you wanted it. But that feeling quickly sizzled out once the price of $1,500 revealed itself on the tag. You carried on with a tight smile, not looking back. You looked everywhere, and no matter what, nothing was under $500. Even a nightstand. A nightstand!

OldestSon!Nanami who sees you silent sigh to yourself as you walk back to the same place you started off. He asks you if this store was not to your taste, but you simply shake your head, quietly telling him it’s over your budget.

Perplexed, he leans down, “I’m well-over capable to pay it.”

OldestSon!Nanami watches you explain that you aren’t going to let him pay for it! If you like it and want it, you’ll buy it. He is just there looking back, absolutely astonished. Though, he hid it well behind his stoic face and clenched jaw. Who told you you’d be paying for these things?

“I respect that you want to pay for it, but you’re not going to. Moreso, I won’t let you. If you like something, I’ll get it. It’s for the house,” he replies, beginning to walk towards someone.

Before you can even attempt to convince him not to, he tells an employee to buy two items, giving the item number, as well. You watch him not hesitate the slightest. Even on the drive home, he doesn’t say much about what he bought, so you assumed he got what he liked.

OldestSon!Nanami who tells you to come down the next day, because a delivery came in. You look at him in utter disbelief as the same beautiful shelf stood in front of you. He watches as your expression goes from confusion to shock to admiration and then to…

“Wait, I- Did you buy it because of me?” your brows furrowed as your voice got small. You had a sort of guilt in your voice, almost as if you didn’t want him to get it.

So he panics. “No! No… I got it because I really liked it,” he lied, “Why? Did you?”

Your face calms and you sigh in relief, “Yeah… Can I help you build it?”

OldestSon!Nanami and you who spend day 4 of your break building and moving things around the house. He notices you bump into things here and there, so he just… moves them out of the way when you shuffle around. He quietly reorganizes the pantry, so you don’t risk breaking your hip when you climb the countertop.

What? He caught you easily climbing it on your knees, as if you do that often when he’s not looking. It made you avoid his gaze for hours, with an embarrassed laugh, mumbling, “Sorry. I’ll clean it.”

YoungestDaughter!Reader who still notices him reorganizing the pantry because she’s always aware of Nanami. Who enjoys building the shelf with Nanami, her brows furrows in focus and eyes fixed on the screws. She organizes her book, usually by title and genre, but quietly places Nanami’s favorites to his eye level (knowing from his family and friends).

YoungestDaughter!Reader who places a cup of water on the kitchen counter, knowing Nanami will just drink it. He’s done that before. What? She’s just making sure he’s hydrated. Who softly asks Nanami if he has any photos he wants to put up there.

He does.

OldestSon!Nanami who opens up his album of high school memories and recent pictures with his juniors. All of them. Who stupidly skips past the wedding pictures, not noticing YoungestDaughter!Reader’s eyes wait in foolish anticipation.

YoungestDaughter!Reader who is quick to move on from the slight disappointment. After all, this relationship had no feelings, it’s arranged. She smiles at the memories, but it dawns on her that she doesn’t know him… At All. Certainly not anything close to what his juniors even know. So she asks about his high school and college, hoping for any response even if it’s not a deep one.

“It was fun,” Nanami whispered, brushing his thumb over two faces. A girl and a guy.

Silence. Horrible, awkward silence.

“Uh, what year was that?” you ask from behind him. He doesn’t talk and so you let it go. You hated this feeling, the sticky, horrible feeling of begging for him to respond or talk.

After all, you grew up knowing to swallow your feelings and just let people be, especially if they didn’t want you. You grew up being the listener. When no one asked or responded, you wouldn’t speak either. You hated this sticky, unbearable feeling or being the only one wanting to talk.

You look through your own set of pictures, ones of your friends and family, some that you already printed to frame. You and Nanami decorated the shelf, but sadly it looked as if two roommates had done it, not a married couple.

You keep your thoughts to yourself. You knew what to expect coming in. No matter how much his mother told this would be love, the moment you knew Nanami seemed to have… settled, you knew this is just that, a settlement.

But you stupidly already started to enjoy his presence.

YoungestDaughter!Reader who has countless sketches of Nanami in her sketchbook, all of them in her forbidden, never-open-in-front-of-others sketchbook. All of them are drawn in the month you’ve known him. Some doodles, others a bit more detailed.

OldestSon!Nanami, who saw the sketch book lying around, picks it up out of curiosity, but never opens it. He respects your privacy.

OldestSon!Nanami and you spend day 5 in the park with a beautiful garden. He noticed your eyes sparkle at the flowers, taking yet another picture as you walked around. He sends it to his mom, who replies with a dozen pink, yellow, and orange hearts for you, calling you, “So cute.” You come back to him, with a couple small flowers in your hand, dropping it into his palm without touching him, “I didn’t want to rip them off, but I found some instead.”

OldestSon!Nanami who blushes as you turn your back and continue walking as if you didn’t just give him the cutest small flowers of yellow and blue daisies.

OldestSon!Nanami who brings home salmon the next day and you cook it. He notices you eat only part of it and wait for him to finish before claiming that you're full. He lets it go, not saying anything about it.

The rest of the day you two are within each other's vicinity, but doing different things. You sketching something in your sketchbook and he's reading.

OldestSon!Nanami begins to dose off as he's reading, his book slipping from him a sliver. Despite being high alert with others, he can't help but feel a little at peace with... you.

You place your sketchbook aside, taking the blanket off yourself and putting it on Nanami instead. You take the book from his sleeping state and hesitantly tuck him into the blanket.

Nanami wakes up right when you put the blanket on him and he can't help but feel weird fluttering in his stomach. A few seconds of silent stares that happen between you two. You to him. Him to you.

"Um," you break the silence, "You should sleep... in the bedroom. You'll hurt your neck."

Nanami who hums, knowing that if he spoke, it'll be a stutter of words. He notices how you look so "caught in the act" when you did nothing wrong. He gives you a smile, clearing his throat as he stands up.

"Are you tired?" he asks.

You look back at your materials splayed out on the living room table and couch. Looking back at him, you shrug your shoulders.

"I'm not tired, but I can... keep you company after I clean up."

OldestSon!Nanami who waits 20 minutes, too giddy to sleep because you said you'd keep him company. Usually, you two went to sleep at different times. You were always staying up later than him.

OldestSon!Nanami who whispers goodnight as you settle into the bed, reading a book in your hand and small light on the book. He told you that you can keep the lights or lamp on, but you refused. You use a tiny book light

OldestSon!Nanami and you spend the night of your last day of break together at yet another expensive seafood restaurant. Nanami had asked you where you wanted to go, but you let him decide, telling him you didn’t know the place well.

You’d ordered a salmon dish with a side of asparagus. The price wasn’t the issue. He didn’t mean to get a little… irked. You took twenty minutes to order, but he didn’t mind. And by the time he’d eaten his food, you barely made a dent in yours.

He waited and waited, the conversation between you two was longer than the length you took to eat. The conversation was nothing out of the ordinary, just about both of your jobs and going back to the usual work routine. All that stuff.

Your food long went cold and you were lingering, not touching it.

“What’s wrong?” He asks, curiously.

“Oh, no nothing. Why?” You ask, tilting your head.

“You’re not eating and your food is cold,” he points out. You look down at your plate and curl up. He should’ve stopped.

“It’s not good to waste food,” he adds, wiping his hands on the cloth.

“Yeah, um, I’m just full,” you quietly say, your neck heating up from his gaze. The same one that you got when you were younger. From many, many people.

You’d grown up similar to Nanami, but instead of being let off the hook your family yelled at you to eat and finish food. Admittedly, you avoided food because you were easily full, you’d prefer to have small portions. It didn’t help that your parents were on the poorer side. They’d guilt you about the money they spent on food.

And as Nanami said those words, you relive those memories.

“You’re all skin and bones! Why are you not eating?!”

“Fish is good for you, why are you being so picky?”

“She never eats. It’s such a hassle. What did I do wrong?.”

“I tried so many times to make her eat fish, she never does.”

“You should be happy. Lots of people can’t even eat fish.”

So, to avoid giving Nanami the wrong impression, despite heavily disliking seafood, you forced yourself to at least finish half, until you just couldn’t anymore. This month alone, you've eat more fish than you have in a lifetime.

The salmon left a bad taste in your mouth and you felt like throwing up. You would’ve had it not been for the asparagus you finished.

“Are you done?” Nanami asks, again. You nod your head with flushed cheeks, squeezing your hands in your lap. Sorry.

He sighs and finishes paying. He barely says a word to you as you both go to the car. The food swirls in your stomach, the taste of the seafood still in your mouth palette. You didn’t get the chance to wash the gag-worthy taste away with water.

“Thank y-“

“If you didn’t want to eat out, you could’ve told me,” he bluntly said, gripping the steering wheel. He drove without looking at you, just a little bit irked. Okay, not just a little. Irked. He’s annoyed.

Gojo buys you food that you didn’t eat, then you don’t eat this time either. You never seemed to finish it, but then you eat something else much later on, ignoring the food container from the restaurant. Did you want fresh food? He’d get it. He just wanted you to be honest if you didn’t want to eat it anymore now that it’s old. Or that you didn’t want to eat with him and his friends in the first place.

“I’m not trying to force you to do anything. We’re married even though it was arranged, but I’m not here to force you,” he adds, and your stomach sinks further.

“I’m sorry,” you mumble as he drives in silence, paying you no mind. A few minutes go by. Your guilt grew more and you could physically feel his irritation.

“It’s not that I didn’t want to go eat,” you add, playing with your hands. I’m sorry.

“Then?” He raises a brow, eyes in the road.

Your throat felt hot and your stomach swirls as the car hit a pothole. You didn’t want to admit it. You didn't want to admit that you didn’t like fish. You didn’t like seafood. Few exceptions, but fish was definitely not one. You tried to like it, but nothing ever got you to.

“I felt full,” you mumble and he is quick to click his tongue.

“Then you could’ve ordered something you wouldn’t waste. That simple,” he adds.

He didn’t know why he got worked up. You weren’t a kid. He normally doesn’t care about habits. But you didn’t even have a full meal since breakfast. Yes, he noticed. How are you NOT hungry?

Growl! You bit your lip as your stomach made noises. Nanami sighed as he, too, heard it. You clearly were if your stomach was still growling.

“You don’t have to lie. I won’t blame you if you feel weird about going out with me. As I said, this marriage was done quickly and we’re not in love. ”

“No, I just… couldn’t finish it. I knew I probably would like it. I wanted to try, but… It didn’t taste good,” you mumble at the end. As Nanami drives, the sight of swift cars and alternating lights makes your stomach flip like hurricane swirls.

“But you got it anyway. You should’ve ordered something you could finish.”

“I’m sorry,” you mumble out, your hand reaching up to cover your nose and mouth.

“No need to apologize to me. Just… it’s not good to waste food,” he said, voice flat and stern.

You felt shame rise up to your cheek as the food began to rise up your throat. You’d tried to swallow the sickly throat-wrenching feeling, but it was getting more and more unbearable. More and more the food climbed up your stomach and throat.

“Stop- Stop the car,” you quickly express, opening your seatbelt. And he does, pulling over immediately..

You stumble out of the car, and spill your guts out. Every bit of fish and asparagus you ate now spilled out on the ground. Nanami curses, his stomach sinking to the floor as you heave and bend over. He leaves the car to rub your back, his eyes brimmed with worry.

Fish usually made you queasy, especially if it smelled fishy. So you avoided it, but seeing Nanami always eat it so deliciously made you want to match his preference too. He got you water and you profusely apologized. He shakes his head, worried to no end. He checks your temperature and finds nothing. He’s there with you crouched down until your stomach calms, your arms settling beside you.

“What's wrong?”

“I’m sorry… I don’t like seafood.” And it clicks for him. Your face dropped when you looked through the menu, which had nothing but fish and scallops.

Fuck, he thought. He loves seafood, so did his entire family. It seemed like your family also enjoyed it, so he assumed you liked it too. But not once did he ever see you reach for any seafood dishes. Ever.

He’d grown up eating anything, he wasn’t picky, moreso he wasn’t allowed to be. He didn’t care as long as it wasn’t sardines. You must’ve forced yourself to eat even half of the salmon. He carries you to the car, clicking in your seatbelt for you.

“I’m sorry,” he admits, “I should’ve told you it was seafood. It’s my fault, not yours.”

“Still it was expensive and you paid, so I can pay you back for wasting it,” your voice was so small and quiet. As if you expected him to be mad about it. As if you expect him to yell at you.

His heart aches, and he shakes his head, “No, no. What? That doesn’t matter. The price doesn’t matter. I’m your husband, it’s only a given.”

He help you get back into the car, making sure you were no long queasy. OldestSon!Nanami who has a small stash of medicine in a box of his car. He gives you a bottle of water and some nausea relief. Driving a little slower to avoid making your vision hazy and stomach churn again. Right when heard your stomach rumble, he was quick to stop at a random late night bakery.

“Do you like sweets?” He asks and you nod, only to panic when he starts to leave the car.

“No, you don’t have to! You’re wasting money,”

His brows furrow, “What? Nonsense, you threw up. And you’re hungry”

“I’ll buy it myself. Seriously.”

“No, sit here. What do you like?”

“I’m not telling you,” you insist.

“Then I’ll just get one of every flavor.”

You scoff at his ‘promise,’ “No you won’t.”

“You think?” he smirks, cocking his head to the side.

“You won’t,” you dryly chuckle, crossing your arms. You were too weak from the nausea to get up as he shut the car door, assuming he was joking. Surely, he’d just get a croissant.

He didn’t, in fact, just get a croissant. Keeping his word, Nanami comes back with a box full of pastries. Your eyes widen at the sheer amount in your lap.

“I- I can’t finish this!”

“I’ll help. Anything left over I’ll give it to friends. Please, I don’t want you fainting.”

He noticed you hesitate to grab the fancy one, the tiramisu croissant, so before you go for the plain butter croissant instead, he speaks.

“Go for it. I bought it for you,” he softly encourages. With a sheepish smile you take it, biting into the croissant.

“I’m sorry for scaring you,” Nanami says, regretting his lecturing.

“You’re not a kid and you’re free to eat however much and whatever you want. I don’t mean to control you. I have no idea what got over me to act like that. I’m sorry.”

You nod your head, “That’s alright. I know you said it from a good place. I, uh, need to get better at letting you know about these things too.”

That night, nothing big changed, but Nanami was sure of one thing: He never wants to see you sad and uneasy.

He couldn’t help that your tears made his heart ache. Maybe it was similar to the way he can’t see his juniors hurt? He just knew he didn’t want to see you unhappy. Maybe you were becoming a friend? He doesn’t know.

OldestSon!Nanami and you who still sleep with your backs faced away from each other, but closer. The distance would completely disappear if one of you flipped over.

OldestSon!Nanami checks on you when waking up at the crack of dawn, he touches your forehead. And then realizes….

Realizes he hasn’t even hugged you, let alone held your hand. The farthest you’ve both gone was this… Him touching your forehead. And right then, he wanted to bang his head on the wall.

But maybe it was for the best? What if you don’t like him? What if you want a divorce soon? What if you liked someone else? Why would she like you? Someone so fucking old-

You groan in your sleep, moving around and facing him. His breath gets caught in his throat as the palm of his hand is now pressed between the bed and your cheek. Your hair strand cover part of your face, and fuck you looked so cute.

An ache sew itself into Nanami's heart. He felt as though he'd ruined your life. Your love life. He wonders if you given no choice. Because why would you agree to marry him? You could've chosen anyone... But you chose him...

OldestSon!Nanami who went to sleep like that, not daring to move his hand from your cheek. So when you wake up, you wake up confused as to why you accidentally practically pinned Nanami to the edge of the bed (it was only his arm under you).

YoungestDaughter!Reader who wakes up a little excited because she gets to make him a lunchbox for the first time. She really wanted him to try one of her recipes that she made herself. She hesitates, thinking of cooking something common, but listening to her heart, she makes him something she came up with.

OldestSon!Nanami who smiles at the lunch you made him for before he headed to work. He gives you a small smile, thanking you. You smile back, shrugging and playing with the hem of your shirt, as if it was too embarrassing for him to notice it.

OldestSon!Nanami who also drives you to your office place, making sure you went inside the office before driving to his own.

OldestSon!Nanami who got many compliments and congratulations for his marriage. He even got a couple of sad eyes from some singles. He didn’t know why. Were they sad he got married before them? (No, they were sad it wasn’t them who he got married to. Both those employees flirted with him before, but he never took the hint. Gojo and Geto knew, but they never told him.)

OldestSon!Nanami who didn’t touch the lunch you made for him, forgetting about it when Gojo practically dragged him to eat out because, “Suguru is too busy to eat with me.”

Not only that, he didn’t even get the time to catch his breath because of how busy it got with him back in the office. When he took a shower after work, you noticed the lunchbox was heavy, opening it to only find it full and untouched.

YoungestDaughter!Reader’s heart fell to the floor seeing the food not even halfway done. She contemplated asking him, but when he came to the kitchen with a laptop in his hand and a stoic face, her questions answered themselves. Maybe he didn’t get the time.

That day you both did not speak much with each other. Both of you had different jobs and after the week long break, there was much to catch up on for both of you

So the very next day, you make him lunch again. A different recipe with salmon and rice. You even tasted it to make sure it was good, even if you’d prefer it with chicken instead.

Your routine of waking up together and leaving together continued for a second time. You were dropped off first and then he went about his way.

OldestSon!Nanami whose second day back was hectic, more so than the first. He didn't even get a break, let alone the chance to touch his lunchbox.

