#and i'm sorry i've been silent this week! i've been working on a piece for the baby orion au that turned out a bit more time consuming

[peace-hunter]

Hi! I hope you’re doing well!!

I have just realised that we hardly ask you anything in terms of lore so I was wondering do you have any headcanons for the ghost au that you are looking forward to draw? Or is there something an anon has sent in that has brought you immense joy regarding the au?

Thank you for the time you put in for the artwork! Don’t apologise for how long you take, your enjoyment of creating this au comes first!

AAAAHHHH that's so kind of you nonnie o(TヘTo)!!

truth is i do have quite a bit of asks asking about the lore of the haunted au! which i'm so very thankful for and looking forward to replying to them! but i'm very slow and it's taking me way too much time to get to them OTL

as it is i have several pieces on the back burner that i hope you guys will like! i absolutely adore every single ask i get so i can't really choose one in particular but you guys are so much funnier than me about my own au sometimes i can only hope i do justice to the things you send me akjshdjksad

there is one (1) joke i am excited to finish drawing and it's so dumb and not even that funny but it makes me laugh so you're gonna have to suffer through it i apologize in advance (/▽＼)

[that-one-p00k1e]

─────〃★ for you, I wouldೃ⁀➷˚ ♡ ⋆｡˚

✧ summary: things they would do for you ft. Ren Kaji, Hajime Umemiya, Haruka Sakura, Hayato Suo, Jo Togame, Mitsuki Kiryu, Akihiko Nirei, Tasuku Tsubakino, Toma Hiragi, Yamato Endo, Chika Takiishi

✧ content: fluff, gn!reader (I think), OOC most likely, established!relationship, not proofread I'm sorry, tsubakino's pronouns are confirmed he/him ✦ a/n: HAAAAPPPYYYYY NNNNNEEEWWW YYYYEEAAARRR BBBBIITTCHHESSSSS😝😝😝😝 six months since I last posted omg-! I'm still alive! 😍 tysm for the support while I'm gone ily'all <33

—REN KAJI would turn off his music and pull down his headphones to listen to you ramble. Though he had his attention to his phone, he'd give silent nods and hums here and there to let you know that he was listening. Occasionally, he'd throw in little comments and questions regarding the topic you were telling. Little to your knowledge, your rambles to him were like taking notes. He'd mentally highlight things that he thought were important, and would keep it in mind in the future. He's the type to look nonchalant, but deep down, he cares more than he lets on. “... What's wrong?” he asked as he heard you abruptly stop talking. “Forget it.. You're not even listening.” You looked away in disappointment, letting out a quiet sigh. “But I have been listening,” he tried to reassure, feeling slightly guilty for making you feel neglected. “Really? Then repeat all the things I've been saying.” He, in fact, did repeat most things you've mentioned and justified his word.

—HAJIME UMEMIYA would gift you random bouquets every week, as if he hasn't gifted you enough already. What's special about his bouquets is that you can never guess the theme for the week. First, he started off classic – flowers, with the consideration of them being fake so that you'd be able to keep them forever. Then, he brought you a bouquet of snacks and sweets that he knew were your favorite. Next thing you knew, he's giving you a bouquet of money he's been secretly saving up on. You felt guilty; guilty for the effort he's been putting, just for you to return it with some unprofessional homemade baked goods. It felt unfair. But does he sail on the same boat? No. He's going to reassure you that he expects nothing in return, and that you being there for him and loving him was what all he ever wanted and needed.

—HARUKA SAKURA would spend his free time struggling to assemble a Lego flower bouquet set after learning about White Day. He wanted to return your gesture of gifting him during Valentine's, despite himself denying such intention. It took a lot of effort, in both figuring out what to get while fearing you wouldn't like it –to the point that he would even call over Nirei and Suo for help – and in building the tiny pieces of bricks after settling on a final decision for the gift. He persisted to build it himself, no matter how much his friends offered to help. He wanted to make sure it was his work purely, done with his own hands. The whole process was frustrating, infuriating, and was basically a test of patience. But after seeing how you kept the received bouquet in a glass vase – delicately treasuring it on your bedroom display – he has never felt so proud yet flustered his whole life.

—HAYATO SUO would waltz into the café without a care in the world while having scattered lipstick stains decorating his face. Moreover, it wasn't your idea in the first place– it was his. Your relationship wasn't out yet, and he thought, what better way to publish it than announcing it wordlessly but gives double the impact? “Hm? Oh, this? It's my beloved’s artwork. Do you like it?” he'll innocently ask when someone questions the visible lip prints. Sakura was a blushing mess, and Suo was very much enjoying the look of bewilderment from others as they received the unspoken news. This was the reaction he wanted. This was what boosted his pride furthermore in being your boyfriend, and he'd shamelessly do it again to show off his love for you to the world.

—JO TOGAME would be your personal walking object holder. He'd take your bag and sling it over his shoulder with you needless to say; he'd keep hair bands around his wrist in case you decided to tie your hair up; he'd hold your shopping bags throughout your journey at the mall. Never were you the one to request his aid first, and never has he complained about being tired. He'd even go barefoot just to lend you his footwear when your feet start to hurt in heels. Moreover, he'd carry you bridal along the way. Despite you worrying over him tiring himself, he persisted to keep ahold of you. He loves seeing you enjoy life without a care in the world, and he'd do anything to carry burdens that dare to get in the way of that enjoyment.

—MITSUKI KIRYU would deliberately lose in a game of UNO and let you take the victory when he could've won decades ago. The whole time the both of you were playing, he's been holding a Wild and Draw 4 but refrained from using them. Instead, he kept drawing cards and just went yolo to buy time. Though he always played fair, seeing your dejected expression after losing many rounds this time was a little too unbearable for him. He promised himself for once, just this once will he let himself take a loss. He knew it wouldn't be fair, but if it meant that he'll get to see you smile in victory, then he doesn't find any problem with that.

—AKIHIKO NIREI would write down even the littlest of details about you that were thrown at him. You'd be casually mentioning a trivial preference as a ramble, but never had he pulled out his notebook and pen so quickly. During his early stages of getting to know you, he made sure to memorize everything you told him about yourself; your favorite color, favorite food, dream place to go, he even looked up your zodiac sign after knowing your birth date. He doesn't mean it in a creepy way. In fact, it was his way to know how to get closer to you. Despite already having the skill to remember it all, he likes to write it down to make sure as well as for keepsake. Thanks to that, now he has a cheat sheet on how to make you smile.

—TASUKU TSUBAKINO would wear himself a nail polish color that reminds him of you. Or, moreover, your favorite color. He loved being stylish, and what better way to do it than having at least a part of you involved in it? He'd walk proudly in his heels that you got him as a gift, and was even more ecstatic if someone complimented them, proud that your taste in fashion was appreciated by others. He'd ask to trade manicures with you for a date, where the both of you choose a nail look for each other. But if you weren't into painting nails, he'll ask you to choose a look for him instead. On special or fancy occasions, he'd often wear your fav lip combo or makeup look, as he treasures your choices and views them as something precious and only to be used when necessary.

—TOMA HIRAGI would pull up to the function wearing either a Hello Kitty or Kuromi tee under his gakuran jacket. Was it his personal choice to do it? Clearly not. Was it his choice to willingly wear it for the sake of his beloved significant other? Very much so. After many attempts of pleading, he caved in and (begrudgingly) agreed to your whole ‘matching outfits’ idea. He ate a pill or two when he saw how he looked in the mirror. Then ate two more when he finally appeared in public, especially at how much Umemiya and the others teased him for it. It was embarrassing, but was it worth it? No questions needed. The beaming smile you immediately wore when seeing him agree to your shenanigans, was enough proof that it was all – undoubtedly – worth it.

—YAMATO ENDO would revel in the feeling of being the center of your attention as you placed stickers and colored in his tattoos or drew silly doodles along his body. He liked the feeling of flexing himself while having you express your inner artist onto him. He'd think of himself as your muse; the art and the artist. Once you were done, he'd be extremely careful with doing activities, afraid of your artwork smudging off at the slightest touch. Even during the shower, he makes sure not to wipe it with full pressure. He considered turning it into an actual tattoo, really. Because it would mean that he'd get to keep something of yours to be a part of him, eternally.

—CHIKA TAKIISHI would let you do his hair as you please. He was one to outright reject the idea of someone touching him, but you – you had the privilege to do as you please to him without him raising a finger to stop you. You had him wrapped around your delicate fingers, his head leaning into your touch as you smoothly ran your hands through his long locks of red that met its ends with yellow. When he saw that you did your hair the same way as his, a flicker of surprise reflected on his eyes. Though he tried to come off as indifferent, he was secretly pleased to acknowledge the fact that the both of you were matching. He'd spend the whole day with you while wearing those matching hairstyles, not caring about how others would think of him. All he could focus on was how ethereal you looked in your current look. In fact, he always thought you looked beautiful in any shape and form of physical aspects.

[mintmatcha]

i second that other ask more of that sero x reader I beg

cw: depression, mentions of unhealthy weight loss

Kirishima hasn't seen you for days. When he knocks on your door, he can hear you moving around inside, but you never answer. The meals his mother makes sit on your welcome mat until they start to rot and he's forced to bring them back inside.

He knows it's because of Sero. He just doesn't know what to do about it.

It's one night that he manages to trap you by the apartment's garbage bin. You're carrying a box that's overfilled with things, wearing sweatpants and a dreadfully oversized top.

"Hey!" He tries to keep his voice friendly, unconcerned. "I've missed you!"

The roundness of your face is puffy and ruddy from crying. You shrug, eyes cast low. Your frame is thinner, but in a way that looks gaunt and unhealthy.

"Been busy."

"My mom wants you to come over for dinner soon," he tries. "She said she'll made whatever you want-- hey, are you throwing out your anime stuff?"

The box in your arms is stuffed with plastic pieces and ripped scraps of paper, most brightly colored, some back and white. It's the unmistakable hues of anime merch, carelessly jammed into a box and purposefully ruined.

"Yeah." With no preamble, you hoist the box into the garbage and let it fall with a thud. "I don't want it anymore."

Something doesn't feel right in his chest. It's raw, like an exposed nerve, begging for attention.

"What?" he tries to laugh. "That's crazy. Your apartment's gonna be so empty."

You don't react to that. All you do is scuff your slipper against the concrete, back and forth, as if you're just waiting for this to be over. You'd never been a social person, but this feels different. It's like you're not there anymore, gone behind the eyes.

"I'm sorry. About Sero being an asshole." Kirishima blurts out. "He shouldn't have-"

"Don't, Kirishima." You've never called him by his family name before. "It's my own fault."

You dip around him and his trash bag to go back inside, no goodbye, no eye contact. Just like that, you're gone, and he's left standing there, under the fluorescent street lamp with his quaking, horrible sickness brewing inside him.

It rocks in his stomach all night, so badly that he can't eat breakfast. By lunch, he's starving, but Sero has sat himself on Momo's desk and the memory of how dad you looked makes bile bite the back of his throat.

"You okay, buddy?" Fatgum asks that night during his internship work. Tamaki watches silently, but with an equally concerned look. Kirishima thinks that you two would have gotten along-- and that thought nearly makes him throw up. "You haven't eaten anything."

For once, Kirishima is aware of how young sixteen really is, how helpless youth can leave him. He's just a kid and he's dealing with too much.

"I think there's something wrong with my friend."

The next few weeks go quickly. One day, you're there. The next, the apartment is up for rent. Both Fatgum and his mom reassure him that you're okay, just back home with your parents for the time being. He asks if he can visit, and his mom just gives him that look she always does.

"Oh, Eijiro." his mother cups his cheek. "You're a sweet boy."

The next day, Sero is talking to some girl in class B. Kirishima'a stomach still goes sour.

[lilasamaaa]

Ignorance is bliss | Max Verstappen x Reader

Genre | Angst, Hurt/Comfort.

Word count | 3K.

Warnings | Brief mentions of sexual activities, panic attack, Max and reader get in a fight.

Summary | Max and you have been dating for several months, and everything is going well. Except when paparazzi start chasing you for no reason. Is your boyfriend hiding something from you?

Author's note | This was requested by @butterflyexe ! Thank you lovely for the great idea! I tweaked it a bit though, so I hope you like it! I loved writing this piece but again, sorry for the crippling angst lmao 🥲 Not proofread as usual, oopsie

The doorbell of your apartment rings, and you leap off your couch, opening the door and throwing yourself into your boyfriend's arms.

"Oh, wow," Max says, pressing a kiss to your head. "Did you know it was me or do you throw yourself into the arms of everyone who rings your doorbell?" he adds, laughing.

"Of course I knew it was you," you reply, laughing too. "I've been waiting for you all week. And I noted that your flight was landing an hour ago, so it lined up," you explain, taking his hand and leading him to the couch, where you both sit down.

Max looks tired, the bags under his eyes casting blue and gray shades on his pale skin. He moves to lie down on the couch, resting his head on your thighs, closing his eyes.

"How was the work trip?" you ask, playing with his hair.

"It was great," he finally replies, opening his eyes and meeting yours. "Quite tiring, but interesting. It was nice to, erm. See my colleagues again," he says.

"I still can't believe your company paid for the trip all the way to Australia," you whisper as Max closes his eyes again under your caresses. "If I had known the automotive industry required you to travel that much, I would have applied for the job."

Max doesn't respond, simply taking one of your hand in his and gently stroking your knee with the other.

"You must feel so out of it with the jet lag..." you continue, concerned. "It's a good thing they gave you a few days to rest. When are you expected back at work?"

"Not until next week," Max says, playing with the rings on your fingers.

"And you said you're going to Japan after? That's such a weird ass schedule," you say, making him laugh. "I feel like you travel more than most influencers... Or even athletes," you state, making him open an eye.

"Perks of the job," Max says before planting a soft kiss on your lips, and standing up. "Can I borrow your shower?"

"Of course! You know the way," you wink at him, heading towards the kitchen. "I'll fix us something to eat in the meantime."

Sitting at the small table in your kitchen, illuminated by a few candles and the lights of the city outside, Max devours the plate you placed in front of him a few minutes ago. You silently observe him, both fascinated by the man before you and disturbed by a thought that has plagued you in his absence.

"I've been thinking," you start, making your boyfriend look up.

"Yeah? Tell me," he says, covering your hand with his.

"How come I've never been to your place?"

Max stops chewing, his light eyes fixated on yours.

"I didn't know you wanted to?" he replies, brows furrowed.

"Well I've never asked to, but isn't that how it usually works in a relationship? Once at mine, once at yours?"

"I'm sorry," Max replies. "I didn't realize it was important to you."

You suddenly feel guilty and squeeze your boyfriend's hand, giving him a warm smile.

"Forget it, sorry," you say, getting up to rinse your plate. "That was stupid. You're right, we're fine here."

After dinner, you and Max settle on the couch again, watching some show on Netflix. When you notice Max fighting against sleep, his eyelids heavy and his breath short, you grab the remote before turning off the TV. The sudden silence jolts him awake, and you laugh before pulling him by the arm and leading him down to your bedroom. You make a quick stop in the bathroom to remove your makeup and brush your teeth and, when you come back to the room, you find Max fast asleep under the covers. The sight is endearing. You press a kiss on his forehead before settling next to him, your cold body against his already warm one.

The next morning, you wake up alone in a cold bed. A familiar smell tickles your nostrils, and you make your way to the kitchen, your eyes still heavy with sleep.

"Good morning!" Max says, already dressed up, and looking much fresher than yesterday. "I made us breakfast."

"Wow, that's so sweet of you," you say before sitting at the table, taking a hot pancake from the plate in front of you.

"I'm sorry for falling asleep so fast yesterday," your boyfriend starts again. "To make it up to you, I'd like to take you out to lunch."

The offer takes you by surprise, and you stare at your boyfriend, mouth agape. It's been five months since you started seeing each other. Five months since you bumped into him by chance at the Monte Carlo casino while you were out dining with friends. Five months of being inseparable, but also five months of very limited outings. Max travels a lot for work, and you don't necessarily have the means to go out regularly in Monaco. Most of the moments you share therefore take place within the four walls of your apartment, and you're thrilled to get some fresh air with him for once.

"You seem happy," he says, snapping you out of your thoughts.

"I am!" you say, pressing a kiss to his lips. "Where are we going?"

"What about Nobu?" Max says.

"What? Max, that's way too expensive," you reply, furrowing your brows.

"It doesn't really matter, given I'll be the one paying."

"No way," you say. "We're splitting the bill. And I'm not paying three grands for some sushis, as delicious as everyone claim they are."

"They really are. So please, let me do this for you. Just this once? I can afford it," your boyfriend says, making you frown.

His words remind you that you don't know what your boyfriend does for a living. He's talked to you about cars, mechanics, but you're having trouble understanding what kind of job in the automotive industry requires so much traveling around the world. A job that apparently pays very well, given the restaurants he frequents. Realizing there's no point in arguing and not wanting to pick a fight with Max, you simply nod, lips pressed together. However, you're counting on one last point to escape the pricey restaurant and hopefully eat elsewhere. Somewhere more affordable.

"Well, if you insist," you finally say, popping a strawberry in your mouth. "I doubt we'll get a table for noon, though," you add. "I heard you have to book months in advance."

"Don't worry about that," Max says, stroking your cheek. "I need to stop by my place real quick before, can we meet there?"

Two hours later, you're sitting at one of the finest tables at Nobu, facing the sea. The fuck just happened, you think, watching your boyfriend immersed in the menu with a raised eyebrow. How? Before you have time to question it further, a waiter brings two champagne flutes and a bottle in a Nobu-stamped ice bucket to your table before hurrying away, thanking you two profusely for coming.

"Did you order this?" you ask Max, making him look up.

"No, I didn't. That's so kind of them."

"What the actual fuck, Max?" you snap, eyes wide. "What's going on?"

"What do you mean?" your boyfriend asks.

"Did you somehow not notice how everyone's been bending over backward for us since we walked in? I think the waitress behind you hasn't taken her eyes off us for the past thirty minutes. And since when do they bring champagne to people who haven't ordered anything?" you say with a worried look. "Are they confusing us for someone?"

"Why are you so worried?" Max asks, giving you a look that's meant to be reassuring but just looks uncomfortable. "Just enjoy the moment. And the view."

You sit back in your chair, biting the inside of your cheek. Something isn't right. You can feel it. Max adjusts one of his hair strands, and the sleeve of his shirt slips down slightly, revealing a watch you've never seen before. It takes you a few seconds to recognize the model, and when you do, your heart skips a beat.

"Is this a new watch?" you ask, trying to act nonchalant.

"What? Oh, yeah. Bought it in Melbourne."

"You casually bought a Rolex Daytona?" you ask, tilting your head.

"I didn't know you knew about watches," Max says, adjusting the collar of his shirt.

"You don't need to know about watches to know that this model costs almost a hundred thousand euros," you say, eyes boring into his.

The tension at the table has risen a notch, none of you uttering a word. As an anxious waiter places several plates in front of you, you glance around, suddenly realizing something you hadn't noticed before, absorbed in your conversation with your boyfriend.

"There's no one here," you say, still looking around. "It's noon on a Saturday, and the restaurant is empty."

Max sighs, running a hand through his hair.

"I know," he finally says, carefully meeting your gaze. "I wanted us to have some peace."

"What? What did you do?"

"I've privatized the restaurant," he says.

"How did you do that?" you ask, unintentionally raising your voice.

"I paid," Max simply says, grabbing a sushi.

"How much?"

