#believe me there were worse prints this ones the best

[sofistefiart]

Happy 9th anniversary to Just Cause 3!

Made a linocut piece for the occasion, since JC3 is the game that started it all for me

[xxspringmelodyxx]

"𝐼 𝒸𝒶𝓃 𝓈𝑒𝑒 𝓇𝒾𝑔𝒽𝓉 𝓉𝒽𝓇𝑜𝓊𝑔𝒽 𝓎𝑜𝓊"

┗━━⊱ 𝑾𝒉𝒆𝒏 𝒚𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒔𝒊𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒓 𝒕𝒓𝒊𝒆𝒔 𝒕𝒐 𝒓𝒖𝒊𝒏 𝒚𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒈𝒖𝒚𝒔 𝒓𝒆𝒍𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏𝒔𝒉𝒊𝒑 𝒘𝒊𝒕𝒉 𝒇𝒂𝒃𝒓𝒊𝒄𝒂𝒕𝒆𝒅 𝒆𝒗𝒊𝒅𝒆𝒏𝒄𝒆 ⊰━━┛

⊱ 𝑰𝒏𝒄𝒍𝒖𝒅𝒆𝒔: 𝑺𝒂𝒕𝒐𝒓𝒖 𝑮𝒐𝒋𝒐, 𝑺𝒖𝒈𝒖𝒓𝒖 𝑮𝒆𝒕𝒐, 𝑲𝒆𝒏𝒕𝒐 𝑵𝒂𝒏𝒂𝒎𝒊, 𝑪𝒉𝒐𝒔𝒐 𝑲𝒂𝒎𝒐, 𝑻𝒐𝒋𝒊 𝑭𝒖𝒔𝒉𝒊𝒈𝒖𝒓𝒐, 𝑺𝒖𝒌𝒖𝒏𝒂 𝑹𝒚𝒐𝒎𝒆𝒏 ⊰

✩⁺₊✩☽⋆Warnings: Swearing ⋆☾✩⁺₊✩

𝑴𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕

✿⋆·˚❀˚·⋆✿✿⋆·˚❀˚·⋆✿✿⋆·˚❀˚·⋆✿✿⋆·˚❀˚·⋆✿✿⋆·˚❀˚·⋆✿✿⋆·˚❀˚·⋆✿✿⋆·˚❀˚·⋆✿✿⋆·˚❀˚·⋆✿

𝑻𝒉𝒂𝒏𝒌 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒕𝒐 @𝒔𝒂𝒊𝒍𝒐𝒓𝒔𝒕𝒂𝒓9 𝒇𝒐𝒓 𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒔 𝒓𝒆𝒄𝒐𝒎𝒎𝒆𝒏𝒅𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏! 𝑰 𝒉𝒐𝒑𝒆 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒆𝒏𝒋𝒐𝒚 <3333

─═✧✧═─ 𝕊𝕒𝕥𝕠𝕣𝕦 𝔾𝕠𝕛𝕠 ─═✧✧═─

It had been an unusually quiet afternoon when your sister showed up at your apartment unannounced. You were out running errands, leaving Satoru alone at home. He was lounging on the couch, scrolling through his phone, when the doorbell rang. Expecting it to be you, he opened the door with a bright smile, only for it to falter slightly upon seeing your sister standing there.

"Satoru," she greeted, a hint of something unreadable in her eyes. "Can I come in? I need to talk to you about something important."

Though slightly wary, Satoru stepped aside, allowing her entry. She walked in, clutching a folder tightly against her chest. They settled in the living room, your sister on the edge of the couch and Satoru casually reclining in an armchair.

"What's this about?" Satoru asked, his tone polite but guarded.

Your sister took a deep breath, as if steeling herself for what she was about to do. "Satoru, I didn’t want to be the one to tell you this, but you deserve to know the truth about your wife."

His eyes narrowed slightly, a flicker of unease passing through them. "Go on," he said, gesturing for her to continue.

With a dramatic sigh, she opened the folder and pulled out a stack of photos and printed text messages. "I found these. I thought you should see them."

Satoru leaned forward, taking the photos from her. He began to flip through them, his expression shifting from curiosity to mild amusement. The photos showed you with another man, and the text messages painted a picture of a secret affair. However, Satoru immediately noticed the inconsistencies: the poor quality of the photoshopping, the time stamps that didn’t add up, and the way the text messages sounded nothing like you.

"Is this supposed to be evidence?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.

Your sister nodded earnestly. "Yes. I know it’s hard to believe, but Y/N has been cheating on you. I just thought you should know the truth before things got any worse."

Satoru couldn’t help but laugh out loud, shaking his head. "You’ve got to be kidding me."

She blinked, clearly taken aback by his reaction. "What do you mean? This is serious, Satoru!"

"Oh, I’m taking it seriously," he said, his tone suddenly sharp. "I’m seriously considering how someone could think I’d fall for such a poorly executed lie. Did you really think I wouldn’t notice the obvious signs of fakery?"

Your sister’s face turned red, a mix of embarrassment and frustration. "I just thought—"

"You thought wrong," Satoru interrupted, his voice firm. "I know my girl better than anyone. This? This is nothing but a desperate attempt to create doubt."

She opened her mouth to protest, but Satoru cut her off with a raised hand. "Look, I don’t know what your motives are, and frankly, I don’t care. What I do care about is your sister. And I trust her completely. So whatever you’re trying to pull here, it won’t work."

Standing up, he walked to the door and opened it. "I think it’s best if you leave now."

She hesitated for a moment, then stood up, her expression a mix of anger and defeat. "You’ll regret this, Satoru," she hissed before storming out.

Satoru closed the door behind her, letting out a sigh. He ran a hand through his hair, shaking his head in disbelief. He knew your sister had always been a bit jealous of your relationship, but this was a new low.

When you returned home a short while later, you immediately sensed that something was off. Satoru’s usual cheerful demeanor was slightly subdued, his smile not reaching his eyes.

"Hey, everything okay?" you asked, setting your bags down and walking over to him.

Satoru pulled you into a hug, holding you tightly. "Yeah, just had an interesting visit from your sister."

You pulled back slightly, looking up at him with concern. "What happened?"

He sighed, leading you to the couch. "She came over with some fake evidence, trying to convince me that you were cheating on me."

Your eyes widened in shock and anger. "What? Why would she do that?"

"I don’t know," Satoru said, gently cupping your face in his hands. "But what matters is that I didn’t believe her for a second. I trust you, princess. I love you more than anything, and nothing she could say or do would ever change that."

You nodded, feeling your heart swell with love. "Thank you for believing in me."

"Always," he whispered, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. "I love you, baby girl, and I always will."

─═✧✧═─ 𝕊𝕦𝕘𝕦𝕣𝕦 𝔾𝕖𝕥𝕠 ─═✧✧═─

Suguru sat at a cozy corner table in a quaint café, his favorite book lying open in front of him. He glanced at his watch, noting that you should be arriving soon. The café, with its warm ambiance and the soft hum of conversations, was one of your favorite places to meet.

Just as he was about to take another sip of his green tea, the door swung open, and to his surprise, your sister walked in. She scanned the room until her eyes landed on Suguru. With a determined look, she walked over to his table.

"Suguru, do you have a moment?" she asked, her voice urgent.

Suguru raised an eyebrow, slightly puzzled. "Sure, have a seat. What's going on?"

She sat down quickly, pulled out her phone and began scrolling through it, finally landing on a series of photos and messages. She placed the phone on the table and pushed it towards Suguru. "Look at these."

Suguru picked up the phone and started scrolling through the images and messages. They depicted you with another man and conversations suggesting an affair. However, Suguru quickly noticed the watermark on the bottom of the text messages and the photos, making it clear that these were all fabricated.

He set the phone down and looked at your sister with a calm but firm expression. "Why are you showing me this?"

"Isn't it obvious?" she replied, her voice rising. "She’s been cheating on you, and you deserve to know!"

Suguru leaned back in his chair, his eyes never leaving her face. "Do you honestly expect me to believe this?"

"Why wouldn't you?" she shot back, frustration evident in her tone. "I’m trying to help you!"

Suguru sighed, shaking his head. "Help me, how? By giving false information to me?”

Your sister's face turned red, anger and embarrassment mixing in her expression. "I don’t know what you’re talking about," she muttered.

"I think you do," Suguru said softly, leaning forward. "You’ve always been a bit jealous of our relationship. But this… this is too far. I trust your sister completely. I know her, and I know she would never do something like this."

Tears of frustration welled up in your sister’s eyes. "You’re making a mistake, Suguru."

Suguru's eyes hardened, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. "Listen carefully. I don't take kindly to deceit, especially when it revolves around my partner. If you ever try something like this again, you'll regret it. Do you understand?"

Your sister recoiled slightly, fear flickering in her eyes. She nodded quickly, gathering her things and leaving the café without another word.

At that moment, you walked into the café, your face lighting up as you spotted Suguru. You waved, making your way over to the table. "Hey, what’s going on?" you asked, sensing the tension.

Suguru took your hand, pulling you into the seat your sister had vacated. “Nothing you need to worry about, my love~”

Your eyes flickered with concern, but you trusted Suguru implicitly. "Are you sure? You seem a bit tense."

He smiled, the warmth returning to his eyes. "Just a minor inconvenience. It's all sorted now."

You leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to his cheek. "Okay, as long as you're sure."

Suguru lifted your hand to his lips, pressing a gentle kiss to your knuckles. "I'm sure. Let's enjoy our time together."

You nodded, feeling a sense of peace settle over you. "I love you, Suguru."

"I love you too," he replied, his voice full of conviction. "And nothing will ever change that."

─═✧✧═─ 𝕂𝕖𝕟𝕥𝕠 ℕ𝕒𝕟𝕒𝕞𝕚 ─═✧✧═─

Kento Nanami was in the midst of a busy day at the office. Papers were scattered across his desk, and the hum of conversation and ringing phones filled the room. He glanced at the clock, noting it was almost time for his lunch break. He had planned to meet you at a nearby restaurant for a quick bite.

As he was about to leave, he received a call from the receptionist. "Mr. Nanami, there's someone here to see you. She says it's urgent."

Nanami frowned, slightly irritated by the interruption. "Send her up," he replied, deciding to deal with this quickly before meeting you.

A few minutes later, your sister walked into his office, looking visibly distressed. "Kento, I need to talk to you. It's about my sister," she said, her voice shaky.

Nanami motioned for her to sit down, his expression calm but inquisitive. "What's this about?" he asked, folding his hands on the desk.

She took a deep breath and pulled out a small box from her bag. "I found something, and I think you need to see it."

Nanami took the box, feeling a bit puzzled. He opened it to find a necklace he had given you, along with a letter. The letter was a handwritten note that appeared to be from you, detailing an affair with a colleague. His heart sank momentarily as he read the words, but he noticed subtle differences in the handwriting that didn’t match yours.

"Where did you get this?" he asked, his tone neutral but with an edge of suspicion.

"I found it in her things," she replied quickly. 

Nanami leaned back in his chair, studying your sister intently. "You expect me to believe this because of a necklace and a note? Do you think I don’t know her handwriting?"

Your sister’s face flushed with embarrassment and frustration. "It’s not just that," she said, pulling out her phone. "I have texts, too."

She handed him her phone, showing a series of messages supposedly from you, confessing to an affair. Nanami read through them carefully, noting the odd phrasing and the timing that didn’t align with your usual schedule.

Nanami sighed, his expression darkening as he leaned forward, his voice dropping to a cold, intimidating tone. "I see right through you, you know. And frankly, I don’t like what I'm seeing. If you ever try something like this again, you'll regret it. Do you understand me?"

Her eyes widened in fear, and she nodded quickly. "W-What? I don’t–"

"I know what you’re trying to do.," Nanami interrupted, his gaze piercing. "But our relationship is built on trust. This—" he gestured to the box and the phone, "—won’t change that. Don't test me again."

She gathered her things and left the office, clearly shaken. Nanami took a deep breath, trying to dispel the frustration before heading to the restaurant. He knew you would be waiting for him, and he didn’t want to bring any negativity into your time together.

When he arrived, you were already seated, a bright smile lighting up your face as you spotted him. "Hey, how was your morning?" you asked, sensing a hint of tension in his demeanor.

Nanami took your hand, pulling you into a gentle kiss before sitting down. "It was... eventful," he began, his voice softening slightly.

Your eyes flickered with concern, but you trusted Nanami implicitly. "What happened? You seem a bit tense."

He sighed, squeezing your hand reassuringly. "Your sister came to my office today. She brought some... fabricated evidence, trying to convince me that you were cheating on me."

Nanami's expression softened as he looked into your eyes. "I saw right through it immediately. The handwriting didn't match, the texts were out of character for you, and the timing didn't add up. I confronted her and made it clear that if she ever tries something like this again, there will be serious consequences."

You smiled at him and kissed him on the lips. “I love you so much, do you know that?”

He smiled back, his eyes full of warmth and love. "I love you too. More than you can imagine."

You leaned in, resting your forehead against his. "Thank you for believing in me, Kento. I'm so sorry you had to deal with that."

“Ah, don’t worry about it, honey. It's done and over with now, and I know for sure it won’t happen again. So, lets just put it behind us for now and enjoy our lunch together, hm? We can go deal with your sister later.” He said, making you smile.

“Of course. There's nothing I would want more~”

─═✧✧═─ ℂ𝕙𝕠𝕤𝕠 𝕂𝕒𝕞𝕠 ─═✧✧═─

Choso was always a bit nervous at family gatherings, despite how much your family loved him. He often felt like he didn't quite belong, even though everyone went out of their way to make him feel welcome. Today was no different. The backyard was filled with the sound of laughter and the aroma of barbecue. He was standing near the grill, chatting with some of your relatives, when your sister approached him, a serious look on her face.

"Choso, can we talk in private?" she asked, her voice low.

Choso nodded, excusing himself from the conversation and following her to a quieter corner of the yard. "What's going on?" he asked, his brow furrowing with concern.

Your sister pulled out a small photo album from her bag. "I found something, and I thought you should see it."

Choso took the album, feeling a knot form in his stomach. He opened it and flipped through the pages. The album contained photos of you with another man, appearing close and affectionate. Some pages even had handwritten notes that hinted at an affair. Choso's heart clenched as he looked at them, but something felt off. The lighting in the photos was inconsistent, and the handwriting didn't match yours.

“Im sorry, Choso. You deserve better.” She spoke

Choso studied the photos and notes again, his suspicion growing. "I appreciate your concern, but I need to investigate this myself."

Your sister's face showed a flicker of irritation, but she quickly masked it with a worried look. "Why? Isn’t this proof enough for you? What more could you possibly need?!"

He ignored her, his mind already working to piece together the truth. "Give me a moment.," he said before walking away to find you.

He found you in the kitchen, helping to prepare some dishes. As soon as you saw him, you smiled brightly. "Hey, are you having a good time?"

Choso managed a small smile, but his mind was still racing. "Can we talk for a sec?"