YoungestDaughter!Reader’s heart, once again, shattered seeing the lunch full. The note she left inside of “Hope today is good! Take deep breaths^^” discarded all the way at the bottom. Crunched up and discarded.

OldestSon!Nanami and you spent the day in different work rooms. You in yours. Him in his. You slept in the same bed. Close, but once again faced away. Backs towards one another.

OldestSon!Nanami didn’t say anything when he noticed you didn’t make lunch the next day, thinking you were tired, so he made it himself. You saw him do so, as you grabbed a yogurt and canned coffee. In silence, he dropped you off and went about his way to work. This continued for the week, before he asked. He asked right when you returned from work, surprisingly returning later than usual. Much later. Perhaps two hours late.

“Why did you stop making lunch?” He notices you freeze, trying to gather your thoughts. You had just gotten out of the shower, freshly wet hair and in your baggy mix-matched pajamas.

“Not that you must. You don’t. I’m a grown man. I can make it myself. I was just… I was merely curious,” he adds, hoping to put off the pressure of answering.

“Oh,” you begin, playing with the hem of your sleeve, “I thought you didn’t like it. I didn’t want to force you to eat something you didn’t like.”

“Why’d you think that?” he tilts his head, completely lost.

“You told me one time that you went out to eat and brought back a full container, so I assumed you didn’t want to eat it. But, I shouldn’t have assumed, I’m sorry.”

“No!” he says, stepping closer to you,“I should’ve clarified. Gojo forcefully took me out to eat. I also… completely forgot you packed me something. So it’s my fault, not yours.”

You look up at him, nodding, a hint of sadness in your eyes “So, you don’t mind eating what I make?”

He frowns, shaking his head and leaning down to you, “Why would I? Is anything wrong?”

You shake your head, as if you wanted to avoid talking about it. Before you can leave, he gently pulls your arm, leaning in close. He tilts his head to connect your face with his, a slight worry in his eyes.

“Hey, talk to me,” he whispers, “I don’t want you silently trapping your thoughts.”

You stall a bit more, before sheepishly chuckling. Shrugging as you answer, “No big deal, really. It’s a small thing that I guess I took too far. You don’t need to worry.”

You attempt to leave, again, but he doesn’t let you. Stopping you in your tracks with his arm out with stern look, the same one he’d give his younger siblings with his brow raised so they spill whatever secret they had. You, being the youngest in your family, also know that look very well.

“Just… I- Whenever I made food for my family when I was younger, it was alway untouched,” you whisper, your eyes looking down at the floor instead of up at him. His heart aches as the words reach his ears.

You dryly laugh, “It is not even that serious, but I guess it still hurt. I remember making them breakfast one time and no one ate it. Yeah, I was a teenager and maybe it didn’t look good, but… I hoped at least one person would have some.”

You looked so small, curling into yourself as you seem to be overthinking the memory.

Your words getting quieter and quieter as you spoke, “It also seemed like they didn’t think I could make good food? I don’t know. It’s not even that serious, really. My older sisters were better at making traditional food anyway. Even when I got better, I always worried no one would like it, so I just wouldn’t make it.”

He swallows the ball in his throat, feeling his heart crumble. That explains the hesitant stare you’d give him as he ate your food. Whenever you make something, you’d add a small ‘It’s probably not good.’

He noticed, but just assumed you were learning to cook, not that you were embarrassed of your skill. Hell, you were better at many dishes than him. He’d have your food over anything his family made.

He lets out a guilty sigh and hesitantly reaches for your hand, “You’re a good cook, so please try not to demean yourself. I understand this hesitance of yours, but I would never, ever leave your food to rot. I’ll eat everything and anything you make.”

OldestSon!Nanami who silent vows to always eat the lunch you pack him. And as always your cooking was nice. YoungestDaughter!Reader who encourages him to at least decide the menu, so she does not make him something he dislikes. Who tell Nanami that he’s never obligated to eat everything, just as much as he wants.

OldestSon!Nanami and you who have yet to go on a honeymoon or big trip because your works have you two so, so busy.

A month and a half has passed and the only time you really spend is either sleeping in the same bed or drinking a late warm beverage together. Only on weekends do you ever really spend time, time that you two spent on talking and slowly getting to know each other. Though, Nanami noticed you still tend to avoid getting too deep about things. He wasn't much better with talking about his past either, so he understands.

OldestSon!Nanami, who during one of the weekends, takes you to yet another hang out with his friends and juniors. It was a small get-together a Gojo’s. Everyone, except for those driving, was a tad bit (or really) drunk. Nanami avoided drinking and you did not drink either. You were allergic.

OldestSon!Nanami who kept you in eye distance even when he knew everyone. Who felt so fucking jealous when Gojo and Geto leaned into your space to hear you over the music and loud juniors. Who pretended to “fix” your sleeve, his hand grazing the wedding ring to clean it. Nanami, who makes quick glaring eye contact with Gojo and Geto, before stepping away from you.

YoungestDaughter!Reader who isn’t dumb about what just happened. She can assume what just occurred, but she still has her big doubts. The little touch of her ring, in front of two other good-looking men (who are Nanami’s friends), left her a little speechless, but she brushes it off. Because what if it was just that simple a brush of her rings and no thought to it?

OldestSon!Nanami who would get you everything and anything you need, even when you always refused to want anything. Never asking. Never relying. Always being okay with anything. Who notices that you always getting something on the cheaper side.

YoungestDaughter!Reader who grew to be on her own and not rely on others. Who has a hard time letting others do anything for her. Who feels overwhelmed every time Nanami takes her out because she really cannot get used to him paying for things. Her solution? Anything cheap.

OldestSon!Nanami and YoungestDaughter!Reader who try to unknowingly dance around the other, trying to adjust to what the other feels comfortable with. OldestSon!Nanami and YoungestDaughter!Reader who have been sleeping facing each other for a month and a half. You take a glimpse of him before closing your eyes.. And Nanami taking one last look at your peaceful, sleeping face before succumbing to sleep.

----

Credits for the characters to Gege Akutami, but this plot and these versions of the character are of my own (maybe OOC sometimes), so please refrain from plagiarizing.

I am currently NOT posting this elsewhere, so if there are works of thse anywhere else, let me know!

Thank you for reading!

#jujutsu nanami #jjk nanami #jujutsu kaisen #nanami kento #nanami #oldestson!nanami #youngestdaughter!reader #to know you #kento nanami #kento x reader #nanami x reader #arranged marriage #angst #fluff

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darkwitchoferie · 15 hours ago

Text

Train Ride - Chapter 8, Exhibitionism, Stress Relief, and Painting

A/N: First - sorry this took longer than I originally intended. That may continue as my personal shit has gotten a bit more complicated. Second - I lied – there’s another chapter now. So, there’s a total of 10 chapters, 3 of which happen after the original oneshot. This is another long one, y’all. But then, there’s three separate scenes in this one, so it’s not surprising. The next two chapters are the same – three scenes each.

Not specific to this fic – but when did we, collectively as a fanfic writing community, decide that Changbin calls his partner ‘bunny’ and Minho uses ‘kitten’? I’ve seen it in tons of fics. Like, not upset about it or even really questioning WHY we decided that, just wondering when it happened.

I just realized, on proofreading this, that there’s no Felix. At all. Damn. It’s alright, the next chapter starts with him.

Cw/tw: exhibitionism, group sex, unprotected vaginal and anal sex, oral (m & f receiving), facefucking, member x member action, a little breath play, featuring (a little) of Seungmin’s fondness for being manhandled by Changbin, cock warming, cum eating and sharing,

Wc: 5.7k

Chapter One Two Three Four Five Six Seven

~~ Exhibitionism ~~

Since the orgy that brought Jisung and Minho into the polycule, things had been going very well for you and the members. You had explained the pendent necklace Chan had given you and that, if they saw you wearing it, it was blanket permission to play with you. That was something every single one of them took advantage of whenever they could. Changbin, one of the three of your boyfriends who shared your exhibitionist kink, had also called you to the studio during a recording session. You’d enjoyed it a lot more than you might have expected. Not only the sex, but also watching whichever of your boyfriends was in the recording booth watch you and be unable to participate because he had to record. Jeongin, Felix, and Jisung had had to fully turned their backs in an effort to maintain their composure.

You also had scheduled date days with each of the boys, and they had them with each other as well. Frequently, you had additional dates that were with all of the boys, or just a few of them. But you all made sure to make time for one-on-one dates once a month. Sometimes they weren’t very long or got pushed back due to late or changing schedules, but that was something you were used to from having been with Chan for so long.

Usually, when that happened, whoever’s date had been pushed back, would want to have an apartment date, rather than going out. Apartment date was just the wording the nine of you had agreed on for an at-home date, usually your home. They were the more romantic dates, seeing as you and seven of your boyfriends couldn’t really be romantic publicly.

Yours and Minho’s date night had unfortunately been pushed back several times over three weeks, so you were both craving some romantic affection. Not that you hadn’t seen him at all in that time or that you two hadn’t been romantic, you had, you just hadn’t been able to have a date with him. So you weren’t surprised when Minho asked for your date with him to be an apartment date.

It was the middle of the day when Minho planned to come over. The eight of them had a day off, so he had no other commitments that would mean your date had to be in the evening. But, because you were both looking for a more romantic atmosphere, you’d pulled the curtains tight over your kitchen window and balcony door to darken your apartment, then lit a couple candles in the living room to lend everything a more romantic atmosphere.

While you were in your room changing into more comfortable lounge clothes, you heard the door open. You hurried out as soon as you were dressed to find Minho standing in the middle of your living room, looking around.

“How is it that there are eight of us, each with different wants and personalities, and you still somehow always know exactly what to do for us?” he asked softly, turning to look at you.

You grinned, pleased that you’d read the situation right. “I know my men,” you answered, shrugging a shoulder as if it were no big deal.

He strode up to you, wrapping his arms around you and leaning in to claim your lips in a soft kiss. “Thank you, kitten. This is just exactly what I needed today.”

In short order, the pair of you had spread out the snacks and drinks Minho had brought on your coffee table then cuddled on your couch, watching your favorite movie. He was wedged into the corner of your couch and you were cuddled half on top of him, thoroughly relaxed and enjoying your movie.

Lazily, mostly watching the movie, his hand had drifted from around your waist to groping your boobs over your tank top. His touch was light, with very little intention in his actions, mostly like he was playing with a fidget toy to keep his focus on the screen. You thought it was kind of funny, especially how he wasn’t the only one to treat your boobs that way. Chan, Changbin, Seungmin, and Jeongin all did as well. Hyunjin liked to tap on or trace designs on your belly, while Jisung and Felix were more fond of your thighs.

After the movie ended, you stretched out, arching enough to press your boob more firmly into Minho’s hand. Then you sighed and slumped back against him again. After another content moment, you leaned up and pressed a kiss to the underside of his jaw, then stood up and started clearing away the trash from your snacks. You saw him reach for his phone, but didn’t comment, not particularly caring who he was texting as long as he didn’t spend the rest of your date on it.

After tossing the trash into the trash can, you went to the refrigerator to grab more drinks. You squeaked in surprise when you felt Minho press up against your ass while you were bent over, looking in the fridge.

You stood up, pressing your ass more firmly against him and feeling him grow harder. “Something I can help you with, baby?” you tease.

“Mm, there might be,” he reached forward to grip your hips. You grinned as he leaned forward and pressed a kiss to your shoulder. You tilted your head over and slightly back to rest on his shoulder and give him full access to the side of your neck. You gripped his thigh, moaning, when he sucked a hickey into the side of your neck. “Mm,” he hummed against your skin. “I’m hungry kitten. Got anything I could eat?”

You knew what he wanted you to say, so instead you leaned down into the refrigerator again, making sure your ass was firmly against his hard on. “Let’s see,” you wiggled your hips a little. “There’s the left over Chinese from yesterday, kimchi, I could make ramen if you want.”

Tightening his grip on your hips, he pulled you away from the fridge. “Not what I’m hungry for.”

“Oh, did you wanna order pizza?” you asked, working to keep your voice as innocent as possible.

Rather than answer you, he quickly slid your lounge shorts and panties down your legs, flipped you around, and lifted you onto the counter beside the fridge. Your panties and shorts dropped off your ankles as soon as you were in the air. “Tease,” he accused, stepping between your legs and running two fingers up your folds, flicking your clit with the pads of those fingers.

“Oh, is that what you wanted? You should’ve said, baby.” He gave you an unimpressed glare as he crouched down to be face-level with your pussy. Your giggle at his glare was abruptly cut off into a moan when he immediately wrapped his lips around your clit and sucked.

Minho wrapped his arms around your thighs, well acquainted with your habit of squeezing peoples’ heads if they didn’t hold your thighs open. You threaded your fingers in his hair as he devoured your pussy, licking, sucking, and tongue fucking you just the way you loved. The build to your orgasm was steady, but fast, as Minho seemed intent on getting you to cum quickly. Your moans turned whiney as he repeatedly flicked his tongue over your clit, before wrapping his lips around it and sucking it into his mouth again.

You moaned, loud and long, curling around his head, as your orgasm rushed through you.

You leaned your head back against the cupboard, panting to catch your breath. “You know that the eight of us talk about you and any… fantasies you may share with us, right?”

“You know the eight of us talk about you and anything we think you’d enjoy, right?” You countered.

A small smile flashed across his face. “Channie was telling us all about the night you confessed to wanting this arrangement and what fantasies you’d admitted to at the time.”

“Hm. That explains why Bin didn’t shower after the gym on his way here last week.”

“Mm,” he hummed his agreement. “You did look so good riding his thigh.” It had become rather frequent that the nine of you sent sex photos and videos to the group chat. “And we all know he loves how messy you get.” At the time, Changbin had taken a photo of his thigh, shiny and slick with your arousal and cum.

You grinned. “I assume there’s a point?”

“There’s a balcony, actually,” he nodded his head in the direction of the curtains covering your balcony door.

“Minho, it’s the middle of the day!” You couldn’t deny though that the thought of what he was suggesting made your pussy clench.

“Kitten, you gonna tell me that doesn’t excite you more?” His mocking tone and the smirk on his face, not to mention the way his fingers danced up your inner thigh, told you that he knew exactly what you thought.

He tugged you off the counter, shepherding you toward the balcony door. He pulled your tank top up and off just as he pushed you through the open door and onto your balcony. You took a second to appreciate that your building was one of the ones that had walls separating the balconies rather than just fences. Sure, the potential of being caught was part of the thrill, but you didn’t want to jeopardize the guys’ careers and reputations. The walls and deep shadows created by them would protect Minho’s identity.

Minho joined you, having only slid his sweats down enough to pull his cock out, and crowded you against the railing. “You’ll have to be quiet, kitten. I’m not going to cover your mouth, and it’s not like you have a shirt to bite on.” Then he flipped you around and pressed against your back, forcing you to bend over the railing. Your belly rested on the top of the railing, leaving your head and tits to hang over the edge. He then grabbed both of your hands, holding them in a relaxed grip in one of his behind your lower back.

You felt him run his cock head up and down your slit a few times before he gripped one of your hips with his free hand and slammed into you. Not prepared for his speed, you didn’t have time to muffle the loud moan you let out. You quickly clenched your jaw shut as he immediately set a fast pace.

“Any one of those people down there could look up any time, kitten.” He was mostly hidden by the shadows of your balcony and every other word he spoke was punctuated with a harsh thrust of his hips. “What a view that would be, huh? You with your gorgeous tits bouncing over the railing.”

You whimpered, trying so hard to stay quiet. Your complex’s parking lot wasn’t exactly teeming with people, no matter what time of day, but it was the end of the work day, so many of your neighbors were coming home. and the thrill of any of them looking up and seeing you was setting you on edge almost as fast as Minho’s cock was. Your pussy clenched with Minho’s words and the images that put in your mind.

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you? Someone down there looking up here to see you being fucked out in the open like this.” You screwed your eyes shut in an effort to focus on keeping quiet. Instead, doing so heightened your other senses so you clearly heard the cars not too far away on the road, felt the breeze through your hair and over your tits. Behind you, Minho chuckled. “Well, look at that, two someones have seen you.”

Your eyes flew open and you spotted Changbin and Seungmin looking up at you. Seungmin blew you a kiss while Changbin pulled out his phone and took either a couple photos or a short video. You whimpered, looking down at them watching you was bringing you closer and closer to your orgasm. After a minute or so, the pair headed into the building. You turned your head to look back at Minho.

“I texted them,” he confirmed your half formed thought. “Thought I shouldn’t be the only one who gets to enjoy you out in the fresh air.”

You whimpered again, head dropping forward. The thought of three of your boyfriends using you out on the balcony, where anyone could look up and see you, had you curling against the railing and biting your bottom lip to keep quiet as you came.

“Aw, kitten, did that make you cum? Really?”

“What?”

“I told her I called you both so you could enjoy her in the fresh air too and she almost immediately came.”

“Pretty girl loves the thrill, don’t you?” Seungmin came to stand beside you, back against the railing.

You purposely clenched around Minho, feeling desperate to have him cum in you. With a groan, he pulled out of you and you felt his cum splash on your ass.

“No,” you whined.

“Poor kitten,” Minho teased, panting to catch his breath.

Changbin, judging by the fingers on your ass, stepped up behind you and swiped his fingers through the cum on your ass, gathering some up. He then reached forward and shoved his two fingers into your mouth. You moaned around his fingers, sucking Minho’s cum off them with the same enthusiasm as if it were his cock, not just Bin’s fingers. Bin thrust his fingers in your mouth a few times while you heard him unzipping his jeans with his other hand. Then his fingers were gone.

He interlaced his fingers with yours, keeping your hands pinned to your hips, as he thrust into you. Immediately he set a brutal pace, rocking you against the railing.