"Several thousands!" Max almost shouts, making you wince. "What's up with all your questions?"

You're completely lost. You don't recognize the man you've been seeing for the past five months. The man who comes to your place by foot, usually in sweatpants, who spends evenings watching Netflix with you. Taking baths with you. Passionately making love to you. You have no idea who this new man is, covered in expensive clothes and accessories, on whom all heads turn and who raises whispers as he passes by.

"Who the fuck are you?" you simply ask, feeling your eyes start to water.

"Baby," Max says, finally realizing how uncomfortable and lost you are. "Please, can we just enjoy the meal? I'll answer all your questions at your place. I'll explain everything, but please. Let's not make a scene," he implores.

You swallow hard, staring at the ceiling to dry the tears in the corners of your eyes. For the rest of the meal, Max talks, telling you about his trip, about his life. You politely answer the few questions your boyfriend asks you, remaining silent the rest of the time. You don't even have an appetite anymore, having swallowed three sushi pieces before your stomach threatened to turn.

At the end of the meal, Max slips a credit card into the folder that a waiter has placed on the table, then adds three hundred-dollar bills. Tip, you think. More than what I earn in a day of work. The price of discretion, probably. The waiter leaves with the folder before coming back, and just as he's about to ask for something, Max shots him a look that makes him close his mouth. Your boyfriend thanks the young man before walking around the table, extending a hand that you grasp to rise as well. You thank the still-empty restaurant staff, giving them a genuine smile despite the anxiety twisting your stomach. Max opens the door for you, and you walk out on the street, thanking him.

For a moment, you curse yourself for forgetting your sunglasses at home, as the Monaco sun blinds you instantly. You blink in surprise, but your blindness persists as Max grabs your wrist and pushes you behind him. You try to open your eyes, but flashes keep assaulting you, and it takes you a few seconds to realize that they're coming from huge cameras pointed just inches away from your face.

"Max?"' you ask with a high-pitched voice, starting to panic.

Max turns around, pressing you against him and covering your eyes as he guides you through the screaming crowd. People push you in all directions, pressing against you, touching your arms, your face, crumpling your clothes. Screaming. At first, you can't make sense of what the voices are shouting, with all your senses being overwhelmed. But suddenly, you hear it. Max. They're screaming his name. Max looks up, and a new series of flashes burn your retinas as your boyfriend holds you even tighter against him, one arm around your shoulders.

"I'm so sorry," you hear him say among the voices.

"What's happening?" you ask, panting.

And, then, you feel it. The panic attack. Even though you've never experienced one before, you immediately understand what's happening to you. You recognize the signs. Your legs give way, and you have to cling to Max to keep from falling to your knees. Your heart rate and breath quicken until they're suffocating, while tears stream down your cheeks.

"I can't breathe," you croak, so weakly that you're not even sure if Max heard you.

"Hang on, baby," your boyfriend says, still walking. "We're almost at the car."

The flashes continue, and so do your tears. Max grips you as tightly as he can, shielding your face, lifting you halfway to help you walk. After a few seconds, the longest of your life, you hear a car door open, and Max gently pushes you into his car before closing the door and jumping in. He wastes no time in starting the engine, cutting through the crowd, disappearing into the alleys of Monaco.

You don't say a word. You're unable to speak. Unable to breathe. Still trembling. Crying. You don't realize it, but Max struggles to tear his eyes away from your body, which seems so small, so battered at this moment. He doesn't speak either, biting his lips until it draws blood. He hates himself. He knows he'll regret making you go through this for a long time. But now, all he can do is explain. Lay all the cards on the table. Something he should have done a long time ago.

The journey seems to last an eternity until you catch sight of a gigantic building, and Max drives into an underground parking. He parks the car and rushes out, opening your door, helping you out. You're still in shock, and Max supports you as he guides you to an elevator. A few seconds later, after twist of his keys, you find yourself in a vast penthouse overlooking the Mediterranean Sea. You don't even have the strength to ask questions anymore. To ask where you are. You sit down on the large couch, wiping the tears from your cheeks. Trying to calm your breathing.

Max watches you, standing at the foot of the couch. Bewildered. Not even daring to come close to you. The two of you stand in silence a few moments, until he finally speaks.

"I know it won't fix anything. But I'm truly, sincerely sorry."

You don't reply, head low. playing with the rings on your finger.

"I owe you some explanations."

No reply.

"I'm a Formula 1 driver."

You finally look up, and the mascara streaks on your cheeks squeeze his heart in the worst way.

"I should have told you earlier. I should have warned you, but I couldn't. With you, I discovered normalcy. Anonymity. I discovered what it was live to have an ordinary life, away from the hustle, the stress, the constant judgment."

"So you knew how precious it was," you say, squinting your eyes. "And yet, you chose to expose me to all of those things."

"I hadn't planned for it to happen. I didn't want it to happen. I tried."

"I can't do this," you reply, feeling fresh tears roll down your cheeks.

Seeing you cry again, Max sits on the couch, pulling you close to him as another sob shakes your body.

"Why?" you ask, crying. "Why did you let me fall in love with the person I thought you were?"

Each of your words, each of your sobs break his heart a little more, but he takes it. He knows your anger is justified. Deserved.

"Because I loved you too. And I didn't want this to stop."

"You lied to me," you say between two sobs. "I trusted you. I trusted you so much."

It's too much. Even for him. A tear runs down his cheek. Max wipes it away angrily.

"If you never want to see me again, I understand. I'll come get my things. I'll erase your number. I won't stand in the way of you living a normal life, of finding love with someone normal. You deserve the best, even if it's not with me."

You hate him.

You despise him for having been himself, his most vulnerable self, with you. For charming you with his awkwardness, his foreign accent, his somewhat strict manners. You hate him for being the perfect man for you. You hate him for making your heart beat so strongly. But above all, you hate him for building your love on a lie, on fragile foundations doomed to collapse and sweep you both away in the wreckage.

"I hate you," you sob, making his heart stop. "And I hate myself even more. For not being able to let you go."

"Baby", he says, moving to kneel in front of you. "If you give me this chance, a chance to rebuild everything with you again, I swear that nothing will ever happen to you again. I won't let anyone near you, anyone touch you. Not even a glance. I will rebuild everything around us. We'll be untouchable. Indestructible."

One month later.

"Are you ready, baby?" Max asks, meeting your gaze. "Once I post it, there's no going back."

"I think so," you say, biting on your fingernails. "Let's get this over with," you add, sitting on his knees while the driver presses a kiss to your neck, softly stroking your leg.

"Okay. Let's do this."

[kpop---scenarios]

Dark Book Series (2) - Say You Love Me

Pairing: Hwang Hyunjin x Reader

Warning: Yandere Content, Murder, Mentions of Blood, Stalking etc

Word Count: 4.5k

Taglist: @velvetmoonlght @skittlez-area512 @skzdust @gnabnahcsworld @onlyhyunjin @stephanieeeyang @lostasoulinthedarkness @imperfectlyperfectprincess1 @iam-wh0 @skzooluvr @queen-in-the-shadows

@ayyonoona

Felix | Hyunjin | Lee Know | Seungmin | Chan | Changbin | Jeongin | Jisung

“How are things today, Y/N?” Hyunjin asks. You stare down at your twiddling fingers, trying to hold in your tears before you speak. You hated crying in front of your therapist, but lately that seems to be all you ever do, and honestly Hyunjin seemed to be used to it by now. All your sessions seemed to involve you crying over your boyfriend.

“Y/N?” He asks, leaning slightly forward.

You look up, one tear rolling down your cheek. “I'm sorry.” You whisper. “Things are worse…at home. With Jackson. The past week, he's just been ignoring me, straight up walking out of the room if I walk in. Away from me if I try to talk tk him. No matter what I do.” You sigh.

“Mhm, prolonged silent treatment. That is a form of emotional abuse, you know.” Hyunjin murmurs, writing down on his notepad.

“And I honestly don't even know what I did to be given the silent treatment. He won't tell me. But on the brightside, I guess it's better than him screaming at me all day.” You sigh.

“Does he usually? Scream at you, I mean.” Hyunjin asks.

You shrug your shoulders. “Sometimes. If he's had a bad day at work. If I didn't clean the right way, or enough. If I say the wrong thing, or I talk out of turn. If a guy looks at me, talks to me…” You trail off.

“Does he know you see me?” He asks.

“He knows I see someone. If you're asking if he knows you're a man, then no he doesn't. I figured it was an unnecessary fight. I've been through a lot of therapists, and you're the best that I've been too.” You smile.

Hyunjin grins at your words, inside he's bursting with joy. “You know, Y/N. You are allowed to leave that relationship.” He tells you. “In fact, I would insist you do. Your mental health would improve exponentially.”

“I've thought about it. But I don't want to be alone.” You sigh.

You'll never be alone. Not as long as I'm around.

“Sometimes being alone is what heals the heart, and the head.” Hyunjin smiles. “You're stronger than you think.”

“I don't know if I am. What if I never find anyone else?” You groan. “Jackson says he loves me, when he talks to me. And that he does these things to make sure I'm the best version of myself.”

“Do you feel like what he does makes you the best version?” He asks. I can guarantee you don't.

“I feel like I'm losing myself piece by piece everyday.” You whisper.

I can help you heal. I can fix you. All you need is me.

“You need to leave, Y/N. It is in your best interest.” Hyunjin sighs, closing his notebook. “Unfortunately that's all the time we have for today. But I want to see you again in a few days to see where things are at home. Okay? I have Friday at 2pm, 4:30,pm, and 6pm.”

“Yeah, yeah sure.” You sniffle, wiping away your tears. “Let's do 2pm. I'm off work early on fridays.” You say.

I know.

“Friday at two. Okay, I have you down. You've got this, Y/N.” Hyunjin smiles as he watches you stand up, forcing a smile. He wished you weren't leaving to go home to your shitty boyfriend. He watches out the window from his office as you walk down the steps, grabbing his jacket and locking the door to the room he rents inside the building.

Hyunjin keeps a good distance behind you to ensure that you don't notice him behind you. He doesn't need to follow you to find out where you live, he already knows. He just likes to make sure you make it home safely. He's there to protect you, because that's what you need. You need someone to save you, and lucky for you, he was that person.

He smiles as he watches you checking the mailbox in the yard of your little house. He loved the house, but he hated the other occupant that lived there. You had been with Jackson for 3 years, only living together for one, so far but he hoped that it wouldn't be that much longer. The way your sessions were going, and the words Hyunjin was speaking, he was sure you'd leave Jackson in a few months. A couple more sessions, you'd be fully aware of how wrong Jackson was for you, and maybe realize how right Hyunjin was for you.

As you walk in the front door, he wanders around the side of the house, peering in the window to the kitchen and living room. He watches you setting your bag down on the table while Jackson walks into the room. He mutters some words, holding his arms out for a hug, and you nestle right into him. Hyunjin can see you melting into the hug, relishing in the fact that Jackson is now speaking to you again, and now giving you physical touch.

It makes Hyunjin sick.

After an hour, he can't take it anymore. He can't stand to watch you laugh and touch him, while Hyunjin knows it's only a matter of time before you're back in his office, crying because Jackson did something again.

When Friday finally rolled around, Hyunjin made his way to his office around 1:30pm, he sat behind the desk that came with the room as he thought about the first time he had ever seen you, which was now almost two years ago to the date.

**

“Yeah, no, I'll call to set up another appointment.” You say to the receptionist at the therapist's office. He could see the disappointment that was plastered all over your face, the second you walked out of Dr. Parks office. He wasn't surprised, Dr. Park wasn't the best in the business, but Hyunjin could be. Was he a licensed therapist? No. But could he be? Absolutely. He walks over to you, ignoring his name being called to go speak with Dr. Park, and stands by you at the elevator.

“Excuse me.” He smiles. “I couldn't help but notice the disappointment on your face after your session. I'm Dr. Hwang.” He says, holding out his hand. “and I'd love to meet and see if we'd be the right fit?” He smiles.

“Hi. Oh, um sure. Yeah, that'd be great. Dr. Park is good, he's just… um…” you pause.

“He's a friend, but I completely understand what you mean.” Hyunjin laughs. He pats his pockets before looking up at you. “Shoot, I was going to give you a card but it doesn't seem like I have any on me.” He sighs. “If you call me, I can get you in. Do you want to take my number?”

“Yes, please.” You say, pulling out your phone.

“Okay, it's….”

“Thank you so much.” You smile, stepping onto the elevator, slipping your phone back in your pocket. Hyunjin steps on the elevator with you, pretending like he was leaving just like you, and that's the day he had first followed you home. It took him time to find out information about you. He had, too. He had no choice. You didn't call for months. But when you finally did call, he was able to be the perfect therapist for you, as well as the perfect man for you.

**

Hyunjin is brought out of his thoughts, hearing the knocking at the door. “Come in!” He yells, putting his phone to his ear. “I promise, it'll all be okay.” He says, to no one. “I'll see you at your session on Monday, okay?” He says, waving you in, pointing to the couch. “Okay, yes, see you Monday.” He finishes, pretending to hang up the phone.

“Good afternoon, Y/N.” He smiles, opening his notebook.

“Good afternoon!” You say, in a better mood than when you were here a few days ago.

“You seem to be happy.” Hyunjin states, clearing his throat.

“I am! Jackson apologized the evening that I went home on Wednesday.” You sigh. “And since then, everything has been great!”

Hyunjin can feel the rage burning inside of him. “Well, it's only been two days, I wouldn't get your hopes up that things are changing, if I were you.” He says.

You raise your eyebrow at him.

“I just mean, narcissists, emotional abusers, who eventually turn into physical ones, don't change at a snap of a finger. This is a classic manipulation tactic, and he will turn in a split second. I just need you to be prepared.” Hyunjin explains.

“Oh.” You smile. He could tell his words had upset you, and while he didn't want to see you sad, you needed to know that Jackson wasn't going to change, and he'd be irrationally angry at her again, for something she did or didn't do.

“Do you two have plans for the weekend?” Hyunjin asks.

“Jackson wants to go out tomorrow.” You tell him.

Mhm, let me guess, to the club.

“He wants to go to the club with his friends.”

“Are you going to be joining him? It might be good for the two of you to get out together.” Hyunjin suggests.

“I asked if I could. But he said it was a boys' night.”

“Why not have a girls night?” He asks.

I'd love to run into you at the club. Take you home with me, where you'd be safe from him.

“You know what…” You pause, smiling. “That's a good idea. I wanna go to the club and get drunk too.”

“There you go. That's a plan.” Hyunjin laughs.

“Thank you, Dr. Hwang.” You smile. “I'm gonna go plan it now!”

“I told you, Y/N, call me Hyunjin. I hope you have a great time. I'll see you on Monday, at 6pm.” He laughs. The smile you had on your face was etched into his head. Fuck, he couldn't wait to see you on Saturday, even if you didn't know he was there.

**

Saturday night, Hyunjin makes his way to the club, later than anticipated but he was on the way to you regardless. He gets inside the building, the smell of sweat and alcohol surrounded him as he weaves through all the people grinding and drinking who were scattered around. His eyes are scanning the entire place, looking for one person in particular.

And when he finally spots that person, his heart flutters.

You look radiant, wearing your tight black dress, your hair and make up done. You were laughing as you danced with a friend, your own eyes scanning the bar, biting your lip as you looked for someone. Hyunjin sits in a booth, far enough away that you won't see him, but close enough that he can see you. He watches you take shot after shot, enjoying your night out. He enjoyed the fact that Jackson wasn't hovering around you, but it also pissed him off. You were currently in such a vulnerable state, anyone could take you away from him. In a split second things can change, and Hyunjin desperately wants to be that change. He wants to take you away from all the bad things in the world, especially Jackson.

He slowly sips his drink as he watches you stumbling around the dance floor. Jackson walks up to you, looking less than impressed by you. Hyunjin can see Jackson yelling at you as you sway, trying to pay attention but struggling. You look so unaffected by Jackson’s words, it was almost like you had just blocked him out instead of listening to him. He tells you to fuck off, before storming off, leaving you there alone.

Now. This was Hyunjin's chance. He finishes his drink, casually walking up to you, ignoring the many attempts of other women trying to get his attention. He was happily taken by you and would never stray.

“Y/N?” He whispers into your ear from behind you.

You spin around, trying to focus your eyes.

“Hyunjin?” You ask, squinting, moving your face closer to his.

“Hi.” He laughs. “Are you okay?”

“I'm fuuucking grand.” You slur, tripping over nothing.

“Woah, there.” Hyunjin laughs, grabbing onto you.

Your skin is so soft. So beautiful.

“Should I take you home?” He asks.

“N-no… my friend… is right there.” You hiccup, pointing behind Hyunjin. He glances behind him, seeing an angry looking girl coming towards them.

You turn around, waving to your friend. “Hey!” When you turn around again, Hyunjin is gone. “He…was just…here?” You mumble, completely forgetting you had seen him, moving on with your night.

**

“So, Y/N.” Hyunjin starts, just after you sit down on the couch across from him. “How was your girls' night?” He asks.

“It was a lot of fun! We ended up mixing our girls night with the guys night. It was a great time.” You smile.

“So no issues between you and Jackson, then?” He asks. He was confused. He saw Jackson yelling at you. There was no way the two of you were fine.

“I mean, there was a small one…” You trail off. “He got mad at me for drinking too much. In his words, I was blacked out.” You sigh. “I don't think I did. I remember everything.” You say, shrugging your shoulders. “Speaking of remembering, were you there?” You whisper.

“Where?” Hyunjin asks, acting surprised. “At the club?”

You nod your head, biting your lip.

You're making me want to take you right on this couch. Stop teasing me, Y/N.

“No, No.” He laughs. “The club isn't so much my scene.”

“I swear I thought you were.” You laugh. “Maybe I was drunk.” You whisper.

“So are things tense between you and Jackson?” He asks.

You shake your head. “Oh no. We actually worked It out quite maturely.” You grin. “No yelling, no name calling. It was different. But it was so nice.”

“Well, that's great.” Hyunjin mumbles. He was annoyed now. He needed to keep planting the seed of you leaving him into your head, how the fuck is he supposed to do that if the two of you are getting along?

Hyunjin glances at his phone, letting out a frustrated sigh.

“Everything okay?” You ask him.

“Uh, yeah. Just another patient. Do you mind if we end the session a few minutes early? I'm very sorry. She's very troubled.” Hyunjin explains.

“No problem! I'll see you on Wednesday.” You smile.

Yes, yes you will.

He watches you leave the room, closing the door behind you. He swipes the call on his phone, answering it. “What?” He snaps. “I told you never to bother me, Monday, Wednesday and Friday evenings.” He spits.

“I know babe, I'm sorry.” His girlfriend whispers. “I just wanted to ask if you were going to be home for dinner.” She murmurs.

“Yeah, I'll be there soon. Just have to make a call. Sorry.” He sighs, hanging up the phone. He liked his girlfriend, sort of. She was someone who reminded him of you. That's the only reason he was with her. She was the closest version of you he could find, until he can have the real thing.

You.

Hyunjin opens his notebook that he uses for sessions that happened to be only filled with information about you. He flips to the page he needs, pulling out his phone to dial a number.

“Hello?” A voice on the other end answers.

“Hey… um is Y/N there?” Hyunjin asks.

“What?” The voice asks. “Who is this?”

“My name is, um, Paul. I met Y/N at the club on Saturday. I must have misdialed the number. My apologies.” Hyunjin says, a giant smile plastered on his face.

“Are you talking about L/N Y/N?” The person asks.