Your smile faded slightly as you nodded, leading him to a more private area of the house. "What's wrong?"

He took a deep breath, pulling out the photo album. "Your sister gave me this. It suggests you're having an affair."

You looked at the album, shock and confusion clear on your face. "What? Let me see."

He handed you the album, watching your reaction closely. As you examined the photos and notes, your eyes widened in disbelief. "This isn't real. The photos are doctored, and this handwriting isn’t even mine."

Choso nodded, his initial suspicion confirmed. "I thought as much. The inconsistencies in the photos and the notes... it doesn't fit."

Your eyes filled with tears of frustration. "I can’t believe she would do this."

Choso wrapped his arms around you, pulling you close. "I trust you. I just wanted to make sure you knew what she was trying to do."

"Thank you for believing in me," you whispered against his chest.

He kissed the top of your head, his voice gentle but firm. "Always, baby. Our relationship is stronger than any lies she tries to spread."

You pulled back slightly, looking up at him with a grateful smile. "What should we do now?"

"We'll confront her together, later," Choso said. "For now, let’s enjoy the rest of the gathering. We won’t let her ruin our day."

As you returned to the gathering, hand in hand, Choso felt the need to love all over you. He constantly was giving you little kisses all over your face when he could. He stayed by your side the entire time, his presence a comforting reassurance. He helped you with the dishes, playfully splashing water on you and making you giggle. You fed each other bites of food, sharing secret smiles and stolen kisses. At one point, you found yourselves dancing to the music playing in the background, swaying together under the warm sunlight. Choso twirled you around, and you laughed, feeling happier than ever. The love and trust between you felt unbreakable, a fortress that no one could breach.

He squeezed your hand gently and whispered, "You know, you're the best thing that's ever happened to me."

Your heart melted at his words, and you leaned in to kiss his cheek. "And you're mine."

─═✧✧═─ 𝕋𝕠𝕛𝕚 𝔽𝕦𝕤𝕙𝕚𝕘𝕦𝕣𝕠 ─═✧✧═─

Toji Fushiguro was in the middle of an intense workout at the gym. The sound of weights clanking and people chatting filled the air, but he was focused on his routine. He enjoyed these moments of solitude and exertion, pushing his limits while thinking about you. Just as he was finishing a set, he noticed your sister entering the gym. She spotted him and made her way over, a determined look on her face.

"Hey Toji…got a second?" she asked, her tone serious.

Toji wiped the sweat from his brow and nodded, leading her to a quieter corner of the gym. "What's up?" he asked, slightly annoyed by the interruption.

She took a deep breath and pulled out a stack of printed papers from her bag. "I found something that you need to see. It's about her." she said, talking about you.

Toji raised an eyebrow but took the papers. He began to skim through them, his expression growing more serious. The papers were printed screenshots of messages, supposedly between you and another man, discussing intimate details and plans to meet. As he read, Toji's eyes narrowed. Something felt off—the language was formal, not at all like the way you talked, and the dates and times didn't align with your usual schedule.

"I knew she was unfaithful. She always gave me that vibe.” Your sister continued. Toji stared at the papers for a moment longer before crumpling them in his fist. "This is bullshit," he said bluntly. "I know her, and this isn't her."

Toji took a step closer to your sister, his eyes cold and hard. "Listen closely. I'm only giving you this warning because you're her sister. If you ever try to sabotage our relationship again, you'll wish you hadn't. I don't take kindly to deceit, and I won't hesitate to make you regret it. Do you understand me?"

Fear flickered in her eyes as she nodded quickly, not daring to say another word. She quickly gathered her things and left the gym, clearly shaken. Toji watched her go, his expression remaining stern until she was out of sight. He then took a deep breath, trying to dispel his anger before heading home. He knew you would be there, and he didn't want to bring any negativity into your time together.

Toji managed a small smile, though his mind was still on the earlier confrontation. "It was good. Feeling strong," he replied, walking over to you and wrapping his arms around your waist from behind. He pressed a gentle kiss to your neck, making you giggle.

"You seem a bit tense," you observed, turning to face him. "Everything okay?"

Toji nodded, his eyes softening as he looked at you. "Yeah, just had a bit of a situation at the gym, but it's taken care of."

You raised an eyebrow, curious but trusting his words. "Well, I'm glad it's all sorted out."

"Me too," he said, pulling you into a deeper kiss. "So what's for dinner?"

You smiled, looking up at him, "Your favorite—steak and roasted vegetables."

Toji's eyes lit up with genuine happiness, his lips trailing down your neck. "Sounds perfect, doll~."

─═✧✧═─ 𝕊𝕦𝕜𝕦𝕟𝕒 ℝ𝕪𝕠𝕞𝕖𝕟 ─═✧✧═─

Sukuna's palace was as grand and imposing as ever, with its vast halls and ornate decorations. The air was thick with a sense of power and mystery. Sukuna was in his private chamber, reviewing some ancient scrolls, when he noticed a commotion outside his door. Your sister was being escorted into the room, looking both nervous and determined.

"State your business," Sukuna demanded, his eyes narrowing as he observed her.

"I have something you need to see, my king," she said, her voice trembling slightly as she handed him a small, ornate box.

He didn’t even bother to look, he could tell what your sister was trying to do. He instantly burned them up

“W-What are you doing?!” She asked with widened eyes.

Sukuna stood up, towering over her. "You think I would be so easily deceived? Do you really believe I wouldn't recognize a poorly executed plan?" His voice was low and dangerous, sending a shiver down her spine.

She took a step back, her confidence quickly fading. "I...I–"

Sukuna's patience snapped. In an instant, he was in front of her, his hand around her throat, lifting her off the ground effortlessly. "You thought wrong. And now, you'll pay for your insolence."

Your sister's eyes widened in terror as she struggled to breathe, her hands clawing at his grip. "P-please... I won’t do it again..."

"You dare try to undermine my trust in her? You dare think you can deceive me?" His grip tightened, his eyes glowing with a murderous intent. "Know your place."

She gasped for air, tears streaming down her face. "I'm s-sorry... please..."

Sukuna sneered, his face inches from hers. "I should end you right here. But for her sake, I'll spare your pathetic life this once." He released her, letting her fall to the ground, coughing and gasping for breath. "But if you ever try something like this again, there will be no mercy."

Your sister scrambled to her feet, nodding frantically before fleeing the room. Sukuna watched her go, his expression remaining stern until she was out of sight. He then took a deep breath, calming himself before heading to find you.

When he found you, you were in one of the palace's beautiful gardens, tending to the flowers. As soon as you saw him, you smiled brightly. "Hey, how was your day?"

Sukuna managed a small smile, though his mind was still on the earlier confrontation. "Fine. What are you doing out here?” He asked

“Helping the flowers~” I say as I look back at all of the various flowers surrounding us.

Sukuna's eyes softened slightly as he watched you tend to the garden. "They look good," he remarked, stepping closer but keeping his distance.

"Thank you," you replied with a smile. "I thought it would be nice to have some fresh flowers for the palace."

He nodded, his gaze lingering on you for a moment. 

You kissed his cheek before continuing your work. "So how was your day?"

"Fine," he replied, his voice steady and reserved.

You sensed there was more to it but decided not to press him. "Well, now that you’re here, shall we spend the rest of the evening together?"

Sukuna nodded, another small smile playing on his lips. "Yes, let's."

[thedensworld]

Work Stressed | Y.Jh

Pairing: Jeonghan x reader

Genre: comedy, fluff

Summary: Working with your best friend is stressful and Jeonghan will tell you why.

"Where is she?!" Jeonghan slammed his fist onto the desk, eyes burning with frustration as he stared at the article on his screen. One of his artists, you, was now being implicated in a vandalism case in Hongdae. Your photo—blurry but unmistakable—was plastered all over the page, showing you running with a group of culprits. How had this happened?

"She's on her way here, sir," his secretary said quietly, sensing his fury.

Jeonghan massaged his temples, trying to quell the growing headache. Just yesterday, a paparazzi had caught you napping on a park bench, forcing him to pay off a tabloid to kill the story—especially with your drama currently on air. Now this? Vandalism in Hongdae? The timing couldn't have been worse.

"She's going to be the death of me," he muttered under his breath.

Right on cue, you strolled into his office, a bright smile on your face as if nothing had happened. "Hello! I got you coffee," you chirped, holding up a cup like it was some kind of peace offering.

Jeonghan’s jaw tightened. He pointed sharply to the couch. "Sit."

You blinked but complied, casually dropping onto the plush seat as if you were here for a friendly chat. Jeonghan motioned for everyone to leave the room—your manager, his secretary, all of them filed out without a word, leaving the two of you alone.

"What's it this time?" you asked, unfazed, already knowing you were the problem child of the company. You leaned back, taking a slow sip of your coffee, like this was just another Tuesday.

Jeonghan didn’t say anything at first. Instead, he slammed the printed article down in front of you. “Read.”

You glanced at it briefly, then back up at him with a shrug. "I was just jogging," you said, completely nonchalant.

Jeonghan’s eyes flashed with disbelief. "Jogging?! How is my PR team supposed to spin that? Do you think the public is going to believe you were just out for a jog when you're literally pictured running from the scene with a gang of vandals?"

You sighed, rolling your eyes as if he were the one being unreasonable. “I didn’t do anything. I’m not part of any gang. It’s just a coincidence. Tell them that.”

Jeonghan gritted his teeth, trying to contain his frustration. "It’s not that simple, darling. You don’t just explain away an article like this. Your reputation is on the line."

Leaning forward, you met his gaze, unbothered. “Doesn’t matter what I say. I’m always going to be the villain anyway, even when I’m telling the truth.”

That made him pause. As much as it frustrated him, you had a point. You were always honest—maybe tood honest—but no matter what you said, the media would find a way to twist it. They always did.

Jeonghan slumped back into his chair, exhaling heavily, his anger slowly deflating. "I'm sorry," he muttered, surprising even himself. "How are you, by the way? I heard you got injured during filming."

You blinked, caught off guard by the sudden change of tone. You nodded, pulling up your sleeve to reveal a deep scratch on your left arm. "Yeah, I’m fine. Just a cut."

Jeonghan winced. "That’s going to leave a scar."

You smiled, unfazed. "Well, lucky for me, you’ve got plenty of money to fix that."

For the first time that morning, Jeonghan chuckled softly. "Yeah. You’re not wrong."

It had been 15 years since that fateful day in high school when Jeonghan accidentally kicked a soccer ball straight into your forehead. You had been the new kid in school, standing on the sidelines of the field, and Jeonghan's errant kick had made sure you were noticed. While you were clutching your head in pain, Jeonghan had rushed over, apologizing profusely. That was the beginning of your unlikely friendship.

At the time, you had just moved to Seoul for your acting debut, and Jeonghan, with his easygoing charm, quickly became your first friend in the new school. He was the only one who didn’t treat you differently because of your budding fame, and soon, the dynamic shifted from classmates to something more like colleagues. You were juggling school and early acting roles, while Jeonghan was focusing on his studies—first as a regular student, but with a growing interest in business.

"Hey," Jeonghan had said one day after school, leaning against the lockers with that confident grin of his. "I’m going to start a label in the future. Do you want to be my actor?"

You had laughed at the time, but without hesitation, you responded, "Sure."

It was a simple promise made between two teenagers who didn’t quite know what the future held. You didn’t expect it to come true, but years later, after Jeonghan graduated with a degree in business and you had built up a name for yourself in the industry, the promise came back.

"Remember when you said you’d be my actor?" Jeonghan had asked one evening over drinks, his tone light but his expression serious.

And just like that, the promise from high school had become reality. Jeonghan had become your manager—a great one, too. He knew how to navigate the industry, protect your image, and push you to take on more challenging roles as your career advanced. He wasn’t just your manager—he was someone who knew you, who had been there from the start.

But in recent years, things had gotten complicated. As your fame grew, so did the pressure. The roles weren’t easy anymore, and neither were the scandals. Jeonghan spent more time putting out fires, like today’s vandalism case, and less time just being your friend.

He watched you now, still sipping your coffee like nothing had happened. He could see the exhaustion in your eyes, hidden behind that carefree exterior you always wore in public. And that made him wonder if maybe, just maybe, he had pushed you too far.

Breaking the silence, Jeonghan leaned forward. "Do you ever think about... slowing down? Taking a break?"

You gave him a long, hard look, as if weighing the question carefully. "Are you suggesting I quit?" you asked, a small smirk playing on your lips, but there was an edge to your voice.

Jeonghan shook his head. "No, not quit. Just... rest. You've been running non-stop for years. You’ve earned a break."

You leaned back, staring up at the ceiling. "And what would I do with a break? Stay home? Watch dramas I’m not in?"

"You could live," Jeonghan said softly, surprising even himself with how earnest he sounded. "You could live without the cameras, the articles, the public scrutiny—just for a little while."

You looked at him, searching his face for something. After a moment, you sighed. "Maybe. But I don't think the world would let me rest, even if I wanted to."

Jeonghan frowned but didn't argue. He knew you were probably right. You were too much of a public figure now. People always had their eyes on you, waiting for your next move, your next mistake.

"Still," Jeonghan said, "if you ever decide to take that break, I’ll be right here."

You smiled, genuinely this time. "Thanks. But we both know I'm not going anywhere just yet."

Jeonghan returned the smile, though there was a trace of sadness in it. "Yeah. I know."

*

Jeonghan was jolted awake by the shrill sound of the doorbell ringing incessantly. Groggily, he glanced at the clock—2 a.m. If this wasn’t something urgent, someone was getting fired. He dragged himself out of bed, confused and annoyed, and checked the intercom. His brows furrowed when he saw your face on the screen. Without hesitation, he buzzed you in.

Opening the door, he found you standing there, still dressed in full makeup, looking disheveled and slightly off-kilter. At first glance, you appeared drunk. Your new manager was standing awkwardly behind you, wearing a tight, apologetic smile.

"She insisted on coming here," your manager explained, his tone strained.

Jeonghan waved him off. "It’s okay, I’ll take it from here. You should go home and get some rest."

With a nod, the manager gratefully left, and Jeonghan turned his attention to you. He sighed, taking in your messy state. "Who did you get drunk with this time?" he asked, guiding you inside and sitting you down on the couch. He slipped off your jacket, his patience wearing thin.

But then you blinked, stretched out dramatically, and he noticed the telltale spark of mischief in your eyes. You weren't drunk at all—you were acting.

"I knew it!" Jeonghan groaned, throwing your jacket back at you as he slumped down on the opposite end of the couch. "What are you doing, disturbing my sleep at 2 a.m.? I have work tomorrow."

You giggled softly, bending down to untie your shoes. "Let me crash here for a few days," you said casually, propping your legs up on the couch as if it were already decided.

Jeonghan chuckled, shaking his head. "Absolutely not. Get up, I’m driving you home." He reached out to pull your arm, trying to get you back on your feet.

"No!" You resisted, clinging to the couch. "I don’t want to go home."

He crossed his arms, leaning back and studying you. "Did something happen?" His voice softened with concern.