“I wonder, kitten, if we took you camping, would you let us fuck you in the woods?” Minho asked from somewhere behind you.

“Oh God,” Changbin groaned as you clenched around him. “Yeah, I think she would. I think she’d like that a lot, huh bunny?”

“Hm, out in the woods, huh? Bet you wouldn’t have to be quiet out there, pretty girl.” Seungmin’s fingers danced up your spine with his words. His fingers continued over your shoulder until he reached your boob. You felt him press against your side, his hard cock against your side, to get a better angle for him to grope your tit. He pinched and rolled your nipple and you squirmed and writhed, trying so hard not to make any noise that you could feel tears gathering.

“I’ll have to see what we can do to set that up,” Minho mused. Distantly, you wondered if he was teasing you or if he were serious.

It didn’t matter to your imagination though, because now all you could imagine was your hands pressed against a tree while Changbin fucked you like he was doing now and you were free to make all the noises that you were desperately holding back.

“Pretty, are you crying?” Seungmin asked, concerned. You violently shook your head, negating the concern rather than denying the tears that finally started to drip from your eyes. “Ah,” he said, understanding. “Feels so good and you can’t make any noise, huh?” You nodded.

Changbin, still holding your hand, slid his hand around your hip and quickly found your clit. You kept your fingers attached to his hand, knowing he didn’t like for you to touch yourself with him, unless he could watch. His thumb rubbed quick, firm circles against your clit. “C’mon bunny. Just let go for me,” he leaned over you, pressing kisses to your back. Within just a few more strokes, your back arched, pressing your tits forward more over the railing, as you came around Bin’s cock. “Good bunny,” he praised, causing you to shiver as he chased his own high, building you up to another.

Changbin’s hips stilled and you felt his warm cum flood your insides. You locked your jaw against the whimper that wanted to come out as he pulled out of you.

Taking his place behind you, Seungmin rubbed a soothing hand over your back, letting you catch your breath for just a moment, before slamming into you. You clutched the railing, Seungmin having not restrained your hands at all. You had the brief thought to cover your mouth, but that was quickly dashed.

“Keep them right there, pretty girl, or I’ll stop.” You whimpered, purposely clenching around his cock as if to keep him in your body.

Behind you, Seungmin stilled. Before you could find your voice for a complaint, Changbin said, “Just a minute, bunny. Just let me get him ready.”

Your head dropped forward – you loved watching Changbin fuck Seungmin as he was usually rougher with the younger man than he was with you, because Seungmin liked it that way. You loved the way Seungmin’s eyes would roll back in his head as Changbin took complete charge of him, roughly moving him to whatever position the older man wanted, even wrapping his hand or arm around the younger man’s neck.

After just a couple minutes, you felt Seungmin press harder into you and heard the low moan that meant Changbin was pressing into him. You didn’t have to wait long for Bin to start thrusting into him, setting a brutal pace, and causing Minnie to fuck you at the same pace. You bit the inside of your lip, trying to keep your moans as quiet as possible, though you could still hear the muffled noises you made.

You didn’t have to look to be able to tell Bin had his hand wrapped around Minnie’s neck, providing just the right amount of pressure to make breathing difficult. You could hear it in the gasps coming from Seungmin. You felt like Bin’s hand was wrapped around your neck, dizzy with pleasure from being used by your boyfriends just the way you liked it.

“Doing okay, kitten?” Minho came to stand beside you, back to the railing. You did your best to nod, but it was difficult with the way Changbin’s thrusts were rocking you through Seungmin. “Good. So good to us, letting us have you whenever we want. However we want,” Minho smiled down at you, the gentle tone of voice and feel of his fingertips running over your shoulder and part way down your side completely at odds with everything else you were feeling.

His fingers skated down your back, wrapping around your hip until he pressed his first two fingers firmly against your clit. He didn’t move them at first, just keeping a firm pressure there while the rocking from Changbin’s thrusts provided a little motion. Then he started tapping on the bundle of nerves, timing it with Changbin’s thrusts.

Seungmin came first, dropping his head back against Changbin with a low groan as he came, adding his load to the one already in you. Changbin sped up, chasing his own high again and causing little whimpers of overstimulation to come from the man between the two of you. Minho focused on your clit, switching to rub little circles into the bundle of nerves until you came with a short scream, mostly muffled by your lips being tightly pressed together. Lost in your own orgasm, you missed when Changbin came but knew he had because he was still.

Carefully, Changbin tugged Seungmin back, pulling him out of you with a whimper from you both.

“C’mere,” Minho tugged you off the railing to face him and, still keeping you bent over, used his thumb to open your mouth and shove his cock in. After a few, deep thrusts, he was coming down your throat.

Exhausted, legs feeling like jelly, you dropped down onto one of the lounge chairs you kept on the balcony. You knew in a minute you’d have to get up for the usual aftercare routine of drink/food/bath, but right now you couldn’t be bothered to care about it.

~~ Stress Relief ~~

You’d had to go into the office for your once-a-month mandatory meeting. You hated those meetings, 99% of everything they talked about was either something you’d already handled via email, or could be handled via email. You were pretty sure it was your bosses way of controlling their staff.

After the meeting, you went straight to Chan and Jeongin’s apartment. You couldn’t remember for sure, without checking the calendar you all used, but you were pretty sure that one of them had a solo schedule today and the other didn’t. Hopefully, one of them would be there. If not, you’d post a nude into the group chat to get someone to come help relieve the aggravation caused by work.

Once in their apartment, the sounds you heard pulled you to Chan’s bedroom. You pushed open the door to see Chan on his back, Jisung bouncing on his cock. For just a minute, you stood and watched them – Chan clutching Ji’s hips, while Ji’s leaky cock bounced with every bounce of his hips.

“Mm, you look so good riding on him, Sungie,” you commented, strolling up to the bed as you shed your work clothes. Jisung’s rhythm faltered as he caught sight of you. “Oh, don’t stop on my account,” you reassured, ridding yourself of the last of your clothes then running a soothing hand down his spine.

Thanks to his anxiety, Jisung still occasionally had moments where he worried what you or one of the other guys thought when you walked in on him and someone else. Like now. At your reassurance though, he smiled and started rolling his hips faster. Chan groaned, tightening his hold on his hips before finding his voice and turning to you.

“Hey baby girl. Didn’t realize you were coming over.” Chan smiled up at you.

“Mm-hm. Had that stupid could’ve-been-an-email meeting today. Need some stress relief.”

“Happy to help, love. Come have a seat.” He winked, blowing you a kiss. He knew, as did the others, that stress relief mostly meant you wanted to be eaten out. Sometimes, if it was really stressful, you’d want to be fucked too. But a mouth on your pussy was the best stress relief for you.

You bent over him to kiss him quickly, before doing exactly as he asked. You climbed up onto the bed and straddled his face, facing Jisung, slowly lowering yourself until he got too impatient, grabbed your hips, and pulled you down onto his mouth. You and Jisung let out matching moans as he did.

“So it was a – oh – a shit day at work?” Ji asked.

“Oh God,” you moaned out as Chan fucked his tongue up into you. “Who cares?” You felt the rumble of Chan’s chuckle against you at your answer. You reached down, hands resting on Chan’s pecs as he continued to lap at you. On a harsh suck of your clit, your elbows gave out. You caught yourself before falling completely, but now found yourself face to tip with Jisung’s bouncing dick.

When you wrapped your lips around him, you were more than pleased to learn that every time he raised up on Chan’s dick, the movement pushed his own dick into your mouth. You shifted around to make yourself more comfortable, keeping your cunt pressed against Chan’s mouth while Jisung thrust into your mouth.

“Oh God,” he moaned, reaching down to tangle one hand in your hair and brace his other hand on Chan’s abs beside your head. You looked up at him through your eyelashes as he struggled to keep his rhythm. Chan obviously noticed as he planted his feet on the bed and started thrusting up into the younger man, forcing his cock deeper into your mouth at the same time. Jisung whined, tightening his hold on your hair.

You were so focused on watching Jisung come apart, that you were only vaguely aware of your own orgasm building. So it took you a little by surprise when you felt that coil snap and you bucked your hips against Chan’s mouth, moans muffled by Jisung’s cock. Watching you cum seemed to be just enough for Jisung who followed right behind you, some of his cum splashing on your lips and chin because of the way Chan was thrusting into him.

He tugged you up, off his softening cock and, while Chan kept thrusting up into him, licked his own cum off your lips and chin. Then he leaned in and captured your lips in a surprisingly sweet kiss that was interrupted when he moaned into your mouth as Chan came in him.

The three of you relaxed, shifting around to lay cuddled together, Jisung in the middle. “You okay, baby girl?”

You knew he was actually asking if you wanted or needed to cum again, but that had been the perfect amount of stress relief for you. “Mm, I’m good, love.” You stretched a little then wrapped your arms more firmly around Ji, who had his face buried against Chan’s chest.

After a while, the three of you got up, cleaned up, and went out to the kitchen to figure out what you wanted for dinner.

~~ Painting ~~

You wondered, briefly, if you’d ever be able to deny any of your boyfriends anything they asked. Seungmin had accused you of having all of them wrapped around your fingers, but you wondered if he realized that they all had you just as wrapped around theirs. Currently, Jeongin was sitting cross-legged on Hyunjin’s bed with you in his lap, on his cock, your nipple in his mouth, and your back slightly arched back, fingers tangled in Innie’s hair. Meanwhile, Hyunjin sat at his easel, sketching the two of you.

He’d asked you the day before to draw you. He’d done so several times now, each apartment having at least one nude portrait of you. They ranged from very classy, tasteful nudes, to you playing with yourself. But then you’d arrived at his and Changbin’s apartment to find Jeongin waiting for you as well and that was when Hyunjin said this portrait was going to be different than the others.

He wanted to do what he called an active painting. You weren’t sure if that was the proper term, or just the term Hyunjin used when he wanted to paint something that would normally be in motion. Like Felix jogging, you masturbating, or, in this case, you and Innie having sex. Now, normally this wouldn’t be a problem for you. You loved cock warming any of your boyfriends. But Jeongin was taking full advantage of the situation you were in to torment you.

You whimpered, wiggling your hips when he flicked his tongue over the nipple he had in his mouth.

“Princess, need you to hold still,” Hyunjin commented. You felt Innie smirk against you before schooling his expression back into the adoring look up at you Hyunjin had asked him for. You just knew the pair of them were tormenting you on purpose.

“You two suck,” you complained.

“Well, yes,” the ‘I-thought-that-was-obvious’ tone coupled with his smirk told you Hyunjin had decided to go for the innuendo rather than the actual complaint you made. You glared at him and his smirk widened to a grin.

For the next several minutes, Innie held still, not sucking on your nipple or licking it, or subtly rolling his hips, so you were able to relax. Or at least, relax as much as you could with the way Hyunjin had you arch your back.

Then Jeongin decided to ‘resettle’ himself which involved him shifting around and harshly thrusting up into you. Just one thrust, barely enough for any real stimulation. You whimpered again, this time getting your revenge by tugging on his hair that you held in your hand. Innie moaned then retaliated with a quick nip to your nipple.

“Do you two mind? I’m trying to create art here.”

“He started it!”

“Did not! I just needed to shift a little.”

“You didn’t! Or at least, you didn’t need to thrust into me when you did!”

“How was I supposed to not though?”

“You’re supposed to hold still so Hyune gets a good painting of us. Tell me you don’t want a painting of us, like this, in your bedroom?”

“It’s going in your room, actually, Princess.”

“Really?” Excited, you turned to look at Hyunjin.

“Stop wiggling,” Innie complained. You ignored him.

“Yep. Suppose I could get a print made for Innie’s room,” he looked at the sketch contemplatively. “And mine, for that matter. But this one is meant for you.” Then he looked back at the pair of you. “But in order to do any of that, I need you two to hold still.”

The pair of you resettled in the positions Hyunjin had asked you for. And this time you stayed there for a longer stretch of time than before.

Then you felt Innie’s hand, the one hidden from Hyunjin’s view, slowly sliding up your thigh. You subtly tightened your hold on his hair as a warning, that he fully ignored. Or took as encouragement, who knew with the way his mind worked. You tried to stay still as Jeongin ran his fingers along you pussy where you were stretched around him, gathering as much of your arousal as he could. But when he pressed those fingers to your clit, flicking in a quick up and down motion, you couldn’t hold back your moans. You pressed down more firmly into his lap and clenched around him.

You heard Hyunjin sigh and set down his pencil but barely registered that he’d stood up. He moved behind you to grab something else then sat back at his easel. “Jeongin, stop. Just for a minute.” Innie did as he was asked and you heard Hyunjin’s camera shutter click several times.

You turned and glared at him as he set his camera down. “What?”

“You could’ve done that before, Hyune!”

“Yeah, probably. But I wanted as much of it as possible to be… real. Capturing it from a camera isn’t the same.” Innie chuckled, the motion causing you to bounce slightly on his cock. Now that you didn’t need to hold still, you rocked your hips down into his lap. He quickly resumed his motions against your clit and copied those flicks with his tongue against your nipple.

Between your rocking, Innie’s hands and tongue, and how long you’d been sitting on his cock, you felt your orgasm building quickly. Then Hyunjin stepped up beside the two of you and claimed your mouth in a sloppy kiss. The tension in your belly snapped and Hyunjin swallowed your moans as you came on Jeongin’s cock.

Hyunjin pulled away from you so you could catch your breath. He ran his thumb over your cheek, then trailed his fingers down the side of your neck and over the side of your boob. Jeongin detached from your nipple and Hyune leaned in to claim his lips, tilting the younger man’s head and tangling his fingers with yours in his hair.

You moaned watching them, rocking your hips faster. You loved watching your boyfriends enjoy each other, especially this close up.

As Hyunjin pulled away, you saw him raise an eyebrow in silent question to Jeongin, who nodded. Hyune made quick work of unzipping and dropping his jeans and boxers, kicking them away, then tossed his shirt off to join them.

Innie dropped his jaw, tongue lolling out over his front teeth. You moaned as Hyunjin tapped the head of his cock on Innie’s tongue a couple times before guiding it into his mouth. Keeping his grip on your hand and therefore Jeongin’s hair, Hyunjin shallowly thrusted into the younger man’s mouth.

You’d been somewhat surprised, particularly with his initial mild reluctance with Chan, how much Jeongin enjoyed sucking cock. He enjoyed it as much as you did, moaning around whoever’s dick was in his mouth the whole time. You loved times like this, where he was sucking someone off while fucking you because it made his hips kick into you just a little more forcefully.

Hyunjin kept his one hand in Jeongin’s hair while the other snaked down to reach your tits and pinch, roll, flick, and generally tease one nipple then the other. Jeongin’s grip on your hips tightened in response to your moans at Hyunjin’s actions.

You leaned forward slightly, licking the side of Hyunjin’s cock where it disappeared between Innie’s lips. Innie whimpered when his grip forced you to speed up and you started clenching around him as a response.

“God, you two look gorgeous.” Hyunjin’s voice came out breathy. Very carefully, you gently bit Jeongin’s bottom lip, pulling another of his whimpers that you loved from deep in his throat. You soothed the bite, licking his lip, then turned your attention back to licking the part of Hyune’s cock that you could.

It wasn’t too much longer before you felt your orgasm starting to crest. You knew Jeongin was close too, with the way he was trying to thrust up into you but unable to get much purchase to do it as much as he wanted. You tossed your head back with a long moan, arching your back far enough that your boobs hit Jeongin’s cheek, as you felt the wave of your orgasm crash through you.

You stilled on Jeongin, still clenching rhythmically around him. That was enough to push him over the edge, Hyunjin following right behind him. As soon as Hyunjin pulled away, Jeongin turned to you and claimed your mouth in a sloppy kiss, pushing Hyune’s cum into your mouth which you greedily swallowed.

By the time Changbin got home from a writing session with Jisung and Chan, the three of you were curled together, asleep, in Hyunjin’s bed.

Several weeks later, Hyunjin presented you with the framed painting of you and Jeongin, as well as one of the final sketches. You decided to hang it in your living room for everyone to enjoy.

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Taglist: @skzficpriv @strayk1ds143 @vegetablesarefuntables @imagine-all-the-imagines @yeetmylifeu @wolfo2027 @vampkennedy @writhingwrecked @xxeiraxx

#stray kids smut #skz smut #bang chan x reader #skz x reader #han jisung x reader #seungmin x reader #changbin x reader #hyunjin x reader #minho x reader #yang jeongin x reader #felix x reader #skz ot8 x reader

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ashleyrowanthewriter · 2 days ago

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The News - Life and Times of Ashley the Crow (Crow HRT 6)

*************

Whenever a prominent and famous otherkin announces that they decide to transition into their species completely, and especially after they finish the process, it becomes the number one hot topic among the community. That was such a day.

"So they really made it through?" Arja said, looking into the sky.

"Yes. Half the fan base is in chaos."

"Lucky them. I wonder where they are now."

"Nobody's really sure. I bet on some lonely cave in the mountains."

Something about the clouds that day felt fervent that day. The world opened a new chapter.

"You know, they were a very big figure. A lot is going on. It feels like the greatest debate in the world."

"It really seems to dislike the idea of discarding your humanity just like that."

"It always tries to stop social changes. Individual, collective, one dog."

"So how loud are those who think it's suicide of the mind?"

"Greatly."

Arja sighed. "I fucking knew it."

"But other sides are getting believers too."

"And what do you think?"

"That you're still yourself. It's just your behaviour that aligns with your body."

"That's a nice way of looking at it."

"That's what the most proves point to."

Our talk brought my mind to a topic I wanted to move for a long time.

"Arja, do you want to go all the way?"

"Would you miss me?"

"Maybe. But I would root for you and appreciate our time together."