“Yeah? Who is this?” Hyunjin asks, matching the same concerned tone of voice.

“I'm her fucking boyfriend. Or I was.” He snaps, hanging up the phone.

Hyunjin slides the phone into his pocket before he gathers his belongings, heading home to someone like you.

One day it will be you.

On his way home that night, Hyunjin took a small detour to your house. He just wanted to see if his plan to bring you and Jackson further apart was working. He crept around the front of the house, going to one of his two usual windows. He peers in the living room and kitchen window, seeing Jackson screaming at you as you cry, trying to calm him down. He wouldn't even let you touch him. Hyunjin would never do that to you. He would never make you cry like that.

When Wednesday finally rolled around, Hyunjin was like a child waiting for Christmas. He was anxiously waiting for you to come into his office and tell him about the last few days. He had a very good feeling he knew what you were gonna say, but he needed to hear the words come out of your mouth. His eyes were glued to the doorknob, waiting for it to turn. And when it does, he puts on his professional face, waiting for you to come in. And when you do, you look distraught. Your face was red and puffy from crying, your lips were quivering as you shuffled towards the couch. Sitting down without saying a word.

“What's wrong, Y/N?” He asks.

Come on, Y/N, say it.

“It's just… I… um… oh god.” You sniffle.

Come on, baby.

“Take your time. Take a breath.” Hyunjin urges.

“I think… I'm going to break up with Jackson.” You whisper.

That's a good girl.

“Oh?” He says, acting surprised. “I thought things were okay with you both?”

“They were. But then he started accusing me of cheating on him!” You yell. “He said he got a call from some guy named Paul! I've never even met any Paul's in my life!”

“I'm so sorry, Y/N.” Hyunjin sighs. “You know, often when a partner accuses his or her spouse of cheating, they're projecting onto them what they're actually doing.”

“You think Jackson is cheating on me?” You cry.

“I'm sorry to say, it sounds like it.” Hyunjin tells you.

“Yeah I think I'm done. He's been so mean to me the last few days. I'm just heartbroken.

I'm not.

“I think that's your best decision, Y/N. You need to free yourself from the toxicity. Leave yourself open to what the universe has to offer you.” He says.

“I think the universe is telling me that I deserve no one.” You sniffle.

“Nothing, and no one is off limits to you, Y/N. You deserve the world and out there is a man who is waiting and willing to give it all to you.”

It's me. I'm that man.

“Maybe you're right. So you think I should leave him?” You ask, needing the extra push.

You should have left him the second you met me.

“Yes, I really do.” Hyunjin says.

“Okay.” You breathe. “I'm gonna do it today.”

God, I knew you were such a good fucking girl. That's my girl.

“I'll see you on Friday, okay?” He smiles. He hated that your sessions were only an hour. Most of the time he barely heard a word that came from your mouth, he was too busy admiring you and how absolutely perfect you were. You drove him crazy and you didn't even know it. He wanted to hug you and whisper sweet nothings into your ear to make you feel better but you weren't his yet. He was so close to having you, and he could stop imagining all the things he wanted to know.

**

This was it. This was the moment he had been working towards for a year. The moment you were going to come in and tell him you ended things with Jackson, and then the second part of his plan would be able to begin.

You walked into his office looking like a ray of sunshine, as beautiful as ever.

“Good afternoon, Y/N.” Hyunjin grins. Nothing could ruin his mood.

“Good afternoon!” You say, happily.

“So.” He begins. “How did the break up go?”

“Well… Um… it didn't exactly happen.” You murmur.

Rage. Pure fucking rage.

“What do you mean?” He asks, his teeth gritted together.

“I told Jackson I wanted to break up. But he begged and pleaded for me to work things out with him. He promised he would get help. He actually suggested we move.” You smile. “So this weekend we're going to pack up the house and move about 12 hours away.”

The hell you fucking are.

“I don't think that's a good idea.” Hyunjin says.

“I just came today to thank you for everything over this past year. You've truly been a lifesaver.” You admit.

I'm about to be a life taker now.

“Well, I wish you all the best, Y/N.” Hyunjin says. You smile at him, getting up from the couch and leaving. If you thought this was the last you were seeing of him today, you were sorely mistaken. You didn't want to listen to him, now he had to take matters into his own hands. He took what he needed, leaving the rest. He no longer needed this room. He went straight to his apartment, his entire body fueling with nothing but pure fucking rage.

“Hi baby, you're home early.” His girlfriend smiles.

Fuck you. I don't need you anymore.

He walked up to her, pulling her in for a passionate kiss, guiding the two of them to the bedroom. He pushed her down on the bed, climbing up to hover over her giggling frame. He straddles her, gently caressing her face.

“I'm so sorry.” He whispers.

“For what?” She asks.

“I don't need you anymore.” He smiles. He takes both his hands, wrapping them around her neck, using all his strength to apply pressure. She trashes beneath him, clawing at him to let go of her throat and let her breath. But he can't do that. Not until he's done. He watches her eyes, relishing in the view of life slowly leaving her body as she slowly stops fighting him until she lays there, lifeless.

Hyunjin lets out a deep breath, admiring his handiwork for just a second. He had one other person to go see now, and he hoped to god that you would be there to witness it.

Hyunjin stood outside your house. Some of the lights were off, and the house was relatively quiet. He knew you never locked your back door, it was a bad habit you had. He'd have to retrain you. As quietly as he could, he opened the door, leaving it open. He crept through the back house, making his way to the kitchen, where he saw Jackson packing things up. You must be packing somewhere else or gone to bed early. Hyunjin grips the knife in his hand, peering around the corner. He needed to wait for Jackson to be facing away from where he stood. The element of surprise gave him an even bigger adrenaline rush than if he was to just attack. So he waited. He waited.

And waited.

And waited.

Until it was late, and he hadn't seen you in a while. He assumed you had gone to bed, leaving Jackson alone to finish packing up the kitchen. Hyunjin slowly emerged from the shadows, tiptoeing towards the man who faced away from him. As he gets closer, he rushes towards Jackson, knife first, plunging it deep into his back.

Jackson lets out a loud yelp, as Hyunjin pushes it into him deeper. “Fuck!” Jackson screams. Hyunjin pushes him down to the floor, stabbing him over and over again, his blood splattering from his body. Jackson didn't even try and fight him back, it was almost as though he just accepted his fate and imminent death. He couldn't stop, he had so much pent up rage for Jackson, he continued stabbing Jackson’s already lifeless body, until he felt like he could be done. He stands up, breathing heavily, pushing his hair back with his hand covered in blood.

Now there was nothing that could get in his way of being with you. He walks towards the bedroom, knife in hand. You were sleeping so peacefully, completely unaware of what Hyunjin had just done to your boyfriend.

He moves the chair in your room closer to your side of the bed. He sits down, slouching in the chair twiddling the knife between his fingers as he watches you sleep. You must be having a bad dream. He watches as you toss and turn in the bed, murmuring random words, your face full of panic. He just wants to ease your troubles and your worries.

It took you a while, but you shoot up in bed, gasping for air, clutching your chest as it heaves while you try to take deep breaths to calm yourself down.

“Jac…” You begin, clearing your throat. “Jackson.” You call out. Even in the dark Hyunjin can see the tears spilling from your eyes.

“Jackson!” You call out again, after receiving no answer.

“He's not available at the moment.” Hyunjin murmurs. Your eyes go wide as you turn your head, seeing Hyunjin sitting in your room.

“What are you doing here?” You whisper.

“I came here and did what you weren't strong enough to do.” Hyunjin says. “I took care of your problem. I did what you couldn't do.”

“What do you mean?” You gasp. “What problem?”

“Jackson!” Hyunjin snaps. “You were doing so well following my directions, and then you decided to stay with him. Why would you do that?”

“What?” You ask. You were having a hard time trying to wrap your brain around what he was saying.

“If you had broken up with him, none of this would have ever happened.” Hyunjin says. “You wouldn't have made me do what I did.”

“What did you do to him?” You ask him.

“It doesn't matter. What matters is that you and I can finally be together.” Hyunjin smiles, standing up from the chair. He walks up to you, sitting on the bed beside you. “Nothing can come in between us now.” He whispers, gently caressing your face. He leans in, closing his eyes, so close to pressing his lips to yours.

But you pull away from him, you look disgusted. “Please just go, Hyunjin. Please.” You cry.

“I can't! It's you and me against the world, now.” He whispers.

“I don't want to hurt you. But if you fight me, I just might have too.” Hyunjin whispers, wiping away your tears. “Do you understand?” He asks, placing the knife between the two of you. “I love you.”

You glance down, nodding your head.

“Say it back!” He snaps. “Say you love me. Is it that hard? I just need you to say you love me.”

You look down at the knife covered in blood, panic setting in. “I… I love you.” You whisper. It was like music to his ears. He had yearned to hear you finally say that to him. He strokes your cheek with his thumb.

“That's a good girl.”

[yumeaoka-chan]

My Love (Adorn You)

Pairing: Hobie Brown x Reader/ Spider-Punk x Reader

Word Count: 1k

Tags: Cursing, sleepy times, clingy hobie, touchy hobie, no physical description of reader, can be read as any gender for reader (just cuddly feel good times), title based off of Adorn by Miguel (wrote this listening to it, ngl)

Summary: It's been a while since you've gotten a whole weekend off and Hobie's particularly clingy this morning. Also, screw your job.

A/N: Credit to @mushroom-graphics-allotment for the lovely banners! My shorter second piece for the 1st week of Octobie!!! I'm having a blast coming up with more one-shots @the-kr8tor 💕

Light from the rising sun gently peeks through the curtains and spills into the bedroom, hitting your face and stirring you awake. You slowly blink away the sleep from your eyes, eyelashes fluttering as you stir ever slightly in your boyfriend's arms. Hobie's soft snores slowly cease, eyebrows furrowing and eyes cracking open ever so slightly. He looks at you before glancing at the alarm clock on the nightstand beside him, grumbling and pulling you closer to him once he sees the time.

“Too early… Sleep more, lovie,” he mumbles softly, breath tickling the shell of your ear. You let out a sleepy hum as you bring up a hand to softly scratch at the coarse hair just above the nape of his neck. Hobie lets out a pleased, sleepy sounding purr before burying his face into your neck, one of his hands splayed over your back while the other gently grips your hip. He pulls you closer against his frame as he drifts back off to sleep, the warmth you radiate welcoming on this chilly morning.

You almost let the peacefulness of it all lull you back to sleep, until the sudden thought of your job makes you sit up abruptly. Hobie groans when you do, hands trying to pull you back down to his embrace.

“No, Hobes. Gotta get to work,” You say with a tired sigh. Hobie sits up and wraps his arms around your waist, face tucked into your shoulder. His lips press sleepy kisses along your skin as he tugs you closer.

“It's Saturday, baby. You're off, remember?” Your boyfriend's quiet mumbles make you lean against him, silently thanking whatever entity is out there that you're off. You weren't sure you'd even be able to make it in today anyways, with how exhausted you feel. You allow Hobie to pull you back down onto the bed, burying your face into his chest as you two bask in the warmth of one another. Sleep welcomes you both with open arms, the two of you not stirring awake again until it's almost noon.

When you do wake up again, you try to get up from the bed, eager to start on the plethora of chores that you know are waiting for you. Your boyfriend seems to have other plans, however. With a disapproving sound, he pulls you back down to lay beside him, face nuzzling against your own. A huff of mild annoyance leaves you as he peppers kisses along your jaw, a knowing smile on his lips all the while.

“You ain't goin’ nowhere, sweetheart. It's been days since I've had you all to myself.” His words make you slightly less irritated with him, eyes softening as you turn your head to look at him properly. It's true that you've been too busy lately. Your job didn't understand the fact that you're a human being with needs, clearly, always making you do doubles and working you over time. Without the over time pay. One of your hands moves up to gently fiddle with his multiple ear piercings, fingers brushing over the silver jewelry. You smile as he leans into your touch

“I know. ‘M sorry for being so busy, Hobie. Work has just been… ugh.”

“Love, I mean this in the most disrespectful way possible. Fuck your job. You should just quit.” You look at the man with a raised eyebrow, as if his suggestion was out of the question. Of course you'd thought about quitting before, but you had concerns about just leaving the job you'd had for over two years.

“Quit? Not saying I don't want to, but where else will I find that pays as much?” Hobie hums softly in your ear before pushing up on one elbow in order to look down at you.

“You need a change of pace. Quit and start up that business you've always wanted to.” He leans down to smooch the little pout off of your face, chuckling when you chase after his lips. “I've got your back, always. I'll help support you however you need.”

Warmth blossoms in your chest at his words, his offer to support you making you more in love with him than you ever thought possible. Smiling softly, you lift up a hand to gently trace the curves of his jaw, fingers lightly brushing over his cheeks. Hobie looks down at you all the while, seemingly lovestruck as he leans further into your touch. A dopey grin on his face, he leans down to brush his lips against yours with all the tenderness of a feather, his piercing cool against your skin.

“Quit f’me, lovie,” he breathes out, voice a low whisper. A soft snort leaves you and you playfully press your hand on his face, practically mushing him.

“ You're a bad influence, Hobie Brown. You just want me to quit so you can have me like this everyday.”

He grins and licks a fat stripe up your palm, making you squeal and recoil your hand in disgust. A laugh leaves him as you swiftly wipe your hand free of saliva on his arm. “I'm not denying it, am I?” He says with a cheeky gleam in his eyes.

It makes you roll your eyes, a reluctant smile ghosting your lips as he presses more kisses into the crook of your neck. After a few moments of comfortable silence between you, you try to get up once more, pushing your body off of the bed. Hobie has other ideas, it seems, tightening his arms around your waist and relaxing his entire weight on top of you. You groan and push at his shoulders, pouting at the chorus of little snickers that leave him.

“Planning to keep me hostage all day, Hobart…? We've got chores.”

“Sweetheart, fuck those chores. You're my teddy for the day, mm? I'll even order us some food, just so you won't get outta bed. Now just be good f’me and let me love you.”

You let out a long, exasperated sigh at his words, snuggling closer to him despite yourself. It's safe to say that not a lick of chores had gotten done that day.

[russellsppttemplates]

A little hope (Lando Norris) (Part 1)

Lando will give you all the time you need if it means you will work things out

Note: english is not my first language. I don't think I've ever written a piece without closure/closing off the subject like this, so constructive thoughts are appreciated... might do a part two depending on how this one goes, let me know your thoughts on it! ✨️

Thank you so much to everyone who likes and reblogs, your feedback is appreciated 🤍 and I'm taking requests so if you have any ideas or concepts you want to share, feel free to do so as I'll try to get to them the best I can!

my masterlist

Tw: mentions a couple's fight, self-deprecation moments, body image insecurity, signs and symptoms of anxiety

Tag list: @myloverjk-blog

"Here, gorgeous", Lando said as he opened the door for you, letting you in first and following suit, finding your places around the table as the meeting was about to start.

"Thanks, love", you whispered as you set your things down on the table, turning on your laptop as you gathered everything you needed to show them.

"Whatever you want to do, we'll do", Lando noted a while into the meeting already. He didn't know that much about graphic design, so if his graphic designer said they should do it, they were going to.

The frown on your face, however, didn't seem to agree, "I spoke to the marketing guys, as well", you looked at Anna as she nodded, "and they think this is also the best strategy if we want to expand it to this market", you clarified.

"Then that's how it's going to go, Y/N", Callum asserted, noticing your slightly antsy posture as you moved on to the next point of discussion.

This had been happening for a while, the thoughts plaguing you with the fact that, in the simples of terms, you worked for your boyfriend. While the relationship had nothing to do with how you got the job and position, and inside the team, no one seemed too phased by it, part of you wondered if you were taken differently because of your relationship.

"Alright, Y/N?", Tara said, calling you back to planet Earth, "yes, sorry. But I agree with that, yes, but could we do this earlier, maybe this week? It would match up with all the dates we have", you answered, earning everyone's approval as they booked the shoot for Friday.

A knock on the door startled you as a woman peeked, "I'm sorry, I'm looking for Anna? From Marketing?", she asked, looking at you, "are you her?", she pointed her finger to you.

"She's my girlfriend, Y/N, she's our graphic designer", Lando said with a big smile.

"That's Anna", you said as the ginger haired girl raised her hand, "I'm Y/N", you murmured the last part.

The uneasiness took over your body again when you noticed the woman's look directed at you, a mixture of a silent scoff and a despised expression.

"Do you need a ride home, baby?", Lando asked once the meeting ended, "I have to go somewhere before going home, but thanks anyway", you said, kissing his lips chastely and bidding goodbye to everyone.

"Is she alright? She seemed off today", Max commented as he saw your interaction with his bestfriend, "this project had been taking a lot out of her, she's been tired, that's all", he said as he looked at your back as you walked away from them, "at least I hope it's that".

Only it really wasn't that, and with your calendar and Lando's calendar, you only saw eachother again on the day of the shoot.

The fight you had the day before still resonated with you and Lando, each of you measuring your words and how you had behaved.

"In Quadrant, you are my superior and I respect that", you pointed between you two, "but I'm my own person and if there's something I say, I want to be heard as me, Y/N, graphic designer for Quadrant", you cleared, "And in the meetings, if I give an idea, I want it to be heard and seen as coming from a graphic designer with experience and knowledge, not your girlfriend who you're afraid will get hurt if you say no and always let me get my way", you explained.

"But who said that I don't respect you like that? Because I do! I've considered every idea you've said like I'd consider them if somebody else said them!", Lando attempted, "do you think my love for you is not genuine? Do you think my appreciation for you or how much I value, as a person and as a member of the team, depends on what? What do you think this is?", Lando snapped, looking angrier than you've ever seen him. He usually kept a calm stance no matter how stressful the situation was, so the slight raise in his and his tone was enough to show he wasn't his usual self.

"Is it my fault you are my girlfriend? Are we putting this relationship, our relationship, in a basket of cons for us and for our lives?", he sounded genuinely hurt at his admission.

You didn't mean it that way, and you knew he knew that, but the fact that his mind went there and considered it enough for him to say it out loud hurt you.

Despite Tara's insistence that you could be one of the models for the hoodie she claimed was made for you, you declined the invitation, feeling that it would only add to your self deprecation and the very few comments you had seen online about how "dating Lando has landed you a great gig when so many people are looking for jobs themselves". You weren't also in the best terms with your boyfriend, and since he was modelling too, it would hardly be a good idea to be so close to eachother whilst still working in front of the team.

"We printed the backdrop you sent us, Y/N!", the photographer, James, and his colleague, Kai, called for you as you went to inspect the piece. It wasn't greatly detailed, but had certain points already measured so the editing and designing would be easier for you once you go the pictures back from them.

"I've never done it like this myself, but a friend of mine from university has done this before and he said it was so much easier and the models can move freely as long as they're within the frame", you explained, sharing knowledge in case they ever found themselves with a similar issue in need of this solution.

So absorbed in the conversation about different techniques and the words they had done before, you missed Lando arriving to the studio along with Max who had started making sure everything was running as scheduled.

"First, it's model two and three", you said as you looked at the schedule Max held, "so that's...", you trailed off, looking again in the list to make sure you were calling the right names, "Lucy and Lando", you stated, looking around for them and seeing the boy laugh at something she had said.

"Guys!", Max yelled, "it's your turn", he whistled, grabbing their attention so they could get in position.

James kept telling them what worked best as Kai worked with the lights, carefully readjusting and pointing out whenever they weren't on the frame you had specified.

"Now it's just the male models", Kai said as Lucy stepped down.