You avoided his gaze, biting your lip as if debating whether to tell him. Finally, you mumbled, "I haven’t been home in a week. I’m scared... Let me stay here. I’ll sleep in the guest room, and I swear it’ll be like I’m not even here."

Jeonghan’s eyes narrowed with suspicion. "What do you mean, scared?" He grabbed your arm, gently pulling you back down when you tried to dash off to the guest room. "No, sit down and explain. What’s going on?"

You hesitated, your eyes darting around the room as if searching for an escape. "I think someone’s been in my house… for the past week."

Jeonghan’s frown deepened. "What? How do you know?"

You pulled out your phone and handed it to him. There was a picture—of you, taken from inside your house. It was grainy, but clearly snapped from within the confines of your own home.

Jeonghan’s expression darkened as he studied the photo. "And you’re just telling me this now? Did they hurt you?"

You shook your head. "No, but... the last time I went there, I heard someone chasing me, and I fell down the stairs."

He immediately reached for your arm, rolling up the sleeve to reveal the injury. "So this wasn’t from shooting, was it?" You shook your head again, and his worry only grew.

Jeonghan cursed under his breath. "That’s dangerous. Why didn’t you call the police?"

"I panicked," you whispered, your voice trembling slightly. "I didn’t know what to do. My new manager doesn’t even know... He tried to take me home tonight, but when I saw the lights were on, I freaked out and asked him to bring me here instead."

Jeonghan sighed, running a hand through his hair. He could see how shaken you were, though you were trying to keep it together. "You shouldn’t have kept this to yourself."

"I didn’t want to cause more trouble," you muttered, biting your lip. "I already feel like I’ve been a mess lately..."

"Hey," Jeonghan interrupted, his hands settling gently on your shoulders, his voice firm yet reassuring. "That’s alright. You did the right thing by coming here."

You looked up at him, visibly relieved by his words, and he could see just how exhausted you were—mentally and physically. He stood up, grabbing his phone from the table.

"You’re sleeping in my room tonight," he said. "The guest room’s full of my work stuff right now, and I’m not letting you sleep alone when someone’s been in your house."

Before you could protest, Jeonghan was already dialing the security company and setting up arrangements to keep you safe. You sat there, watching him take control of the situation, and for the first time in a while, you felt like you could breathe.

"Thank you," you whispered, as Jeonghan hung up the phone and turned back to you.

He smiled softly, reaching out to ruffle your hair. "Get some rest. You’ll be safe here."

And for the first time in days, you actually believed it.

*

"I didn't know you could cook," Jeonghan remarked, stepping into his home, greeted by the delicious aroma of a home-cooked meal. The sight of you casually moving around in his kitchen was something he never thought he’d witness. In his mind, you were always more of a 'princess treatment' kind of girl, not someone who could navigate a kitchen so confidently.

"I’ve lived alone since high school. Of course I know how to cook," you replied, brushing off the surprise in his voice. You ushered him to change out of his work clothes and join you for dinner.

A few minutes later, Jeonghan sat down at the table, taking the first bite of your meal. His eyes widened in genuine appreciation. "Thanks for the meal. This is really good."

You smiled at the compliment. As he ate, Jeonghan’s expression grew more serious. "The police are investigating the stalker case. They’ve already found a few leads, so we should have more answers soon. As for the vandalism incident, we’ve sued the media for spreading disinformation. Hopefully, that’ll keep them in check."

You sighed, leaning back in your chair. "I just don’t understand how anyone could believe I’d do something like that. Do I really seem like the kind of person who would join a vandalism gang?"

Jeonghan laughed, shaking his head. "Not at all. They’re just looking for a story."

The two of you finished dinner, and Jeonghan insisted on doing the dishes while you moved to the living room, scrolling through the script your manager had sent over. It wasn’t long before Jeonghan joined you, handing you a can of beer.

"What’s this one about?" he asked, gesturing to the script in your hands.

"A memorable one-night stand that ends up with the female lead discovering it was her boss," you replied, taking a sip from your can.

Jeonghan raised an eyebrow. "Koreans really love their one-night stand stories. Almost every drama seems to start like that these days."

You chuckled, shaking your head. "Yeah, but this one’s different. The boss—the male lead—has actually been in love with her since high school. I know, it's a bit unrealistic, but the character development is solid."

Jeonghan smiled, understanding now why you’d taken the role. "Is that why you accepted the part?"

You nodded. "That, and let’s be honest, there are so many new rookies in the industry now. I can’t afford to be picky." You laughed, but there was a hint of truth behind your words.

Jeonghan picked up the script and skimmed through it. "Let me help you with practice," he offered, settling in beside you. He took on the role of the male lead, reading his lines with a surprising amount of intensity.

"Just because I’m your boss, doesn’t mean I can’t love you," Jeonghan read, his voice low and serious. "I’m also human. I have feelings. And I’ve told you before, I’ve liked you since high school. That feeling... it never stopped. It’s only grown, Y/N."

You blinked, startled by the sound of your own name coming from him. "That’s my name," you pointed out, half-joking but also feeling the odd shift in the air.

Jeonghan quickly cleared his throat, flustered. "I—I meant to say, Mina... the character’s name." His face flushed as he tried to recover.

You watched him for a moment, feeling the tension building between you. Suddenly, the room felt too small, too intimate. You hastily grabbed the script from his hands. "Practice is over," you said, tossing it onto the coffee table.

The atmosphere was heavy, the lines between your characters and your real relationship beginning to blur. You stood up quickly, needing to break the awkwardness. "Do you want ice cream? Or dessert? Maybe I should order pizza?"

Jeonghan bit his lip, looking down as he rubbed the back of his neck. He had messed up, and he knew it. That one slip, saying your name instead of the character’s, had crossed a line he wasn’t sure he could uncross.

"Yeah, sure. Pizza sounds good," he muttered, watching you retreat to the kitchen, trying to put some distance between the moment that just passed. But the tension hung in the air, thick and undeniable. He wasn’t sure if either of you could pretend it hadn’t just happened.

*

"Are they following us?" Jeonghan's voice was tense, his eyes glancing at the rearview mirror every few seconds. You followed his gaze and immediately recognized the car tailing you both since you left the company.

"It's them," you whispered, dread settling in your chest. It was the stalker that had been eluding the police for weeks now, making your life a constant state of unease.

Jeonghan's grip on the steering wheel tightened. "They must’ve been waiting for you," he muttered, a sharp edge to his tone as he pressed down on the accelerator, increasing the speed. His jaw clenched, and his knuckles whitened as he kept glancing at you, noticing the panic on your face as you watched the car in the rearview mirror.

He let out a frustrated sigh before turning the car down an unexpected street. "Why are we turning left?" you asked, confusion lacing your voice.

Jeonghan shot you a determined look, the corner of his mouth curling slightly into a grin. "I'm giving them a little lesson," he said calmly, though there was a storm brewing behind his eyes.

Your stomach dropped. "No..." you began, shaking your head in protest. "This could be dangerous, Jeonghan."

He only smirked as he turned the car down a narrow, dark alleyway, taking sharp turns that would easily confuse the car behind. Within moments, Jeonghan had maneuvered them into a tight corner, effectively trapping the stalker's car.

The car came to a screeching halt, and you let out a deep sigh, anxiety still buzzing through your veins. "This isn’t a good idea..." you whispered, but Jeonghan was already out of the car, his movements swift and purposeful.

You barely registered where the bat came from, but suddenly, Jeonghan had it gripped in his hand as he approached the stalker’s vehicle. Without hesitation, he swung the bat at the car’s door, the sound of metal denting beneath his force echoing in the quiet alley.

"I said, get out, you motherfucker!" Jeonghan’s voice was cold, sharp enough to cut through the fear lingering in the air. You flinched at the sound, shocked by this side of him. He'd always been calm, composed, but tonight he was someone else entirely—fierce and protective.

The driver, a man, finally opened the door, trembling as he faced Jeonghan, who towered over him with a dangerous look in his eyes.

"Is this the guy who’s been following you, Y/n?" Jeonghan barked, his eyes flicking back to you for confirmation. You took a few steps forward, your breath catching in your throat as you recognized the man’s face, albeit obscured by the shadows. But you knew. It was him.

You nodded, pulling out your phone with trembling hands and dialing the police, your fingers moving on autopilot. Jeonghan didn’t wait. He grabbed the man by the collar, lifting him slightly off the ground as he growled into his face, "If you ever come near her again, I swear to God—"

The man whimpered, too scared to even respond. Before anything more could happen, the flashing lights of the police illuminated the alleyway, casting long shadows as officers arrived on the scene. They quickly apprehended the stalker, securing him in handcuffs as you gave your statement to one of the officers.

As the police car drove away, Jeonghan stood there, still clutching the bat. His shoulders finally relaxed, and he turned back to you, the fierceness in his eyes softening into something more familiar, something more... him.

"Are you okay?" he asked, his voice now low, filled with concern.

You nodded, still shaken but relieved. "Thank you, Jeonghan," you whispered, unsure of what else to say. He walked over to you and gently placed a hand on your shoulder, his earlier anger dissipating into tenderness.

"Don’t worry," he said softly, "let's go home."

*

Despite everything that had happened recently, you refused to take a break. You continued cooperating with the ongoing investigation, all while managing to shoot your latest drama. With the media spotlight firmly fixed on your every move, you became the topic of discussion, whether it was for the stalking case, the vandalism rumors, or your work. It wasn't a surprise when some of your co-stars started showing subtle attitudes—jealousy or perhaps frustration, masked behind fake smiles.

One of them, a junior by two years, approached you between takes with a smug expression. She had once been part of the company before leaving two years ago. “Maybe you should give your company a break from all the scandals and trouble,” she said, her words dripping with passive aggression.

You didn’t miss a beat, flashing her a sharp grin. “Still worried about your ex who takes care of me better than you ever did?" you shot back, referencing Jeonghan, whom she had dated before leaving the company. Your words hit their mark, her face briefly betraying the sting before she turned and walked away.

Jeonghan’s words echoed in your mind: "Be bold. Don’t be nice to people who do you dirty." He had told you that during one of your darkest moments, when the pressure of rumors and whispers had almost broken you early in your career. Now, you carried that same attitude with you—while you were known as a bit scandalous, and people tried to paint you as a troublemaker, you had firm boundaries. And unlike some, you didn’t allow people to step over them. You had no problem telling them to back off, which often led to even more shade and misinformation thrown your way.

But no matter how hard they tried to tear you down, the public loved you. Your acting was brilliant, your roles brought to life in a way that others could only admire. And while you were often the target of rumors, at the end of the day, people couldn’t deny the fact that you were just a person trying to stay sane in the cutthroat world of entertainment.

“Good job, everyone!” the director called, signaling the end of the shoot. You thanked everyone on set as you wrapped up your work for the day. It was past 10 p.m., and exhaustion weighed heavily on your shoulders. Fortunately, today's shoot had been made more enjoyable by a surprise food truck sent by your former co-star, Jeon Wonwoo. The gesture had lifted the spirits of the entire crew.

As you gathered your things and bid goodbye to the team, you noticed a familiar figure walking toward you with a tired smile—Yoon Jeonghan.

“CEO Yoon!” people greeted him with respect as he approached, exchanging pleasantries with the crew. You overheard the director speaking with him.

“Are you here for Y/n?” the director asked, shaking hands with Jeonghan.

Jeonghan nodded, his expression warm but focused. “Yes, is the shoot finished?”

You quickly grabbed your bag and approached the two of them. “Thank you for today, director,” you said, bowing politely.

The director smiled, nodding in return. “You did a great job today. Have a good evening, Y/n. You too, CEO Yoon.”

As the director walked away, Jeonghan turned to you with a soft smile. “Ready to go?”

You nodded, grateful for his presence after such a long and draining day. Even after all these years, Jeonghan’s presence had a way of grounding you—reminding you that no matter how chaotic things got, you always had someone in your corner.

“Hyejin talked to me today,” you said, breaking the comfortable silence as Jeonghan drove you home.

“Shin Hyejin?” Jeonghan asked, glancing at you briefly.

You nodded. “Yep, your ‘ex’ who loves pampering me.”

Jeonghan chuckled, shaking his head. “She’s not an ex. We just met a few times back in the day.”

Raising an eyebrow, you shot him a playful look. “But she sure thought you two were dating.”

A heavy sigh escaped Jeonghan, followed by another chuckle. “I’m really sorry about that, then,” he said, amused at the absurdity of it all. “People see what they want to see, I guess.”

He changed the subject quickly, his voice light and teasing. “I noticed Jeon Wonwoo sent you a food truck today. He’s such a sweetheart, isn’t he?”

You rolled your eyes at his teasing tone. “We’re just friends, Jeonghan.”

“I didn’t say anything,” he quipped, clearly enjoying getting under your skin.

You sighed, leaning back in your seat. “He’s a great person. Kind, thoughtful, and sweet... but you know my problem.”

Jeonghan’s teasing smile faded, replaced with quiet understanding as his hand moved to rest gently on yours. He gave it a reassuring squeeze. “It’s okay,” he said softly, referring to your struggle with avoidant attachment. “There’s no rush. No need to worry. You’ve been through a lot, and you get to take your time.”

You appreciated the warmth in his words and the fact that he always seemed to know how to calm your anxieties. While people like Wonwoo were kind, it was Jeonghan’s constant presence and unwavering support that had always grounded you. You didn’t need to explain yourself around him. He just got you.

As the car cruised through the quiet streets, you found yourself lost in thought, staring out the window while Jeonghan’s steady presence filled the space next to you. The city lights blurred by, and you suddenly wondered, When did this happen?

When had Jeonghan become such an integral part of your life? It wasn’t just that he was your manager; it was the way he was always there—at every high and low, quietly supporting you, guiding you through the mess of the industry. You didn’t know when it had shifted, but at some point, he had surrounded your life fully. Every big decision, every major step, Jeonghan had been there, solid as ever.

You glanced at him from the corner of your eye. He was focused on the road, his face calm and composed, just like always. But you couldn’t help but feel a mix of awe and confusion. How had he managed to be so deeply woven into the fabric of your life without you even realizing it?

His dedication to his work was something that had always amazed you. He wasn’t just a manager who worked the hours and did the minimum; Jeonghan breathed the industry. His passion was palpable, the way he fought for his artists, the way he handled crises with a cool head and quick thinking. Even when things were overwhelming, he never seemed to waver.

You had always admired that about him. It was part of why you never allowed yourself to rest, why you kept pushing yourself to be better. You wanted to prove to him—and maybe to yourself—that you were as passionate as he was, that you could match his fire. Sometimes you felt like you were chasing that, trying to live up to the standard he set, even if it wore you out.

But tonight, sitting next to him in the quiet hum of the car, you found yourself questioning more than just your career.

Was that all it was? Admiration? Dedication to your work?

Or was there something else? A deeper reason why you felt this way whenever you were around him. Why his opinion of you mattered so much. Why, when he placed his hand on yours earlier, you felt a sense of calm you hadn’t felt in a long time.