"Even if I had to go to a lonely cave in the mountains?"

"Yes, I'd get ready for that."

"Aw, that's sweet. But no, I'd much prefer to go for hybridisation."

"I see. Then I guess you're close. You'll be mighty, I'm sure."

"Thank you, sweetheart." Arja made a pause. She wasn't sure whether or not she wanted to ask her question. "Hey, if you could do it then how far would you go? Don't answer if you're not comfortable."

"All the way."

"Really?"

"Don't tell me there were no signs."

"I mean, there were. But with how much you like to write I wasn't sure."

"I think talons and the beak are enough to use a keyboard."

I quickly realised I wasn't telling Arja the entire truth. I knew that I should be more honest.

"Well, that's what I would like to say."

"It's not just about that. My body takes anything medical worse and worse recently. I'm afraid that if I tried to do it it would destroy me. And I'm not even talking about my heart anymore."

"Eh, as if it all couldn't leave you."

"Yeah."

"But didn't you got through much tougher stuff?"

"Last time I had new complications."

"And would you like Her to win?"

I knew who Arja referred to as Her. If you are in the otherkin community you have for sure heard about a particular writer. One that really wants us gone. One that I swore to one day be better than.

"True. I can let a lot of people win, but not Her."

"Now that's the Ashley I know."

"Hey one more thing."

"Yeah?"

"Would you like me to be your pet?"

"I don't think one can keep crows."

"Well, that sucks. And I guess that's another reason why I don't know anymore."

"Hey, we can still be friends. I can leave you fruits in a feeder."

"Thanks. I don't know what I could do for you though."

"Oh, just peck on the uninvited guests."

"And without violence?"

"I'm sure you'll figure something out."

*************

My crow cooldown has ended and here I go. I wanted to write about something else and less emotionally, but I changed my plans after I saw the last page from @ayviedoesthings . I think half the community did.

Also, for those who are like me and have a hard time learning idioms, "one dog" means roughly "there's no difference" and I encountered it in Polish.

Aha. Maybe there's a good reason why you can't adopt crows in many regions of the world, but not for a constitutional homo marriage ban. Caw with me if you agree.

#crow hrt #furry hrt #furry #furry art #animal hrt #otherkin hrt #therian hrt #writers on tumblr #writeblr #writing #my writing #sabine flyover

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loveswrites · 2 days ago

Note

Hi! Hope you are doing well !🫶🏻

I was wondering of you maybe could write a poly! Volturi fic? I really like your work 🫶🏻

Winter War Poly Volturi X Reader Pt 1

Word Count: 800

Time it took: I can't even tell you I don't even remember ngl I just finish it today.

To anon: Hello my love, I am doing well I hope you are as well and if not I hope you will be when You read this. I am so glad you enjoy my writing! So Here you go. I hope you enjoy <3

“No you can’t go.”

“I’m the queen! literally, why wouldn't I go?” You yelled. You had been fighting with your loves for about 30 minutes now. There was this ‘war’ coming so said Cauis. A girl named Bella and some vampire Edward had ended up long story short making a baby. It's not human and now it’s our problem. They had made a ruckus before in the castle but you had only caught the end tail of it, And by it I mean the fight. The only thing that could be heard besides Bellas scream and Edwards threats were your “Damnnn!” and “Shit you getting your ass beat!” And that was that.

But now you're hearing about them again and they have been the only names who have been running through the dry cobble walls of the castle. And you're sick of it to say the least. Bella this, Bella that, Edward this, Edward that, The Baby, I’m sorry the monster. That’s all you’ve been hearing, It’s like you're in high school all over again. You graduated so why does it feel like this?

So when you heard about them preparing for a fight you were the first one who was up and ready to go. Finally end this long drug out gossip and let you go back to your everyday life of being a queen. But to your surprise you were immediately told no. You’ve barely ever been told no since you met your loves. So you’ve gotten used to always hearing yes so at that moment when you didn’t, you didn't know what to do with yourself besides look at your loves like they lost their minds because excuse you?

What do you mean no? Maybe becoming the queen had something to do with this new found spoiledness you had. But it’s not your fault that they promised you the world with everything you wanted inbetween.

You thought as queen you had the right to be at these meetings or wars. And you were told that you do. So excuse me for having only one thought run through your head.

Why can’t I go? Why can’t I go? Why can’t I go? That’s all that has been ringing in your head.

“It’s not safe!” Alec yelled back at you. Making you immediately roll your eyes.

“You act like it’s ever been safe for me!” You yelled back. Why would he say that like it’s an excuse or something new?

“You can get hurt.” Jane said also not agreeing with you going.

“I can get hurt everyday! I could get hurt now, I’m human!” You yelled, taking a breath to add to your statement but you were cut off

“Exactly human! You're human! How could you possibly help us during this time like we need your help or anything?!” Cauis yelled.

“Morale support! We all need it!” You yelled back.

“That doesn’t help us if someones trying to take our head off.” Felix stated.

“I don’t know, it might help me.” Dem said shrugging.

“Oh my.” Marcus groaned, shaking his head with his eyes closed.

Long story short the world can only give you what you take from it. As you walk through the thick cold fluffy snow you can't help but feel proud of yourself. Your childish thoughts are filled with I got what I want. You can't tell me. You knew like hell this was extremely dangerous and you could end up more than dead to no return. But the fact that you've been crowned queen and you've never stepped out to come with your loves to settle a.. disagreement with other vampires upset you. How can I be worthy of being queen when I never get my hands dirty? Not even once. That's why you fought so hard to come here today with your loves. You also couldn't help but think fucking hell it's cold as shit out here. Your toes grew numb with every step. Which prompted you to turn and ask the closest one of your loves.

“So Are your toes constantly numb?” You asked Caius. Who immediately sighed deeply.

“You beg to come here and yet you ask such a stupid question.” He replied, speeding up his walking knowing damn well you won't be able to catch up to him.

“Hey It's not a stupid question! I'm genuinely concerned about the blood flow in your toes! It's important!” You yelled at the back of his head which he shook.

“Okay you can pick me back up, I don't want to walk anymore!” You said to no one in particular.

“About time.” Jane picked u up and all you could hear was the loud whistles of wind in your ear.

Let's go see what all the drama is about shall we?

#poly twilight #x reader #loveswrites #twilight #volturi x reader #volturi poly #the volturi #alec volturi x reader #demitri volturi x reader #cauis x reader #aro x reader #marcus x reader #alec x reader #felix volturi x reader #jane volturi x reader

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zepskies · 2 days ago

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Oooh here we go, diving right back into Angst City with some manic Cowboy Sheriff. 😅

A computer mouse flung against the wall and only missed Jenny’s head by an inch as the blonde peeked inside his office. The rest of the station had selected her to talk to the big boss, his outbursts even being heard from miles away. “You okay?” Jenny checked carefully. “I’m tryna find that stupid camera!”

*snorts* Oh, he's not handling this well, is he? Can't really blame him, considering a serial killer has the love of his life captured somewhere. 🥲

It wasn’t just about what he had done in there but also about he’d said. No wonder Diane had gotten so easily under his skin. She probably had heard every insecurity he had ever uttered. To you. And to imaginary Randy. How was he supposed to sleep in a place where he felt exploited, exposed, and unsafe?

Oh Goddd, it really is awful. It's like nowhere in his life is private or safe anymore for him. How could you ever feel comfortable in your own office again?

And if the roles were reversed, Beau wouldn’t either. He’d probably be even more annoyingly persistent than Randy.

loll I could definitely see that. 😅

“This isn’t a game, Randy! We need to find Y/N before it’s too late,” Beau argued furiously. They didn’t have time for petty competitions.

THANK YOU. At least one of them is taking this situation more seriously than their rivalry. But I honestly understand and sympathize with Randy too -- he's grasping at straws even though he knows he's losing his (former) wife emotionally already, even if he does manage to find the key to saving her before Beau does.

“‘Sides, why would I give up my favorite part? I’ve waited a while for this one. Killing her? While you two idiots watch helplessly and throw feces at each other like monkeys in a zoo? Gotta say, it’s better than killing twenty-four people combined. Ever since I met Deputy Popcorn, I’ve been actually craving a snack.” Upon Beau’s facial twitch, Diane leaned closer and whispered with a smirk,

Ok, just shoot this bitch out back and bury her under the sheriff's office. Honestly. 😤 (But the monkeys line did make me snort lol)

“About four years ago, she wrote a rather lengthy email to her sister Sophia in Seattle. She seemed very upset. Said there was a little something you wouldn’t give her. Ring any bells?”

Dammmmn how the hell is she getting this information?? But now I'm looking at Randy sideways even harder. 😒

I was on pins and needles throughout all of the reader's almost escape -- that bear trap actually made me physically grimace/wince!! Omg poor thing. But I loved how remembering Beau's advice helped her get out of the trap -- or at least the bear trap, if not Hal's "Benders"-themed game of hunt and chase. 😰

Pulling out their weapons, the two shared a look without speaking a word before entering the house, a feeling of familiarity rising in Beau’s chest. They were still partners, somewhere deep down.

Such a great moment between Beau and Randy here, and such great storytelling, especially as they actually start to work together to solve the mystery of what happened to the reader next. 👏🏽💜 I think one of the things I love most about your writing is you have such a great sense of story beats, creating tension and when to relieve it, and how to build character arcs that provide amazing twists, while also making exact sense when it all comes together, piece by piece.

Beau knew the question was mostly rhetorical, but true to himself, he still answered, “It’s actually pretty easy. Just press down on the springs, and the thing opens right up.” A smile formed on his lips as a memory popped back into his mind. “I told Y/N that once when we took a camping trip back in Houston. She probably didn’t remember it. I mean, honestly, I doubt she was even listening. I was kinda ramblin’, you know?”

Oh these two were made for her -- she was actually listening to his ramblings. 🥰💜

“Yeah, well, it’s true,” he said, his gaze cast downward as if he were confessing his sins to a priest. “She wanted kids, and I told her I didn’t. Neither of us was backing down. The night the cartel kidnapped me, we were supposed to have dinner and talk about it when I got home. Part of me already knew where it was headed.”

Remember earlier when I was talking about your amazing twists that make things click into place even more perfectly? Well THIS IS IT. 👏🏽👏🏽👏🏽 It makes things with her and Beau make even more sense now that we know she was likely leaving Randy anyway, no matter how much she loved him.

“Good thing you’re not her father,” Beau snapped. He could only muster so much patience. “You don’t really have a say in who she’s datin’.”

YES, Beau!! I get it, Randy's been dealt a shitty hand, but Beau's POV in this situation and conversation is so valid. 👌🏽 (Especially since she was likely leaving Randy anyway.)

Regardless, it seems like they had the honest man-to-man talk they needed to have about everything. But Wayne!!! That cliffhanger is...

Polaris – Chapter 12

Series Summary: When Beau Arlen moved to Montana, he left behind a past he wasn’t proud of. But when a series of murders requires the FBI’s help, Sheriff Arlen‘s ghosts come back to haunt him one by one. With a wrong turn waiting at every crossroads, it’s hard to make the right choices and find his way back home – back to you.

Pairing: Beau Arlen x FBI Agent!Reader

Warnings: 18+, a heavy dose of angst, kidnapping, violence, injuries, serial killers, death, an awful cliffhanger

Word Count: 6.8k

A/N: Happy New Year, everyone! 🥳 We jump straight into 2025 with an angsty banger 👀

Series Masterlist || Main Masterlist || Tag List

Chapter 12: Through

On one of the sunniest mornings Helena had seen in recent days, the peaceful quiet of the early risers in the Sheriff’s Department was disturbed by one restless sheriff.

Beau was taking his office apart – bit by bit, nail by nail, panel by panel, brick by brick.

The search for you had gone on all night and yielded zero results. You were nowhere to be found. For all Beau knew, you could be dead by now and buried in the vast woods of Montana.

“You okay?” Jenny checked carefully.

“I’m tryna find that stupid camera!”

“Thought you already found that hours ago,” Jenny noted with a raised brow.

“Can’t be too careful…” the sheriff murmured, his focus landing on the pile of pens on his desk. The silver one – had that always been there? He picked it up. “Does this look normal to you?”

Jenny only offered a shrug.

“Never mind,” Beau muttered and reduced the pen down to its individual parts. Nothing. Just a plain, old pen.

“Did you get some sleep?”

“What d’you think?”

At five in the morning, Beau had promised Jenny he’d snooze for half an hour on the couch in his office. He did lie down, stared at the suspended ceiling tiles for about a minute, and then remembered the damn camera.

How was he supposed to sleep in a place where he felt exploited, exposed, and unsafe?

“Well, uh, I just wanted to tell you that Randy went into Interrogation Room 2 with Diane…”

“WHAT?!”

“Yeah…” Jenny exhaled a deep sigh and leaned against the door frame. “He said you’d deputized him and authorized it, but I had a feeling that wasn’t true.”

Beau ran a hand across his face, rubbing his beard.

Rule #3: She’s my wife. I get to decide how we proceed.

Rule #4: You’re not the boss of me.

“Well, I did deputize him,” Beau admitted. He had given his former partner a long leash, not expecting he’d bolt through the backyard.

“Beau…” Jenny clearly didn’t approve.

“He left me no choice, alright?!”

Well, no choice his guilt could deal with.

The sheriff then left his destroyed office and thundered into Interrogation Room 2 down the hall. Randy wouldn’t get to do this alone. Beau knew there was an ulterior motive – if only Randy saved you, he could also miraculously save his marriage. Randy was a persistent motherfucker. He wouldn’t give up.

And if the roles were reversed, Beau wouldn’t either. He’d probably be even more annoyingly persistent than Randy.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” Beau charged in with steam coming out of his ears. For a moment, his anger was so focused on his friend, he didn’t even notice the rising smile on Diane’s lips.

“Good morning, Sheriff Arlen.” Even if Diane’s voice sounded melodious, to Beau it was still chalk on board. “Remodeling the office, are we?”

“You mind?” Randy prompted stand-offishly, glancing up at the sheriff. “Kinda in the middle of something here.”

“Outside. Now,” was all Beau said.

Defiantly and miffed by the authoritative tone, Randy followed him to the hall.

“Play nice, boys!” Diane’s voice echoed through before the door fell into its lock.

“What d’you think you’re doing? You can’t just talk to our prime suspect without my presence!” Beau roared.

Randy rolled his eyes back. “Didn’t know I needed a babysitter…”

“This isn’t a game, Randy! We need to find Y/N before it’s too late,” Beau argued furiously. They didn’t have time for petty competitions.

“Yeah, which is why I’m talking to the only lead we have! That bitch knows where she is,” Randy countered with an equal amount of fury.

“She’s not gonna tell you!”

Randy only shrugged – cocky in nature and completely unlike him. And Beau then realized something that had changed: His friend wouldn’t back down anymore and bend. Those days were over, and it was probably Beau’s own fault.

“We’ll see,” Randy said stubbornly, his hand wandering back to the door handle. “You comin’?”

Beau inhaled and exhaled a deep breath before nodding – and back into the lion’s den they went.

Diane welcomed them with a sneer. “All made up?”

“Tell us where Turner took her,” Randy demanded with a stern expression and firm voice.

If Randy wanted to play bad cop, the role of good cop fell to Beau by default. And although they had never ever played it that way before, Beau figured Randy carried more anger than even him right now. He might as well let him make good use of it.

“Can’t.” Diane twitched her shoulders. “Hal doesn’t tell me.”

“Oh, and we’re just supposed to believe that?” Beau lifted a brow in mock. “C’mon, Diane…”

“It’s true,” she said, smiling. “Call it an insurance policy in case one of you Neanderthals decides to go rogue on me – looking at you specifically, Sheriff Arlen. If you leave your own partner to die in a filthy warehouse, I don’t wanna know what you do to your enemies.” She then looked at Randy, whispering behind her palm, “You know, I think he did it on purpose.”

Beau clicked his tongue and snorted humorlessly. “Alright, Diane, you’ve had your fun. You’ve wreaked havoc… You’ve won, okay? Fair and square. Just give up your partner, tell us where Y/N is, and end this once and for all. Might even get a better deal if you do. Think about it. Murdering an FBI agent doesn’t look good in front of a judge and jury. We have iron-clad proof you killed at least five people in Texas. Capital murder, death penalty… See where I’m going with this?”

“Oh, I’ve thought about it, Sheriff. And I’ve told you: I don’t know where she is now,” Diane reiterated with the same infuriating smile. Her gray eyes then wandered to a wall clock behind the men. “At least not yet.”

Randy and Beau both followed her gaze and stared at that same clock. Their eyes widened.

“Then when?” Randy prompted.

“Don’t worry. You’ll see her soon.” Diane smirked. “If she makes it out alive, she can tell you in person she’s choosing the rugged sheriff here over you, Detective Nichols.”

Randy’s jaw tightened, his fists clenching and unclenching under the metal table.

“I gave her a fighting chance.”

“Oh, you mean like the others?” Beau had known from the start that it would be useless talking to her.

“They all could’ve gotten out,” said Diane as if she blamed the victims for not being smarter and more durable. “‘Sides, why would I give up my favorite part? I’ve waited a while for this one. Killing her? While you two idiots watch helplessly and throw feces at each other like monkeys in a zoo? Gotta say, it’s better than killing twenty-four people combined. Ever since I met Deputy Popcorn, I’ve been actually craving a snack.” Upon Beau’s facial twitch, Diane leaned closer and whispered with a smirk, “Yeah, I know about the cute little nicknames for your deputies too, Sheriff. I wonder how many bugs you’ve found yet in your office. Sure it can’t be all of them. Maybe I’ve bugged the whole station. Who’s to say? Have you checked your trailer yet? The lovely agent’s motel room? No?”