"I'm sorry to bother, but do you think we can bring out the snack table around now?", she questioned as she clipped her hair back, not wanting to mess with the work that was done on the short blonde locks, "I woke up later than I wanted and I had to rush here so I didn't have much for breakfast", she cringed.

"I think we can, yes. There's coffee in there, too, so I might join you", you smiled, walking alongside her to the table the catering team had set up. You were planning to spend the whole morning in there, so food and drinks were ordered to keep everyone happy and content.

"Rough night?", Lucy asked as she say you make a triple latte from the expresso machine.

That would be a way to put it, you thought. You hated leaving things unresolved with anyone, but knowing you and Lando went to sleep without knowing where you stood, it was hard for you to close your eyes and fall asleep despite the tiredness you felt. You rolled in your bed countless times, changing the pyjamas you were wearing three times until you accepted that the choice of clothing wasn't what was keeping you from falling asleep. In total, you probably slept four hours, and you were hoping the coffee would help with that.

"I remember when me and Lando used to go out, there was this week where it was four nights!", she smiled, stirring the hot tea in her cup as she took one of the small sandwiches.

"You and Lando used to go out? I didn't realise", you asked, the curiosity killing you and the dread to know the answer even more.

"I mean going out as in out of the house and into clubs, parties and such", she laughed brightly, and even that didn't seem to settle your heart, "we found out we have mutual friends that work for the same chain of clubs. We never slapped a label on it, I think neither of us wanted the attachment or rules you had to follow, you know? He's always wanted to be free on his endeavours and do as he pleases".

"Sure", you gulped, drinking the hot coffee as you thought about her words, not going to far, probably for your own good, since you heard something fall, "I better go see what that is, excuse me", you smiled lightly.

As it turned out, there was a piece of metal holding the backdrop that had a smaller piece holding it together that wasn't the right size, "we have to tools in there, let me just change it quickly", you said, "you guys can go and grab a coffee and some snacks, they're really good", you offered, "I'll sort out the programming for the next set while I'm at it, too".

Carrying the piece to the room where you kept the tools, you turned on your laptop and ran the code, fixing the metal piece in the mean time when you heard someone walk in the room, "was the coffee that bad? I- Oh, hi", you muttered, seeing Lando walk in and sit in front of you as you worked on the table.

"Can we talk, please?", Lando wondered. Even though he was clearly tired and his usual bright eyes had required the makeup artist to apply eye drops on him twice already, he still looked as handsome as ever. His curls was bouncy and the green coloured hoodie was a perfect match against his tanned skin and the minimal jewellery he had on.

"Sure", you asked, setting the screwdriver down and looking at him.

"I want to apoligise if I made you feel unworthy, professionally and personally. It was never my intention, Y/N. I want to be there for you, and I want to protect you and help make sure nothing bad happens, okay? I'd hate to be the reason you feel bad, baby.

"But I also need you to tell me what's wrong, because I know something is bothering you and I don't care who I have to call or what I have to do to help, but you need to tell me", he stated.

Your eyes started to feel tight and threatened to spill tears you were sure had been building up for more than a week, "I'm a confident woman, I know what I'm worth", you reasoned, "growing up left from what society thinks women should behave and look like, I've had to grow thick skin and be confident in what I do. It's not that you've had other partners or flings before, it's the way I'm being labelled as your girlfriend. Suddenly, I lost my name, my identity and I'm something to someone, that's what people see.

"I love you, and I love being with you. I've had so many opportunities that I wouldn't have had in other jobs and in other relationships, but I'm not sure losing who I am is a fair price to pay", you added. "I need to think this through. I'm not in the right state to argue this and risk saying something I don't mean and hurt you in the process. I don't want to hurt you, Lando, and I don't won't to be hurt either, I'm sorry", you sighed, looking into his colourful eyes.

"I love you, Y/N, so much", he said as he took a step forward, testing the waters and not getting resistance from you which led him to press his lips on your forehead, depositing a slow and soft kiss there, "I don't want to hurt you either, but... Think about it, okay? Really give it some thought because there's a way and we will find it", he attempted, realising it wasn't his place to tell you how you should feel about something and finding a common ground.

"Sorry to interrupt, guys, but we need your opinion on something, Y/N", Kai asked, sympathetically smiling as you excused yourself from the room and back to the studio area.

Lando went outside to cool off a little, thinking about your discussion and taking the opportunity that he wasn't needed inside for a while.

Had he been a pushover? Was that how you felt? You hadn't been yourself in the past two weeks, but he had put it down to the fact that you had been to the race with him and then Quadrant had this project that you wanted to see through from begging to end and it was on a tight schedule. You wouldn't be persuaded to take it easy, so Lando did his best to make sure you were as well as possible, but he seemed to have failed.

"I don't know how long it will be before they notice I'm gone and need help, so I'm advising you to spit it out while you can", Max jumped in, sitting on the floor and against the wall next to him.

"Just tired, didn't sleep well", Lando muttered. He didn't sleep at all, truth be told, images of your shattered expression kept replaying in his head as he tried to figure out what was happening to you two.

"I suggest you tell me the truth", Max squinted, "so, try again".

"Y/N and I have hit a rough patch? Our first big fight? I'm not sure", he admitted, "she isn't telling me much, but I think it's about the fact that she works for Quadrant, as in the company I, her boyfriend, own and something about treating her like and employee and not my girlfriend", Lando let out, starting to get worked up, "she tells me this, and I've kept my distance, and that's not been good either. Didn't she say that I should treat her like the employee she is?", Lando snapped as his body language showed another set of emotions.

"She is an employee, yes, and she deserves to be treated as such. But she's also the person you come home to, she was someone before she met you, she is a person outside of your relationship and you shouldn't meddle things. You know that dating you isn't easy and she's been getting the backhand of it", Max reasoned as Lando listened intently, "the social media team have been taking care of it, but there have been comments that are less than kind about her on Instagram, the email marketing too...! It's shitty, less than reasonable accusations, but it has been there... Y/N has never liked to be discredited, and I'm not saying you do it per se, but maybe it's where you should go first", he tapped his friend's back.

"She's not letting me in, how am I supposed to know?!", Lando got antsy again, feet tapping the ground incessantly as his breath got quicker and shallower as he struggled to focus a little.

"Is this rage you feel? Anger?", Max checked, handing Lando the ice-cold water bottle so he could focus on the temperature and not spiral out, "you're good, mate? What do you feel?".

"It's fear that I might lose her", Lando said as he allowed himself to cry, "I'm afraid of losing her because of something I did to her unintentionally. Because being my girlfriend is bad for her and I can't be selfish and tell her to be with me when she's suffering. Because I can't help that I'm proud of her and I won't to belt out how proud I am of her work and that I have her?", he let it all out.

"Have you thought about how it feels for her, though? Even for you, there are comments left and right about how you got to where you are, so imagine how it is for her", Max thought out loud, letting it all sink in.

By the time they came back to the studio, the models were gone and, by the looks of it, so were you as they tidied the place.

"Lando, Max", James called, "we're just finishing up and then we'll also get going. Y/N had to leave, she said something about her mother calling her and she needed to go. Didn't look life threateningly urgent, but she had to get going. Also- Lucy, I think her name was -, she left her number here for you", the photographer said, "she asked me to make sure I handed it to you", he smiled, "do you need mine too? I'm assuming it's for the contract payments?".

"Yes, there was a mishap with her contract, but we checked and yours are still there, no worries with that", Lando lied, impressed at his ability to come up with a half decent excuse.

Walking up to his car, Lando threw the card James gave him in one of the bins outside before getting in with Max, "let me just send this text, one minute".

To lovie ✨️

I'll give you all of the time that you need, but I'm not leaving this, I'm not leaving us. You're the love of my life and I'll wait as long as you need me to, so whenever you want to talk, I'm here, baby.

I love you to the moon and the stars 🤍

"I'll be damned if lose her, Max", Lando admitted, resting his elbows on the steering wheel and supporting his head on his hands.

"You two were made for eachother, Lando. You'll figure it out", his best friend comforted.

As he was reversing out of the parking space, his phone beeped with a notification.

From lovie ✨️

Thank you for letting me do that, I appreciate it more than words can say.

I love you to the planets and around the Milky Way.

For now, it brought a smile to his face, and a little hope. And he would hold on to that little hope.

Part 2

[4linos]

the gingerbread fix.

kim seungmin x gn!reader

synopsis: after seungmin unintentionally ruins the gingerbread house you’ve worked hard on, the two of you rebuild together, learning the importance of compromise and enjoying the process.

wc: 989

part 5/8 holiday series. 🎄

The week before Christmas, you’d come up with a fun idea, a gingerbread house decorating competition. You were excited about it, knowing that you and Seungmin could have a fun, festive time together. You’d gathered everything, the gingerbread kits, icing, sprinkles, and candy. It was going to be a lighthearted and playful competition to see who could create the best house, but you didn’t anticipate just how seriously you’d take it.

The night of the competition arrived, and the air was filled with a delicious smell of sugar and gingerbread. Seungmin was enthusiastic at at first, but when it came to decorating, he turned into the class clown. You concentrated on the house, carefully decorating every inch, placing the candy, and ensuring the frosting stayed neatly piped. Meanwhile, Seungmin slapped some frosting here and there, paying little attention to any kind of structure.

With each passing minute, you became more focused. You couldn't help yourself, it wasn't just about winning; it was about doing something special, showing that you cared about doing it right. Seungmin, on the other hand, was having a good time, nonchalantly bothering you as he randomly added candy canes and took nibbles out of the candy pieces. Every time you looked over, he gave you a grin, as if the whole thing was a joke to him. You tried to hold back your increasing frustration, but it came out when Seungmin, chuckling to himself, leaned over and touched your gingerbread house, just to tease you.

The whole thing crumbled.

You froze, staring in disbelief at the pile of crumbled gingerbread. Your heart dropped. You'd worked so hard to make that house perfect, and now it was ruined. Seungmin, still chuckling, stared up at you with wide eyes. He hadn't realized how serious you were about this. "Seungmin," you asked, your voice tight with rage. "What did you do?" His face fell, and he moved back. "Wait, I didn't mean to—" "No! "I've been working on this for hours, and you just…ruined it," you snapped, your words coming out harder than intended. His expression showed guilt, but the frustration was too much.

“I’m sorry,” he said quickly, his voice genuine. “I didn’t mean to mess it up. I was just joking around…”

You shook your head, biting back the anger and disappointment welling up inside you. “I don’t need you to joke around. I thought this was supposed to be fun, but now you’ve ruined it.”

Seungmin stood there, looking helpless. “I didn’t realize you were taking it so seriously.”

You folded your arms across your chest, hurt. “It’s not about that, Seungmin. It’s just… I wanted this to be something special. I wanted to share something with you, but instead you made me feel like it didn’t matter.”

The room fell silent for a minute. Seungmin, for the first time all night, looked completely serious. "I'm really sorry. "I didn't mean to hurt you." He hesitated, then looked down at the mess on the table. "I’ll fix it. "I promise." You didn't respond immediately away, the anger still simmering, but you were beginning to feel the sting of guilt yourself. You snapped at him when he didn't deserve it. You were frustrated and disappointed, but it didn't mean he deserved to be on the receiving end of it.

Later that evening, you went to the kitchen to grab a snack, still giving Seungmin the silent treatment. You were hurt, but you didn’t want to escalate things further. But as you opened the fridge, you heard him come in behind you.

"Sit down," he urged gently, putting you onto the table. "We're not giving up on this." Before you could argue, he had left the room, returning shortly after with two new gingerbread house kits and an apologetic look on his face. "I'm sorry for messing around," he said cautiously, placing the boxes on the table. "Let's do it properly this time, together." You sighed, but couldn't keep the slight smile tugging at the edges of your lips. Despite everything, he was trying. He really was.

“Okay, fine,” you said, sitting back down. “Let’s do it again.”

So the two of you began again, this time more focused and serious. Seungmin, who had not been trying too hard before, now worked quietly beside you, delicately piped the icing, and set the candies with care. His gingerbread house was still a little disorganized, but there was something adorable about how hard he worked to improve things.

As the night progressed, you both began to relax. Your frustration gradually faded away, replaced with laughter as you giggled about how horrible Seungmin's house was looking. Even his decorating attempts failed miserably, but you couldn't help but laugh at how hard he was trying. "You're not winning this time," you mocked, staring at his house, which was leaning to one side and consisted of more sweets than actual construction. Seungmin grumbled, obviously dejected but taking it in stride. "Alright, fine. "I’ll let you win."

You grinned, finally feeling the tension dissipate. “Thanks for letting me win. That’s very generous of you.”

Seungmin smiled sheepishly, giving you a playful shove. “I’m just happy we’re not fighting anymore.”

You both sat back, looking at your respective gingerbread houses, your hearts lighter than they had been earlier. “I’m sorry, too,” you said, your voice soft. “I shouldn’t have snapped at you like that. I was just really excited about this.”

He smiled at you, and the warmth in his gaze made you forget about the previous tension. "It's okay. I'm just glad we're doing this together." "Yeah," you replied, leaning against him. "Next year, though, we're definitely doing this seriously." Seungmin laughed and wrapped his arm around you. "Next year, we'll have an even bigger competition. But for now, let us just enjoy this." And with that, you both giggled together, enjoying the moment while the Christmas lights flickered softly in the backdrop.

//

[taglist: @lixies-favorite-cookie..]

[winchesterwild78]

The Secret He Kept

Master List

Characters: Jensen x Reader 

Warnings: Angst, body image issues

A/N: Sorry not sorry this is full of angst. Kinda been in a funk lately, between work and other things. The month of March is LONG when you’re a teacher. Spring Break isn’t for another week and y’all I am tired. 

Minors DNI 18+

The air in the small apartment was thick, still humming with the afterglow of shared warmth. Jensen’s hand, large and calloused, rested lightly on my hip, the weight a comforting pressure. We lay tangled in the sheets, the scent of vanilla and something distinctly him filling the room. A contented sigh escaped my lips as I turned my head, watching the late afternoon sun paint stripes across his strong jaw.

Then, his phone rang. A sharp, jarring trill that ripped through the quiet intimacy. He glanced at the screen, a flicker of something unreadable crossing his face, and answered with a casual, "Hey, Jared."

The conversation was light, filled with the easy banter of old friends. But as he spoke, his eyes drifted away from mine, his attention completely consumed by the tiny rectangle in his hand. He laughed at a joke I didn't hear, his voice dropping into that familiar, low rumble that always sent shivers down my spine.

"Yeah, sure," he said, a careless tone in his voice. "Blind date? Sounds good. When?"

My breath hitched. A blind date? He was going on a blind date? My fingers tightened on the rumpled sheets, the soft cotton suddenly feeling rough against my skin.

He hung up, the silence that followed heavy and charged. "Everything okay?" I asked, my voice tight.

"Yeah, just Jared," he said, his eyes finally meeting mine, but they were distant, guarded.

"A blind date?" I repeated, the question hanging in the air.

"He set me up," he shrugged, a dismissive wave of his hand. "It's nothing."

"Nothing?" I echoed, my voice rising. "You're going on a blind date when you just… when we…" I trailed off, the words catching in my throat.

"Look," he said, his voice hardening. "It's just a date. It's not a big deal."

"It's a big deal to me," I said, my voice shaking. "I'm tired of this, Jensen. I'm tired of being a secret. I'm tired of being something you hide away."

"Don't start," he snapped, his eyes flashing.

"Start what?" I retorted, pushing myself up against the headboard. "Start telling you that I deserve more than this? That I deserve to be acknowledged? That I deserve to be loved without shame?"

"You're being dramatic," he said, his jaw clenched.

"Am I?" I asked, tears stinging my eyes. "Or am I finally seeing the truth? You're ashamed of me, aren't you? You're ashamed of my body."

He flinched, a flicker of guilt crossing his face, but he quickly masked it with anger. "That's not true."

"Then prove it," I said, my voice trembling. "Tell them. Tell the world. Tell them I'm the woman you love. Make a choice, Jensen. Either you admit to this, to us, or I'm done."

He stared at me, his eyes dark and stormy. "You don't mean that."

"I've never been more serious," I said, my voice breaking. "Get out."

He stood and got dressed, his face a mask of anger and disbelief. He didn't say another word, just turned and walked out the door, the click of the lock echoing like a gunshot in the silent apartment.

Months crawled by, each day a dull ache in my chest. I heard nothing from him, no calls, no texts, nothing. Slowly, painfully, I began to piece myself back together. I went on a date, trying to move on.

The restaurant was dimly lit, the soft murmur of conversation filling the air. My date was nice, kind, but my mind kept drifting. Then, I saw him. Jensen.

He was sitting at a table across the room, his arm draped casually around a slender redhead. She was beautiful, effortlessly so, with long, flowing hair and a figure that seemed sculpted from moonlight. The complete opposite of me.

Our eyes met. A flash of something, maybe regret, maybe pain, flickered across his face. I excused myself to the bathroom, my heart pounding in my ears.

When I emerged, he was standing there, leaning against the wall, his expression unreadable.

"Hey," he said, his voice low.

"Hey," I replied, my voice barely a whisper.

"How are you?" he asked, his eyes searching mine.

"I'm fine," I said, my voice flat. "And you?"

"I'm… okay," he said, his gaze dropping to the floor. "Look, I…"

"Don't," I interrupted, my voice sharp. "Don't say anything. It's too late."

"I miss you," he said, his voice thick with emotion.

"You had your chance," I said, my voice trembling. "You made your choice."

He looked up at me, his eyes filled with a raw, aching pain. "I know," he whispered. "And I regret it every single day."

A soft chuckle escaped my mouth, “Yeah, it seems like you regret it. You could have called, texted, hell you could have shown up. But you didn’t.”

Jensen’s eyes met mine. I saw the regret, but he made his choice. “She’s beautiful, Jensen. Everything you’ve always wanted. I hope you two are happy together. I only wanted you to be happy. I was just foolish enough to think it could have been with me.”

He reached for my arm but I pulled away, “I’m sorry, Y/N. I was a coward. Consumed with image.” 

His hand lightly brushed my hair off my cheek, “I miss you so much. I miss us.” 

I smiled softly, “Jensen, I have to go. My date is waiting. Goodbye.”

I walked past him quickly because I knew if I stayed any longer I’d take him back. 

As the evening wore on my date and I were so wrapped up in our conversation I didn’t see Jensen approaching.

My date was the first to see him. His eyes wide as Jensen stood by the table. 

He extended his hand, “Hi, I’m Jensen.”

My date’s mouth hit the floor as he took Jensen’s hand, “Hi, I know who you are. I’m a huge fan. I’m Matthew.” 

Jensen shook his hand and then looked over at me, “Hi Y/N, it’s great to see you again. You look fantastic.” 

My eyes flashed with anger and hurt. I tilted my head, “Jensen.” 

Matthew saw the tension, “So, how do you two know each other?” His voice quivered a little.

I looked at Jensen and he looked at me. Before he could say anything I answered, “Oh I met him at some conventions a long time ago.”

Jensen’s eyes filled with hurt. I looked away. Matthew knew there was something more.

Jensen opened his mouth to speak, “Well that’s true, but we dated for a while too, almost a year. I was foolish and let her get away.”

My head spun and I looked at him with a gasp. He’d never admitted we dated before.

Matthew’s eyes went wide. He’d known my last boyfriend had broken my heart, chose his image over me, but he had no idea it was Jensen.

He looked at me, “So he’s the ex who broke your heart?”