You shifted in your seat, feeling a flutter of unease mixed with something you weren’t sure you wanted to name just yet. What am I feeling for him?

Jeonghan had always been your constant, but lately, that constant presence felt heavier. More significant. And the more you questioned it, the more confusing it became. You didn’t want to ruin things. Didn’t want to blur the lines between the professional and whatever this was growing between you. But could you keep pretending you didn’t feel it?

"Jeonghan?" you called softly, your voice almost uncertain.

He glanced at you, surprised by the tone in your voice. “Yeah?”

You hesitated. What am I supposed to say? The words were on the tip of your tongue, but instead, you forced a smile and shook your head.

“Nothing,” you mumbled, turning back to the window, your thoughts more tangled than ever.

Jeonghan didn’t press, but the question lingered in your mind long after the car ride was over.

*

Jeonghan shouldn’t have done that.

It was 9 a.m., and Jeonghan had his head buried in his hands at his desk, staring at the article that had just been published. Not just about you—but about both of you. His face might have been blurred in the pictures, but anyone with half a brain could tell it was him. The caption was vague, but the implications were clear: rumors of a secret relationship between you and him were already spreading like wildfire.

Why did I kiss her last night?

Jeonghan replayed the events over and over in his head, the regret gnawing at him like a bad headache. After driving you to your new place, the drive had been oddly quiet. Something had felt off, so he’d asked if everything was okay, checking on you a few times. You’d nodded, but your silence said otherwise.

When he’d parked and walked around to open the door for you, that’s when it happened.

“Jeonghan,” you’d called his name, standing in front of him with a look he couldn’t quite place. “I don’t like Wonwoo.”

Jeonghan had blinked, caught off guard. He wasn’t sure what had prompted that, especially after teasing you about Wonwoo earlier. But what you said next stopped him cold.

“I think I like you.”

His breath had hitched. You... liked him? No, that couldn’t be right. After all these years? He could hardly believe it, and neither, it seemed, could you.

You quickly corrected yourself, shaking your head as if trying to sort through your own confusion. “No, I think it’s just admiration. But… I don’t know. Admiration can lead to liking someone, right? But I honestly don’t know.”

Jeonghan had stood frozen, staring into your eyes. He watched the way your expression shifted from uncertainty to something deeper, something vulnerable. And before he could stop himself, before he could think about the consequences, his gaze fell to your lips.

And he kissed you.

You weren’t drunk. Neither was he. You were both fully aware of what you were doing, yet Jeonghan still couldn’t fathom where he’d found the courage to close the gap between you after fifteen years of friendship. Why did you suddenly confess to him? Was it because you’d been living under his roof for the past few weeks? Had the proximity stirred something inside you?

Now, the aftermath was crashing down on him. He wasn’t just your friend—he was the CEO of a company with a reputation to uphold. He couldn’t afford to be entangled in a scandal like this, not with you at the center of it.

Jeonghan was snapped out of his thoughts by his secretary’s voice, pulling him back to reality.

“You can be honest with me, sir. Are you two dating?” she pressed, clearly curious. She was one of the few people who knew about the close bond between the two of you, and she had probably been speculating for a while.

Jeonghan sighed, avoiding the question. Instead, he asked, “Where is she?”

His voice softened instinctively when asking about you, something his secretary didn’t miss. She checked her phone, scrolling through messages. “Her manager said she just woke up and hasn’t seen any of this yet. Apparently, she left her phone somewhere…”

She paused, smirking slightly. “Somewhere in your car.”

Jeonghan waved her off, feeling a mixture of exasperation and amusement. He leaned back in his chair, closing his eyes for a moment as he let out a deep sigh. He needed to figure out what to do next—and fast.

An official statement would have to be released soon, but the bigger question remained: what was going to happen between the two of you now?

“Let’s just say we’re dating,” you blurted out, and Jeonghan immediately choked on nothing.

“We’re not dating,” he stated flatly, eyes wide in disbelief.

You raised an eyebrow. “Do you want to date?”

The conversation had suddenly taken a sharp turn, the heat of the moment making it hard to think straight. Thankfully, no one was around to witness the embarrassment unfolding in Jeonghan’s office.

“Don’t say that!” he exclaimed, panic lacing his voice.

“Why not?” You tilted your head, smirking slightly. “Are you suddenly chickening out after kissing me last night? Or do you kiss all your artists, Yoon Jeonghan?”

Jeonghan scowled, thoroughly offended by your accusation. “Is that what you think of me? Wow.”

You shook your head, teasing him more than you probably should. “No, but now I understand why Hyejin misunderstood things.”

Frustrated, Jeonghan threw his hands in the air. “Me and Hyejin were nothing, I told you.”

“Okay, but what about you and me?” you asked, voice softer, but your question hit harder than you’d intended.

Jeonghan’s heart pounded in his chest, suddenly at a loss for words. It wasn’t that he didn’t have anything to say—it was that he was terrified. Scared that if he told you the truth, you’d run away from him.

I love you.

He ran a hand through his hair, his frustration growing as he watched you grin in satisfaction. This woman...

“Please, consider everything before you speak. What about your fans? The shippers for your drama?” Jeonghan was grasping for any reason to keep things under control, even though the situation was spiraling fast.

You shrugged, entirely too nonchalant for his liking. “I don’t know. Let’s see their reaction then.”

Jeonghan crossed his arms and sighed, already feeling defeated. “Alright, fine. Let’s release a statement saying we’re dating—for now. We’ll figure out the rest later.”

Your smile grew wider, head tilting as you gave him a look that made his heart race even faster.

“Jeonghan,” you said softly, catching his attention.

“What?”

“I don’t think I just like you.”

Jeonghan raised an eyebrow, his breath catching in his throat.

“I think I love you.”

He bit his inner cheek, feeling like he was about to lose his mind. This woman is going to be the death of me.

[cheriladycl01]

Kinktober 14/10/2024 Fernando Alonso - Marking

Plot: Fernando has to make everyone know who you belong to by marking what is his … all these young boys on the grid wouldn’t know how to handle a lady like you anyway.

Warnings: Kinktober, SMUT, Marking, Hickies, biting, hand prints, p in v, slapping, fingering age-gap of 11 years, 18+ Minors DNI

Fernando had to make sure that everyone knew you were his and that you did in fact belong to him. There wasn’t a question about it, to him and you anyway but whenever you were around the paddock no-one could quite believe a young and influential celebrity like yourself was dating … him.

Nobody had an issue with it, 11 years as an age gap at the ages of 32 and 43 wasn’t that much at this age. The older you both got the less of an issue it became.

However, mechanics weren’t shy in the F1 world and were very very happy to talk to you when you were around in the garage or hospitality suites. A lot of the me the conversations remained polite and you were very intrigued by everything that went into an F1 team and how everyone did certain things to help the team get the best result possible.

But Fernando always seemed to walk in on rather out of context moments, just little comments from the mechanics and engineers that he’d walk in on and because of their nature a scowl would remain on his face for the rest of the day.

After a long day of FP3, qualifying and all the media duties on the side he took you back to the hotel you were all staying at with Aston Martin. You could tell the minute you guys got out the car he wasn’t happy. His hand was on the smell of your back guiding you to the lift and as you got there his hand drifted round the side to your waist, pulling you closer to him.

As the lift doors shut and it started going up, his grip on your hip only got tighter. He pinned you to the wall of the lift, leaving you no room as he kisses and nibbled up the exposed part of the neck. He was happy you guys were in Italy and that it was hot because all tomorrow you’d wear a pretty sundress that he knew everyone would be able to see what you’d both done tonight on you.

He kept kissing making little purple bruises all along your collarbone and neck. There was so many and he knew he’d make more once you got into his room.

He twisted your head to the side to look at the state of your neck in the mirror, your chin tilted up as he locked eyes at you in the mirror, still against your neck, nibbling and kissing away. He was obsessed.

The minute he got you in the hotel room, he was so much worse, on your like a dog in an instant kissing all over your face lightly as he parts your legs open, hitching the maxi skirt you’d worn today up to your hip.

“So pretty hermosa” he grins.

He practically tore your underwear off and his fingers were dipping into your heat beofre you could even look down to see what his plan was. Your gripped his forearm your mouth parting slightly at the feeling of his thick fingers stretching you out. You moan his name.

It sounded so loud, ludicrous, pornographic? You couldn’t tell but you knew it wasn’t a sound you wanted anyone else from the Aston Martin team to hear. Out of instinct, you but down into his arm. Not enough to hurt him, but enough to muffle the noises you were making.

“That’s it, tell everyone that you belong to me, and that I belong to you baby. Show them” he groans as his fingers scissor inside the deepest part of you that he can reach a happy sigh coming from you mouth before you unsink your teeth.

“It’s only ever going to be you” you moan at before your shaking around his fingers as he helps you through your high, still thrusting his fingers in and out.

Your grip his arm, your legs still shaking from your orgasm as you breath out trying to stop the low little pants coming out from your mouth.

He pulls his fingers out with a pop sucking them clean. He then kisses your clit, your hand coming to his head at the overstimulation as you moan. He travels his way up biting and nibbling all along your hip bone before going up to his favourite place to mark.

“They just sit so pretty” he groans licking over a hardened nipple before going around the frost of your actual boob, creating red and purple marks that have you wining and moaning for me.

“Come on baby, wanna feel you so bad. On your knees that’s it good girl, just a good girl aren’t you for daddy” he moans as you quickly turn over, so your on your elbows and knees presenting yourself to him.

He positions himself behind you, a vice grip on your hips. He slowly pushes his way into you, you can feel every different but if his dick scrapping against your tight walls, the stretch causing the loudest moan of the night just as he bottoms out.

He stays still for a while before he tightens his grip, knowing full well his hand prints will probably be there from his tight it was.

He started of slow building himself up until he was pounding in and out of you with so much vigor you wouldn’t think this was a 40 old year old man.

You could barley speak from how much please was coursing through your body, it was a feeling like no other to the point where your orgasm came on so suddenly that you couldn’t even tell Fernando that you were.

The only warning he got was you clenching around him beofre he could feel your juices drip down onto the sheets as you squirted. The tightest had him follow shortly after, with one final thrust burying himself deep in your walls and his hips stuttering as he did.

He helps you rolls over once he’s pulled out so your laying on your back on the bed.

“Your so fucking beautiful, and all mine. Everyone will see these tomorrow in that little dress of yours. Everyone will know how good I treat you” he tells you and all you can do is nod and cuddle into him. Unable to have words after what you’d just done.

Taglist:

@littlebitchsposts @hockey-racing-fubol @laura-naruto-fan1998 @22yuki @simxican @sinofwriting @lewisroscoelove @cmleitora @daemyratwst @lauralarsen @the-untamed-soul @thewulf @itsjustkhaos @purplephantomwolf @chasing-liberosis @summissss @gulphulp @starfusionsworld @jspitwall @sierruhhhh @georgeparisole @youcannotcancelquidditch @tallbrownhairsarcastic @ourteenagetragedy @peachiicherries @formulas-bitch @cherry-piee @spilled-coffee-cup @mehrmonga @eiraethh @curseofhecate @alliwantisadonut @dark-night-sky-99 @i-wish-this-was-me @tallrock35 @butterfly-lover @barnestatic @landossainz @darleneslane @barcelonaloverf1life @r0nnsblog @ilove-tswizzle @laneyspaulding19 @malynn @landosgirlxoxo @marie0v @yourbane @teamnovalak @nikfigueiredo @fionaschicken @0picels0 @tinydeskwriter @ironmaiden1313 @splaterparty0-0 @formula1mount

[leclerc-s]

struggling to survive netflix

series masterlist

rhys jones word of advice: DO NOT watch season 6 of drive to survive.

max jones-verstappen you watch that crap?

rhys jones i couldn't sleep, it dropped, so i watched it. worst mistake of my life.

rhys jones i can't believe i was at several races and ryan made it onto the show before me.

esteban ocon oh yes, i forgot about that.

isabella perez someone tell charles they made him out to be the villain.

natalia ruiz just like max in season 1.

charles leclerc i did nothing wrong all season but have shitty luck.

dulce perez monza. charles leclerc i may have done one thing wrong.

rhys jones max went from being the formula 1 villain to being comedic relief.

max jones-verstappen i bet there was no mention of my win streak

isabella perez in the last fifteen minutes but only because christian mentioned it.

charles leclerc can i enter my villain era now?

pierre gasly do you even know what that is? charles leclerc je t'emmerde connard

rowan todd WHITE HORSE?? CONEY ISLAND?? WITH MAE?? ARE YOU TWO TRYING TO KILL US??

daphne jones-ricciardo 😁😁 mae jones-verstappen 😁😁

isabella perez CONEY ISLAND?? YOU SANG CONEY ISLAND?

isabella perez THIS IS FUCKING WORSE THAN LOSING MIRRORBALL!!

max jones-verstappen to be fair i lost seven to fucking pittsburg of all places.

rhys jones jokes on you guys, my song still safe.

daphne jones-ricciardo and what song is that rhys?

rhys jones thug song

daphne jones-ricciardo of fucking course it is.

alex albon crossing my fingers for monologue song next!

george russell charles cried when daphne sang this is me trying as a surprise song. i have a picture of it.

bailey winters one could say you "have it printed out" george russell hilarious bailey. bailey winter this is why lewis decided to leave mercedes, because you're dry as fuck george russell TOO SOON BAILEY!! TOO SOON!!

isabella perez sylvia just got me in trouble. apparently it's not good to speak out against netflix.

dulce perez i think it's more so because you spoke out in favor of a driver from a rival team and not that you spoke put again netflix. natalia ruiz i didn't get in trouble? charles leclerc it was probably the oscar part and not the netflix part isabella perez i got told by fred that it was okay??? just no spilling company secrets.

carlos sainz she probably just doesn't like you.

isabella perez wow.

lando norris to be fair, you are quite annoying. i get it.

dulce perez only i get to call her annoying kermit the frog

lance stroll we should wait until the next season for more drama. that's when it'll be good because of a certain someone breaking f1 twitter.

lewis hamilton talking about me? mick schumacher don't forget the secret contract lengths! esteban ocon and silly season!!

freya vettel i was fully expecting them to make oscar and lando to look like enemies. they've done it before.

isabella perez we should make a drinking game out of dts!! anytime d*nica shows up on screen we take a shot.

zoya torres we'd end up blackout drunk. george russell alternative, take a shot everytime will buxton says something funny. max jones-verstappen or anytime they make teammates who get along look like enemies. mae jones-verstappen you seriously still bitter about the daniel thing? max jones-verstappen YES! WE WERE NEVER ENEMIES!!

esteban ocon netflix doesn't know that friendships and rivalries can exist on the same scale.

rowan todd doesn't help that pierre said, "we'll never be best friends."

rhys jones i'm surprised they haven't brought in the nepotism card yet.

mick schumacher they did.

rhys jones i avoid that episode to not cry and charles' episode in season 1

isabella perez oh, same! we're very emotional people. i also avoid daniel's episode in season 5. and i can't stand otmar.

oscar piastri mood. esteban ocon same. pierre gasly you're lucky you didn't have to work with the guy. lance stroll welcome to the club

sebastian vettel any mention of my bee corner?

isabella perez no, and the people are upset. they wanted more of seb's buzzin' corner

logan sargeant he got the logan treatment, completely forgotten.

oscar piastri that's not funny mate.

alex albon lily and i are working on getting rid of his tendencies to degrade himself.

max jones-verstappen how's that working for you two so far? alex albon not well as you can see

daphne jones-ricciardo we have a new set of grid parents!

daniel jones-ricciardo GO TO SLEEP!

daphne jones-ricciardo shh! i just got to episode 3.

fernando alonso my favorite episode is episode 1.

max jones-verstappen ARE ALL OF YOU WATCHING IT?

lewis hamilton i wanted to see how they foreshadowed my move to ferrari. mae jones-verstappen daphne dragged me into this. daphne jones-ricciardo LIAR! IT WAS YOUR IDEA! george russell i wanted to see how i evolved through the season

max jones-verstappen i guess i should watch it.

daniel jones-ricciardo i promise you won't regret it.