Beau couldn’t pinpoint the exact feeling that clutched his heart and twisted it like a boa constrictor. Pain, fear, anger, sadness – a deadly cocktail for anyone. Was this throbbing sting in his chest what a heart attack felt like? Only recently, he’d read an article in the paper about a guy his age who just dropped dead. Was this it for him?

Would it mean he'd get to see you again, though?

“Enough of that!”

Randy’s voice rang in his ears, but Beau couldn’t refocus. He needed fresh air to breathe, his lungs dried up and clinging to every molecule like he’d been deprived of oxygen for days. The small room felt suddenly suffocating as the monster across from him sneered joyfully.

“Look, I don’t know if you’re saying all that horseshit ‘cause you wanna hurt him or me,” Randy said, his voice laced with a darkness Beau had never seen before.

“Little bit of both,” Diane teased with a shrug.

“Yeah, well, I don’t care either way,” Randy huffed, the deep creases in his brow casting threatening shadows on his face. “Do your worst to me or him. Hell, burn us at the stake if it makes you feel any better, sweetheart, but all I wanna know is where that bunker is. Where is she? Your beef’s clearly with us. Men, right? You know she doesn’t deserve this. Just let her go.”

Diane seemed unamused by the suggestion, leaning back in the metal chair. “You’re right. She doesn’t deserve this. I actually like her. She reminds me of me. But you two did this to her. It’s out of my hands at this point. You don’t deserve her, sheriff,” she said and looked at Beau before her cold eyes shifted to Randy. “Neither do you, detective. I know a lot of things – and not just about the sheriff here. I know what you did to her, too.”

Randy forced a tight smile. “You’re bluffing. I didn’t do anything.”

“Am I?” Diane quirked a brow and then sent him an innocent smile. “About four years ago, she wrote a rather lengthy email to her sister Sophia in Seattle. She seemed very upset. Said there was a little something you wouldn’t give her. Ring any bells?”

With a thick swallow and a glare swimming in his hazel eyes, Randy nodded. “We’re done here.”

Diane let out a long, suspenseful sigh, not bothering to engage further. Her icy heart wouldn’t melt. Her eyes flickered around the bleak, depressing room. “I miss windows. Haven’t seen the outside for days.”

“Yeah, and you ain’t gonna,” Beau huffed. He had quietly listened, his heart rate slowing down as his head started spinning with questions. You had never told him anything. He had never asked. It had been an unspoken rule to not talk about your marriage. Beau always figured knowing too much would only make it worse.

“Too bad. I always liked the autumn sunsets. When it gets dark sooner…” Diane then stretched out her neck. “Anyways, nice chatting with you boys, but it’s time for my beauty nap now. Which one of you two cowboys is gonna accompany me back to my cell, hm?”

The men shared a look and then wordlessly rose, leaving the room. In the safety of the hallway, Beau ran a hand over his face and took his first deep breath.

Air. Lungs. Brain. Without toxicity, he could finally think straight again.

“Well, this was pointless and a waste of our time. Happy now?” Beau huffed with his newfound lung capacity.

But Randy’s brow was furrowed. He was thinking. “Actually, yeah… Didn’t you hear what she said?”

“Yeah, bunch of narcissistic bullshit. She’s not gonna tell us where Y/N is,” Beau muttered bitterly. If possible, he wished to never converse with that psychotic witch again. There was only so much he could handle before snapping her neck.

“She said that she doesn’t know where Y/N is now,” Randy pointed out. “Maybe she wasn’t lying. Maybe Y/N’s not in the bunker yet. Turner might keep her somewhere else and wait till he can move her.”

“At sundown,” Beau mused, Diane’s words haunting his mind. “He’ll move her when it’s dark.”

“Which means we still have a couple hours to find her,” Randy finished the thought.

“Popcorn!” Beau yelled down the hallway. The sheriff found himself in better spirits. He hadn’t used a silly name for his most loyal deputy in days, although it ached a tiny bit to say it now. “Any properties in Newton’s name?”

“Yes, sir, several,” Mo replied.

“I need a list of all in the area. Get a team together and search ‘em. One by one,” Beau ordered. “Warehouses, cabins… Take it all apart. I don’t care.”

“And also see if any properties are in Hal Turner’s name and add them to the list,” Randy suggested.

Poppernak shot Beau a look, and only when the latter gave his agreement, did the deputy nod. “Yes, Sheriff Arlen.”

The obnoxiously loud sound of birds woke you from a deep slumber. Groggily, you pried your eyes open and found the first few beams of sunlight warming your face. For a peaceful moment of dazed bliss, you had no clue where you were or how you got here.

There was a thumping, searing pain in your skull, hammering away at your sanity like the ticks of a clock. Your neck and shoulders hurt from tension till you realized you were bound to an old wooden chair, a harsh and creaking surface underneath you. Your behind felt both sore and numb.

Glancing around the room, you noticed you were in the living quarters of a small cabin. A fireplace sat to your right. Above it, a cuckoo clock that showed shortly past noon, and you realized that must’ve produced the bird noise that woke you. The stinging sunlight reached your eyes and filled you with hope.

Hal Turner hadn’t locked you into a bunker yet.

“You’re awake. Good.” Turner entered the room with a bottle of water and a sandwich, throwing the items unceremoniously onto your lap. “You need to eat. We’ll leave soon.”

“Where are we going?”

“Where they all went,” he said and came up behind you. Turner wasn’t a man of tall stature. Small, middle-aged, nervous. Non-threatening.

Diane’s little ant.

He cut your ties, and you could tell his hands were shaking. They didn’t treat the others like that. Entertaining a victim had never been his job before.

Sedated, dumped, marooned.

That had been the pattern, and you hoped this little off-course adventure would pay off with your freedom. Your gaze drifted down to a lonely brown belt buckle.

Unarmed.

With free hands and Turner still vulnerably behind you, your arms shot up and wrapped around his neck. Fortunately, he wasn’t as heavy as Beau in training when you jolted him forward, jumped up, and rammed his face straight into your knee.

Unconscious for the moment, Turner tumbled to the ground, and you sprinted through the front door. You hoped it would give you enough time to find an exit.

But all you found was a vast sea of trees – towering pines that reached heavenward with no neighboring houses or roads in sight.

There was a shed to your left. Tools. You needed weapons.

And, most of all, you needed more goddamn time to think your way out of this one.

It wasn’t long till you heard the front door of the cabin slam open, heavy and angry footsteps aimlessly searching before they slowly circled closer to the shed.

Fortunately, your little hide-out had proved itself useful – and fully stocked. Turner had arranged his tools in a neatly organized manner. Nothing seemed to be out of place, screwdrivers hanging on the wall from small to big, pliers, drills, hacksaws… Your weapons of choice, however, fell on a hammer and the heaviest, biggest wrench.

Lurking behind the small barn door, you lay in wait till the old door creaked open and Hal Turner walked through. He only blinked at you wide-eyed before your first hit with the wrench landed across his right cheek. It was hard enough for blood to spew out of his mouth, and as he tumbled forward, you delivered your second blow – the hammer, this time, slamming against the back of his head.

Dropping the tools, you decided to take your chances and make a run through the woods for it. You still had a few fleeting hours till dark. If you just kept going, maybe you’d make it to a road or a town somewhere before you froze to death.

What a great outlook…

However, you didn’t even get farther than a few yards from the house before a sharp pain seared from your ankle throughout your entire body. Falling harshly and bracing yourself on the cold, wet leaves, you screamed out and looked down at the culprit – a bear trap.

Well, points for Hufflepuff!

Apparently, you had underestimated Turner. Ahead of you, you also spied some tripwire. Great. This place was a giant death trap – and you had already hated the woods before all of this.

Getting back onto your feet was not only hindered by the giant claws in your flesh but also the iron chain attached to the trap that tethered you to the ground. So, with your freezing hands, you dug out the metal stake that served as your anchor.

Then, the fucking bear trap – you knew this one would hurt like a son of a bitch. Carefully, you inspected the oozing wound, the razor sharp edges deeply clutching your skin at your lower calf and ankle. For a moment, you even swore you could feel the tips of their pointed teeth drilling into your bone. You tried to pry them apart with your hands but gave up on that idea rather quickly once the jaws cut your fingers.

Glancing at the shed, you saw the door was still ajar. It was quiet in there. Either Hal Turner was gone, solely unconscious, or currently bleeding to death. The shed was your Schrödinger’s cat. As long as you didn’t know which one it was, you still had time.

Taking several deep breaths, you closed your eyes and remembered the trip you took with Beau when you were back in Houston. The two of you drove camping in Piney Woods. For a few days, you were gone and unknown to everyone around you. You could just be you and him. No one had to hide anything. No one had to feel guilty. In those short days, you realized you wanted to spend the rest of your life with him.

“Did you know bear traps are actually pretty easy to get out of?” Beau babbles a random fact in his usual manner when neither of you has said anything in a minute. He glances at you, a happy smile on his face as he intertwines his fingers with yours during a stroll through the green and lush forest.

“Huh.”

“Yeah, all you gotta do is not panic, get up on your feet, and press your weight down on the springs at the bottom. Just pops open and you can pull your leg out,” he explains with a popping sound, turning the little lesson into a show-and-tell.

“Don’t panic…” you mumbled to yourself and sat up. “Get up…” With a strained groan and your palms supportively on the ground, you heaved yourself to your feet. You winced as you put pressure on your injured leg and, therefore, tried to shift your weight to your good one. The main problem was the next step: “Press down.”

Mentally, you braced yourself before you slowly started to put pressure on the leg again. The jaws moved and wiggled in your flesh, but the pain was too much too bear. You bit down on your tongue as tears strangled your eyes.

Alright, next try.

If slow was too painful, then maybe the bandaid method was the way to go. Quick and painless, as they say. You inhaled and exhaled through your nose as you raised your foot a few inches above ground, making sure the springs would hit the uneven surface properly. Then, you kicked down.

The trap sprung open, you pulled your foot out, and released a primal scream that echoed through the quiet woods, surely disturbing whatever lived there.

And then, suddenly, Hal Turner stood in front of you with a shovel.

Diane’s listed properties came up empty. There was still no sign of you. Turner, on the other hand, had only booked a motel room in his name but hadn’t been seen there in weeks. So, Beau figured he had to be staying somewhere if he wasn’t sleeping in his room.

At four o’clock, the sheriff was close to a breakdown when all leads petered out and the daylight was almost gone. But then Cassie and Denise stormed the station, both out of breath, and brought forth a document that showed a property north of Helena in the name of a Diane Turner. It was a remote cabin in the middle of the woods, which also happened to be close to the location where the ambulance had picked up Randy.

Ding, ding, ding!

Beau gathered the whole cavalry and raced there as fast as he could. By the time he was ten minutes out, the sky had grown dark, the woods pitch-black around him. Switching on the Jeep’s headlights only added to the uneasiness in his stomach. His passenger was quiet next to him, but Beau could tell how worried Randy was by the way his left leg anxiously drummed against the floor mat.

Both of them thought it was too late to save you.

An access road, all dirt, led up behind the cabin, only making it a short hike. Turner’s vehicle had been parked at the fork where it reached pavement. They seemed to be on the right track. After all, if Turner was here, then hopefully so were you.

Beau and Randy were the first to arrive, the cabin inside dark without a single light on, not even a candle burning in the smudged windows. Carefully, the men stepped on the porch, the property around them quiet and undisturbed, but the front door was an inch ajar. Pulling out their weapons, the two shared a look without speaking a word before entering the house, a feeling of familiarity rising in Beau’s chest.

They were still partners, somewhere deep down.

The floorboards creaked under Beau’s boots as he treaded down the hallway. The cabin was small, only consisting of one bedroom, a living area, a kitchen and bath. While the men checked each room, Beau already knew you weren’t here anymore – if you’d ever been here to begin with. Maybe Diane had sent them on a wild goose-chase, another sick game created by the mind of psychopath, while you had been locked in a bunker all along, waiting for him to find you.

How much air did you still have left? Would he get to you in time?

“Beau!”

His partner’s voice drew him from the bedroom to the living space, his mind still rattling with the unspoken fear of losing you. His green eyes then focused on the beam of Randy’s flashlight as it shone on a wooden chair in the middle of the room, a set of cut plastic ties on the floor next to it. There was also an uneaten sandwich and an unopened bottle of water scattered on the ground.

And then, there were the trails, the little drops, and the sheer pools of blood everywhere that made his gut churn. Was it all yours?

“We need to get forensics here,” Beau said with a thick swallow, already pulling out his phone to call Jenny.

“That’s a lot of blood,” Randy said with a lump in his throat, his eyes transfixed on the little red pond by the tips of his feet. And although it was dark, Beau could see the color drain from his partner’s face.

“I know.” Beau bobbed his head quietly, gently clasping his friend’s shoulder as he held his phone to his ear.

The sheriff then informed Jenny of their findings, telling her to hurry any lab results along. The sooner they knew whose blood it was, the better. As he hung up, he noticed Randy following a trail of blood to the door, leading further outside. He shone his flashlight through the dense foliage before it landed on a little working shed to the right.

As Randy creaked the door of the shed open, with Beau behind him, both thought there was a high probability they’d stumble upon a body in there – if not two.

Instead, the shed was disappointingly empty.

Beau whistled lowly as the light hit the neatly arranged wall of tools. “Well, that’s some freak level organization.”

But Randy’s brow furrowed as his light landed on the ground behind the door. “There’s a hammer and wrench on the ground.” He knelt down to inspect it closer. “Got blood on it. Lot of it.”

Beau chuckled lightly and ran a palm over his face to keep the stinging tears of hope inside, which only confused Randy.

“What’s so funny? Y/N might be dead,” Randy said sourly.

“That’s not Turner’s doing,” Beau argued and gestured at the tools on the ground, his heart flooding with a tiny bit of relief. “Look at the wall. Why would he kill her with tools? It’s way too bloody. Guy like this can’t handle the mess. He had a perfectly fine gun. Would’ve been way cleaner if he wanted to.”

“So, you think this was Y/N?” Randy thought for a moment before nodding. “The ties inside were cut. The food and water on the floor… Maybe he cut her loose and she took advantage of it? I mean, it does sound like her.”

“Yeah…” Beau’s eyes then musingly drifted back to the wall. “Is there a screwdriver on the ground somewhere? There’s one missing here.”

“Nope, nothing on the ground,” Randy replied once his flashlight search was complete. “You think she took it with her?”

“Let’s hope so…”

“But if Y/N managed to overpower Turner, why isn’t she here? And where’s Turner? And if it happened out here, why is there so much blood inside?”

Beau licked his chapped lips, his brow returning to their initially creased position. “Maybe she didn’t take him out for good.”

“You thinkin’ she knocked him out and escaped?”

“Yeah, and then Turner woke up, went back into the house before taking off after her through those woods,” Beau shared his theory. It would explain the vast amounts of blood inside.

“So, your theory is she’s lost and being hunted?” Randy cocked a brow.

Beau only offered him a shrug. “Best possible scenario.”

“Great.” Randy scoffed. “What’s the worst possible scenario then?”

Beau’s Adam’s apple bobbed. “I think we both know.” Licking his lips, he patted Randy’s shoulder. “But let’s not think about the worst right now. I’ll get a team going to search these woods. We’ll find her. You’re not losing her again, alright?”

Randy could only nod and hope, but a little tug on his heart told him something different as he glanced at his former friend.

“It’s been three hours,” Randy huffed frustratedly as they passed the same street sign to Helena down the mountain once more, driving up and down the roads around the cabin in an endless loop, hoping and praying a miracle would happen. “Don’t you think we would’ve found her by now? If she’s hurt and inside those woods, we should be in there looking for her.”

Beau passed another sigh between his lips. There had been three hours of that, too. Patience was a not only an eight-letter word but a bitch as well.

“Neither of us is any help there. We don’t know those woods. You don’t even a phone, Randy,” Beau said with a bit more firmness in his voice, causing his partner’s frown to deepen. Saved by the bell, Beau’s phone chimed in his pocket with Jenny’s angelic name popping up on the screen. He pulled over on the side of the road before picking up.

“What you got? Uh-huh… You sure? What did they say about the cabin? Okay… Both of ‘em? How far? Which direction? Alright… We’re close. Driving back up there now.”

Randy held his breath till Beau hung up, trying to guess the content of the phone call by the various facial expressions of the sheriff. Then, he asked, “Good news or bad news?”

“Hard to say,” Beau replied, his eyes fixed on his hands gripping the steering wheel. He swallowed the lump in his throat, gave himself an encouraging nod, and started the engine, trying to sink every bad theory that surfaced in his mind. “Forensics came back. Our theory was partially correct. The blood inside the cabin was mostly Turner’s.”

Randy raised a brow, his heartbeat thrumming in his ears. “Mostly?”

“Evidence points to her not escaping. Turner might have gotten to her before she could even leave the property. They found a bear trap with her blood on it,” Beau explained slowly, his grip on the wheel tightening. “Dogs picked up a trail, leading into the woods. Forensics confirmed both of their blood on that trail.”

“Doesn’t mean anything. He could’ve followed her. She still could’ve escaped,” Randy replied and knew full well it was only sugarcoating the truth swimming in the lower pits of his belly.

“Could’ve…” Beau nodded and swallowed heavily. “But then again, if she did manage to escape, how did her blood end up inside the cabin?”

Defeated, Randy licked his lips, expelling a humorless chuckle. “Yeah, guess my hopes are little too high. I mean, how the hell would you get out of a bear trap?”

“Uh-huh. I remember. I’ve spent a lot of time with you…” Randy smacked his lips, fingers tapping his thigh. “You guys went on a trip together?”