I just nodded. I couldn’t speak. 

Jensen looked at Matthew and placed a hand on his shoulder, “Treat her right man, she’s hard to get over. That is if you ever can.”

His eyes met mine and my breath hitched. 

He walked back to his date and they left. Before he walked out the door he turned and looked at me one last time.

My eyes filled with tears because Jensen Ackles was the one that got away.

Tags are open, if you want to be added or removed, let me know.  

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[loveroftoomanyfandoms]

Twist of Fate

Pairing: Foggy Nelson X Reader

Rating: T (Although it's probably more on the G side)

Word count: ~1700

Story Summary: You run into your jerk of an ex-boyfriend after being stood up for a first date at a local bar.

Luckily for you, however, a handsome blond-haired stranger comes to your rescue...

Tags: Meet-cute, nothing but fluffy goodness

A/N: Welcome to my very first Foggy Nelson fic! This is just a short little thing to get me comfortable with writing him, but it has potential to become a multi-chapter fic (plus I plan to write Foggy's version of events as a companion piece), so if you'd like to be tagged in updates to this or other Foggy stories (or anything else I write) please let me know!

Thanks to @shiorimakibawrites for the quick beta!

Where is he? you thought to yourself as you waited for your date to show up to the bar you were currently at. He was supposed to be here 30 minutes ago… Did I get the day wrong?

You pulled your phone out of your pocket and scrolled through the messages on the dating app you and he had matched on. Nope. Thursday, 7 PM, Josie's Bar. Guess I got stood up.

You sighed and got up from the worn leather booth at which you had been sitting. Might as well grab a drink before I go home.

You started towards the bar, freezing when you locked eyes with your ex-boyfriend, who had been standing over by the pool tables. Of course. As if tonight couldn't get any worse. 

It had taken an entire year after your relationship with Jason had ended for you to be ready to get back out onto the dating scene, and the absolute last thing you wanted after being stood up for your very first date post-breakup was to run into him .

You cringed as he said your name, wanting nothing more than for the earth to open up and swallow you whole. “Jason.”

A smarmy smirk spread across Jason's face. “Yeah, I thought that was you.”

He eyed you up and down. “How have you been? You look good.”

“ I've been well.” No thanks to you, you added silently.

“How about a drink?”

You shook your head. “Actually, I'm meeting someone, so I should go.”

Jason grabbed your elbow as you turned to leave. “Really? Because I've been watching you for the past 30 minutes and it’s pretty clear that whoever you're waiting for isn't gonna show up.”

Your blood froze. “Let me go, Jason.”

Instead of releasing you, Jason's grip tightened.  “Come on, baby, just one drink for old time’s sake. Then maybe we can head back to my place, catch up properly--”

“-- There you are, beautiful.”

You felt Jason's grip loosen as a very attractive blonde-haired man slipped his arm loosely around your waist.

“Sorry I'm late,” the man continued. “I was working on my opening argument for court next week and lost track of time.”

You broke free of Jason's grasp as you stepped into the man’s hold, thankful for the rescue. “It's alright, honey. We still have time for pre-dinner drinks before our reservation.”

The man nodded, slightly tightening his hold on you at your willingness to play along. “By the way, I have something special planned for after dinner tonight.”

You let out a fake giggle and lightly tapped the man on his chest. “Mmm, I certainly hope it's what I think it is.”

The man grinned. “You’ll have to wait and see, but I definitely think you'll enjoy it.”

He turned towards Jason, pretending to have just noticed him. “Sorry, didn't see ya there. Franklin Nelson. And you are?”

Jason scowled, obviously displeased at the fact that you seemingly had been waiting on someone. “Just leaving.”

You held back a sigh of relief. Thank God. 

Jason looked back over at you. “I'll catch up with you later.”

God, I hope not. “Mmm.”

You waited until Jason threw back the rest of the beer he had been holding and left the bar before breathing a sigh of relief and stepping away from your mysterious rescuer. “Thank you so much for that… Franklin, was it?”

Franklin nodded as he let go of your waist. “Right, but everyone actually calls me Foggy.”

You introduced yourself. “It’s nice to meet you.”

“Nice to meet you too. And you're welcome, by the way. You looked uncomfortable, so I figured that guy’s attention was unwanted.”

You nodded. “Yeah, that was my ex-boyfriend. The relationship was… let's just say ‘not very healthy’, so seeing him tonight brought back a lot of bad memories.” 

Foggy studied you for a moment. “I'm really sorry about that. How long were you together?”

“Three years.” You rubbed your elbow at the memory of Jason's grasp on it. “I should've left him way sooner than I did, it's just that he…” You trailed off.

Foggy huffed out a mirthless laugh. “Don't tell me, he kept promising he'd change.”

“Actually, no. He gaslit me into believing that no one else would want me and that I was lucky to have him.” You shook your head. “Anyway, I really appreciate your help. Can I buy you a drink as a thank-you?”

Foggy shook his head, a small smile on his face. “How about I buy you a drink instead? After all, it's not every day I get to rescue a beautiful woman from an uncomfortable encounter with her ex.”

Your face heated as you nodded. “Okay.”

“Great! What'll you have?”

You gave Foggy your drink order. “I'll go get us a booth?”

Foggy nodded. “Sounds good. I'll be right back.”

“Okay.”

You sat down in an empty booth and pulled out your phone, sighing once again at the lack of communication from Timothy, your supposed-to-have-been date for the evening.

You put your phone away and watched as Foggy chatted amiably with the bartender while he waited for your drinks.

He laughed at something the bartender said. “You know it. Thanks, Josie.”

He picked up your drinks and headed over to you.

“Thank you,” you said as he set your drink down then sat across from you.

“‘Welcome,” Foggy replied. “So what brings you out here tonight?”

You shrugged. “I was supposed to be meeting someone for a first date, but he didn't show.”

A small smirk formed on Foggy's lips. “I guess his loss is my gain then, huh?”

You couldn't help but smile at his charm. “I guess so. What about you? What brings you out here tonight?”

“I was supposed to be having after-work drinks with a friend, but something came up and he cancelled on me.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Well then… I guess his loss is my gain, right?”

Foggy grinned and raised his beer bottle. “To cancelled plans.”

You raised your drink as well. “ And to being stood up -- although in this case I don't think I actually mind.”

You lightly clinked your drink against his then took a sip. “So, tell me about yourself. What do you do when you're not being a knight in shining business suit?” 

Foggy chuckled. “I'm an attorney with Nelson, Murdock, and Page.”

You nodded. Foggy had said something about prepping for court when he was rescuing you from Jason. “What kind of law do you practice?”

“All sorts, but these days it's mostly criminal defense.”

Your brows furrowed as a memory struck you. “Wait, weren't you one of the attorneys who took Wilson Fisk down a few years back?”

Foggy nodded. “Guilty as charged. Unfortunately the feds screwed that one up.”

You shook your head. “Still, that's impressive.”

You and Foggy continued talking, with him telling you about his family, who owned Nelson's Meats over on 59th, his law partners, Matt and Karen, and his time practicing corporate law (“don’t get me wrong,” he said, “the money was great, but it felt a little bit like I was selling my soul”), while you told him about your own family and friends.

You paused as your phone lit up with a new message from Timothy. Sorry, I don't think I'm actually ready to date yet. Hope you didn't wait too long for me.

You snorted derisively. “So I just heard from the guy I was supposed to be having drinks with tonight.”

Foggy's eyebrows raised. “Bit late letting you know he wasn't going to make it, isn't he?”

“Yeah, it's been --” You checked the time. “Wow, we've been sitting here for over two and a half hours. I should be getting home soon, I didn't realize it was so late.”

“Do you live far?”

You shook your head. “No, I'm just a few blocks away.”

Foggy bit his lip. “In that case… is it okay if I walk you home?”

You smiled. “Yeah, I'd appreciate that. Thanks.”

You stood and waited as Foggy brought your long-since-empty drinkware back over to the bar and bade the bartender (who you had learned was actually the owner, Josie) goodbye.

Foggy walked back over to you with a smile. “Shall we, then?”

You nodded. “Yep, all set.”

You smiled at Foggy as he held the door open for you to step through. “Thank you.”

“You're welcome.” Foggy followed you into the cool night air. “Alrighty, so which way are we going?”

“Oh, uh…” You gestured in the direction of your apartment building. “This way.”

The two of you set off down the sidewalk.

You glanced over at Foggy as you walked together. “By the way, I, uh, I had a really nice time tonight.”

Foggy looked over at you with a smile in return. “So did I. In fact, I was, um, I was wondering if maybe you’d want to have dinner with me? Say… Saturday night?”

Your heart fluttered. “I'd love to.”

“Great! I was thinking maybe Sullivan's? 7:30?”

You nodded. “Yeah, that sounds good.”

Foggy pulled out his phone as the two of you stopped at a crosswalk. “Give me your number and I'll text you tomorrow to confirm once I make a reservation.”

You waited as Foggy added your name as a new contact, then recited your phone number. A few seconds later, you felt your phone vibrate in your pocket.

“Okay,” Foggy said, pocketing his phone as the crosswalk light changed to ‘ walk ’. “You should have mine now.”

You quickly checked your phone and saw that you had received a text message from an unsaved number. “Yep, looks like it came through.”

You put your phone back in your pocket as you and Foggy reached your apartment building. “This is me, by the way. Thanks for walking me home.”

Foggy shook his head. “It was my pleasure, really.”

You shyly bit your lip. “So I'll… see you Saturday night?”

“Yeah.” Foggy leaned in and gave you a soft kiss on the cheek. “‘Night.”

Your face heated as a smile spread across your lips. “Goodnight, Foggy.”

You turned and headed inside your building, your smile remaining as you made your way up to your apartment.

Tonight hadn't turned out the way you had expected…

…It had turned out even better.

[erideights]

Little pieces here and there (4)

Pairing: Buggy x Fem!Reader (One Piece Live Action)

Parts: one, two, three, five

Word Count: 4,2K, i should ask for forgiveness

Warnings: flirting, pinning, (FUCKING) FINALLY, unprotected sex, buggy detaching parts of his body during sex like the freak he is

A/N: i've been building this moment so long that i was, once more, inspired by god to make this chapter the longest ever, i hope you all enjoy and that the awaited smut doesn't disappoint and delivers (let me know, anxiety is killing me, love u all, see you in chapter 5, the final (until season 2) of this series) (again i'm really really sorry for any grammatical mistake!)

Day 5 after what happened during the Arlong Park fight, or what is the same for her = 5 AAP, (Y/N) is sure about three things:

1. With the choice of leaving her mercenary life behind, comes her new position as the ''strategist'' of the Straw Hat crew, a group of very unique people that after a couple of stops along the way, would arrive at the Grand Line.

2. Their next destination is Loguetown, which excited her; she loved the city, she never turned down an assignment that involved working there. They would arrive in a couple of days and stock up on everything they would need before beginning the greatest adventure of their lives.

3. Buggy's nose was real. Very real. And she missed him. Just a bit.

To be more precise, that bit of tension and constant sarcasm around her. She knew he was a pain in the ass, and that his staying on the ship wouldn't have lasted much more than an extra day and a half because one of her crewmates -Zoro- would have unceremoniously thrown him overboard anytime.

But it was really fun for her, so from time to time and in particular, when she passes by the helm, she finds herself remembering that annoying talking head and smiling a bit.

And so, after an entire week, they arrive at the famous Loguetown, the tomb of the most famous pirate of all time, a refuge for mercenaries, pirates and bounty hunters from all corners of the East Blue! No matter what, everything your heart could desire -except for the One Piece- you could find there. Jewelry, weapons, food, alcohol, a good bed to sleep and rest in, or other darker, macabre and adult types of entertainment.

Ah, what a city. Anyone could get lost among its endless alleys packed with people. That's why when the crew splits up, they do it in pairs, making sure that Zoro, who they had already discovered, lacked complete and utter sense of direction, wouldn't be left alone and lost among the city's infinite tide of pirates. (Y/N) is the one who goes with him, both heading to the largest armory in the city to replace his destroyed katanas while Sanji and Luffy take care of the food, and Usopp and Nami go around to do… she doesn’t really remember what. Trying clothes she believes.

She must say, however, that this swordsman is not exactly the most talkative person in the world even though their friendship has considerably grown and deepened during their little journey. Apart from sharing small notes about the city, how many people there are, or what they should do, they don't really talk that much; in her case, because she is absorbed in her surroundings, soaking in every possible detail. Him, silent because his reputation as a pirate hunter is famous around all the East Blue, and of course, in Loguetown there are only pirates. He prefers to stay alert to avoid future conflicts and have a peaceful morning. Not for him, but for his crew.

That's why when a gloved hand flies out of a dark alley, and violently covers the girl's mouth and nose, preventing her from screaming, while another grabs her by the waistband of her pants and yanks her back, forcing her to get in said alley, Zoro doesn't even notice, he continues calmly walking, minding his own fucking business, heading to only God knows where.

Farewell, mosshead.

In a blink, (Y/N)'s back collides with a strong torso, and with her heart in her mouth and adrenaline running wild in her veins, she stretches her right hand to reach the knife she has in the holster on her right thigh to destroy the asshole that dares to try to steal from her. Or murder her. Or that's her idea until she hears a familiar voice murmuring an “I got you” behind her, before turning her head and discovering the biggest, reckless buffoon she's ever met.

Buggy.

Eyes wide open, she screams against his palm, pissed off by the way he scared the shit outta her. Extremely angry, she yanks his hand away from her mouth, turns her entire body around and looks at him with what he would swear, is the most annoyed expression he ever saw in his entire life. Before the clown can excuse himself and his lack of manners, just as she begins to see that stupid smile appear on his stupid face, she slaps him so hard that for a second, he thinks his head will detach from the rest of his body.

Then, and pushed by an outburst of passion that comes out of she doesn’t even understand where, a mixture of adrenaline, surprise, her desire to kill him with her own hands and the -sexual- frustration with which he abandoned her the last time, she grabs his vest, pulls and kisses him. Again, all before Buggy can even react.

The kiss is brief. Really quick, but intense as hell, and she manages to leave him breathless. Yes, him. Only him. Because the moment they separate, when (Y/N) pushes him back, she spits out a heartfelt “You're an idiot!”

What a fucking rollercoaster. He doesn't even remember what he was about to say anymore to greet her. He's in fact, too stunned to speak. Did she slapped, kissed, and insulted him in less than a minute? Oh, she's a freak, just like him. The only difference between them is that she knows how to pretend the opposite. But she can't hide it from him. Not to the king of the freaks.

''I missed you too, baby'' he admits with an amused smile, moving his jaw a little from side to side, as well as his neck; that woman is stronger than he expected.

''Yeah? Because I really didn’t.’’ she spits once again, taking a deep breath. ''Liar'' he retorts, eyeing her up and down. ''Liir'' she instantly mocks, still recovering from the tsunami of emotions that just passed through her. ''What the fuck are you doing in Loguetown?''

''I came looking for my sorry excuses for a supporting cast,'' his crew. Were they still alive? Would have sworn Zoro destroyed all of them but who knew. ''and turns out I found the perfect, shiny, little new supporting star for my show'' he adds, as flirtatious as always around her, approaching (Y/N) again.

''Oh, I feel flattered but as I already told you, I don't like being in the spotlight. I relate way more to the shadow around it.”

He rolls his eyes but nods in understanding, reaching out to grab the girl's waist. ''Mhm. What about a private show, then? We have a play to finish, If my memory's not betraying me.'' He whispers honeyed, closing the distance between the two just a bit more. Cannot stop himself, neither he wants to. He knew as soon as he recognized her on the street, he would not let her go without putting order in their outstanding matters.

She’s about to add her usual sarcastic and smartass remark saying something among the lines of ‘without inviting me to dinner first?’ but she chooses not to. Just for once. ''I could agree to that.'' The girl admits, tilting a smile. ''Not here, tho.'' Pressing the clown's chest with her index finger, signaling for him to stay still, (Y/N) runs her tongue over her upper teeth, taking a couple of seconds to think.

In the end, she raises an eyebrow, and with an amused smile, she asks: “Do you trust me?”

''Not in a million years''

''I knew you would say that.'' She still takes one of his hands, that was still on her waist, and starts walking quite fast towards the other end of the alley, pulling him with her. He doesn’t object at all, despite not knowing where the hell is she taking him, and simply follows her lead, unconsciously squeezing her hand to not to lose her in the crowd.

Not many minutes later, after climbing some stairs and turning a few streets, there they are, in front of a beautiful tavern with windows decorated with ornate dark wooden planks, designing patterns of small squares, offering a beautiful view of its interior. The building was not one of the largest in the area, but it was not one of the smallest either. She knew from experience* that the floors above the tavern were rooms rented to the pickiest pirates. They had enough space to rest comfortably after a long voyage at sea, with a good bed and several locks on the doors and windows to prevent intrusions, attempts at robbery or murder, or a drunken idiot making a mistake and entering the wrong room.

*She knows this because a couple of years ago she needed to sneak in during the night to steal a jade seal from a famous pirate captain, who had previously stolen it from the temple it belonged to a few months before. Getting in wasn't easy at all.

Walking to the side of the building, where the windows of the rooms can be seen better, (Y/N) looks right, then left, making sure there’s no one nosing around.

‘’Here we are.’’ She announces, looking at him with a devilish smirk on her face. ''Now pay attention, here's my brilliant, unique and exceptional plan. It will absolutely blow your mind.’’ He cracks a genuine smile after hearing how she praised herself. She sounded almost like him. 

“First step: Throw your head up to that window over there,” she points said window with her index finger, two floors above their heads, “and tell me if there’s someone sleeping inside. Or if you see any sign someone rented the room.’’

Confusion is the feeling that crosses his beautiful face for a second, looking at her with a raised eyebrow and lips pressed into a small incredulous smile. She wants to sneak through the window without being seen and not pay a single berry? Exactly what a true pirate would do. He was starting to fall in love with her.

Without a second thought, his head separates from his body and floats to the open window, slightly sneaking in to check as she asked. And as fast as it goes up, it returns back down, just like a yo-yo. ''Clear'' He confirms, amused. 

''Perfect, second step: now throw your right hand, same window, and leave it there.'' And he does as she says, no questions asked, because he could not do otherwise. Because he wouldn't want to do otherwise. He was not made to follow orders and still, deep down, he knows he would follow hers. Or better said… he would follow her around. She was, maybe, not a theatre kid like him, but to his eyes, she shines brightly.

Not as much as him, tho.

Once Buggy's right hand waits patiently on the window frame, (Y/N) grabs the clown by the shoulders and strategically positions him under the window. Then she takes his left hand, bringing it forward. "Third step: with this hand you propel me into the air, with the other you grab me and you help me sneak in."

''And the final step?'' Getting very close to his face, the girl rubs her nose against his and whispers, voice low and lustful, ''You float to the window and meet me inside for that private show you mentioned before.'' He already knew the goal of that whole improvised plan, but he almost purrs when he hears her say it.

Then Buggy throws her upwards without prior notice, way stronger than she expected, and a sweet, genuine laugh escapes (Y/N)'s lips at the lack of gravity and that distinctive tickle in her stomach that rises to her throat. Not even when he uses that floating hand to catch her and guide her to the room, her feet on solid ground again, she’s able to stop laughing.

She expected this whole forbidden getaway to be entertaining, but not so, so fun. There was no point in denying the obvious: the complicity, the chemistry between them is criminal, asphyxiating, palpable, and so, so /real/. It's not only about physical attraction and sexual tension anymore, they were actually really compatible, which could only, and is already, making things one hundred times better.