12 hours later

max jones-verstappen you're a fucking liar daniel jones-ricciardo. i regret it so much.

taglist: @burningcupcakefire @arkhammaid @sunflower-golden-vol6 @applopie @lorarri @mypage-myfandoms @bb-swift @thewannabewriter @you-bleed-just-toknowyouarealive @stopeatread @hobiismyhopeu @lilsiz @alessioayla @niniluvsainz @au-ghosttype @cowboylikemets1989 @justtprachisblog @rmeddar123 @nichmeddar @landonorizzz @unluckyyoshi @Mimolovescookies @brekkers-whore @natcha888 @camdensreg @mycenterfold @dear-fifi @prongsvault @kaa212 @anxxiousaries @julesbabey1 @julesbabey @georgeparisole @Smnthnclj @dan3avocado @melissayalene @nothanqks @nikfigueiredo @bella-1 @namgification @jensonsonlybutton @chezmardybum @d3kstar @weekendlusting@anytimeanywherebitchblog @ragioniera @burberryfilms @trouble-sistar @lesliiieeeee @leclercsluv @33-81

strikethrough means i couldn't tag you

click here to be added to the honest series taglist

¡leclerc-s speaks! pushing my disliking for danica and otmar with this one. i still don’t understand why she was in season 6 of dts when she’s never driven an f1 car. i was thinking of doing a written part for the parts i made up but would anyone be interested in that?

¡disclaimer! this is in no way making assumptions about the people involved in this story, this is all fake. it is a fanfiction please don't take any of what is said seriously. this is all for entertainment purposes and as a creative outlet for me. enjoy!

[eqt-95]

a new kind of romance, finale

part 8 | new years

🥟 | dumplings

Kara was not having a good time.

Sure, she loved her job. Yes, she adored her staff. Absolutely, she found her role as editor-in-chief worthwhile and world-saving in its own way.

But today was a holiday and her staff was absent and her role as editor-in-chief was only kind of worthwhile given they’d gone to print three days earlier. 

Today was a day meant to be surrounded by friends, new beginnings, and maybe the slightest tinge of a hangover nursed by a staggering stack of Danvers world-famous pancakes. 

It was a day to slip into cozy sweats; an evening unburdened by Supergirl duties or an upcoming deadline; a series of uninterrupted hours where she could collapse onto her couch, bask in the blue glow of her television after consuming far too much post-brunch take-out, and, if she played her cards right, idly massaging the too-tight calves of her very best friend who was stretched out across her lap.

The tips of her fingers crawled between her glasses and face and pressed with a heavy sigh against her eyes because today was not one of those days. Kara wondered if she’d ever have one of those days again.

Not the blue glow or take-out or cozy sweats: those were always within reach. It was the best friend she wasn’t quite sure about. 

Because things were kind of different now. Things were weird and awkward, and Kara didn’t know if it was her or them. Either way, she was one supersuit short of feeling brave enough to do anything about it.

So she was at work. On a holiday.

“You know,” came a voice that nearly sent Kara flying into the next floor, “when Alex told me you were skipping New Year's brunch, I almost didn't believe her.”

“Lena,” Kara choked. She looked up and locked eyes with a very soft, very pretty, very smirking Lena Luthor and felt a rush of weird and awkward all over again. “I didn't, uh, hi.”

“Must be important work,” Lena replied, nodding toward the glasses propped on Kara's nose. They'd been a gift earlier that summer: improved and Lena-Luthor-approved to cut out even more noise and distraction than her last pair. 

“Just… just wanted to focus,” Kara replied.

“On next month’s issue?”

“Never too early to get ahead,” Kara offered lamely.

“Well, is it too early for lunch?” Lena asked, lifting a plastic bag overflowing with take-out containers.

“I thought that was my job,” Kara said, eyeing the strained bag and feeling her stomach betray her with an oversized growl.

“Sometimes even heroes need saving,” Lena chuckled, setting the bag onto Kara’s overflowing desk. “And I’m very good at giving.”

The tease, the flick of an eyebrow, and the confident smirk would have normally sent Kara’s cheeks on fire and stumbling for words and trying very hard to keep strictly platonic, best-friend thoughts at the forefront of her mind, but today was not one of those days. 

“Mhm,” Kara said with a labored smile and a strained chuckle and a fiddle with her glasses. 

Because today was awkward and weird-feeling just like every day since cuddles didn’t feel like something just best friends did.

Lena, ever astute and thoughtful and considerate, noticed the wave of discomfort radiating from Kara, and for that Kara winced even more.

“Are… are we ok?” Lena asked, fingers playing with the edge of her sleeves. It was the exact opposite of the teasing confidence spoken moments earlier; this came out shy and hesitant.

“Sure,” Kara replied automatically in a way that sounded forced, sounded fake, sounded like a lie. Because it was. It was, and Lena knew it. 

“Ok,” she nodded back, and that made it feel worse. Because Kara knew that Lena knew. “Well, I just wanted to drop this off-”

“Stay,” Kara rushed. “Uhm, please? Please stay?”

What followed wasn’t the most awkward lunch Kara had ever had, but it sure was close. Conversation lagged and Kara, lost in the labyrinth of thoughts and doubts and concerns that had played on repeat for no less than two weeks rattled around louder and louder and -

Kara blinked, realizing she’d missed whatever Lena just said. And Lena noticed but, with generous tact, looked down and quietly poked at her food and gosh this was going terribly.

“I’m sorry,” Kara said unprompted. “I’ve been distracted and… and it’s not fair to you. You skipped brunch and brought all of this delicious food and I’ve been terrible company and a bad f-friend,” she said, her throat choking around the last word.

And then a smile flashed across her best friend’s face. It was tiny and wistful. “You could never be, darling.”

And it made Kara’s stomach flutter and twist. It made it flutter and twist, and Kara clung to the tiny thread for dear life and jumped.

“Do you, uh… do you want one?”

“You’re offering me a potsticker?” Lena asked, the faintest tone of disbelief at the chopsticks floating in front of her with a perfectly pan-fried dumpling pinched between them.

Kara nodded, her outstretched, chopstick-holding hand shaking in a very unhero-like way.

And she only barely managed to snatch it, her chopsticks, and the floating potsticker back in time when Lena’s hand rose to meet the literal best pillow of food on the entire planet.

“You can’t use your hands,” Kara said - yelled - and then silently begged the earth to split open and swallow her whole.

“I… I can’t?” Lena asked, hand flinching back in surprise.

“We… there uhm, there aren’t any napkins,” Kara explained like a lying four-year-old. 

Because there absolutely were napkins. 

In plain sight. 

Directly next to Kara’s half-eaten egg roll.

Before Lena could challenge the blatantly bizarre lie with her confused scowl and keen, impossibly brilliant, and scientifically perfect observation skills, Kara blindly rambled ahead while her elbow did the inelegant task of plopping across the desk onto the stack of said napkins.

“And these are, uh, greasy? Greasy,” Kara continued, sliding her elbow with the subtlety of a firework to the edge of her desk and, just as subtly, knocking the napkins to the floor. 

“Greasy,” Lena parroted, eyes distracted by Kara’s elbow’s antics.

“I-in a good way,” Kara clarified. The moment was only briefly interrupted by the squeak of her chair rolling to the left.

To cover the stack of napkins.

The napkins which were definitely there.

“I wouldn’t offer one if they were bad, but since we don’t have napkins then,” Kara explained, “then you’d need to- to…uhm.”

“To what?” Lena pressed.

“To… wipe them on your shirt?” Kara finished feeling mortified and like the most incapable alien on the planet. 

Which was why, when Lena’s head tilted to the side and her gaze fell to where the napkins were most definitely scattered around on the ground then darted back to Kara’s and sparkled in that special way, Kara felt her heart swell and her stomach flutter just a little bit more. 

“Well,” Lena began, leaning forward with the focus of a predator, “we can’t have that.”

And Kara, the weakest, most inept prey in a five hundred-mile radius swallowed against the parchment that had become her throat, shook her head weakly, and kept the freefall going.

And it might have been something.

Could have been something.

Was nearly something. 

Lena was hovering forward. 

Lips parted. 

Eyes locked on Kara’s. 

Which was exactly when Kara’s big giant nerves took over and sent her chopsticks splintering and the potsticker slipping out of her grasp with all the grace of Flubber before zipping across the office to land with an unceremonious splat against the glass partition.

All of which turned that ‘near something’ into one giant ‘swing and miss'. 

But before Kara could articulate her feelings as ‘mortified’ and ‘crestfallen’ and ‘like a giant himbo’, Lena burst out into the kind of bright laughter that made her dimples show and smile beam and Kara wonder if how they were was enough.

Because this could be fine. 

They could be fine.

So distracted was Kara that she didn’t notice Lena swipe the last, un-splatted potsticker from Kara’s plate, and she definitely didn’t process when Lena, ever so casually, asked Kara for a napkin to wipe her fingers off, and she was lightyears from self-awareness when she automatically snatched one from the floor.

That’s how lunch continued and ended: with Lena smiling her special smile and Kara lost in a sort of daze, inhaling the spread of options Lena brought.

“I’ll let you get back to it,” Lena said when the final remnants of lo mein were polished off. “Can’t have Cat Grant accusing me of derailing her Editor-in-Chief.”

“Oh, ok,” Kara said, rising to join Lena and crashing back to earth while simultaneously knocking her knee against the desk and sending a stack of proofs sliding like Niagra Falls to the floor.

“No, no, I’ve got this,” Kara said, waving Lena away. She clambered around the desk and intercepted her with a bashful grin and outstretched arms. They wrapped comfortably around Lena like they always did, and it made her feel all tiny sorts of warm and happy. 

This could be fine.

“Thanks for lunch,” she muttered into the side of Lena’s head.

“What are friends for?” Lena said, hands falling to Kara’s upper arms and disarming Kara with a practiced smile.

Kara nodded, her own smile feeling tight and confused. 

It faltered only slightly when the door clicked shut and she crouched to pick up the disheveled proofs. 

This could be fine. 

Kara could be totally normal and cool and collected, and Lena could be her usual pretty and perfect and kind and thoughtful self. And everything could be great and par for the course and completely and totally… 

Normal. 

Kara rolled back onto her heels and pondered that thought: normal. She pondered and pondered some more. A whole minute passed while the idea braised in her brain, and it kind of didn’t sit right.

It didn’t sit right one bit.

And then the most obvious thing on the whole giant existence of everything occurred - no, re-occurred: Kara didn’t want normal. She definitely didn’t want to go back to normal. She wanted the opposite of normal. In fact, she didn’t want normal for another second of her whole entire life.

Unless that not-normal was Lena hating her guts for the rest of eternity. That was not a not-normal Kara had the stomach for, but before she could let that worry petrify her from action, she jumped to her feet and clambered toward the stairwell. 

It took only a second; a perfectly timed second that synchronized with the elevator doors opening and Kara’s very best friend appearing in the ground floor lobby.

“Kara,” Lena said, jumping at what was probably a borderline crazed expression on Kara’s face when two muscular arms spread across the elevator’s threshold, blocking Lena’s exit. “Wha-”

“Mistletoe magic,” Kara stammered inelegantly.

“Mistletoe-?” Lena began, her surprise turning to a flash of hurt.

“With you,” Kara clarified. “I wanted… I wanted mistletoe magic with you.”

“With… me?” Lena asked slowly, cautiously - nervously.

“I wanted… I wanted you - want you. I didn’t mean to, you know,” Kara clarified poorly, “but then I got so nervous. And then Andrea was there and, and I just… I thought you didn’t want it. And maybe you don’t which is - that’s fine, but I can’t stop thinking that maybe you do? Because I do. I really do and, and when you… with the frosting? And the dress? You were just so, so… Rao. And you’re so so brilliant and kind and my best friend-”

“Me too.”

“- and I don’t want to ruin any… any…thing,” Kara trailed off, the tiny echo of Lena’s confession rattling in her ears. “What?”

Then something even louder started rattling in Kara’s ears because her rambling had gone on long enough to trigger the lift’s alarm.

Then came a tug against Kara’s shirt.

Then Kara felt herself being pulled into the lift.

Then she felt the warmth breath against her cheek.

“I wanted mistletoe magic with you, too.”

“R-really?” Kara asked, her eyes darting down to Lena’s perfectly painted lips.

“Really.”

“Like…” Kara continued, glancing back up to double check Lena’s eyes were serious. “Like real-”

They were. They were dead serious. And Kara registered it only a millisecond before Lena’s lips cut off what was definitely going to be another babble-fest. Lena’s lips cut her off and all of her thoughts and words disappeared and instead every sense was engulfed by soft, warm, gentle and - oh wowsers.

“Like really, really,” Lena whispered before the elevator lurched upward and before Kara could register the sparks of gold magic and green leaves flickering above them and before recapturing Kara’s mouth and setting fire to Kara’s core.

// sixty-three floors later //

“So, you liked the dress?” Lena asked.

- - - - - - -

ko-fi and other ao3 reads

[ohtobealady]

I saw that you were asking for one-word prompts... my suggestion is:

Accident

However you want to interpret that.

Thank you!

Well I am sorry. This is angst, pure angst. Season 1 terrible awful angst.

Missing scene from S1E7.

—————-‘,——————

Accident

“I’m alright,” she softly insisted again as she tied the dressing gown sash loosely around her still-damp body. Beneath it, the chemise the woman had dressed her in stuck to her back. She’d not dried herself well enough.

“Milady—“

“I’m afraid I’ll look a-fright come tomorrow. His Lordship will suspect I’ve taken up boxing.”

“Please, milady,” Cora could feel O’Brien untie the silk she’d wrapped her hair in before the bath. Half of her hair hung from it now, anyway. Had she fallen that hard? “If you’ll only let me send for Doctor Clarkson.”