Beau’s mouth opened on reflex, but he stopped himself from replying, shooting a scrutinizing look at his partner. “Yeah, uh, just the one, really. Shoulda been more…”

Regrets seeped to the surface. If Beau had known he had only a finite amount of time with you, he would’ve enjoyed and appreciated every last second of it. He should’ve spent less time in his head. He should’ve taken you out on more dates. He should’ve been the best he could be. Instead, he wasted so much time and couldn’t even remember why in retrospect.

“What makes you say that?” Randy’s question rang both with curiosity and pain. His brown eyes stared stubbornly ahead and focused on the dark road.

Beau blew a long sigh. “Well, I wasn’t always the best–,” he hesitated a moment before saying the word, “–boyfriend, I guess.”

If Randy was upset by the term, he didn’t let it show. Maybe he was sticking to Rule #2. He quirked a brow and glanced at Beau in the driver’s seat. “So, on top of stealing my wife, you’re telling me you didn’t even treat her right?”

“Guess so,” Beau admitted quietly, poking the inside of his cheeks with his tongue and ignoring the subtle jab. “And I didn’t treat her badly, by the way. Just could’ve tried harder. Felt guilty because she was your-, well, you know… And the divorce got kinda messy, too. I just wanted to stay clear of complications.”

Exasperated, Randy scoffed, shaking his head. “This is not really making me want to give you my blessing…”

Beau huffed a chuckle. “Didn’t know that was an option.”

“Well, it’s not. You don’t deserve her.” Randy clicked his tongue, pensively bobbing his head. He then finally admitted, the words sounding almost sour, “Neither do I. You might be as big of an idiot as me.”

Beau’s eyes widened in surprise, his focus briefly swaying from the road. “What d’you mean? You guys were perfect together. Is this about what Newton said?”

Randy’s lips curved into a bitter smile. “Y/N never told you?”

“Told me what?”

Randy chewed on his lower lip before pushing out the words that had plagued him for three years. “She wanted to leave me.”

Beau shook his head. “Nah, I don’t buy it. She loved you. You should’ve seen her after she thought you’d died.”

Randy inhaled sharply, his head spinning with regret and heart filling with hope. For the past years, he had wondered if he’d ever get another chance to fix things with you.

Beau listened and nodded. He remembered the set dinner table, the lovingly prepared food, the candles – it didn’t seem like something one would do if they planned on leaving.

“No, I don’t think she would’ve left you,” Beau noted, although his heart stung when he said it out loud.

“I overheard her asking Carla for a divorce lawyer. Pretty sure she was,” Randy retorted. “Seems silly now. She was already out of my league. I should’ve just given her what she wanted. I don’t even know why I didn’t. I should’ve just shut up and been grateful.”

“That’s what I would’ve told you to do,” Beau muttered, his brain trying to keep track and process everything. Why had you never told him any of this? And more importantly: “Why have you never told me?”

“Guess I was embarrassed.” Randy shrugged. “And I already knew what you would’ve said.”

Secretly amused, Beau cocked a brow. “What? That you’re an idiot?”

“Exactly.”

“And Carla knew?”

“I guess.” Randy gave another shrug of his shoulders. “I mean, they talked all the time. Well, mostly it was Carla complaining about you, but still…”

Beau’s brow furrowed into deep lines. He should’ve been more surprised than he was. The only thing that really baffled him was the fact you had still agreed to date him after hearing all of that. What else didn’t he know?

“I thought they met once a week for book club?”

Randy shot him a pitying look. “Dude, there was no book club. Only three bottles of wine.” He then exhaled a long sigh, stretching back into his seat. “Maybe it’s good she didn’t pick anyone. She deserves someone who can give her what she wants.”

“What makes you think I can’t?” A little offended, Beau raised his brow. “You know, when she came back a few weeks ago, I swore I’d make things right. I wouldn’t let her go this time.”

But Beau broke that promise. He pushed you away to stay clear of complications. His heart twinged.

“And you think she wanted to live in a trailer in the woods of Montana?”

“Doesn’t matter. I would’ve given her anything she wanted. No questions asked,” Beau stated simply. “I was happy when I was with her. Didn’t matter where we were or what we were doing.”

“So, what? You planned on marrying her? Kids?”

Beau twitched his shoulders, his eyes not drifting from the street. If he glanced at Randy only for a beat, he couldn’t ignore his friend’s reactions any longer and still remain honest. “We never talked about it, but... If that’s what she wants, then yeah. Don’t even have to think about it. You really were an idiot, you know?”

“I know that. Thank you,” Randy huffed sarcastically and rolled his eyes. “Still not getting my blessing, though.”

“Good thing you’re not her father,” Beau snapped. He could only muster so much patience. “You don’t really have a say in who she’s datin’.”

“You’re one to talk.” Randy scoffed mockingly. “I met your friend Denise at the station. We had a long chat. She almost talks as much as you. Sounded like you tried to have a say in who Carla should marry. Little hypocritical, don’t you think?”

“That’s different,” Beau retorted defensively. “We have a kid together. Whoever Carla’s seeing is also gonna be in Emily’s life.”

“So, you don’t even care a little about Carla’s well-being? ‘Cause Denise said you killed her new husband,” Randy countered cleverly.

“Of course I care,” Beau admitted frustratedly. What did Randy want to hear? That he was right about everything? Well, except one thing: “And I didn’t kill Avery, by the way. Might have been slightly responsible for his death, sure, but I didn’t kill the idiot.”

“Seems to be a pattern for you. Maybe Diane was right,” Randy muttered wryly.

Beau licked his lips and sighed. “Listen, I know that devil woman is good at getting into someone’s head, but you gotta believe me, man. I did not leave you to die. If I had known–”

“Whoa, I know,” Randy interrupted him with an amused chuckle and two placating hands. “I was just joking. I knew you didn’t hand me over to the cartel on purpose in some evil ploy to get with my wife. That would be insane.”

Beau gave a nod, accepting his answer with relief. “Well, good.”

“Look, I’m not delusional, contrary to what everyone’s thinking. I know things happened while I was away,” Randy admitted. “I figured she had moved on. For three years, I actually hoped she did. I wanted her to be happy. Just didn’t think it be you, I guess. Probably shouldn’t have been surprised, though. I kinda knew you always liked her. Just didn’t think any more of it, you know?”

“And there wasn’t more, alright? I promise,” Beau assured him, his cheeks reddening from embarrassment. He never thought Randy would’ve suspected anything – not that there really ever was anything. But had his tiny crush really been that obvious? “One of those things, you know? Just ‘cause I find Michelle Rodriguez attractive doesn’t mean I seriously expect to date her. I didn’t know it was more than that till I spent some time with her.”

“Good to know,” was all Randy said, crossing his arms with an uncomfortable clear of his throat. “Definitely surprised Y/N likes you, though. She always had a pretty low opinion of you. Said you were doing shitty police work and I should be more careful. Guess she was right..." Beau shot him a darkened look but refrained from taking the bait. Randy pursed his lips. "Look, I know I’m a pain in your ass right now. You’d probably love to get rid of me.”

“Well, hey, that’s not–”

“What, true?” Knowingly, Randy lifted a brow. “I would if I were you.”

Beau only nodded, not admitting out loud the thought had certainly crossed his mind. “So, what are you thinking now?”

“Still want her to be happy,” Randy said quietly.

All of a sudden, Beau then slammed on the brakes, both men jolting forward into their seatbelts. A loud thud echoed through the car as something heavy hit the Jeep’s hood. For a moment, the sheriff thought he’d run into a deer before blinking his eyes at the bloodied and muddied image of Hal Turner.

“What the hell?!”

Turner was in rough shape, pantingly and deliriously stumbling around the car and onto the road, shielding his eyes from the blinding headlights with his palm. Blood dripped from various places from his head and body before Beau’s eyes narrowed on the metal tool stuck inside his neck.

“Guess we found our missing screwdriver,” Randy noted as the two men jumped out of the car, guns drawn.

“Where is she, Turner?” Beau prompted sternly, his finger itching to pull the trigger for everything he’d done to you. But knowing where you were was more important than a vendetta. Turner could only speak while he was alive.

And the man seemed to know it, too. Before the sheriff could call for back-up and an ambulance, Turner sneered and raised a hand, gripping the screwdriver tightly.

“No, don’t!”

Beau’s plea came too late. Hal Turner pulled the makeshift weapon out of his throat and collapsed to the ground, bleeding out within seconds.

Randy’s fingers landed on the man’s pulse point. He glanced up at his partner with a shake of his head. “He’s gone.”

Throwing his gun angrily into the rustling brushes, Beau gripped his temples and screamed into the void of the dark woods. Desperation clawed on his mind and heart. The fear of losing you for good took him prisoner. With labored breaths, he squeezed the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger and rubbed his tired eyes. Turner had been his last lead. He knew more wouldn’t be coming.

What now?

A sanctimonious beep of his phone drew his attention. A small part of him prayed it was Jenny, informing him you’d emerged a few miles up the road – bloody like Turner, but otherwise fine. Alive.

But his green eyes only found an email and darkened at the sender’s name. “Diane just sent me a link.”

Randy, caught in his own spiral, suddenly glanced up. “To what?”

“Livestream.”

Chapter 13: Sure And Certain

Another cliffhanger, and it looks like Diane's still having the last laugh 🙈

What did you think of this part? Were you surprised by Randy's revelation? He might've changed his mind on a few things 😉

See ya next week for the freaking finale 🤍

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theetherealbloom · 49 minutes ago

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IT COULD HAPPEN TO YOU - CH.1

Chapter One: Hide Your Heart From Sight

Summary: You find yourself sharing a hotel suite with Pedro Pascal while working on the set of Fantastic Four: First Steps. Despite your different roles—he’s the star, and you’re behind the scenes. Nothing could ever happen between you two… right?

Paring: Pedro Pascal x F!Reader

Warnings: Age-Gap Romance (Not Specified), Eventual SMUT, Crush, FLUFF, Slight Angst, Trope(s), Swearing, Anxiety, Lots of Cliches, Cheesy Dialogue, Romance, Kissing, Real People Fiction, Cameras, Paparazzi, Social Media, Swoonworthy, One-Room Trope, They were roommates, Strangers-to-Lovers, Actors, Hallmark Tropes, the reader can sing and play guitar, the reader is shorter than Pedro, the reader has hair, Alternate Universe, Awkward!Reader, Shy!Reader, Fan Girl!Reader, Cringe, Embarrassment, Celebrities, Starstruck,

Word Count: 4.4k

A/N: Welcome to this disaster of a fic that I have constantly daydreamed about. Logistically, yes, it is so improbable and unrealistic— but there’s a 0.001% chance that it could happen… to you. It’s nice to wonder and dream. I like wondering. Granted, I’ve never worked in production ever… I am studying advertising and arts soooo that’s as much knowledge I have tehe.

Side note: I’m dyslexic and English isn’t my first language! So I apologize in advance for the spelling and/or grammatical errors. As always, reblogs, comments, and likes are always appreciated. Thank you and happy reading!

Song: It Could Happen To You by Laufey

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The hum of the plane’s engines filled the air as you settled into your seat, trying not to fidget. You glanced at your boarding pass again, as if to double-check you weren’t hallucinating. Seat 3B—business class. Marvel had spared no expense for the production team’s travel, but you still couldn’t quite believe you’d be flying so comfortably.

What shocked you even more, though, was the man lowering himself into the seat next to yours: Pedro Pascal. Yes, that Pedro Pascal. The man whose movies you’d watched obsessively before joining this production, the actor who somehow seemed both unattainably larger-than-life and heartbreakingly down-to-earth.

“Hi,” he said with a warm smile, his brown eyes crinkling at the corners. “Looks like we’re seatmates.”

You froze for a moment, then managed a weak, “Hi.” Your heart hammered against your ribcage as you mentally scrambled for something to say that wouldn’t make you sound like a complete idiot.

“You’re with the crew, right?” Pedro asked, adjusting the scarf around his neck. “What do you do?”

“Oh, um,” you stammered, “I’m just a production assistant. It’s my first big project.”

“No kidding? That’s awesome,” he said, genuinely sounding impressed. “First time working on a Marvel movie? How’s it going so far?”

“It’s… surreal,” you admitted, relaxing slightly under his easygoing demeanor. “I mean, it’s been amazing, but also kind of overwhelming. There’s so much to do, and everyone’s so talented. I…” You trailed off, realizing you were rambling.

“I get it,” Pedro said, nodding. “First big gig can be a lot. But hey, you’re here. That means someone saw something in you, right?”

The sincerity in his voice made your cheeks flush. “Thanks. That means a lot.”

The conversation flowed easily after that. Pedro asked you about your favorite movies, your hobbies, and how you’d gotten into production work. You told him about your love for art direction and set design, your dream of one day being a production designer, and your side passion for writing and music. When you mentioned you played guitar and sang, he raised an eyebrow.

“You’ll have to play something for us on set sometime,” he said, a teasing smile tugging at his lips.

You laughed nervously. “I don’t know about that. I’d probably die of embarrassment.”

“I’ll hold you to it,” he replied, his tone light but mischievous.

By the time the plane landed, you were buzzing—partly from the conversation and partly from the fact that you’d just spent hours talking to Pedro Pascal as if he were an old friend.

The buzz quickly faded when you arrived at the hotel. You stood in the lobby with the rest of the crew, listening as the location manager, Duncan, argued with the front desk staff. Apparently, there’d been a mix-up with the bookings. The hotel was overbooked due to a telecommunications conference, and somehow, you’d been assigned to share a suite… with Pedro Pascal.

“This has to be a mistake,” you muttered to yourself, your anxiety spiking as Duncan tried to sort things out. But no matter how much back-and-forth there was, the conclusion remained the same: there were no other rooms available.

“Look,” Pedro said finally, stepping in with his usual calm demeanor. “It’s fine. I don’t mind sharing if she’s okay with it.”

You blinked up at him, your mind racing. “I…”

“Hey,” he said gently, noticing your hesitation. He leaned in slightly, his voice soft but steady. “Look at me. I’m okay with it if you’re okay with it. No pressure.”

You swallowed hard, glancing over at Duncan, who looked as stressed as you felt. Finally, you nodded. “I’m fine with it if everyone else is.”

“Great,” Pedro said, flashing you a reassuring smile. “It’s settled, then.”

Duncan pulled you aside before you headed to the elevators. “Are you sure you’re okay with this?” he asked, his tone fatherly.

“Yes,” you said, forcing a smile. “Is there any kind of form I need to sign, or…?”

“No, it all falls under the NDA from your employment,” he assured you. “But seriously, if you need anything, just text me.”

You thanked him and joined Pedro in the elevator. The ride up to the suite was silent, save for the soft dinging of the floors passing by. When you finally stepped into the room, you couldn’t help but gape. It was a spacious suite with two bedrooms on opposite sides, a small kitchenette, and a cozy living area.

“This isn’t so bad,” Pedro said, dropping his bag by the door. He turned to you, his expression kind. “Do you have a preference for which room?”

You fidgeted with the strap of your bag. “Um, no, you can pick.”

“Ladies’ choice,” he insisted, his tone playful.

“Okay,” you said, gesturing to the room on the right. “I’ll take that one.”

“Perfect,” he said with a grin. “Let me know if you need anything, alright?”

As you unpacked in your room, the reality of the situation began to sink in. You were sharing a suite with Pedro Pascal. For at least a week. And somehow, you had to act like a normal, functioning human being the entire time.

You took a deep breath and flopped over on the bed, staring at the ceiling. Letting out a huff of air in disbelief, you muttered to yourself, “This has to be some sort of dream… or prank, right?”

Placing both hands over your face, you rubbed it in exasperation. “Get your shit together, girl. No screwing things up, no more internal freakouts. He’s a person, like you. Mhm, sure. Yup. Totally fine.”

You sighed deeply, trying to convince yourself of your own words. The suite was spacious and nicely furnished, with plenty of room to keep your distance—but that didn’t stop your overactive imagination from running wild. Every interaction felt loaded with the possibility of embarrassing yourself, but you swore you’d keep it together.

To say people around the production crew had heard about your new roomie was an understatement.

The day before shooting began, you attended a pre-production meeting that covered everything: call sheet details, blocking and camera movement, technical requirements, and a bunch of safety protocols. It was standard procedure but felt ten times more overwhelming knowing your friends would tease you mercilessly.

You sat with your friends from the art department, trying to focus, but they weren’t making it easy. Archie, one of the lead set designers, leaned over with a smirk. “So, how’s life as Pedro Pascal’s roomie?”

You felt your face heat up instantly. “I—it’s not… it’s just temporary,” you stammered, fiddling with the edge of your notebook.

Stephanie, a costume designer with an endless supply of sass, raised an eyebrow. “Temporary or not, it’s the stuff of rom-coms, babe. Don’t tell me you haven’t imagined a meet-cute scenario in that suite.”

“I have not!” you protested, though your flaming cheeks betrayed you.

Will, an art director with a love for stirring the pot, chuckled. “Come on, you’ve gotta admit it’s a little… serendipitous? You, a huge fan, sharing a suite with the guy? Sounds like fate to me.”

“It’s not fate,” you insisted, trying to deflect. “It’s a logistical mistake, that’s all.”

Max, the trainee set dresser, chimed in with a grin. “Yeah, but a logistical mistake that’s got everyone talking. Even Steve heard about it, and he’s usually the last to know anything.”

Steve, the lighting technician, shrugged. “What can I say? Word travels fast. I’m just here to see how long it takes for Pedro to find out about your… fandom.”

“Oh my god, can we not?” you groaned, burying your face in your hands. “He’s going to think I’m a weirdo.”

Rebecca, a fellow production assistant and one of your closest friends, patted your shoulder sympathetically. “Don’t worry, he seems like the kind of guy who’d find it endearing. Besides, you’ve been professional so far, right?”