As soon as she's inside, still giggling a bit, she's quick to reach the door and securely close it, fitting the bolt with a pair of lockpicks that she had on her. On the other hand, as soon as Buggy gets inside the room he chooses not to lose a single second, because every second he wastes is one less that he can enjoy that fantastic woman who is driving him crazy; before she can return to the center of the room, he has already recovered his right hand, thrown his hat to the floor along with his coat, and has rushed towards her, kissing her again, this time without a hurry, but voraciously, passionately, with the irresistible yearning he has been suffering for almost two weeks. He wants-- no, he needs to make her his. The desire making his blood boil. Her warmth, her smell, the taste of her lips-- even her laugh. It was too much. Too intoxicating.

(Y/N) welcomes him, sighing deeply against his lips, tilting her head a little, melting in the kiss, her hands flying to his hair to take out the bandana and pull at his blue locks, to which Buggy responds by grabbing her from the back of her thighs, lifting her up and carrying her to the bed, near the window. He lets some of his weight fall onto her, loosely holding himself on his knees on the mattress. She closes her legs around his waist, pressing him even a little closer against her body, excitement coursing through her veins like poison.

All that little game with the clown was just flirting, huh? Yeah, sure.

For a minute, everything is kisses, stealing each other's breaths, strong caresses on arms, legs, and back over clothes. There are bites at each other's lips, seemingly incapable of getting enough of the other, the attraction between them driving them both so absolutely insane than getting some distance to get naked seems impossible.

“Baby,” raspily, he press his crotch between her legs to let her feel his growing erection under his pants. ''I suggest you getting naked before I rip your clothes off by myself.''

She moans in response, wetter, more aroused by every second passing, unable to even think about playing hard to get this time. ''Aye aye captain'' she manages to whisper back mischievously, separating her hands from his body in order to pull her own shirt up and throw it somewhere in the room.

He grunts, but makes the titanic effort to separate himself from her, standing on his knees in front of her laying body, licking his lips, breathing heavily, eyes half-closed, already fucking her in his thoughts. Of course, seeing her undress for him is quite a show.

After her shirt comes the button and zipper of her pants. Although before getting rid of these, she pulls the scarf around the clown's neck, forcing him to lean over her again, and after it goes his vest. Given the girl's haste, he lets escape a hoarse laugh that reverberates inside his chest and decides to help her with whatever’s left between them; shoes, pants, gloves, and underwear.

''You're gorgeous'' he breathes, taking in her image in front of him. “You’re almost making me feel guilty for what I'm about to do.”

Before she could even ask, or threaten with a ‘don't you fucking dare’ or something among those lines, one of Buggy's hands flies to her own, and pins her wrists against the bed with such force, she hisses, heart in her throat, deafening her ears. She remembers herself, this was all too good to be true, and that damn clown promised to make her beg. He wasn't going to forgive her so easily, was he?

Her fault.

''Sweetheart, open your beautiful legs for me, will you?'' Returning to the bed, the clown settles between the girl's thighs, running -with the only hand still attached to his body-, one of her legs, from the knee to the hip bone in a slow and tortuous caress.

''Now, I'm pretty sure I warned you about what's about to happen last time you took advantage of my... uncomfortable, kinda-hostage situation on your stupid little boat. When you decided to push me to my limit.''

She is too aroused, too turned on to think clearly, her mind clouded by the same rush of hormones that’s making her incredibly wet. Having him now naked between her legs, threatening her in that low tone of voice, exposed helplessly in front of him, doesn't help at all; it is, as a matter of fact, making things way worse.

''You wanted me to beg, right?’’

''Exactly. It's that easy.'' After a couple of strokes, he grabs his erection and runs it slowly through her wet folds, both of them barely containing a moan in their throats at the sensation. He, perhaps, better than her, because (Y/N) involuntarily pushes her hips upwards, trying to get some more. ''Ah-ah. Want me to fuck you, sweetheart? Just beg for it. Beg for /me/.''

Being the proud woman she is, it's not exactly easy for her to seriously beg for something. Joking? Of course, any time, even sarcastically, but something is telling her, her sixth sense probably, he won't settle with a sarcastic remark and dove eyes.

Closing her eyes tightly, she lets herself be carried away by pure and absolute desperation every time he runs his erection through her, lubricating himself with her fluids. He is silent, already tasting the sweet victory he’ll feel when he manages to break her and make her beg. Although this doesn't happen as quickly as he would have preferred.

''(Y/N)'' He warns, and it's the first time he says her name out loud. The first time she hears him, with his raspy voice and his beautiful accent, pronouncing her real name instead of some compliment or silly nickname to call her.

Welcome, breaking point.

''Beg--'' 

''I need you,'' she interrupts him in a low whimper, lifting her hips. ''Bugs-- Buggy, I need you to fuck me. Now.”

Usually, it's moments like this particular one in which the clown enjoys recreating himself, making others beg a little more, -sex, mercy, forgiveness- doesn’t matter-, taking his good time listening to her moans and cries of desperation. But he can't help it, the second he hears the girl call him by his name, telling him how much she needs him, and that silly attempt of an order at the end, he knows it’s game over, and he decides to give her exactly what she wants, penetrating her suddenly the last time he runs slowly through her folds. A sweet moan of relief and pleasure escapes from (Y/N) chest along with a "Fuck, Buggy--". From him, a hoarse grunt. A shiver runs down their spines, and quickly, Buggy recovers his other hand, freeing her from his grip, to aggressively pull both of her thighs to bring her closer to him, and begins to thrust hard, all shreds of self-control escaping from his body lightspeed.

He pushes into her as deep as he can in no time, burying himself between her legs, face hidden in the crook of her neck, hands keeping her legs open, close to his hips.

She doesn't know what she likes more, the erratic sound of his breathing and panting in her ear, the desperation with which his whole body seems to search for hers or each penetration sending an ecstasy shock through her nerves, but she soon becomes a puddle of sweet moans, whimpers and breathing as heavy as his, one hand pulling hard at his blue hair, the other resting on his abdomen, nails digging slightly his skin with each thrust.

''Oh god, Bugs--’’

''Moan my name louder baby,'' he breathes before biting her shoulder, leaving the mark of his teeth imprinted on her skin. ''I want them to catch us. I want them hearing you scream my name.”

And she does. She moans his name again, just not as loud as he wants. Which means there is something, something he can do better. Something to push her to her limit, to make her a believer, and make her /his/.

Summoning all his willpower, and not before one last, violent thrust, the clown stops and suddenly pulls out of her. (Y/N) complains with a loud cry, opening her eyes to ask what the fuck is he actually doing, how dares he to stop. Thank God, she doesn't have time to threaten him before he speaks.

''On your knees.'' And of course she obliges, on all fours, the simple idea making her completely lose her mind. Only thing, Buggy doesn't intend to keep her like this for a long time; as soon as she exposes herself for him again, he buries himself once more inside her as deep as he can and starts thrusting again, slowly but strongly, ending each thrust with a loud slam. This time, both hands separate from his body, one reaching for her delicate neck, which he circles with his fingers and presses to lightly cut off her breathing. The other one flies to her mouth, pushing between her lips with two fingers that she soaks in her saliva.

(Y/N), unable to articulate a single complaint, sucks, bites and licks them, muffling against them every sound that escapes her throat.

A pleasure shock, like a lightning bolt, forces her to arch her back the moment that same hand flies to her clitoris and starts masturbating it, overstimulating her.

Buggy is really determined to make her his, to not let her forget about him, to become the legitimate protagonist of each of her erotic fantasies, so to finish driving her crazy, the hand he has around her neck lifts her up, pulling her until he forces her back against his torso in a beautiful reference to the day they met and the first time he felt that magnetic attraction inevitably pulling him towards her.

''So. Much. Better,” he manages to whisper between grunts and raspy moans, surrounding her abdomen with one of his arms to keep her in place, close to his chest, sacrificing penetrating her as deeply as he would like but without caring in the slightless because he knows, she is quickly reaching her orgasm. He can feel it in the way her walls contract around his cock, in the beating of her heart in her throat against his hand, and in how her hands reach for anything, trying to support herself; in this case, his arm around her, nails scratching his skin.

''C'mon baby, cum for me.'' He groans, refusing to fall headfirst to his own orgasm because he doesn't plan to finish before her. Under other circumstances he would have done it, he has never been the kind of generous lover who thinks of his partner's pleasure before his own. This woman is breaking some old habits and patterns just being the way she is. And he doesn't care at all.

A few more thrust, the lack of enough oxygen in her lungs and that wonderful pressure on her clitoris, and (Y/N) explodes in an orgasm so strong she begins to breathless moan Buggy’s name over and over again like a mantra, which obviously feeds his ego so, so much, it ends up sending him over the same edge, moaning her name under his breath, resting his forehead on her shoulder, hugging her body tightly as they ride their climax.

                                        …

''Told you I would make you beg'' he cracks a devilish smirk, wrapping his right arm around her shoulders when he finally lies on the mattress.

''Yeah'' she giggles, although sarcastically, recovering by the second, enough clarity to recompose her own ego. ''You also told me you would make me find the One Piece without going to the Grand Line and I cannot see it anywhere yet.''

What a subtle way of asking for a second round, he thinks to himself, clearly pleased -instead of offended- for the way his smile stretches even more, looking intently at her.

“You're right.” He would have liked to lie on the bed for a while, getting back some energy and attack again, but damn him if he ever dares to reject a provocation as bold as that one. He wouldn't forgive himself.

Getting out of bed almost as quickly as he lay down a few minutes ago, Buggy cracks his neck from side to side, and taking one of the chairs next to the table in the room, he turns it in the air, leaving it pointing towards the girl.

He then sits down, leaning on the backrest, relaxed, exhaling an erotic, slow sigh as he exaggeratedly separates his legs in a clear invitation for her to come closer and sit on them.

"What did you say the other day? About liking a man with his entire body, capable of fucking you in his lap and making you scream his name?"

[kisblle]

Quenched

Pairing piece to Starved - you can find here -

https://www.tumblr.com/kisblle/769006797246840832/starved?source=share

Pairing: Arthur Morgan x Female Reader

Author's Note: For some reason I LOVE imagining High Honor Arthur so confused, awkward, and utterly obsessed with women - especially after your last rendesvouz with him *wink wink.* If you haven't read the first part, I highly encourage you to read it as I have it tagged above (I apoligize for the ugly link, I'm still trying to figure out Tumbr.) I've had the first part of this written for sometime now, but for the past few weeks I've been going back and forth between several other Arthur fan fictions I've been wanting to write, and I finally got around to finishing this one. So all in all, enjoy!

PS: My 2019 Macbook air decided to stop spell checking for me, so please give me a break on any errors present.

Summary: It's your turn.

Warning: MDNI, graphic sexual contact, oral sex

-

It was no secret that Arthur liked to wander.

And for the past several days he had been wandering over New Hanover doing absolutely nothing but trying to shake the thought of you.

Shot a rabbit once or twice, caught a couple fish near Owanjila, bought a treasure map off of a so called “adventurer.” But nothing seemed to cure him from the incessant memory that was you with his cock down your throat.

Now, as Arthur kicked pebbles down the Dakota River, a budding erection forming in his work jeans, he couldn’t help but to feel guilty. Arthur was no saint, and Hell would have to freeze over before he called himself one, but he knew the difference between right and wrong.

The cowboy knew you weren’t some cheap pair of legs he had bought at the saloon. He didn’t pay for your company, everything you did was out of your own free will. And perhaps that’s why he felt so guilty. Because when you stared at him, with that god awful grin plastered on your face, he didn’t take your hand and throw you on the cot with him.

He didn’t return the favor.

And now that’s all he dreamt of.

Your sweet juices pouring down his stubble as your delicate hands roamed through his hair. His tongue dancing against your sweet cunt as he looked up at your disheveled face. Your legs tightening around his neck in such pleasure that you were forced to moan into a pillow to silence yourself.

The thought itself turned him mad.

The cowboy let out an exuberant huff, realizing what he had to do. Whistling for his Turkoman, he jumps on the back of his mare, riding swiftly to Horseshoe Overlook as the sun falls below the horizon.

-

“Good to see you Arthur,” Hosea chimes as the gunslinger enters back into camp, slinging his saddle across the hitching post with a loud thump.

But the outlaw ignores his mentor.

Like a man on a mission, Arthur's sharp eyes scan the camp until they land on you standing by the fire, a half-drunk beer in hand. His stomach tightens as he watches Sean tell a joke, the small crowd, including you, erupting into a deafening roar of laughter.

Without another thought, the cowboy stalks towards the crowded campfire, placing himself silently beside you, doing his best to remain unnoticed. With a shaky exhale, he drags his calloused pinky across the side of your hand inconspicously, desperate to divert your attention from ostentatious irishman.

Like rain on a cool summer day, Arthur's heart pitter-patters inside his chest when your eyes widen in realization, meeting his with a dumbfounded gaze. His stomach nearly dropping as your lips gently part, just as they had for him in privacy all those days ago.

“Mr. Morgan,” you whisper in acknowledgment, a knowing grin tugging at your lips.

As your sultry gaze met his, Arthur had gone mute.

What was he supposed to say?

As if his vocal chords had been ripped out as a form of torture, the best he could choke out was, "I....You....Sorry."

Your brows furrow in confusion, tilting your head as if you were trying to decipher his mess of words.

Arthur attempts again, only for another string of nonsensical babble to spill from his lips. Frustrated, he lets out a curse under his breath before grabbing your hand and pulling you away from the drunken commotion without another word.

"Arthur?" You're able to drawl, awkwardly stumbling behind the cowboy as he swiftly drags you across camp, his hand fiercely attached to yours like a predator to prey. "Arthur!" You innocently laugh as he pulls you into the closed quarters of your private abode. "What'r doin'?"

The cowboy rapidly pulls down the flap of your canvas tent, turning to you with a scowl etched on his face. He grabs both your hands into his own, and opens his mouth in any attempt to just speak his mind. But once again, he is only able to choke out a string of meaningless rabble. In frustration, he drops your hands and quickly rubs his temples before falling onto his knees in front of you, not breaking your gaze.

And with a clear, desperate message, he hoarsely breaths, "Let me." Just as you had done days before.

Arthur's cock hardens as you look down at him, biting your lip out of seduction and bobbing your head up and down with a definite yes. He lets out an exhale of relief, quickly standing back up and instantly crashing his lips into yours without a second thought.

It was if God himself had given Arthur the ability to speak again as between kisses he is able to muster, "you've driven me mad." His hands reach up to cup the backs up your thighs, easily lifting you off the ground and setting you in your cot so your legs easily hang off the side. As if he were a godly man, he falls onto his knees in front of you with every ounce of prowess running through his veins.

You prop yourself up on your forearms, watching the man make slow work of the laces on your boots, refusing to loose eye contact as he slips your shoes off and neatly places them under your cot. "You've turned me into dog, woman," he confesses, shaking his head in utter fascination.

You push yourself to a sitting position, "Oh, Arthur," you yearn, knowing that for days, months, years, that this moment is what you had dreamt off.

You cup his chin in your hands as he stares deep into your soul, making work of your socks as he stares back at you, completely in awe of the beautiful creature in front him. He grabs your right leg, his calloused finger pulling them to his lips where he lands several soft kisses. Only stopping to inhale your sweet scent; worshipping you as if you were an ancient goddess.

You shudder as you fall onto your forearms, your head tilting down as you watch the cowboy hike your skirt onto your hips and place tender kisses upwards towards your thigh. His right hand, tensly gripping your left leg outward as you tilt your head up in pleasure

His stubble gently pokes at the sensitive skin of your inner thigh, taking his right hand and slowly pulling down your bloomers, tossing them into the corner of your tent without care. His hands find their way to your thighs, cocking your legs outward to him as if you were his to feast on.

Dumbfounded, the cowboy remains silent for several moments, admiring you bare cunt as if it were a prized painting hanging in The Louvre. "S'beautiful," he whispers.

Before letting himself touch you, he looks up at you one final time for that permission he so desperately wishes you to grant him. His eyes widen like the grand canyon, so intrigued and hypnotized by your body that he would do anything at your command.

You bite your lip seductively with a small grin, taking that as his permission to rub his lips up your thighs one more time before dragging his tongue up your seam.

His delicate, crystal orbs refuse to break eye contact as his lips connect with that bundle of nerves he knows every woman enjoys, simultaneously hauling both your legs up onto his broad shoulders.

With another hitched breath, your chin tilts upwards to the top of the tent out of gratification, slowly exhaling as his mouth works you. "Look at me," the gunslinger commands against the warmth of your cunt, his tongue rocking back and forth in steady beat.

You swallow and peer back down, his eyes already glued to yours as he observes every hitched breath and moan leave your lips, still pleasurably feasting your core.

Arthur couldn't help but to feel like the luckiest man alive as he tastes you, your sweet juices melting down his stubble as his cock twitches below his jeans. Your hands find his chestnut locks, gripping his shoulder length hair into your palms, gently pulling at the strands every which way. You fingers twist through his mane, just as he had fantasized days priors.

But Arthur was a greedy man; he wanted more.

He lifts your legs off of his shoulders, taking your right thigh into his left hand and pushing it outward on the cot. With his tongue still deligating your bundle of nerves, he thrusts his right index finger into your core almost without warning, causing you to loudly exhale.

But that wasn't enough.

He enters his middle finger, curling his two digits upwards as he gently hits that sweet spot of yours.

You were helpless at that point.

You let out a loud, pleasurable moan as his fingers rocked back and forth, his tongue violently massaging you, his blue eyes glued to your blush ladden face.

Arthur can't help but to smile into the warmth of your cunt, knowing that he was doing a good job at every loud moan that escaped your mouth.

"Gotta keep quiete girl," he's able to assemble, quickly grabbing the small pillow off the head of your cot and placing it over your mouth, barely missing a beat of his tongue.

You hold the pillow to your mouth, hiding the sweet sounds of Arthur's accomplishments as he continues to work at you.

Second by second you can feel yourself heading towards your finish, his tongue licking back and forth as if it was dancing to a steady beat, his fingers pushing in and out of you as if his life depended on it.

Almost without warning, your hips jut upward at his mouth like a feral animal in heat as even the pillow you hold barely hides the loud, wreckless moans of your finish. The feeling of your rapidly beating heart, pumps below your belt as sweat perperates down your forehead.

Arthur's tongue doesn't leave your cunt until both your legs are cocked open lifelessly to him, your breath finally evening out as you sprawl across the cot, utterly spent.

The cowboy stands up, proudly surverying his work. Taking his sleeve and wiping off your juices from his chin, the sweet taste of you still echoing on his taste buds. His cock rock hard behind the thin fabric of his jeans.

But just as you did to him days prior, he smiles at you and turns to the flap of your tent without antoher word.

"Wait," you call out.

The cowboy turns around, his brows raising in intrigue.

And you say the words he couldn't.

"Stay."

[thesleepyfable]

~ SWTD: Still Here AU ~ Part 4

He's Still in There: Part 2:

The second half is here. Addair is next. This is currently the longest chapter, and it might be for this entire mini-series. You'll notice I've experimented with my writing style here and there, but I hope you all still enjoy!

TW: Needle. Just one needle.

Part 5:

'Muir? I'm here.' The sound of heavy footsteps moved towards Innes, and the unmistakable silhouette came into view. 'Muir-' A tendril grabbed Innes' ankle and pulled him towards the centre of the deck, but it made sure he didn't collide with any dangerous equipment. He sheltered his face with crossed arms and waited until he came to a stop after nearly 5 seconds. Not much, but that's because you're not Innes, who was quiet frankly shitting himself. Giving himself a moment to process what had just happened, he lowered his arms, whilst Muir let him go, towering over him, casting a shadow.