Cora let her hand probe softly at the places she’d hit—her hip, her elbow. And her stomach. Now that the shock of it had gone, her entire body felt immediately bruised and tender. Her hand lingered at her middle. “No. Really. I don’t think there’s any real damage done.” She wasn’t even certain if she believed herself, and she glanced at her maid and sighed. “My clumsiness is no reason to disturb him. After all, he can’t mend embarrassment.”

She forced a small chuckle, but stopped short: her abdomen was immediately too sore to laugh that way. She cleared her throat and shook away a quick sting of fear.

When she glanced up, O’Brien stared at her without blinking.

“Truly,” she lied to her maid. “I’ll be fine. I’ll have a lie down, and I’m sure that’ll sort it. Now go. I don’t want to keep you any longer than I have.”

She turned away from O’Brien to appear to search for the book on the small table beside the chaise, and her pantomime achieved what Cora had hoped: with a small “Very well, milady,” the woman left her.

Looking behind her at the click of the door, and determining O’Brien had gone, Cora turned slowly back toward her mirror and gently pulled up the dressing gown and chemise under it to inspect her left hip. It was as she expected: a red and already purpling oval. And then swallowing, she lifted her clothes higher and to her stomach. She’d hit it there against the rim of the tub—nearly in the center—as her foot had slipped as she stepped from the bath. Her middle had caught all her weight, and it had nearly knocked the wind from her before she fell upon the floor. She looked closer, to find the evidence of the accident, and in the morning sun, found a faint pink blotch below her navel, but nothing more. It was only the little swell O’Brien could still tug into her corsets, but that she and Robert had chuckled at last week.

Cora smiled at that, and dropped her hems. Yes. Everything appeared well, and this settled her fear enough for her to really retrieve her book.

She slowly settled onto her chaise. She slid her book from her little table and into her grasp. She leaned forward and reached behind her to straighten her pillow, but stopped. She inhaled at the quick tenderness of her belly. She blinked, still, and then forced herself to exhale. It was only a bruise; she’d inspected it herself. If the injury was worse, then it would’ve looked like her hip and, she assumed, her smarting elbow. Wouldn’t it have?

Yes.

So she opened the cover of the book; she flipped through a few pages to find her place; she tried her best to make her eyes read the words printed there, but found she could not. The soreness she felt when she leaned forward to adjust her pillow, it hadn’t subsided. Her abdomen felt tight. And then tighter still. And then her muscles—-those muscles low in her belly—-began to burn as they tightened.

Oh.

The fear Cora managed to assuage earlier prickled back again, and reminding herself to be calm, she pushed out a small exhale through pursed lips. She was alright. She was bound to feel a little sore, to have a small cramp; it was quite a blow. And perhaps she was thinking of it too much.

She made her eyes look back at the novel. They scanned the letters and words, dutifully, line by line as she worked her way down the page. But she couldn’t make her mind pay attention. For there was another tightening pain. And this time, it lasted longer than before, as if making itself known.

Cora closed her eyes and evened her breathing. If there was another, she told herself, she’d ring for O’Brien.

But there won’t be.

Her self-reassurance was weak however, and she let her fingers go to her middle, cradling the little life there. She indulged herself by looking at the small mound beneath her housecoat. She let her fingertip touch it. And, quite suddenly, she felt emotion begin to choke her.

“Of course I’m pleased.”

He’d been so happy; shocked, yes, but Robert had been so happy this last month.

And the letters. He’d written so many letters. Telling Rosamund. Shrimpie and Susan. Dickie. Murray. Jarvis.

Cora was sure that Lady Shackleton knew. Harold. Mother. She’d wanted to come over.

She closed her eyes. Please move, she pleaded. She willed it. Move, she prayed. She’d felt it last evening. Yesterday. She’d been able to feel it for a few weeks now, since right after Clarkson had confirmed it, the little flutters and then soft bumps inside of her. Just two nights ago, she’d taken Robert’s hand and pressed it to her middle. “Can’t you feel it?” she’d asked. His face had gone pink, but he smiled

Oh. Oh, it was another. She pulled in a deep breath and held it as the lowest muscles in her abdomen tightened, burned. And then—-Her eyes opened at the sensation of something—fluid—coming in a small gush between her legs.

There was no more suppressing the fear. She waited for the pain to pass, tears threatening her vision, and she moved to the pull to ring for her maid. Her head throbbed —-had she hit her head?—-every muscle now felt sorer than before, and she felt her stomach begin to roll as if she may retch.

She took deep breaths, and she pulled the cord again. Then, her fingers trembling, she made herself pull the fabric of her chemise beneath her dressing gown toward her, the back to the front, and she looked at it.

Wet. And pink.

She took calming breaths, but she knew better. She knew what was happening.

Another pain. More fluid with it, but this time it ran down the insides of her legs. She moved her eyes to her bare feet and waited for the little rivulets to stop.

Pinker than before. And then as the rivulets lingered on, there was red.

It was that, the bright color, that moved her to the truth at last. Her head felt too light, there was a ringing in her ears, and Cora fumbled her way to sit upon her bed and waited. The pain kept going this time, only growing tighter and burning more—sharp and twisting—and Cora clung to the side of her bed and did her best to breathe. The minute it let up, she moved to the washroom. She needed a towel. She needed water.

“Milady?”

She heard O’Brien, but she couldn’t make herself call to her.

“Milady?” She heard her nearer and then as she pushed open the washroom door.

And all the composure she tried her best to have vanished when she saw O’Brien, her maid whose face had gone white as a sheet, and Cora began to weep. “Oh.”

“Come,” her maid ushered her, but Cora could hear the emotion in her voice—high and wavering—even through her own. “Come and lie down.”

“Wait, oh.” She felt another pain creep itself into her belly. But this time there was no small trickle of fluid. This time it came quickly. “Oh, no. No. No.”

She heard O’Brien begging her to lie down again. She heard O’Brien leave her room as she did so, and then, through a blur of pain and the tears she blinked back, she saw as Mrs Hughes rushed into her room.

•••

“Nearing six now,” Robert watched as Doctor Clarkson closed his pocket watch and replaced it. The metallic click reverberated around the gallery, and it sounded strangely too loud in the quiet. “The bleeding isn’t stemming as much as I would expect. It is difficult to say if her injuries don’t go beyond the delivery—“

“She—“ he managed to begin, even if he felt his throat was too tight to move a single word from it. There was blood on Clarkson’s oversleeve. “But she isn’t—”

“No, your lordship. At least not yet. ” His voice interrupted, sparing Robert the word, but it lacked the quick pace of before. Robert felt the doctor eyeing him, and the gentle interlude felt like thunder before rain.

“But?” he asked, though the question made him afraid.

“At the stage of her pregnancy, it is important to know that her recovery may be as difficult as if she’d given birth at nine months. She will need rest. And her body may experience the…changes, for lack of a better word,” Robert felt his face flush, “that it would in ordinary circumstances.”

He wasn’t sure what Doctor Clarkson meant, but he wouldn’t ask. He couldn’t. His mind kept going back to Carson’s words two hours ago.

“My lord, there’s been an accident since you’ve been out. It’s her ladyship.”

“I am happy to speak with Mrs O’Brien and Mrs Hughes about what to expect in the coming weeks. And I can provide a list to Mrs Hughes of items that can be helpful.”

His good manners listened though every other thought was elsewhere—-in the room with her—-and he nodded his head. He thanked the man.

“And, please forgive me, Lord Grantham, but there is the matter of …”

Silence. Enough silence for Rober to pay attention. And he lifted his eyes at the doctor’s pause.

“Of the body.”

Robert blinked at him. “The … body?”

Doctor Clarkson nodded slowly. Solemnly. “I am sorry.”

But Robert couldn’t make himself comprehend. “Cora—That is, her ladyship is well? That is…I apologize I’m not sure—-“

“Of the child, my lord.”

“Oh.” He felt all at once foolish and ill, his stomach turning over itself. “Of course.” The child. Their child.

Clarkson spoke so softly. Too softly, but her room was just there. Her door was opened a crack. Robert could see light filtering in from where she lay. “In these situations, the hospital does offer to arrange burials in the churchyard amongst the others—“

“Others?”

“—though, should your wishes be different…yes.” Again, Doctor Clarkson paused. He lowered his voice again. “The other stillbirths and infants, Lord Grantham. Of the village.”

Robert shook his head, again his mind whirling, not understanding. “But it wasn’t as far along as that? It couldn’t be—“

“Not fully there, no. But …” He didn’t imagine the way Doctor Clarkson grimaced. “She’d made it to her fifth, nearly her sixth month. The child did—“ He stopped, and he quieted. “It did live. For a moment.”

In the following quiet, Robert felt as if he’d somehow grown smaller. There was no other feeling. Only that.

“I know that this is very difficult, and you have my sympathies, Lord Grantham.”

“Yes,” Robert blurted, strangely relieved in a painful way, as if the doctor’s words were a sort of excuse to let his chin tremble the way it needed to. To let his eyes sting with tears. “Thank you. I will speak with her ladyship about the—“ he took a small breath. “Burial.”

Clarkson, however, opened his mouth but didn’t speak. Robert watched him move his jaw, as if searching for the words.

It frightened him. “Yes?”

“Only, I’m not certain it best to—-” The doctor shifted his weight from his left to right foot, and Robert stood straighter, dread gnawing away at his nerves. “It may be best to make the decision on your own. She isn’t…”

“She isn’t what?”

The doctor nodded again, though at what Robert didn’t know.

“She is going to be alright, isn’t she?” Robert heard the waver in his voice, but he didn’t care. “You mentioned the bleeding, but otherwise, she’s not in any danger, is she?”

“No. No, I don’t think so. It’s only … well, it may be too distressing for her to speak of the burial.”

Robert furrowed his brow.

“You may consider making the decision on your own.”

“I—“ he shook his head. He couldn’t. “I don’t believe I could keep that from her.”

Doctor Clarkson drew in a long breath, and Robert watched as the man looked to the door behind them and then back to him. He frowned. “I did my best to hide the child from her sight, but …” another dreadful pause. Robert clenched his jaw.

“What is it?”

“You had a son, Lord Grantham.”

He stood still. He stared at Clarkson who spoke on, but Robert couldn’t hear what he said. The doctor nodded at him as he returned through Cora’s door, but though Robert’s heart ached to see her, to hold her and press a kiss to her head, he could not.

Robert walked from her door and into his dressing room. He stood at the window. And he stared.

Outside the afternoon was golden.

[danibee33]

Ending 2023 with thoughts of bodyguard!Simon x Reader

🩶🩶🩶

*4k+ words

+++

“Absolutely not.”

Dark eyes bore into yours through the mirror’s reflection, followed by a dismissive roll when you poke your bottom lip out, doing your very best to give the horribly broody man a believable pout,

”Pleeease?” You beg, turning to face him, “For one hour, just to see the ball drop- come on, I’ve never seen new year’s in Times Square!”

“No.”

Your pout turns downright petulant at his immutable tone, his eyes still fixed away from you- which, for whatever reason, makes you all the more upset. But the better question is, are you really still surprised?

Simon Riley had been your bodyguard for two years now, at the behest of your father, no matter how many times you tried to refuse or how many you fired, another one would just show up the next day. And never once had he been soft on you, never once had he actually entertained your spoiled demands-

But, in his defense, none of your previous bodyguards lasted for long, none of them had balls enough to actually handle you, but that was until you met Simon.

From your first meeting with him, you knew he wasn’t going to be an easy target. For the first few days he had been more like a shadow than anything, silently following you, only ever communicating through gruff, monosyllabic commands even when you goaded him relentlessly. He never took the bait, not once. That was almost reason enough to fire him in your mind, if you had to live with the man, he might as well be somewhat entertaining.

But again, maybe two months into your arrangement, he managed to surprise you-

Ok, you’ll admit, you were being particularly insufferable that day. You had to be moved again, taken to some off the grid, stupid safe house again, because there had been chatter of an attempt on your father’s life, and yours. Again.

”This is ridiculous.” You grumble, throwing your duffle bag on the ground, “The last thing I want on New Year’s fucking Eve, is to be playing Little House on the Prairie with you-” – you huff out a sigh when he breezes past you and your incessant complaining– “Does this shithole even have electricity?”

You’re promptly cut off by the kitchen light flickering to life, illuminating the cozy space around you- not that you would ever admit you think it’s cozy-

“Shocking.”

Again, he steps around you, not close enough to touch you - no, never - but close enough so that the air fills with his scent. It’s not necessarily a warm smell, you think it’s more spicy– wait, what are you saying? Ew, stop. –

He’s annoying and frustrating and the way he towers over you is also mildly a nuisance in its own right, because he just takes up so much fucking space you feel like you can’t breathe.

“Phone.” He grunts, looking down at you, only proving your point.

“Excuse me?”

“I know you have a second one. Hand it over.”

Oh.. the audacity. You cross your arms, squaring up to him- it didn’t matter that he could probably, definitely, break you in half, you really weren’t scared of him. Why would you be when you’ve seen way worse than some overgrown goth guy in a skull print balaclava? Real mature..

“Ya know..” You give him a dazzling smile, stepping just a bit closer, “If you say ‘please’, I might give it to you.”

Simon says your name, curt and gruff as always, a low warning in voice you’ve never heard before-

“Don’t.. Call me that.”

You didn’t like your name, because it reminded you of your deadbeat mother. What kind of asshole names her daughter after herself and then leaves anyway?

You’ve reiterated this time and time again, and still, time and time again, he uses it- almost like a little jab of his own, payback for all the silly names you’ve tried to get him to answer to.

“Phone.” He says again, his eyes flicking up to study the wall behind your head.

Reaching into your coat pocket, you pull out your burner, waiting for him to reach for it before jerking it away, “Ask nicely..”

This time he steps forward, his body crowding yours- he’s unnaturally warm, the expanse of his chest stretching the black long-sleeve with every calculated breath. And when he leans down, craning his neck to be at eye level, you no longer see the dismissive, unwavering indifference in his eyes as before. They’re burning, dark and bright at the same time, copper flecks glinting back at you,

“You think this is a game, Gemini?”

“I think it’s a paycheck for you, Ghost.”

You spit his old callsign with the same dripping disdain as he had said your longtime nickname, though, it’s hard to deny that you like the way it sounds in his brassy accent- Mancunian through and through.

But more than that, you think at this moment you’ve never seen so much emotion be conveyed just through another person’s eyes. They widen, his pupils constricting harshly before dilating again, a soft puff of air tickling across your face as his calm, cool facade momentarily cracks. You clench your jaw, unwilling to break eye contact first, instead watching as he collects himself, his eyelids settling lazily and the bright amber of his irises dulling-

“Yes, you are a paycheck. Is that what you want to hear?”, he’s still so close to you, his warmth becoming unbearable the longer his words burn into you, branding themselves on your skin, “You’re an entitled goddamned brat that’s gotten everything served to her on a silver platter, did you want to hear that, too? Or are you the only who gets to run your-”

Before your brain can catch up to what your body is doing, he’s already caught your wrist mid swing.