You nodded hesitantly. “I think so. I mean, I haven’t said anything stupid yet.”

“Yet being the keyword,” Sophie teased, earning a laugh from the group.

Patricia, always the voice of reason, smiled warmly. “Just be yourself. You’re great at your job, and Pedro’s just another actor. A very charming actor, sure, but still just a person.”

“Thanks, Patricia,” you said, feeling slightly more grounded. But the anxiety still lingered, especially with everyone’s teasing reminders of your not-so-secret crush.

As the meeting wrapped up and you headed back to your tasks, you couldn’t shake the nervous excitement bubbling inside you. Sharing a suite with Pedro Pascal might’ve been a logistical mistake, but it was quickly turning into one of the most unreal experiences of your life.

CHILTERN FIREHOUSE HOTEL, LONDON — NIGHT

Dinner with the cast and crew had been lively, filled with laughter, and far too many knowing glances sent your way by your friends. The teasing hadn’t stopped, even over plates of pasta and glasses of wine.

Archie had leaned over at one point, a mischievous glint in his eye. “So, what’s the first thing you’re gonna do when Pedro walks out of the bathroom shirtless? Swoon or faint?”

You nearly choked on your drink. “Archie!”

“I’m just saying,” he said with a laugh. “It’s a valid question.”

Stephanie smirked. “She’s probably rehearsing her ‘I’m totally cool and unaffected’ face right now.”

You groaned. “I hate all of you.”

Rebecca grinned. “No, you don’t. But seriously, just enjoy the moment. How many people can say they’ve shared a hotel room with Pedro Pascal?”

By the time the group had wandered back to the shuttle, your cheeks were sore from laughing, and your nerves were only slightly calmed. But as the cold London air nipped at your skin, you found yourself longing for the warmth of the hotel.

Your teeth chattered as you stepped off the shuttle, clutching your coat tighter around you. You didn’t like the cold very much, and London was very, very cold.

The moment you entered the hotel lobby, the warmth began to seep into your body, and you let out a sigh of relief. The elevator ride to your floor was quiet, your mind finally shutting down after a long evening of socializing. By the time you reached your room, you were operating on autopilot.

Tapping your keycard to the door, you quietly pushed it open, careful not to disturb Pedro if he was already asleep. It was just past 9:30 p.m., and you knew the early call time tomorrow would have him resting early.

You shut the door softly behind you, locking the deadbolt before shuffling into the room. You removed your coat, scarf, and shoes, swapping them for the fuzzy slippers you’d packed. The room was dimly lit, and you moved quietly, hoping not to make too much noise.

“Oh, you’re back.”

You nearly jumped out of your skin, clutching your chest as your heart tried to escape it. Whipping around, you found Pedro lounging on the sofa, a book in his hands and a soft, amused smile tugging at the corners of his lips. He was wearing a plain white tee and gray sweatpants, his square-framed glasses perched on his nose, and he looked entirely too comfortable—like he belonged there. Like this was normal.

“Oh my god, I didn’t know you were still awake,” you said, voice breathless as you tried to recover from the scare.

He chuckled, his laugh low and warm. “Sorry, didn’t mean to startle you. You were so quiet coming in, I thought maybe you were sneaking around.”

You set your things on the small table by the door, giving him an exasperated look. “I wasn’t sneaking around. I was trying not to wake you.”

“Well, mission accomplished.” He tilted his head, watching you with that relaxed air that somehow made you feel completely exposed. “How was dinner?”

“It was good,” you said, shrugging as you moved toward the kitchenette to grab a bottle of water. “Everyone was in high spirits, and the food was great. We took a little walk around the city before heading back.”

Pedro closed his book, setting it on the coffee table. “Sounds nice. London at night can be magical.”

“Yeah, it was.” You paused, feeling the weight of his gaze. “Though, I think I underestimated just how cold it gets here. My teeth were chattering the whole way back.”

He raised an eyebrow, his smile softening. “Didn’t bring a warm enough coat?”

“I thought I did, but apparently not. I’m not built for this kind of weather,” you admitted with a laugh, wrapping your arms around yourself as if to stave off the lingering chill.

Pedro stood, crossing the room with an easy grace that made your breath hitch. “Well, we can’t have you freezing, can we?” He grabbed the throw blanket draped over the back of the sofa and held it out to you. “Here.”

You blinked, caught off guard by the simple gesture. “Oh, no, it’s fine. I just get cold really easily. Besides, I’ll warm up eventually.”

“Take it,” he insisted, his tone gentle but firm. “It’s not a big deal.”

Reluctantly, you took the blanket, your fingers brushing his for the briefest moment. It sent a jolt of warmth through you that had nothing to do with the fabric now wrapped around your shoulders. “Thanks,” you murmured, pulling it tighter around you.

“Better?” he asked, stepping back to give you space but still watching you with that disarmingly kind expression.

You nodded, trying to ignore the way your heart was pounding. “Much. Thanks, Pedro.”

He smiled again, and for a moment, the air between you felt charged, like something unspoken was hanging there. But then he broke the silence, his voice light. “So, did they give you a hard time at dinner?”

Your face heated instantly. “What do you mean?”

He smirked, leaning casually against the back of the sofa. “I heard some of the cast talking earlier. Apparently, your friends in the art department have been… teasing you about the room situation.”

You groaned, burying your face in your hands. “Oh no. What exactly did you hear?”

“Nothing incriminating,” he said with a laugh. “Just that they’re convinced this is some kind of meet-cute scenario straight out of a rom-com.”

You peeked at him through your fingers, mortified. “I’m so sorry. They’re ridiculous.”

“I don’t mind,” he said, his tone easy, his eyes sparkling with amusement. “It’s kind of flattering, actually.”

Your hands dropped to your sides, your eyes wide. “Flattering?”

“Yeah. I mean, it’s nice to know someone thinks sharing a room with me is worth all that excitement.”

You didn’t know what to say to that, your brain short-circuiting as you tried to process the fact that Pedro Pascal—Pedro Pascal—was standing in front of you, teasing you in the most charming way possible.

“Well, I’ll let you get some rest,” he said after a beat, his voice softer now. “Big day tomorrow.”

“Yeah,” you managed, your voice barely above a whisper. “Big day.”

He gave you one last smile before retreating to his side of the suite, leaving you standing there with a racing heart and a head full of thoughts you were too scared to unpack.

PINEWOOD STUDIOS — DAY

You woke to the soft chime of your alarm, the faint glow of early morning light creeping through the curtains. Shuffling into the bathroom with a yawn, you turned on the shower, letting the warm water coax you into wakefulness. You placed your phone on the counter, tapping on a playlist to fill the small space with soft, melodic tunes—comforting background noise that kept your mind from spiraling too early in the day.

After your shower, you toweled off and began your morning routine. Skincare applied with practiced ease, makeup brushed on with care, you avoided the mirror for too long, focusing instead on the growing anticipation of the day ahead. Pinning your ID to your lanyard, you glanced at your phone again.

The group chat with your team was buzzing:

Archie: "We’re fifteen minutes out. Don’t keep us waiting, queen 👑."

Rebecca: "Text when you’re coming down!"

Max: "Coffee run? Pls? 🙏"

A small smile tugged at your lips as you tapped out a quick reply, your fingers hovering over the keyboard for a moment before you switched apps.

Your heart did a little stutter as you opened your browser—a Joel Miller fanfic you’d been obsessing over still lingering on your screen. You skimmed the most recent chapter, your thumb pausing to scroll as you half-laughed at the absurdity of sneaking in a few paragraphs before a full day on set. You switched to the chat thread with your online friends, who were deep in a heated discussion about whether Joel would be the type to cook breakfast for his partner. You couldn’t help but chuckle, throwing in a quick, “He’d definitely make pancakes and act like it’s no big deal,” before locking your phone and setting it on the counter.

Moving on autopilot, you padded into the small kitchenette, barefoot and still humming softly to the tune stuck in your head. You set the coffee machine to brew, pulling out a couple of mugs, a jar of Nutella, and some bread. Your hands moved with muscle memory, spreading the hazelnut spread on toast and slicing up a handful of fruit without a second thought. It wasn’t until the scent of coffee filled the air that you realized you’d made two plates of toast—one for you and one for Pedro.

The realization struck at the same moment you heard the faint shuffle of footsteps behind you.

“Morning.”

His voice was low and warm, still carrying the huskiness of sleep. You froze, phone in one hand, butter knife in the other, as you turned to see Pedro leaning against the doorframe. His hair was adorably tousled, and he was dressed in a plain black t-shirt and sweatpants that somehow made him look effortlessly put together. His eyes crinkled slightly as he smiled at you, and you nearly dropped your phone in a panic.

“Good morning,” you managed, your voice a little too high-pitched as you fumbled to lock your screen. The thought of him catching even a glimpse of what you’d been reading was enough to make your cheeks burn.

Pedro glanced at the counter, taking in the toast, coffee, and neatly sliced fruit. “You made breakfast?”

“Oh, uh—yeah.” You set your phone down and gestured awkwardly toward the spread. “I made you some coffee and toast with Nutella. I wasn’t sure if you’d want that, and there’s fruit, too. I was just about to cut some more, but obviously, you don’t have to eat it if you don’t want to, and—”

“Hey.” Pedro’s soft chuckle cut through your rambling, and when you met his gaze, he was looking at you with a mix of amusement and something else you couldn’t quite place. “Thank you. That’s really sweet of you.”

You blinked at him, momentarily stunned by the sincerity in his voice. “Oh. Yeah. No problem. It’s nothing, really.”

He moved past you to grab a mug of coffee, the proximity sending your pulse into overdrive. As he poured himself a cup, you noticed his shoulders relaxed and his movements unhurried. He took a sip and let out a small, contented sigh.

“Perfect,” he said, glancing over at you with a grin. “You’re spoiling me, you know that?”

Your laugh came out nervous and breathy. “I’m pretty sure this doesn’t count as spoiling. It’s just toast.”

“Yeah, but it’s good toast,” he teased, holding up a slice as if to emphasize his point.

You couldn’t help but laugh at that, the tension in your chest easing slightly. The moment felt impossibly domestic—like a scene out of one of those fanfics you’d been reading. Only this time, it wasn’t Joel Miller standing in the kitchen with you. It was Pedro.

And that was somehow even more surreal.

Pedro leaned against the counter, his mug cradled in both hands. He looked at you like you were the only thing in the room worth paying attention to. “So,” he started, his voice warm and casual, “what were you so engrossed in on your phone earlier? You looked ready to throw it out the window when I walked in.”

Your stomach flipped, and you tried to play it cool, even though you were fairly certain your face was now several shades of red. “Oh, nothing,” you lied, brushing a crumb off the counter. “Just the group chat. You know how chaotic they are.”

Pedro tilted his head, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “Mm-hmm. Sure it wasn’t something more... intriguing?”

You swallowed hard, gripping your coffee cup a little tighter. “Intriguing?”

He took a sip of his coffee, his eyes twinkling with mischief over the rim of his mug. “You tell me.”

“It’s nothing!” you blurted out, a little too defensively. “Just—just boring stuff. Work stuff.”

“Work stuff,” he repeated slowly, clearly unconvinced. “Right. Because people laugh at boring work stuff while making toast.”

You groaned, setting your mug down as you ran a hand over your face. “Can we not? Please? I’m already mortified enough.”

Pedro chuckled, the sound low and teasing but not unkind. “Alright, alright. I’ll let it go... for now.” He set his mug on the counter and raised his hands in mock surrender. “But you owe me a story later. Deal?”

You hesitated, narrowing your eyes at him. “Depends on how much coffee you’ve had by then. I might need you slightly less smug for that conversation.”

His grin widened, and he leaned closer, just enough to make your heart stutter. “Smug? I prefer charming. But I’ll take it under advisement.”

You rolled your eyes, but a smile tugged at your lips despite yourself. The playful banter made the room feel lighter, warmer.

By the time you both finished your coffee, the atmosphere had shifted into something comfortable and easy. You quickly rinsed the dishes, your hands moving on autopilot as Pedro lingered nearby, chatting about everything and nothing.

As you dried your hands, your phone buzzed on the counter, and you glanced at the screen.

Rebecca: “Bus is almost there. Better get your cute butt down here!”

You shot back a quick reply: “On my way.” Turning to Pedro, you grabbed your bag and gestured toward the door. “I’ve got to head down. My shuttle’s waiting.”

Pedro grabbed his own bag and trailed after you. “I’ll walk down with you. I’ve got my own ride coming, but they’re always late.”

The two of you stepped into the elevator, the hum of its descent filling the silence. The confined space suddenly felt smaller, the air heavier with unspoken tension.

Pedro stood close—too close. You could feel the heat radiating off him, smell the faint hint of his cologne. Your heart thudded in your chest, and you pressed the strap of your bag tighter against your shoulder, hoping it would anchor you somehow.

“So,” he said, his voice quieter now, almost intimate in the stillness of the elevator. “What’s the plan for today?”

You glanced at him, his brown eyes watching you closely, the curve of his smile softer now. “Same as usual, I guess,” you said, trying to keep your voice steady. “Make sure everything runs smoothly while you and everyone else look good on camera.”

He chuckled, the sound low and rich. “You make it sound so simple, but I know you’re the one holding it all together.”

His words caught you off guard, and you looked away, feeling your cheeks heat up again. “I just do my job.”

“And you do it damn well,” he said, his tone sincere now, no teasing edge in sight.

The elevator dinged as it reached the lobby, breaking the moment. Pedro gestured for you to step out first, and you did, your pulse still racing.

“Thanks,” you murmured, not entirely sure if you were thanking him for his compliment or just for letting you escape the charged space of the elevator.

As you spotted your shuttle waiting outside, you turned to him, suddenly aware of how reluctant you were to leave. “I’ll see you on set?”

He nodded, his gaze lingering on you for just a beat longer than necessary. “Yeah. See you soon.”

You stepped outside, the crisp morning air hitting your face as you walked toward the shuttle. But even as you climbed aboard and found a seat, your mind was still back in that elevator, replaying every glance, every word, every spark.

End Notes:

Oh hi! I missed doing these silly bits; I thought to bring ‘em back. But, don’t worry, I’ll try to yap less haha

Yes, it’s super cliche, cheesy, unrealistic, and practically a hallmark movie in the making. But that’s the fun part in fanfiction and writing, it’s all made up and no one here is allowed to “yuck” each other’s “yum” if you know what I mean. ;)

Also, I have no idea how production for film works so I’m researching stuff and making stuff up along the way pls no one come after me T^T

Weirdly enough, I saw a reddit post from someone who works at the front of the hotel desk and they say the one-bed trope/one-room trope; it actually happens pretty frequently lol so who knows ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

TAGLIST: @comfortzonequeen @christinamadsen @liciafonseca

#pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal x f!reader #pedro pascal x fem!reader #pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader masterlist #pedro pascal x you #pedro pascal x y/n #pedro pascal x ofc #pedro pascal x plus size reader #pedro pascal series masterlist #pedro pascal smut #pedro pascal fandom #pedrostories #pedro pascal characters #pedrohub #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal gifs #joel miller x reader

22 notes · View notes

moonlight-records · 20 hours ago

Note

Hiii, I was wondering if I could order a custom 1633 vinyl? I was thinking classical with a hint of jazz. And maybe nr. 1, 19, 22, 24, 26, 33, 36, 42, 46, hits (E) <3

Shots Fired (MV1 x CL16)

pairing: Max Verstappen x Charles Leclerc

Prompt: "Don't freak out, please It's not as bad as it looks." "“I can never let you out of my sight." + "Come back, the bed's cold without you."

wc: 4.1k

tags: friends to lovers, married, mafia au, mafia!max, sugar baby!charles, injured!charles, domestic lestappen, smut!! jealous!charles, face sitting, age gap: younger!charles and slightly older!max, daniel is a tired nurse, spare him, max is a simp, liam is jealous, moonie can't write fighting scenes, nothing graphic injury wise, have fun!!

a/n: we're back baby! request are being answered & opened! also red tags are what anon requested, non bold are added from me! also sorry not sorry bout the length!

“Schat! Are you almost done? We have to go!”

Charles jumps and almost smears his lip gloss onto his cheek. He huffs slightly and checks that his lip gloss is good before capping it. He hears the bedroom door open and brings his gaze away from the vanity mirror to his husband walking in. Charles smiles brightly as Max walks towards the vanity. Charles hums when Max gently kisses his forehead before his breath catches as Max’s hand rests on his throat. It’s taking every ounce of self control not to turn and start undoing Max’s belt and drop to his knees and—

“Schat,” Max murmurs into his ear.

Charles shivers harshly as a soft gasp escapes. Charles is trying to think of anything and everything that isn’t about how hot his husband is and how hot and bothered he was getting. Charles lets out a soft groan when Max squeezes his throat for a second before his hand is gone and Charles is left breathless. Opening his eyes, green meets blue and he wants nothing more than to wipe that stupid smirk off his face.

“Hm?” Charles asks finally.

“I asked if you were ready. We have to go.”

“Oh!” Charles snaps out of his haze as he looks back to the vanity. “I’m ready.” He decides and turns to Max with a smile before gently tapping Max’s chest to move back and he does. Charles takes his hand as he stands and giggles when Max pulls him to Max’s chest as Max plants gentle kisses over his face. “Mon chéri, we have to leave.”

Max offers a hum as he leans down to kiss Charles neck. Charles parts his lips gently as his hands find their way to Max’s hair. Tangling his fingers, Charles tilts his head to give Max more access. “Max,” Charles says breathlessly as Max just continues to kiss and nip at Charles neck, grabbing his thigh and hoist it up around his waist. Charles easily wraps it around Max’s waist and groans, feeling Max’s hard on pressing against him. “Max,” Charles manages to say.