The pair were silent. Their eyes locked. Muir's full of hurt. Innes' full of regret.

Sunil, McLurg and Dobbie peered through the container, then left their hiding position. They knew the fog would act as good enough cover, but they had to be quiet. Hard to do with metal practically everywhere. Every step and breath counts. Sunil lead and managed to get under a collapsed piece of the rig, but it wasn't big enough for all of them. It acted as a tunnel and you had to army crawl to move. McLurg and Dobbie stayed hidden behind a large stack of crates. Sunil crawled until he was somewhat out of hiding to observe.

'Innes...'

'Yeah, I'm here, mate.' Innes awkwardly stumbled to his feet, not taking his eyes off Muir. He was terrified and Muir knew that. He could hear his heartbeat. It hurt. Everything hurt. He couldn't describe or compare the pain. His mind was being pulled in all directions, and whenever he had a moment of clarity, there was a sudden pressure crushing his brain. Muir wanted to let go, but something deep down made him hold on. Fight through the pain.

'Why did you run?'

'I...I'm sorry, but I was scared and-'

'You left me!'

Tendrils suddenly shot out in all directions and Muir reared his head back, letting out an ear-piercing scream that turned into a wail. Innes stood still. Tears rolled down his face. The guilt washed over and consumed him. A lump in his throat formed. If he could turn back time, he would have stayed, but he panicked. No one could blame him. It was out of instinct.

He spotted Sunil out of the corner of his eye. Both exchanged a look before turning back to Muir, who's tendrils had now planted themselves across the deck in all directions. He hung his head in shame and wished to just disappear. Innes found the courage to move closer and place a hand on the hard-hat, making sure to not touch the flesh Just keep him focused.

'Hey. Remember that time you hit me?' Well, that caught Muir's attention. The look of pain turned into confusion, and he slightly raised his head. 'It was only your second week here and I had you carry the replacement scaffolding because I couldn't be fucking bothered. You didn't hear what I said and turned, and skelped me in the face. Gave me ten stitches and a reason to grow a beard.'

Sunil couldn't believe what he had just heard. His mouth was agape, brows furrowed and head tilted. McLurg mouthed 'what the fuck?' And poor Dobbie just had a look of defeat on his face and stared at the ground, expecting it to have the answers.

A chuckle. Then another. Soon it became a laugh. A mix of relief and the memory itself. Muir reared his head back again in laughter. The fog had been lifted. His mind was his own again. Still didn't stop the chronic pain shooting through his body or the fact he was now ironically half-blind, but that didn't matter. Whatever it was telling him to not give up worked.

'I say I did you a favour.'

The guilt left Innes. His posture relaxed, his heart rate calmed, and he smiled. He began to laugh along.

'Still a smart one, aren't ya?'

'Well, someone has to be.'

They continued to laugh until it hurt. All the years of smoking caused Innes to have a small coughing fit and Muir kept laughing until he had to stop. Neither of the men could describe how they felt. Relief? Happiness? No, it was something else but they couldn't put their finger on it, or they didn't want to admit it.

A tendril wrapped around Innes' waist. A hug from Muir. Innes returned the favour and hugged what he could of Muir's neck. Neither wanted to let each other go.

Sunil, McLurg and Dobbie left their hiding spots yet kept their distance. It was very obvious from their perspective how much the pair loved each other. Not their place to judge. They just wanted to go to Accommodation. It was the best place to find others. Kelly should still be in his room and Scooby did take off in that direction.

'Oi, Love Birds?!' McLurg really wanted to go to Accommodation. 'Can we go now-?'

Suddenly The Beria began to shake. The terrible sound of metal bending rang through their ears. Muir pulled the men towards him and used his body to act as a shield. His tendrils planted themselves firmly after one of his legs slipped and gave out. He moved to regain his footing, but his vision began to blur. After a moments panic, he felt a twitch in the back of his head. Something grappling to the back of his mind was slipping away, like a plug being removed from the socket. His sight quickly returned to normal when the feeling stopped.

He wasn't the only one. Trots, Gibbo and even Caz went through the same experience. The Shape that had been trying to lure them in was getting quieter. It's song fading.

The rig came to a halt.

'Right,' Innes said, catching his breath he had been holding for the last several seconds. He turned to Sunil, McLurg and Dobbie. 'You three go find the others. I'll stay here with Muir.' Because he was too big to fit inside, let alone get up the stairs. 'Just let them know we're out here getting the lift ready if we need it.' The lift was fine.

Despite the ribbon-like things blocking the doors and making themselves at home in the corridors, it was comforting to feel the warmth from the inside. They'd still be outside battling the rain and fog for hours. Of course they knew that, but it was still nice to feel the damp leave their uniform and they can literally hang up their hard-hats. Voices came from the crew lounge and they followed, happy to see just how many members were there in wait. However, McLurg couldn't help but give a look to Scooby, who hung his head and moved away from his window seat. McLurg was quick to take it.

Gibbo and Trots were the obvious standouts. To make room for them, especially Gibbo, all the tables and chairs were pushed to the side and the jukebox moved into the corridor. Roy sat in the corner injecting his much needed insulin into his arm. Trots was wearing his black polo jumper and gray trench coat whilst lighting another smoke for himself. Today was the perfect excuse to take up smoking for the first time in a decade. Raffs was shakily holding a coffee by the door. Brodie and Caz stood by Roy. The latter patted him on the shoulder and told him to rest.

Sunil did a quick head count. All of the deck crew were here, minus Innes and Muir. No Finlay, Roper, Davros, Archie and most of Engineering and Pontoons. Oh and Rennick. Still more than 70% of the staff were here. Dobbie rushed to Gibbo and began to ask a flurry of questions.

'You lot seen Innes and Muir?' Raffs asked Sunil, offering him the rest of his coffee, to which he refused.

'Still on the Deck. Muir has been infected, but he's fine. He's too big to fit inside, though. Where's everyone else?'

'Caz and I are going to get Archie then Roper,' Brodie explained as the pair went to leave. 'He called and said he's radioing for help but the power keeps dying. We lost Gregor. Don't know where anyone else is.'

Douglas, who was sat besides Kelly and had been explaining what he'd miss, overheard. 'I saw Finlay in Engineering. She might still be there helping O'Connor.'

'Why, what's going on down...' Caz's voice trailed off, whilst his eyes widened and everyone else mirrored his expression. The pieces slowly came together and the men all shared the same dread.

'...Shit.'

Innes sat on the container he used to hide from Muir. The fog lifted and snow began to fall. Fitting for Christmas. The weather out in the middle of the North Sea was unpredictable. One minute there wasn't a cloud in the sky. Give it an hour and hail could be bouncing off you. He lit a cigarette and sighed. He watched Muir 'sit' by tucking his legs under his body like a cat. A part of him wanted to laugh, but he didn't know if that would cause offence.

'How do you know what you're doing?'

'Eh...Good question. I actually don't know. I just knew this is how I sit now.'

Innes raised a brow and pursed his lips. 'And how does that make ye' feel?'

A pause. Muir didn't know. At least to some extent. He knew he wasn't 'human' anymore, but his mind was in tact, yet he knew how to work this mutation as if he has always been this way. He made a motion similar to a shrug. 'Weird. I'm gonna miss my hair.'

'I'm sure it'll grow back. Your beard's still kicking.'

'What, like Rennick is now?'

They shared a small laugh together, then fell quiet. Both looked out to the endless vastness the sea offered as a view. God how they both missed home. Remind me why they decided to work through Christmas? Because neither could remember. It wasn't for the money. Both just agreed after hearing that one or the other would be here. Wasn't the first time either. No, they knew why.

'What going to happen to me?' Because Muir didn't know. He knew he could never walk down a main road to do a daily shop or even enter a house anymore. It stung. Strange how the mundane was something to crave when you realise it's gone.

'I'm not sure.' Innes had to be honest. 'But I'll be with you.' He held out a hand and Muir accepted by gently wrapping a tendril for Innes to stroke with his thumb.

The sound of the catwalk above caught their attention. Caz and Brodie could be seen sprinting to Administration. The pair noticed them and stopped.

'You fellas alright?!' Caz called.

'We're fine. Where you two going?'

'To stop that Rennick bastard from taking off without us. Archie needs to get help, but he needs to know what's happening. Then we're gonna fetch Roper.'

'Good plan.'

'Oi, McLeary!' Muir called. 'Give Rennick a good kick up the arse.'

[diariesofthelost]

Work Calls

{First person POV, Sexual Content, Mild Sexual Language, Talks of Children. TW: Blood, Mild Gore.}

Here he comes on the phone again. These past 2 weeks have been hell for both of us. I've been on call at headquarters and Zayne has been on call at the hospital. Oddly enough the reasons we have been on call are one in the same. Wanderers. They've been attacking the city more which has resulted in me and Zayne being on call.

"Yes, I understand. I'll be there as soon as I can." Zayne says as he rushes out of the bedroom hanging up the phone.

I'm already dressed just haven't been called in yet, however, he just was.

"Sorry Darling, I have to go. They just called me in for another surgery." he says as he stops by for a quick kiss on his way out the door. I just nod and give a soft smile as I watch him leave. I miss my husband. I take a sip of coffee and wait till my watch goes off. There it is. The familiar sound of an attack. I grab my things and go.

Hours later me and Zayne somehow arrive back home at the same time. He looks tired and I know I do too.

"My love, you're a sight for sore eyes." he says as soon as he sees me. We walk into the house and Zayne pulls me into a tight hug, nuzzling his face in my hair. I hug him back. He smells like sweat. He smells like him.

We stay silent for a bit just basking in each other's presence.

"Zayne, I should go shower. I'm covered in blood." I say plainly, exhausted from the fighting.

He lets me go and looks at me concerned.

"You push yourself too hard." he says as he looks me over. Always making sure none of the blood I come home in is mine.

I give him a look that says please not right now, and he concedes. For now. I know he'll bring it up again at some point. He takes me hand and leads me to our shower, turns on the water making it a bit warmer than he usually likes it and turns to me.

"It's about time I get to spend some proper time with my wife." he says as he starts to help me take off my soiled uniform.

As he strips off piece by piece, I can see his concern growing. The bruises damn it. I give him and pleading look, and he sighs deciding to just lead me into the shower. He wets my body and starts to later up a washcloth.

"Let me help," he says softly as he starts to wash me taking extra care around my bruises.

I hum in response. This feels good. I let him wash away the dirt, grime and stress from the day.

"Let me do you next." I say as I grab his cloth and apply his bodywash to it. He smiles and surrenders. I begin to wash him, after I know I've taken care of him properly I hug him from behind. Pushing my body close to his. He places his hands on mine, and we stand like that for a bit. The silence and calmness of him is amazing.

Zayne closes his eye and tilts his head back. He looks so calm right now. Good. I take one of my hands and run it up his chest while the other moves down to his groin. I pause, waiting for him to give me a sign that this is ok. He chuckles and looks back at me.

"Keep going..." he says his voice already laced with desire.

I look around his body to see him already half hard. I smile and continue my way down. I wrap my hand around his cock and stroke him slowly. He groans out and I know by that sound he needs this as much as I do.

"Please..." he whispers. The way he says things just make me melt.

I listen. "I won't stop my love. You just tell me what you need." I want to please him, to take care of him.

I keep going stroking him just the way he likes it. Slow. Deliberate.

Not too long passes until he's coming undone my hand, his body starts to shake from the force of his orgasm. He turns towards me and cups my face, kissing me deeply.

"Let's get out of here. I need to take care of you as well." he says turning off the water in haste. He dries himself off and then me. He grabs my hand and leads me out of the bathroom and over to our bed. He pushes me back and kneels between my legs.

"Lets me taste you please.." he kisses my inner thighs moving closer to where I want him. No. Need him more.

I nod. There is no hesitation. I need this man more than I need air right now. He smiles and dives right in. Licking right between my folds. Yes.

He runs his fingers around my opening in soft circles as he moves to suck on my clit. God, yes. I moan out loud. Probably louder than I anticipated. He's just so good at this.

He groans into me. Pushing me closer and closer. Despite my husband's outward appearance. The man is defiantly pretty demanding and wild in bed. He never lets any of me go to waste.

I reach down and run my fingers through his hair gripping tightly as he slides his hands under my bottom, lifting my hips to his face.

"Grind." he demands the word muffled by my body, but I hear it and obey.

I start to move my hips, basically using his tongue and nose like I'm swiping a credit card. My grip in his hair tightens and he hisses against my skin. Thats it. I'm done for. I scream out as my body convulses. He slows down but still works me through my orgasm.

"Zayne!" I moan and he picks speed back up. Pushing me over the edge once again. Not one but two orgasms and if he doesn't stop there will be a third.

He groans. He's not stopping. Three. Four.

Finally, after the fifth he pulls away.

"I'm sorry," he didn't mean it. I think laughing to myself. He enjoys doing this to me too much.

"I just missed this. Missed the taste of you." he admits. There it is. I shake my head with a smile.

He crawls over me and kisses me deeply, the taste of myself on his tongue. I moan into the kiss. He responds with equal fervor. He puts his hands under my bottom again, angling my hips up. He's hard again. He slides in, slowly, bottoming out inside me.

He starts to move slowly as he lifts my hips up to meet his thrusts.

"Say my name Darling... I want to hear it." he demands as he shoves his face in the crook of my neck, taking a deep breath in.

"Zayne..." I whisper.

"Louder." he demands gently. I obey.

"Zayne!" I scream it this time, nothing fake. He never fails too genuinely please me.

He groans in satisfaction. He grips me bottom harder as he strokes become more erratic. I moan out one last time before he groans deeply in my ear. I feel him start to throb as I pulse around him.

We cum together, we fall to our sides and lay there panting. Basking in the glow of our love making. We don't talk. We cuddle up close and lay there happily.

"When this is all over, I want to talk about starting a family..." he says breaking the silence.

I look up at him and smile.

"That's a big decision. Are you sure you want that?" I ask, not because I'm unsure, to be honest I've never been surer. A baby with Zayne? Yes.

He nods but there is not much room to talk about it right now, we're both tired and still high from our intense love making. But that's ok. When the fighting and busy weeks are over, we'll have plenty of time to talk about it.

Right now, it's just me and him. In this moment. Just the way it should be right now. We drift off to sleep, peaceful and content.

[blueberryarchive]

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ 18+

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ 3.2k words

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ still working on it. smut (non-con, mnster fucking, long tongue, bg dck! jimin, somnophilia, forced voyeurism?) scary (?) confusing, angst.

If there is a God, he must be a cynical, cruel, tentative being.

Jimin squeezed his chin hard, his skull throbbing, eyes fixed on your wool coat-clad back. He was beginning to hate that olive green macrame that contorted in your tense muscles that you hadn't let him see for a couple of weeks.

Jimin thought that maybe it was your period the reason you didn't want him to touch you, that the headaches at night were from the stress of being so far from society. 

He always tried to be a good husband: making you tea, murmuring sweet nothings to you before going to sleep, giving you your space while he took Pepper for a walk to the lake. But winter has gotten crueler, the naked trees are like veins in the eyes of the white sky, pulsant and hideous, and your wall has grown in size. 

The nights have become silent. You only know how to do one activity besides sleeping: cooking. Mainly meats: grilled, baked, stewed and steamed. With spices, drunk in wine, boiled with basil, cut into pieces, and shredded by hand. Jimin started to hate the pungent smell of dead cows. 

Every night, you ate quietly at the table, and for Jimin to get the words out of you, it felt like he had to put his hand down your throat and spread them on the table. Barely audible, barely sentences.

It was a late winter afternoon, Jimin had tried to be flirty for the first time in a while since there was little time before he had to work again, and he wouldn't see you again for months.

It was a simple kiss on your neck that made your skin crawl, and you almost cut yourself with the knife in fear.

He was now sitting at the island, the kitchen illuminated by the grayish sun of cold afternoons. You were cutting the fat from a calf with the precision of a butcher. Jimin had both hands covering his mouth, thoughtful.

"Mom asked about you. I told her you were at the lake." He murmured to cut the tension of that odd rejection.

"I was sleeping." You put the knife aside, looking for another piece of meat in the refrigerator. Almost four pounds on the table, but Jimin didn't want to engage in your weird fucking activities.

"I've already told her like twice that you've been sleeping, she'll think you're sick or something."

You did not answer.

"I'm fine, it's just the nightmares. I don't sleep at night."

"I know, I know." Jimin sighed. 

He felt sorry about every time he found you curled up on the living room furniture, sweaty and breathing fast; you were sleeping but seemed forced. 

"When we go to Joon's house in the summer, we'll look for a doctor."

Your head tensed, tilting. Then you denied it.

"Don't you want to see a doctor?"

"I'm not going to Namjoon's house this year." You huffed like it was obvious.

Jimin frowned, both hands falling to the cold marble in surprise.

"But this year I'm bringing my parents to meet you, Namjoon is getting married in July, I don't-" he snapped, but you shook your head again while still doing your mechanical cut and throw movement.

Jimin cleared his throat, and you looked at him out of the corner of your eye.

"What?" You responded innocently.

"You really don't want to see my mom?"

"Jimin, I'm getting tired of this."

"What are you going to do, take another nap?"

The blood from the meat on your hands began to drip down to your wrists, the metallic smell causing you a voracious appetite.

"You want wine with the grill?"

"Are you fucking serious right now?"

You sighed, counting to ten. Just a few more hours.

"You can invite her to the cabin, if that's what you want. God knows how much we need someone else in this place."

"I already told you we'll go in a week."

"Without consulting me."

"What should we talk about? We've been planning this for a year."

"I don't feel like going anymore."

"These days you don't feel like doing shit."

You chopped the carrots on the bloody board, the chopping making noises in the immense silence between the two of you.

"It's like you want me to leave." He spoke.

You stood up when you pressed the knife on the cutting board; the tip stuck into the wood. 

That violence, pure and irrational force.

You looked at him with erratic eyes, Jimin didn't know if you were offended or not. Your hands clenched the counter, and your lips trembled trying to say something.

When you lowered your gaze, Jimin knew that your shoulders had not collapsed because of his tone, but because what he said was true.

"Oh my God, I'm right." A pained laugh. His body leaned back on the island that separated you two. "Is there anyone else?"

Silence.

Jimin's skin chilled when before turning to the meat again, barely visible, he saw a tiny smile lining your lips. Self-conscious and cruel.

Before he could think, the sweet husband's façade had broken and with long steps, he approached until he turned you over with his fists in that damn coat. You looked at him with wide eyes, and you wiped your mouth as if the fact that Jimin was going to kiss you disgusted you. The blood of the calf covers your lips.

You were cruel, and he wanted so much to love you, to hug you and hit that distant look on your features. To squeeze your cheeks and spit in your face so you get off that fucking cloud. That you wouldn't look at him with so much hate, with that thousand-yard stare. Take that fucking knife and put it near your beautiful neck and scream 'LOVE ME AGAIN, I FUCKING DESERVE IT'.

"You think this is a fucking game? I've been wanting things to go back to normal since October, but you," His nose wrinkled. "You have become nothing, you are just another object in this useless old cabin."

Your eyes seemed to get closer and closer to Jimin's, your pupils dilating.

"And even as an object I can't fuck you, you're useless." He let go of your coat and walked away, each word dying in his throat. He couldn't believe that he could talk to his wife like that, what kind of man was he?