Fucking christ, were you actually going to slap him?! What’s wrong with you?

Simon’s giant hand wraps all the way around your arm, entirely unfazed by your lame attempt to retaliate. The man didn’t even flinch, didn’t have to look away from you- and for a fleeting moment, you swear you see amusement shining through his eyes,

“Careful, Gem..”, he’s almost whispering now, reaching down to pull the phone from between your fingers with his free hand, “Don’t start somethin’ you can’t finish.”

You come back to the present with a smirk on your lips, thinking about how your relationship with Simon changed after the safe house. He challenged you in a way no one had dared to before, and there was something about him putting you in your place that also changed the way you saw him.

He wasn’t so much your skulking shadow now as he was an extension of you- you stopped ignoring him, stopped arguing against everything he said (ok, maybe not everything, you couldn’t make his life too easy..)

Instead, you started wanting to include him in your life, and with every firm decline from him, it drove you all the more to do exactly that. His presence comforted you, and as time went on, you noticed the imperceptible shifts in his own demeanor towards you. Now he walked closer, opting to guide you through a crowd with his hand hovering at your lower back, or if he deemed someone too close, he would gently maneuver you to his side with a wide palm on your waist-

Eventually, he even got comfortable enough to exchange in your banter, more than willing to give as good as he got.

And you know it’s silly, god, it's outrageous and horrifically cliche, but you found yourself thinking about him more and more; more often you would just watch him. Sometimes sparing a glance to see his eyes already on you, notice how they always only linger long enough to make you wonder before moving on, turning his attention to something else.

It drives you mad. But, that’s just Simon.. You might be more than a few years younger than him, but you weren’t naive. You couldn’t fool yourself into thinking he might see you romantically. That’s actually absurd-

You storm into the oversized hotel closet, pulling the doors closed with a huff when he doesn’t even blink in your direction- always so focused.

Hm.. Fine. You’ve pushed him before, might as well try your luck again.

A smile pulls at your lips at the thought. So maybe you weren’t naive, and you didn’t hate your bodyguard anymore, but you never claimed or promised to have changed your bratty ways-

—---

When you step back out into the room, you don’t see Simon right away, but you hear his voice from the next room in the suite- probably on the phone. But, that’s good, gives you time to apply your favorite lip stain, a rich wine color that compliments your skin tone beautifully, before you see him round the corner.

And for the second time in your tenure with him, you watch his eyes widen at the sight of you. Your body hugged in soft velvet, the all black mini-dress fitting more like a second skin, accentuating every single dip and curve, and the way you left it unzipped in the back gives him the most tantalizing view of your figure underneath,

“Would you mind helping me?” You ask, giving him a wide-eyed look in the mirror, “Please?”

“I told ya, we’re not goin’.”

You shrug your shoulders, straightening the diamond-studded choker that decorates your neck so prettily, “Are you going to stop me, Simon?”

He moves with steady, slow strides and you have a hard time not gawking as he closes the distance, his frame dwarfing yours in the reflection, “‘M not doin’ this with you again, Gem.”

A quiet gasp parts your lips when you feel his fingertips on your lower back, the calloused skin causing a ripple effect of hot chills to rush through you as he pulls at the zipper, “I don’t know what you’re talking about..”

The intensity behind his gaze feels tangible, the way you watch him follow the line of the dress, eyes dancing over your bare shoulder and neck, “Don’t be daft, sweetheart.. It doesn’t suit you.”

Another, breathier, sound escapes you when you feel those same fingers higher now, grazing over the smooth skin there to pull your hair out of the way. And maybe, you could convince yourself he’s just being thorough, maybe even believe that he doesn’t enjoy the goosebumps that breakout under his touch, or how the way he watches you so intently is only because you look ridiculous, staring back at him with an embarrassing mix of shock and lust and confusion-

He finishes the task, but when he doesn’t move away, and doesn’t take his eyes off you, you’re reminded so much of that night in the safe house. Locked in another agonizingly silent tug of war, both of you pushing and pulling to see who would back down first. Testing all the limits, every boundary.

“Thank you.” You hum, smoothing your hands over the rich fabric, needing to do something to break the tension without outright losing, “What do you think?”

“Wear whatever you want, Gem..” Simon shakes his head, stepping away from you like he only just realized how close he still was, “Still not goin’.”

Without missing a beat, you fluff your hair one more time, refusing to let him see the way your eyes slip shut at the lingering smell of his cologne before sauntering to the next room where your coat is hung.

“Gem.”

There it is.. You smile at the unquestionable authority in his voice, your name spoken as a warning. Maybe you should tell him how much you like it when he gets like this- no, right now, you just need to focus on grabbing your clutch and room key. Stealing glances here and there to see him holding the newest paperback novel in his hands. But, you also know he’s not reading.

So, he wants to play, too.. How perfect.

Without a word, you head straight for the door, only just getting it cracked open before it’s slammed shut, Simon’s hand splayed out over the dark wood,

“I’m not in the mood.” He grits out, refusing to meet your eyes.

“Get out of my way.”

A sinful chuckle tumbles from behind his mask, a sound that simultaneously has you clenching your thighs and seething with anger in one fell swoop,

“Or what?”

You turn to look up at him, the height difference between you still overwhelming, no matter how high your heels are-

“Or you can find another paycheck. You’re my bodyguard, Simon, you’re not in charge here and I want to go out. So, you can either do your job and keep me safe, or leave.”

His arm is still propped against the door over your head, the very corners of his eyes crinkling and the black fabric over his mouth twitching. HE’S SMILING? All right, maybe you do still hate him, or at least you can hate him right now. With both hands on his chest, you attempt to shove him back, to move him, to do something, anything. But you might as well be trying to move a brick wall for all the results your struggling gets you.

“Let. ME. OUT.”

On the last word, he moves with frightening speed to hold both of your wrists in one hand, the other wrapping around the nape of your neck, “Enough.”

Suddenly, you’re looking up at him, his fingers firmly cradling the back of your head, your chest pressed tight against his. It causes you to blank, every ounce of fight draining out of you as you grow docile in his hold,

“Why do you have to make this so fuckin’ difficult, Gemini?”

—-

Simon’s practically panting above you, his self-control teetering on the very precipice, your proximity doing absolutely nothing to quell the insatiable feelings he’s had for you.

He’s done so well, never once letting himself slip after the safe house. He always, always maintained the self-imposed professional boundaries, if anything, he’s prided himself on his unfailing dedication.

Be it in the military, or now in his retired life, where he had the most unfortunate fate of being hired by your father. He remained unshakable.

Until you.

You had tested every single limit he ever knew he had, and then some. And when he pushed back, you relented, though you never truly gave him a moment of peace. No, of course not, why on earth would you possibly make his job easy?

But then, months turned into a year, and that turned into two, and slowly, everyday, he felt parts of himself he hadn’t thought existed anymore coming back to life. Parts that he thought died with every person he loved and lost, and it scared him to experience those feelings again. And as if that weren’t bad enough, he had somehow fucked around and fallen for the one fucking person he most definitely should not have.

But, in longer than he can remember, he’s smiled again, and laughed, and the world didn’t look so gray anymore with you in it. You were a pain in his arse, you complained and griped so fucking much, and yet, he’s never met another person apart from Johnny who actively chooses to see the best in humanity. And he’s loathed himself for hoping to introduce the two of you one day-

You’re still looking up at him, with those same eyes he’s dreamed of a thousand times, and those lips so sweetly parted, fuck.. You would look so beautiful underneath him-

“Simon..”

His eyes flutter closed at the sound of his name, tongue darting out to wet his lip, the tip greeted with the thin fabric of his mask instead. He forces himself to breathe, inhale - exhale - inhale -

Fuck it.

In one smooth sequence, he releases your wrists, using the now free hand to tug the balaclava off his head entirely. And as much as you would like to fully study every feature of his face, a face you’d never seen- it’s hard to think of anything when he sweeps you into a kiss so hot and bright it steals the breath from your lungs. Your heart races, but you think you feel his doing the same- his arm circling your waist, pulling you closer, your bodies molding together like they were always meant to be that way.

“Does this mean we still can’t go?” You smile against his lips, teeth clacking when you feel him do the same, only his laugh is full of reverence and exasperation,

“Fuckin’ hell, Gem.. shut up.”

Simon leans down, wrapping his big hands under your thighs and hoists you up without so much as a heavy sigh- it’s enthralling, and something you’ve never experienced; to have a man willing and able to lift you like it’s nothing. But he does it without ever breaking your kiss, walking you blindly toward the main bedroom and savoring every moment he gets in between.

Finally, you’re forced apart when he lays you on the fluffy, white comforter- getting his wish of seeing you lying beneath him, your hair fanned out around your head, your lips kiss-swollen and your cheeks flushed the prettiest shade of pink. It’s better than his dreams and wishes and fantasies, so much more perfect than anything his broken mind could possibly conjure up.

“You’re so bloody beautiful..”

The admission seems to shock him as much as it does you, looking up at him from this angle. And for the briefest moment, it sends a wave of insecurity washing through- having him studying you so intently. But just as quick as it comes, it’s gone.

How could you ever doubt yourself when he’s looking at you like that, deep brown eyes raking over you slowly, thoroughly, the angular jaw you’ve only seen in glimpses clenching and relaxing over and over-

You sit up, scooting to the edge of the bed so you could let your hands roam languidly up the breadth of his torso, eyes following the path until they meet his again, “Please kiss me..”

That’s all he needed to push you back down into the mattress, this time nestling his hips right between your legs, his cock straining against the dark dress pants, his body desperate for stimulation, desperate to feel you-

“I’ve thought about you like this..” He coos, planting kisses over the corner of your lips, moving down your jaw and neck, “Thought about how fuckin’ gorgeous you would look under me.”

His words alone cause you to whine, biting your lip the lower he goes, “But.. you never said anything-”

You gasp when he bites the fleshy swell of your breast, laving at the tender spot until there’s an angry purple mark left behind,

“Couldn’t.”, he lifts up again, hiking the thick material of your dress up to sit around your waist, “You were just s’posed to be a job, a paycheck,” the sound of your tights ripping fills your ears, his voice growing huskier at seeing the dark spot already soaking through your underwear, “Fuck-”

A lewd moan is ripped out of you as he too quickly repositions himself, kneeling beside the bed in order to pull you right to edge, burying his nose and mouth against your cunt- tonguing at the growing wet spot like it might be the last thing he ever does.

“Mm..” He growls, looking up at you, “Can I take these off, love?”

Could you actually be dreaming? Because it sure as fuck feels too good to be true, having a gorgeous man’s face settled so perfectly between your thighs, so close to getting exactly what he wants, but he’s looking at you with those stormy, pleading eyes,

“Please?”

Your head lolls back into the blanket, “Yes! Holy fuck, Simon- yes- ah-”

Needing no more prompting from you, he has your underwear off and his mouth on your pussy with terrifying efficiency, lapping at you with deep, resonating groans- fingers digging into the fatty parts of your thighs just hard enough to feel good, just painful enough to elicit more shrill moans and whimpers from you.

“You taste like heaven, babygirl..”, he croons, slipping two thick fingers inside you with ease, “Already so wet f’me, hm? Thought about me like this a time or two, have ya?”

You nod, your hips bucking as he slowly thrusts his digits a bit deeper every time, the tip of his tongue working your clit,

“C’mon. Use your words, Gem.”

And you really want to use your words, because you have so many, very choice, words for him, though you don’t imagine any of them are what a respectable young woman should be saying- but you also never claimed to be ‘respectable’ exactly. So instead, you tangle your fingers through his honey blonde waves, tugging and pushing to get him back to that sweet spot,

“Yes.. God- yes..”

He adds a third finger, and the sting of him stretching you makes your eyes water, but the pleasure it brings afterward has the unbearable coil deep in your belly ready to snap, “Simon..”

Fucking hell. He could come for you just like this if he’s not careful..

He’s better than that though, pushing his own feverish desire aside so he could have the privilege of you coming on his face- “That’s it, baby..”, he suckles at your bundle of nerves, eyes trained on your heaving chest, lost in the way you sound, in the way you taste, the way you smell-

When you finally fall over the edge, it’s violent and drawn out, your jaw falling slack and your muscles contracting- thighs struggling to clench shut around his head until they fall limply to the side, your brain lost in a beautiful, blissful haze. Only forced back to the moment when he flattens his tongue, cleaning you up with one slow, long stripe.

He raises up, crawling over you once again, his stubbled cheeks glistening, the sight of his dimpled smile etching itself into your memory- and you can’t help it, you reach up to cup his cheek, grinning back at him,

“You’re so pretty, Si..”

The half slurred compliment makes him laugh, but it’s not a mean or condescending sound, no, it’s sweet and wonderful, and you think you’ll always crave the sound of it; crave his touch, crave him looking at you like this.

“That right?” He asks, eyebrows knitting together as he lifts you so gently, unzipping your dress so he can pull it off completely.

You tug at his belt, your senses coming back to you and your body already begging for more, “Mhmm..”, you hum, watching him unbutton his shirt to reveal a sight worthy of being put on display at a museum. He’s impeccably built, just as you always imagined, bulging muscles defined by soft lines and mouth watering swells and dips, his body carved by years of hard work, littered with scars, silvered and puffy- each one telling a different story.

And for a moment, he allows you to trace your fingers over them, over all the parts of himself he’s deemed ugly and unfit long ago- but seeing the adoration in your eyes could almost make him believe otherwise. Make him believe he wasn’t this Frankenstein’s monster of sorts, torn apart and put back together with pieces that just never seem to look quite right.

He stands only long enough to push his pants and boxer briefs down, but when he settles over you again, you see the hesitation in his eyes, see an uncertainty behind them that seems so out of place for him. Because you’ve never seen your bodyguard hesitate even for a second, his every move, every decision, has always been without question - exuding confidence and prowess unlike anything you’ve ever witnessed.

But for you, in this moment.. He waits. For you, he’s cautious and tender, allowing you full control-

“Simon..” You frame his face in your hands, pulling him down for a long, languid kiss, “I want you.. Please.”

—---

You watch Simon’s fingers intertwine with yours, moving slowly above you as you stay nestled against his side. It’s an idle movement, just him studying the way his hand moves with yours, comparing the size of them, his heart beat solid and strong in your ear-

“Shit-” He exclaims, leaning over to grab his phone from the nightstand, “Come on.”

Too suddenly, you lose his immense warmth- watching in confusion as he clambers out of bed, tugging on his pants,

“What?” You look around the room like you’ve maybe missed something, his hand grabbing yours again, “Simon- what’s going on?”

“Get dressed-”

“Why?!”

He leans down, capturing your lips with a smirk, “You wanted to go out, right?”

——

A small, very shallow, part of you is only slightly angry at the fact that your gorgeous dress is still laid in a heap on the hotel room floor as Simon guides you through the crowd- but, it’s quickly swept away by the feel of his arm around you, the warmth of his jacket draped over your shoulders shielding you from the chilly New York air.