“Charles,” Max murmurs as he catches the younger male chin in his fingers as green eyes meet his. He lets his thumb trace under Charles' bottom lip, tempted to show up to this meeting covered in Charles lip gloss all over his face and neck and collar but decides against it. “Promise me you’ll be a good boy for me tonight?”

“I will,” Charles says breathlessly. He leans into Max’s chest a bit more, nails gently scratching Max’s scalp. He grins seeing Max’s eyes flutter for a moment before the grip on Charles’ chin tightens for a moment.

“You remember the rules?”

“Mmmhmm.” Charles slowly unwraps his leg from Max’s waist, “Stay close to you when we enter. Sit next to you. Always have someone with me if I leave the room. Stay with the others if you need to have a solo chat. If I feel uncomfortable during the meeting, sit in your lap and tell you. Say pistachios if I want to go home.” Charles thinks for a moment if there’s any other rules he’s missing before he remembers, “oh! As much as I hate this rule, if things turn ugly to get the fuck out of there as fast and safely as I can.”

“Good boy.” Max grins. He gives Charles a quick peck before forcing himself to peel away from Charles. He grins seeing the blush that crosses upon his husband’s cheeks. “Now come on. Shouldn’t be that long of a meeting.”

The meeting was in fact, not that long before all hell broke loose about twenty minutes in. Charles’ anxiety had been going crazy the second they walked into the warehouse. He knew that Max caught on immediately when Charles clung to Max closer. He tries to reassure the younger male that it was fine and just off because they were meeting at a warehouse and Charles takes a deep breath, nodding in agreement.

Ten minutes later, Charles was digging his nails into his thighs while sitting next to Charles. His original plan was using their code word and going home but Liam was eyeing Max just a bit too much for his liking. Flirty smile, bedroom eyes, only directing his attention to Max. Listen, Charles knew that Max was a catch. He was older, 29 to be exact, compared to Liam and Charles who are 22. Max was not only older but scary and powerful and a man that got what he wanted. Everyone wanted Max either on their side or in their bed.

Though the ladder was out of the question, since Charles and Max were married and Charles made sure Max understood if he tried something stupid like cheating that Charles, though not being in the world of the mafia till recently, would make Max regret his decision. Something that had been instituted since they first started sleeping together even if it was just a sugar baby / sugar daddy arrangement.

Still, now Charles was Max’s husband (a bit conversational in the mafia world but probably because Max was never one to settle down let alone get married) and Charles wore that title with pride so seeing Liam trying all the stops to lure his husband to his bedroom made Charles blood boil. Thankfully, Max wasn’t exactly the brightest when it came to advances and everything went over his head but Charles was hyper aware. Still, Charles continued to dig his nails into his thighs to keep himself stationed from leaping over the table and strangling Liam.

“We’ll be right back.” Max announces as he stands. Charles looks at Max, silently pleading to his husband not to go but Max places a gentle kiss on his forehead, murmuring that he’ll be right back before Max leaves with Daniel and VCARB people. Now it was the rest of VCRAB and RB men lingering around with Charles and Liam.

“Are you done trying to throw yourself at my husband?” Charles finally asks.

“Not like you’re doing much for him.”

“Excuse me?”

“I mean come on, look at you.” Liam gestures, “you’re nothing more than a simple whore. You can’t be convinced that he married you out of love. Red Bull and his father have been pushing for Max to get married. He probably picked the first person to appease them. Won’t be long till he cheats on you with someone in the mafia world.”

“If that was the case, he wouldn’t have kept me around.”

“Oh please, you’re a cheap fuck.” Liam smiles innocently, “of course he’d keep you around.”

Charles stares at Liam and returns the smile. “Is that so? I’m just a cheap fuck?”

“Of course, why else would he keep you around?”

“Because he thinks of me more than a cheap fuck.” Leaning forward, he clasps his hands together. The change in demeanor makes Liam uneasy. Good. “You may not know this but we’ve been seeing each other for about…two and half years. I made it very clear from the start that I was not going to be played a fool. If he wanted nothing more than sex, that was fine. He got what he wanted and I got what I wanted. But,” he holds a hand up before Liam can say ‘I told you so’. “I told him to be honest. I wasn’t going to catch something from him being reckless so if he was seeing someone else, that’s all I needed to know and he held up to his end and I held up to mine. Though all the other people he was sleeping with faded out and yet,” Charles looks around before back at Liam, “I’m still standing.” He holds up his hand, pointing to his wedding band. “And I have a wedding band so.” Charles can see the pure jealously and anger flash through Liam’s eyes and he smiles victoriously, “so, if anyone looks like the cheap fuck here,” leaning in slightly, Charles gives a fake pity look, “It’s you.”

Anger flashes through Liam. He shoots out of his chair and Charles leans back in his quickly. Then men turn before gunshots ring out somewhere else in the warehouse. Everyone instinctively jumps or ducks. Charles hits the floor as shouts start and now gunshots are ringing out closer. The worst time for a fight to break out since he hears gunshots ring out in the room and he looks hearing a body hit the floor. He freezes, seeing the blood ooze from the body and he realizes that not only is he caught in the middle of a shoot out but Liam now has an excuse to kill him.

Like hell would Liam kill him.

Crawling under the table, he sees feet running and too many voices shouting and everyone fighting. He fumbles around and gets a hold of the guy's gun before crawling back. He quickly checks and sees the man never had a chance since it’s loaded before crawling out from under the table. He moves to a crouching position and sees his window to the door which is wide open as the men are either dead or running to find their leaders and Charles tries to run for it before he’s slammed into the wall. Charles groans and catches himself from crumbling to the ground. He leans forward, just missing getting pistol whipped in the head before seeing Liam winding back for another hit.

“I’ll make you regret your words, slut.”

Charles was a lot of things in life. A sugar baby. A prince among Monaco. A cheap fuck when he started out. Fine. But a slut? Charles had very set rules for himself. He only slept with one guy at a time while the other sugar daddies, back when he wanted a married man, were just looking for a friend. But now he wore Verstappen’s ring and name with pride and like fucking hell would he soil the name by being labeled a slut. Charles sees red as he lunches forward tackling Liam to the ground. He’s disarmed but manages to disarm Liam as well as they roll around. He manages to straddle Liam and starts swinging. He’s landing hits, he knows he is, until Liam manages to turn them. Charles tries to block but blood is running on his face now as he manages to catch Liam’s arm and bites. Liam yelps as Charles keeps his grip until Liam yanks his arm away and Charles spits. He got him to bleed and Charles managed to sit up enough to give him the momentum to head butt Liam off of him. Wiggling out from under, he stumbles and smacks his head on the table trying to stand before he stands. His head hurts and he’s dizzy but the sudden pain that shoots through his arm brings him back as he stumbles back against the table, holding his arm.

He’s bleeding and he sees a bruised Liam standing, panting while holding a knife. Shit. It’s now a life or death situation. Liam lunges again and Charles dives out the way. He cries out cause the knife clips his side but doesn’t sink in. Still, it’s a deeper cut than what he wanted as he crumbles to the ground. Scrambling, Charles manages to grab the closest gun by him and he turns, firing. Liam shouts and stumbles back, holding his arm. The knife hits the floor and Charles springs to his feet and swings, gun making contact with Liam’s side. Charles, in a fit of rage and adrenaline rush, just keeps swinging on Liam.

“Charles!”

Charles’ head snaps up, hearing Max. “Charles! Where are you?! Charles!”

Charles stumbles out of the meeting room seeing the dust has settled. Max’s suit is a bit disheveled but he’s fine. Charles relaxes as he stumbles but his pain is settling in. He hisses as he drops the gun to hold his side and five heads turn in his direction, weapons drawn.

“Charles!” Max shouts before snapping at his men to lower their weapons as he rushes over before stopping seeing the state Charles is in.

“Charles—” Max starts, swallowing the lump in his throat as anger rises in him. Charles shouldn’t be hurt. Why was he hurt? Who let him get hurt?

"Don't freak out, please. It's not as bad as it looks."

“I can never let you out of my sight." Max counters. “Charles what the fuck happened? Why didn’t you leave? You’re suppose to leave.”

“Fight broke out in the room.” Glancing back at the unconscious Liam who was in worse shape than Charles, Max follows his gaze. He hears Max’s breath catch as Charles looks back at his husband. “Also, Liam wasn’t really happy when I called him a cheap fuck for trying and failing to get you in his bed.”

“Why would you say that?”

“Because it’s true!” Charles starts and grits his teeth as the pain is becoming too much, “he swore up and down that you were going to cheat on me and didn’t like me countering all his points so when the fight broke out, at the worse time, he tried to just take me out of the picture and I’d be damned if I let him kill me.”

“Charles—”

“I’m your husband first, sugar baby second.” Charles argues.

“No—I mean yes you’re correct.” Max starts as he’s carefully wrapping an arm around Charles before leading them out of the warehouse. “But I was going to say you’re fucking insane, you know that?”

“Isn’t that why you married me?” Charles looks at Max.

Max looks at Charles before breaking out into a grin. “Damn fucking right I did.” He murmurs before kissing Charles. Charles returns the kiss happily and grunts gently when Max pulls him closer. He can feel Max’s hard-on against his thigh before Max breaks the kiss, murmuring apologies.

“Let’s get you home and patched up before I show you how much I love you for being just as insane as me,” Max murmurs. Charles giggles and nods, leaning against Max as he basically carries Charles to the car and carefully gets into the car.

Charles rambles about the events leading up to the fight with Liam, mainly because Max demands him to keep talking. He can tell that Max is worried that he’ll pass out from blood loss and Charles lets a hand rest on Max’s thigh, gently rubbing soothing circles as he continues to give Max a play by play.

Daniel is waiting outside as they arrive at the Red Bull estate. He gives out a low whistle when Max and Charles make their way to the front door. “Jesus, what the fuck happened?”

“Some idiot in VCARB thought they could get one on me. Whole fight broke out.” Max grumbles as Daniel gently takes Charles from Max. “Liam got Charles.” He adds through gritted teeth. “If you excuse me, I have to talk to the remaining men from tonight.”

Daniel nods and helps Charles inside and to the medical wing of the estate. Daniel nods along to Charles who’s retelling his events once again as Daniel cleans and stitches Charles up. He informs Charles that he used dissolvable stitches for his side so no need for removal and his arm thankfully didn’t require stitches. He can shower 24 hours later and he needs to part the area around the stitches dry and no soap. He can’t swim or take a bath for a bit and he needs to wear looser fitting clothes while healing (which Charles is fine with because that means wearing Max’s clothes) as well as not doing a lot of activities that could strain the stitches. For his eye, he needs to ice it for the swelling to go down and just rock a black eye. The other bruises and very minor cuts will heal on their own but Daniel entertains Charles by putting red band aids on the minor cuts and gauze on the bigger bruises as a visual reminder to Charles that he’s injured.

Charles thanks Daniel when he comes back with some orange juice and snacks that Charles enjoys. Slowly, he gets off the table and thanks Daniel before wandering back to the main part of the estate. He sees Max waiting for him, arms crossed over his chest. He’s tapping his foot anxiously and Charles frowns. Seems that his chat with his men went sour which understandable. “Mon chéri?”

Blue eyes snap to him and Max relaxes but frowns. He moves to meet Charles and gently pulls him closer by his hips, murmuring, “Fuck, is it that bad? What did Danny say?”

“Said I have to wear looser clothes for a bit. No swimming or baths,” which sucks for Charles because he loves a good long bubble bath from time to time but whatever, " I can shower in 24 hours and have to pat the area dry. No soap around the area. He’s going to drop gauze off for me so I can change them. The side has dissolvable stitches so no need for removal but my arm will need to have them removed but he’s going to pop in and check. I need to ice my black eye. Everything else will heal normally but they’re just visual reminders. He said any second longer and I would’ve been in some deep shit cause I was teetering the blood loss territory but I’ll recover.”

“Okay, come on let’s get home, you’re probably exhausted.”

“Please.”

“Maaaaaax!” Charles whines, “Come back, the bed cold without you.”

Max lets out a laugh from their bathroom hearing Charles compliments. He finally wanders out from their bathroom in his boxers and leans against the door frame. He’s trying to behave. To follow Daniel orders but it’s hard when Charles looks like that.

Charles is currently lounging in their bed in one of Max’s shirts. Muscles flexing and hair a bit messy. He’s looking at Max with big green eyes as they start darkening while he lets his eyes roam before they’re blatantly staring at Max’s boxers and Max smirks.

“Aren’t you going to show me how much you love me? For beating Liam?” Charles asks innocently and Max silently asks Daniel for forgiveness as he makes his way over to Charles.

“You need rest.” Max murmurs as he climbs onto bed. He lets one hand rest on Charles' chest as he hovers over the younger male. “You know, doctors orders and all that shit.” He teases.

“But you said—”

“I know,” Max cuts him off gently. He leans down to kiss Charles and pulls back gently, “and I will. Promise.”

Charles makes a little happy noise before his hands are on Max, pulling him down for a bruising kiss. Teeth clash slightly before they find their rhythm. Max nips at Charles' bottom lip and slips his tongue into the younger male’s mouth. His tongue explores Charles’ mouth as he’s done time and time again, lapping up all the moans that Charles lets out. Max shifts himself, holding himself up on one elbow while the other hand ventures from Charles, resting gently and teasingly down to where his boxers should be. Instead, he’s met with bare skin and Max lets his fingers brush against Charles’ half hard on and that gets a gasp out of him.

“Eager, much?” Max teases with a smirk.

“A bit,” Charles breathlessly states. Max chuckles lowly as he moves to kiss Charles' jaw before moving to his neck as he lets his fingers gently run up and down Charles cock. He bites and sucks at Charles' neck letting the other squirm, earning gasps and soft moans from his husband before a whine escape from Charles' throat.

“Max, please.”

Typically, Max would give Charles what he wants. A heated make out session while opening him up, listening to the other become a puddle in his hands before turning him over and fucking him senseless but that wasn’t an option. He could do missionary but he would falter and give Charles the rough sex he wants and he also can’t leave bruising fingerprints on his sides. He could do one, but it wouldn’t be even and that would drive Max nuts.

Then the idea finally struck him.

Pulling back, Max climbs over Charles before laying next to him. “Sit on my face.”

“What?” Charles asks, coming out of his haze.

“I said, come here.” Max murmurs and gently pulls Charles to straddle him. His dick twitches seeing Charles straddling him while naked. Even if he’s decorated in gauze and bruises Charles looks like perfection. It’s unfair, really. “Turn around,” Max says gently and Charles complies. “Ah, no.” Max grabs Charles' throat swiftly but gently when Charles goes to get Max out of his boxers. “Remember, I said I was going to show you how much I love you. Now scoot up—”

Charles hesitates for a moment before listening. Max gets his hands on Charles' ass and, as gently as he can, pulls Charles back. He chuckles hearing the other squeak and scramble to find purchase before he steadies out.

“Max!” He scolds and turns his head to scold the other but stops at the sight. Max brings his gaze up to Charles but he’s already got his ass cheeks spread and tongue sticking out. Charles nearly cums right then and there as Max keeps eye contact as he licks a long stripe over his hole. Charles gasps loudly and puts a hand on Max’s chest. “I—fuck—Max—”

“Just sit there and let me hear all of your pretty noises.” Max states roughly.

Charles makes a noise of shock but nods quickly. He bites his bottom lip harshly as a pathetic whine threatens to escape past his lips when Max licks another one, purposefully slow. He yelps out of surprise when Max smacks his ass harshly. “Charles.” He threatens

“Okay, okay. Sorry.” Charles sputters out quickly.

“Good boy.”

Charles mewls gently at the praise before Max is diving right back in, switching between long and calculated licks to quick kitten licks. Charles puts both hands on Max’s chest to steady himself, moaning and gasping softly. He gasps loudly before it melts into moan when Max lips his tongue in. He digs his claws into Max’s chest, earning a groan from the older male.

Dipping his head, Charles' mind swims with pleasure. He can’t even keep up with Max since he switches up his actions quick and fast, keeping Charles on his toes. His cock twitches and his eyes roll into the back of his head slightly when Max moves his hands to his thighs to keep him trapped, digging his nails gently into the flesh. In retaliation, Charles leans back, dragging his nails up Max’s chest as he starts rocking his hips back against Max.

Charles feels the familiar tightening in his lower stomach. Like a spring being wound up and tightening more and more and someone holding it down. He’s babbling nonsense while riding Max’s tongue begging for mercy from his own body. If he could just reach his hand up and—

Max switches to suck his rim gently and Charles comes undone. The tight feeling in his lower stomach pops like a spring being released and he’s coming. It hits him hard and feels like the spring had a boxer glove attached and hit him hard in the stomach. He’s clawing at Max’s chest, hips sputtering but continuing to move as he rides out his orgasm. His legs are shaking slightly when his orgasm finally stops and he whines when Max gives one more kitten lick before gently placing a kiss on his rim. Charles, thankfully with the help of Max, climbs off of Max though his eyes are glued to Max’s obvious hard on. He hums as he goes to the waistband of Max’s boxers again before Max catches his wrist gently, panting.

“Charles—you’re suppose to be resting.”

“I know, but like hell I’m letting my husband,” Charles purrs, “go to bed while edging himself so shut up and let me blow you.”

Max stares at Charles before letting out a laugh. As much as he wants to argue that Charles needs to rest and he could just fuck into Charles mouth, he can see the fire in Charles eyes and it makes his cock twitch and it reminds him just how tight his boxers are.

“Fine. You can blow me. Then you have to rest and let me take care of you.”

“Okay, deal.”

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