Then, a single person came to his head.

"Are you seeing Ryan?"

Ryan was the one who sold the land to Jimin, every now and then he would pass by the road and stop to drink coffee and fish in the lake with Jimin. It's not that Ryan is an attractive man, nor a man who knew how to talk to women because he was a first-class hermit. He was not a man you would cause your marriage to fail with...

...Right?

"That's it. I'm going to sell the house."

"No." You were quick, your shoulders rose as if a puppeteer had lifted your strings, and you trembled again, denying.

"No, please."

"So it is because of Ryan?'

You inhaled all the air in the room, your eyes a predator. 

"Ryan is a parasite in front of him, filth, a mere fly on the wall." You barked causing echoes to reverberate off the walls of your boyfriend's chest. Your trembling fingers covered your mouth instantly.

The knife in your hand, the fingers bloody from the fresh meat, that green coat that you didn't take off, the tangled hair. Jimin didn't recognize you, your sweetness had turned bitter; like a viscous liquid made from plants. Raw and strange.

"You're a fucking whore." His voice trembled, the sting of tears wanting to flow like shooting water.

He took his coat, with a whistle he called Pepper and they both went with a roar through the wide, dense forest.

The afternoon became denser in the forest, the leaves did not move and Pepper spent the entire way sniffing the trees, howling at the birds that passed by without squawking. Jimin put a hand in his coat, the other looking for some signal to call Hoseok, his mother, the damn police. Whoever.

He found his headphones in his jacket and placed them on top of his head, connecting them to his cell phone. He turned on the Bluetooth.

Connected.

"Come on, fuck." He mumbled until Hoseok's number started ringing in his ears. It rang once, twice, five times before he could hear anything.

"Seok, couldn't you last longer to answer the damn call?" The lake did not move, his boots made the wood of the dock squeak as he walked from one side to the other. 

"No, I just need you to help me with something, I don't want Joon or my mom to worry, but I need you to find a doctor and come here...p-preferably someone with knowledge of mental problems."

Disconnected.

"Hello? Hoseok, hello." He repeated, turning on the Bluetooth again. 

"No, it's just a little seasonal depression, but I don't want it to escalate into something worse."

Disconnected.

"Shit, fucking headphones." On impulse, he grabbed the device with the cell phone and threw it as hard as possible into the gray water.

And with the cell phone falling, he glimpsed the pale skin of a being on the other side of the lake, it didn't look like a bear or a deer. Pepper started barking, loud and fast.

"Quiet." Jimin tried not to alarm the creature emanating from the foliage, his dark eyes approaching the evening light.

Jimin stayed still until he saw how the creature's feet approached the tip of the other dock, his eyes narrowed to see his own reflection, blonde hair, and the same features. A being as tall and wide as a log, he was wearing a coat that Jimin had given up for lost months ago, but it was dirty and torn due to the size of the beast.

He was seeing a Behemoth in his own skin. A dim Jimin, a monster, an abomination of himself.

His feet began to move as the animal threw itself toward the water in his direction. Pepper stayed behind him, but he couldn't think of saving her. He was going to die.

He prayed it was a hallucination of his tired brain, a joke of his own mind. But he could hear the earth tremble with each approaching footstep.

Every tree looked the same, the path home had vanished and all he could do was scream for his mother, tears streaming down his cheeks.

"Mom, please, help. Help." He screamed as his feet were grabbed, the wet earth choking on his whimpers.

"Help!" The creature screamed even louder, in the same voice but drowned.

Crawling wasn't worth it, the creature had grabbed him by his hair and flipped him over. Seeing his face, rough and full of scratches, caused an abominable pain in Jimin's chest; he wanted to vomit out his organs and die before continuing with this terrifying reality.

The last thing he remembers is his head crashing into a log, the guttural roar of his mammoth twin, and the green inferno engulfing his body as he falls to the ground.

When he opened his eyes, Jimin was in his room, his body tied to a couch in the corner. His mouth was muffled with a kitchen rag: the disgusting, metallic taste of the beef made him nauseous.

His eyes were guided to where your body was lying, you had the Prince t-shirt that Jimin had given you on. Your wet hair, the smell of coconut shampoo, the shower running in the other room, Pepper's howling in the distance. This was the first time you looked so angelic in a long time, so peaceful in your own dreams.

He couldn't move, his body felt heavy and slow. His fingers moved, his eyes too but it was as if it was a ghost of his body.

You sighed suddenly. With his hair standing on end, Jimin tried to call you but his voice didn't come out of his lips, a mere hoarse. Word dust.

Your body stood up unsteadily. You rolled your head to the entrance and smiled: there it was, on all fours, his mouth dirty with blood from the meat you had saved for him, those cupped pupils that you missed.

His body crawled closer until it reached your knees where he pressed his huge hand on one of your thighs, the wine bottle running down your body with each touch.

"Love," he roared until he climbed and transformed into a tower above you, nearly seven feet of pure dedication. You fed him daily with everything you had in the house. "My love."

That's what he called you. Jimin shook his head in the corner, his eyes threatening to close, his neck stretched out trying to reach you uselessly.

"Ah," his pale black tongue unrolled to reveal discolored pills at the tip.

You stuck out your tongue and let the creature's hands squeeze your neck so you would open wide, open better so his tongue would enter directly into your throat. The tickling in your esophagus from the movement of the wet muscle had your core tight.

When you stuck your tongue out, saliva connected both of your mouths, your eyes tilted; drunk and in love.

"More," he claimed, taking your small body in his hands until he had you anchored to his waist, both legs dangling. His fingers tore away what was covering your pussy, and Jimin could see the marks on your body, some yellowish about to fade, others a vivid red.

You lowered his sweat with the balls of your feet, his thick red cock throbbing at your entrance. Your body began to feel the effect of the sleeping pills, turning you into a nebula hanging from a warm mass.

When the tip entered you screamed into his chest, your nails scratching the flesh until it bled. The monster groaned in pain and knocked you to the ground causing the floor to shake with the weight of both of you.

You didn't have time to complain as his sharp teeth clamped down on your shoulder to keep you from moving as he took his cock all the way in, blood pouring from your shoulder.

The pain was such that you imagined how the inside of your organs was breaking, the bones creaking under his hands on your breasts, your voice becoming a thread until it was silent with each roar in your ear.

The watery, repetitive sound. The bulbous tip covered in juices went in and out so easily that the fabric covering your stomach seemed like it wanted to tear at any moment.

"Fuck, fuck, Minnie. Hurts good." It was like you were communicating with a caveman, but your brain didn't function properly when it came to him.

"Good, I like hurting you." Thick, dark blood ran down to his chin as his tongue smothered you again. Your eyes closing, your hands trapped in one of his. Your moans cover the dark heart of the beast with a soft layer until your limbs gave up, unconscious and so wet for them.

Little human trapped in his forest, an inferior being praising a God she does not understand out of pure lust. You were adorable, warm inside, you made him big and unstoppable and he thanked you by filling you with his cum every night after you fed him. That was your only request, every time.

Now he was named Minnie and you shouted his name every time he did something right. Learned words like more, hurt, inside, want, fuck.

And just because he molded himself into something you already had, you adored him.

His tongue came out to snake around one of your breasts, his wide, long thumb holding your mouth open. Your dead eyes casually open to see your tied husband, your head wobbling and arms hagging in the air with every pounding like a rag doll.

He couldn't bare it, you were being raped in front of his eyes, and he couldn't do anything else than stare at your unconscious body, like a fucking parasite, filth, a simple fly on the wall. 

With a few steps, the creature approached Jimin, leaving your warm body on his lap. Your eyelids throbbed softly regardless of how the demon destroyed your pussy with every crash of his hips. 

Your lips were wet with foreign blood, wet hair stuck to your temples, and open hands that fell to each side of the furniture.

You looked like the girl he had that morning when he showed you the cabin, like the one from the first night when you two made love on the living room rug, like the one that bathed naked in the lake even though someone could see her. 

A nymph, just a beautiful wildflower.

And Jimin knew at that moment why that beast had you in his claws, why he grabbed you by the neck and squeezed you to wake up from your sweet dream. 

When you looked up and saw your husband's face, Jimin knew that he had to give up, because that thousand-yard look was a path that was forbidden to him, that he did not know and could not learn.

You were no longer his but from the forest. A red and grotesque fairy, who moaned instead of singing and collected bones instead of flowers.

And yet you were more beautiful than ever.

You smiled at Jimin and your hands moved down his face to remove the dish towel and kiss him like you've never done before. The sulfuric smell of a dead animal on your soft lips was enchanting.

"Oh, God, yes." You whispered in your sleepy voice.

The Beast bruised your hips until pumping your pussy with cum, thick and gray.

You and Jimin looked at the growling monster, picking up pieces of the wooden floor with its long nails. They looked up, and exhaled deeply, snorting like an angry bull seeking respect.

Before you could say anything, he was gone. Leaving your bruised body between your tied husband's legs.

Your fingers brushed your face as you felt something damp: the tears in Jimin's eyes flowed like summer rain, thick and abundant.

"Tell your mom you'll find a better girl, okay?" Your lips trembled, trying to dry each drop from which another came out. Jimin nodded, bringing your forehead to his.

"Am I really not going to see you anymore?"

"Any time you want," you assured, your voice echoing a dozen times like whispers spreading across the room. A choir of hushed angels saying the same thing over and over again. 

"Every time it rains, leave the door open, and I'll know you need me."

Your naked body turned to place Jimin's head on your chest, he sobbed himself to sleep, and you counted his eyelashes until it was time to leave.

With a kiss on his forehead, you let him sleep, when he woke up you were no longer there, the green coat was hanging in the back yard and the smell of your hair filled every corner, a floral ghost.

[khristie16]

The Fast and Forbidden

Charles is a famous F1 driver with everything one could want: fame, fortune, and fans. But he is missing one thing. Being his new personal assistant changes everything for both of them.

— chapter 2 An unspoken connection gradually weaves between them—forged through chess, shared glances, and a mysterious musical encounter.

warnings: sweet af, sexual tension, invading privacy (not the intention), sentimental and romantic author's note: hi guuys, i missed you, uni gets the best of me the past couple months. I received some new requests and I have them all saved for future work. Don't worry, now I have more free time:) stay awesome! taglist: @buendiabebeta, @pondysselth, @clomo12345, @naty-1001, @maxv33rstappen, @f1lov3r, @cmleitora

The next day, I found myself 10,000 meters in the sky, going at such a fast speed that I was relieved my stomach didn't protest. Our destination was Charles's home. I'd never been to Monaco, and my curiosity grew as we got closer. What would it be like standing in the middle of a street, taking in all the beautiful scenery with my own eyes? I adore the sea and warm weather, the culture, and the food. I appreciate different things. That's one more reason I took this job — the chance to travel. It can really shake up your whole routine, but the opportunity to see Monaco and Singapore in less than a week was unimaginable just two months ago. Thank goodness this job pays well.

Watching Charles absorbed in his iPhone made me feel unwelcome. It seemed like I could make funny faces, and he wouldn't even notice. It wasn't a new feeling for me. Sometimes, during quiet nights, I wondered why he was so distant, especially when I'd seen him be a sunshine around others. Initially, I thought it was because we were purely business for each other. But that could apply to anyone on the Ferrari team. Maybe I was overthinking it, and the simple reason was that he just didn't like me. I decided to let it go; there were better things to focus on. Tilting my head, I wondered if things might improve over time. Silently grumbling, I readjusted my seat, still lost in thoughts about him.

"Hey, do you play chess?"

I looked at him like he was an alien and gulped nervously. Yes, I had played chess — once. And to top it off, I was still learning the basics. Not something I was proud of, but hey, not everyone can be Ron Weasley. I laughed like a maniac at my own joke, resulting in his raised eyebrows.

"Sorry… and no, I've never learned."

Surprise and interest showed in his body language as he leaned closer, his blue T-shirt moving against his skin. With a surprisingly high-pitched voice, he laughed.

"Really?"

Fire me or spare me, but please, not this. I didn't know where to focus first — on his beautiful dimples or the fact that he just laughed at me? The smile vanished from his face as he seemed to notice my confusion, but he still smiled with his eyes.

"I mean, I'm surprised. It's like when Carlos once told me he listens to jazz in the morning."

I burst into laughter. It sounded so much like Carlos.

"I just thought you played chess. You look so serious."

Okay, this is getting worse. I must have looked like a crazy woman with diagnosed schizophrenia, and he tells me I look serious? Tell that to a woman, and you shut her down completely. Readjusting my seat again, I focus on the rug under the wooden table.

"I can teach you if you want."

Lifting my gaze, I try to find some hidden answers behind his green eyes, but all I feel is a hot sensation in the pit of my stomach. Wearing a white tank top, I know it's not because of the fabric. He's genuinely smiling, and I take a pause to exhale before nodding my head.

"Do you like to play a lot?"

I ask to smooth things between us, but he just nods and focuses back on the chess pieces on the board. Turning my head to the side, I notice that the closer, the less cloudy it is outside, and I feel an energetic shiver run down my spine.

"I always win. But for you, — I'll make an exception."

My heart stops beating. Why is it so hot in here all of a sudden?

After we landed, our shared ride slipped into an uneasy quiet. In the midst of my spontaneous chess lesson with Charles, laughter and focus filled the air, creating a vibrant atmosphere akin to the scattered energy of someone wrestling with ADHD. Amid our animated conversation, I lost track of our surroundings; the outside world turned into a distant blur.

A smile graced Charles's lips as he locked eyes with me. In that shared gaze, a fleeting connection unfolded. Happiness shimmered in his green eyes, and an unexplainable urge to draw closer wrapped around me. It felt as if his eyes held a depth I yearned to explore. However, the moment dissolved abruptly. Charles, with a subtle shift in demeanor, reverted to his usual aloofness, extinguishing the warmth that had briefly ignited between us.

"I got my keys copied for you in case you need something from my apartment," he offered, extending the keys.

An unexpected gesture left me grappling with a mix of surprise and uneasiness. Taking the keys, I delicately stashed them into my bag, careful not to make direct contact with his skin.

"My driver will first go to your place. Tell him the address," Charles instructed. Uncomfortable, I shifted in my seat, seeking distraction by scanning the outside world. Families strolled happily, painting picturesque scenes. A flicker of yearning for such simplicity rose within me—an ache for a love that protects and cherishes.

"YN?" Charles's voice interrupted my reverie, demanding my attention.

"I don't have a home," I stated matter-of-factly, my gaze returning to the outside world. Despite the nonchalant tone, the admission carried a weight that lingered in the air.

"I need to visit some company for renting a flat here."

I took in a deep breath, feeling the cool air settle around me. My eyes drifted down, observing how the white tank top hugged my body like a second skin, accentuating the curves beneath. Fingers idly played with the fabric, a quiet excitement brewing inside. In my mind, thoughts twirled, a hidden longing to peel away the clothing, exposing the vulnerability beneath. And this is what Charles does to me. And it is getting dangerous.

"I know a place," Charles declared. He reached for his phone, dialed a number, and engaged in a focused conversation. His determined expression and the play of his toned arms intrigued me. A heat lingered in the air, intensifying the atmosphere within the car.

"Ciao l'amigo," Charles spoke into the phone.

Charles's words flowed, a steady stream escaping his perfect pink lips. My gaze fixated on his profile, an intense scrutiny fueled by a hunger simmering beneath the surface —an irresistible force tempting me to devour him, a longing I hadn't anticipated when accepting this job.

The struggle intensified, threatening to override the professional boundaries I had naively assumed would be steadfast. As Charles's eyes met mine, a sudden freeze paralyzed me in place. His gaze lingered, delight evident in the subtle nuances of his expression, as if he sought to unveil the secrets hidden in the depths of my eyes. The hum of conversation from his friend acted as a backdrop to this silent exchange, heightening the tension that hung between us. I braced myself in anticipation, uncertain of what he sought to uncover.

Abruptly, his attention shifted, his head turning back to its previous position. A wide smile adorned his face as he concluded the call, the sheer charm of it momentarily rendering me breathless. Even without facing me, he seamlessly transitioned to a task on his phone, leaving me suspended in a state of uncertainty and unspoken intrigue.

"I found you a free apartment. Do not worry about money," he said, his attention now absorbed in his phone, leaving me to deal with the unexpected twist.

Days slipped away, and the looming Grand Prix trip to Japan demanded my attention. I meticulously handled remote tasks for Charles, consciously keeping a distance to avoid the unraveling of my composure under the weight of desire. Knowing Charles would be engrossed in a morning squash match with his brothers, I discreetly seized the opportunity to attend to a domestic task: swapping clean laundry for the soiled.

Entering his apartment, arms loaded with bags, I navigated purposefully down the hallway. A distant melody reached my ears, halting my steps. Recognizing the tune, my thoughts paused, and I followed the enchanting notes to their origin.

In the sunlit living room, a grand piano stood like a silent sentinel. There, orchestrating a melancholic melody, was Charles. Our eyes met as I stood there, and he smiled in response to the unexpected serenade.

"That's 'Sadness and Sorrow,'" I stated the obvious, and Charles observed me cautiously. Surprisingly, I overcame hesitation, moving closer and placing my hand on the piano keys. Each note, played with sincerity, carried a hum of remembrance. Charles shifted, creating space for me to join him. As I sat down, my focus on the piano, he positioned his hands beside mine, and we began to play in harmony.

Eyes closed, I allowed the music to transport me, feeling the warmth of our synchronized notes. The vibrational waves between us painted an imagined scene, where I lay on the sea's surface, gently swaying with the waves.

The room resonated with harmonious echoes, our shared melody creating a tangible connection between Charles and me. Vibrational waves seemed to ripple, as if an unseen force wove a tapestry of connection, binding our notes into a seamless symphony. Amid our synchronized play, the world around us faded, and I found myself transported to a different realm.

In my mind's eye, I lay on a mat, gently drifting atop the surface of a tranquil sea. The sun cast a warm embrace, painting the water with hues of gold and azure. The waves, like delicate fingers, played a tender serenade, cradling my body with rhythmic caresses. I surrendered to the immersive sensation, the music becoming the gentle current that carried us on this shared journey.

With Charles beside me, the connection forged through the shared music was palpable, creating a timeless moment where the ordinary world ceased to exist. It was a serendipitous encounter, a convergence of hearts and melodies, leaving me suspended in the beauty of our shared composition on the sea of music.

A genuine smile adorned my face as we played, stealing glances at Charles. His concentration on the music was profound, but when our gazes met, I detected an ocean of emotions in his eyes. The desire to caress his cheek and offer comfort overwhelmed me.

Our fingers danced on the keys, minds lost in the melody. As Charles and I maintained our gaze, I discerned a myriad of colors in his eyes, each shade revealing a facet of emotion that resonated with the melodic symphony we created. In this suspended moment, his face drew nearer, an invisible force pulling us together until we were so close that our breaths mingled, and the air became a shared essence.

The piano keys, now a conduit for our unspoken connection, echoed the final cadence of the song. With a delicate touch, my right arm, closer to him, found a resting place on my thigh, bridging the physical space between us. As the final chords resonated, the room held its breath, encapsulating the unspoken intensity of our shared musical communion. And Charles, hesitating only briefly, mirrored the gesture, his eyes lingering on my lips.

"You're the boat I would protect in my full stormy ocean," he spoke, and the sweet sentiment ignited warmth within. In that moment, nothing else existed but him and his words, a connection forged through music and unspoken understanding.