You watch the towering digital clock countdown as you go, your eyes bright and your smile wide, New Year’s Eve in Times Square-

It’s just as otherworldly as you imagined, the energy of the crowd infectious, the lights and sounds, the music, the people, it’s spectacular.

Simon stops, pulling you to stand right in front of him, his arms caging you in protectively, lovingly, holding you against him as the faceted ball begins to drop. And for a split second, it’s like the world goes silent, and all there is the feel of his embrace, his scent, his voice. Him.

And you won’t know this, he won’t tell you for years to come, but he doesn’t watch the ball for a second- he doesn’t notice the people, or the lights, the music, all of it fades away when he looks down at you. No, there would never be a more glorious sight than you, your smile, your skin flushed and glowing- nothing could feel as good as your hands holding him, nothing could possibly be better than the way you look up at him as the clock strikes midnight.

Nothing will ever compare to the feeling of your lips on his, the taste of your smile, the deafening roar of the crowd, the confetti and snowflakes that catch in your hair-

“Happy New Year, Simon..”

[aita-blorbos]

AITA for finally telling the truth?

I (26 M) work as the editor of a local paper. The owner (40 M) is basically useless and also has a bit of a short temper, so I have to both run everything and try to meditate between him and the rest of the staff. I'm also being paid just enough to get by but, you know, we're struggling. I'm willing to do what I can to keep us afloat.

A few weeks ago, my best friend (27 M) tried pitching a story to our boss that he and his twin sister (27 F) wrote together. However, it was fiction and the owner wasn't happy about that-- he ripped up my friend's notebook and even fired him, despite my best efforts. I was able to gather up the remains of my friend's notebook and returned them to him, and asked about the story, since I saw the first few lines and thought it looked promising.

They told me the story, and it was amazing. It was written as if they were journal entries by a famous astronomer (27 M) claiming to have discovered life on the moon-- pretty fantastical stuff, but if you didn't know the truth it would honestly seem believable. They wanted me to sneak the story into the paper but I was hesitant. Not only would I be lying to hundreds of people, but I'd be the one taking a risk here-- my best friend was already fired, and he and his sister have a secondary source of income, while the paper is pretty much all I have. They convinced me to print it anyway, saying that the astronomer is literally on the other side of the world and the paper could fold at any minute anyway, so I did it.

The story exploded-- everyone believed it, and we sold more copies of that issue than we had the whole of the previous year. The owner was initially furious, but once he realized how much money this would make him he was suddenly fine with it. He even hired my best friend back, since he had future "journal entries" already written.

Then things started going downhill. I found out my best friend was given a raise, and I wasn't, even though I was working just as much if not more than before. I brought this up to my boss, and he said that I had betrayed him by printing the story, and that he can't reward someone he can't trust-- but it was only because of me that we printed the story that lead to him reaping the rewards!

To make things worse, I never even get to talk to my friend and his sister outside of matters relating to getting the next article printed. There are so many people who want to meet and talk with them, they've even became close friends with this very rich and influential local figure (27 F) and while I'm happy for them, I wish they would at least make a bit of time for me.

Last night things came to a head. My friend's sister and I were preparing the next article, and I left the room for a few minutes. When I came back, the astronomer we were lying about was there, unconscious. Apparently he came all the way across the world to demand an explanation, and my friend's sister panicked and knocked him out. If that wasn't bad enough, she then decided we needed to bring him to MY apartment until she figures out what to do next. He's in my spare bedroom right now.

This has all gotten so out of control. I never asked to get wrapped up in something like this, I was just trying to help my friends and save our jobs. Now so many people are believing a bunch of lies that we attributed to a man I just helped assault and kidnap! And through everything, everyone else seems to be doing better while I just keep doing worse-- I feel like I've been used and left behind.

This is where I'm wondering if I'm the asshole or not. After the first article was published, I was approached by someone who works for our main competitor, and he offered me money to expose the story as a hoax, a lot of money. I turned him down at the time, but after last night, I contacted him and said I was willing to prove it was fake if he was still willing to pay. He'll be here soon, and I'm going to tell him everything.

I know that this would be terrible for the reputations of my friend and his sister, and the paper I work for will definitely go under. But I'm tired of lying to people, and I feel guilty for that and everything we've done to the astronomer; we'll have damaged his reputation as well, not to mention how he quite possibly has a brain injury now. And, frankly, I'm tired of putting in all this effort and getting nothing in return. The truth will come out eventually, would it really be so bad if it came out just a little sooner and I could have a bit of financial stability because of it?

So, am I the asshole?

[mayhemscorner]

Rising sun

Shino x f!reader

🔞minors DNI🔞

Warnings: ⚠️familial issues/abuse⚠️ angst, SMUT, kinky slight dom Shino, swearing, violence

Summary: (this man is almost 6ft tall and I still FIRMLY believe Shino is a VERY kinky man. Prove me wrong)

Reader is struck upon for using a forbidden jutsu during a mission. Her father retaliates as they play only by the book and threatens to strip her of her shinobi status. Shino has ideas on how to distract her

The pulsating pain against my cheek as my head reels to the side, is a realization that I’ve just been struck upon in my fathers blind rage. I can only manage in my own fit of fury, to place my own hand above the quickly rising marks. If it were a nicer day, it would make me think of when we just finished pouring the foundation of our house, how I placed my much smaller hand inside the imprint he had just made with his own. The same prints I had just fallen upon from the sheer force I was knocked back with,” forbidden jutsu is to not be used so long as you are still my child.” 

A kick to the stomach. If we didn’t live the life of shinobi, most would consider this abuse, to us, it’s only another lesson…. No matter how uncalled for. 

“It was to save a teammates life! Don’t tell me you wouldn’t have done the same thing.” I spit in his direction, grasping at my ribs and trying to roll over to stand. 

“Not if it would cost me my own life or my dignity that comes with using something forbidden. Your chakra is still depleted. Get up.” He replies with no emotion. After several seconds of trying, I knew he was right. My chakra was shot. 

He lands one more kick as I reach for anything to pick myself up with,” come back inside when you’re ready to be a real shinobi.”

“Fuck you.” I cough out, finally managing to roll to my back and wheeze air back in to my lungs. 

“Or don’t come back at all. You have siblings with the same kekkei genkai. You are replaceable.” His last words echo as the stars finally dissipate from my eyes. He couldn’t truly mean that, he’s just drunk. He had to be. 

I could only ponder and force myself to believe my father was drunk as I slowly mosey to town, the forest, anywhere but here. I ignored the fact the smell of alcohol wasn’t present, maybe my senses are just off. Maybe I’d gone noseblind in a time of panic. The treeline was welcoming, silent enough to rest and gain my composure, maybe pass out from lack of chakra and a beating. I’d welcome passing out at this point, I could use the nap. The spots quickly return to my vision as my body sways,” yeah, this looks like a nice spot for a nap.”

And with that, my body buckles, swaying as gracefully as a sack of bricks to the ground. 

The last conscious thing I register is a voice calling from the treetops,” Y/N, I got you.”

Coming to was almost worse than passing out, my body aches and my head isn’t fully on the ground. My body is covered in a blanket… no. A jacket. It carried the faint smell of pollen and fresh morning dew. I knew the jacket and the scent to well, as the owner of the jacket had no smell, unless the flowers were blossoming. As soon as my head turns to look up, he becomes still as the doldrums at sea. 

“Shino.” I mutter, seeing the eyes behind his glasses turn down to meet mine,” Y/N.”

He exhales sharply, trying his best to not move his legs that lay under my head as a makeshift pillow.

“How long have i been out?” I mumble, reaching down to burrow further in to his green over coat and hope it engulfs my embarrassment.

“Only a few hours. What happened? You look worse than when I left after the mission.” He replies, picking a cool hand up from his side to rest against my now tender and swollen cheek. I sigh, leaning in to a usually gentle touch that now stung like a bee against the side of my face,” chakra was depleted too much. As a result, I ran in to my fathers hand.” 

Shino’s hand twitches against my face as his body becomes taut. 

“Word reached him that I used the forbidden jutsu before I had a chance to say it myself. Doesn’t matter if it was to save a teammate, what matters to him is that I used something forbidden.” I continue, lifting a hand to rest against his that lay on my face. He instinctively threads his fingers between mine, the closeness to Shino I’ve always craved only comes in times of pity. But I still find myself clutching to it like a newborn puppy to their mom. 

“I don’t see why you haven’t just come to stay at the Aburame compound. The offer has been extended multiple times.” Shino mentions his offer once again. 

“Im an adult now, I should just get my own place.” I mutter, squeezing his hand before pulling it down to rest against my chest knowing both of our arms were tiring. He only answers with placing his other hand at the top of my head, weaving his free fingers through the roots of my hair and tugging slightly. The sensation sends a jolt, awakening my senses and my body. 

“Get a place in your family compound so you’re still stuck with your father. Great idea, Y/N.” He monotonously shoots back before continuing,” for saving my life with a strong forbidden jutsu… you sure are clueless in anything else.”

“I wouldn’t call it clueless. He was just drunk. I’ll go back home after dark and everything will be fine.” I defend, knowing it might not be, but at least my chakra has time to build and I have time to create a bluff for Shino. Shino drops his hand, pulling the other away,” I’ll walk you back then.”

The walk is silent, save for Shino’s long jacket flapping around my much smaller frame in the wind. His right arm drapes over me to shield the wind away. Being touch starved, my knees threaten to buckle at the multiple signs of affection tonight. It had almost gotten me to forget the quickly bruising areas on my body until a sharp pain blooms in my ribs. I hunch forward, regaining my breath from my bodies surprise attack. Shino stops walking abruptly to turn us towards each other and immediately pulls the zipper of my vest down, followed by lifting my shirt and exposing my lower midriff. Shino shakes his head and grumbles,” I knew it.”

With no further word, he scoops me up as I’m still frozen, processing he has just lifted my shirt, and going even more senseless as my upper half comes to a rest against his heaving in anger chest. His steps quicken, becoming more pronounced as he stalks closer to my house.

“Shino, slow down. I’m fine.” I plead quietly, tugging at his own leaf issued chunin vest. His face is hard as stone, refusing to give any reply until we reach the gates,” give me my jacket and stay behind me.”

“Stop it. We don’t need to start a fight at this time of night.” I murmer, yet still shrug his jacket off and watch as his arms flex to put it back on. He pushes the gate open furiously and stalks to our house that sat dead center of the compound. I dig my heels in to the dirt and tug at the back of his jacket upon seeing a figure hunched over on our porch,” I’ll just go stay at your house. There’s a jug of sake next to him. He’s drunk Shino.” 

It was too late, I can barely see around Shino’s frame as my father tilts his head and sets his gaze upon the man that shields me,” the hell does an Aburame want at this time of night. Shouldn’t you be sleeping in your cave or something?” 

“I was actually coming to talk to you.” Shino puffs out, the tell tale sign of half a smile frightens me. He was confident, he was ready for a fight. 

“He was just dropping me off, was all.” I bluff, stepping out from behind him and being held back from walking any closer. 

“Bold of you to come home with a man this late. Did you not learn earlier?” He raises his voice, stalking closer to me as Shino tries pulling me back once again. I manage to dodge the first drunken swing at my already bruised ribs but the second connects just before Shino finally succeeds to pull me forcefully to the side, grasping on to the next drunken fist and stopping it dead in the air. Shinobi are scary enough sober. But when the sake hits our veins, we become almost invincible in our own mind… scary even. For the third time tonight, the wind knocks from my lungs as I hit the ground. 

“Damn these men.” I mutter, rocking back on impact and launching myself forward on to my feet, trying to charge in to the altercation. I brace myself as my father signs with one hand in an attempt to knock me back with a wind release jutsu. The wind whips around the three of us as Shino reels an arm back, and sending it flying tactfully against his opponents temple. I cringe at the sight of my dad folding in on himself and dropping to the ground, already snoring. Shino is expressionless and doesn’t move as I stomp furiously to the door trying to gather even a single thought. In an attempt to slam it shut, I feel defeated when Shino catches the flimsy door in an instant. Even behind his glasses, his eyes bore in to mine intently, unblinking. He leans against the doorframe, engulfing me with his large stature as he places an arm directly above me,” I don’t give a fuck what’s forbidden to your family, I’ll make you scream my name until even that’s forbidden.” His hands dance just above my hips as the anger rises,” Shino, what the fuck was that?” My hand instinctively shoots upwards for his throat, pinning him against the wall in an uncontrolled fit of rage, but the heat only climbs against my now flushed face at his words catching me off guard. He lets off a soft, barely even audible moan, taking his turn to lunge at me and quickly reverse our roles. My thighs were now wrapped against his torso and tangled in his long jacket as his breaths quicken so close to my throat while his hands pin my shoulders to the wall. I quickly add my other hand to his throat in case he’s gone crazy. He lets a soft chuckle out as I tug at his jacket,” that was me saving your life, would it kill you to at least say thank you before trying to tear my clothes off?” 

I feel my cheeks prickle and the anger die in my throat, only to be replaced with embarrassment,

“I-I wasn’t- That’s not-! I don’t know what to do right now. I should check on my dad.” I stutter out, the anger mixing with other, stronger, emotions as I adjust my hands around his throat so I don’t lose my grip. I can feel his jaw muscle clench and vibrate down to his throat. I find my own self impulsively mimicking his muscle twitch with my thighs, half bucking against him. A smirk once again creeps to his face before swooping in to hover his lips above the side of my ear,” Calm down. I’m only looking out for my teammate. Your father will be fine. I could’ve done much worse.”

The gentle wind against my ear as he enticingly whispers makes my eyes unfocus and my body slacken until he pulls his head back as far as my arms will reach. My hands then move on their own, leaving a playful tug at his throat before trailing to the collar of his jacket and gripping tight. He nods his head, encouraging me until sense washes back in to my body,” good girl.”

Good girl. Those two words would drive almost anyone insane. And after a while of not receiving praise, it could’ve drove me feral. It did. And I could tell Shino knew too.

“S-Shino. Please say it again.” I blush, slowly droning my hands inwards and pulling him closer to me.

“Say what again?” He questions, sliding his hands from my shoulders, causing me to slightly fall forward in to him, as his hands rake slowly down my body and settle underneath my ass to balance me back against the wall.

“I think you know.” I hint, batting my eyelashes slowly and resting my thumb against his pouty lower lip, rubbing it side to side until he playfully takes it in to his mouth with a quick circular motion of his tongue and a soft nip from his teeth. I bite hard in to my own lip to catch the gasp in my throat. Catching on with satisfaction, he hums around my thumb,” take my glasses off. I want to look at you with my own eyes.”

Another jolt shocks my body to life, unfurling my balled up fist and my other hand from his mouth to de-shade him. His eyes adjust to the darkness around us fairly easily, and they shimmer with multiple emotions. It’s crazy the eyes are what give us away. All our emotions, our lust and want. They trail patiently, almost lazily from my eyes to my lips, my lower one still caught between my teeth. I’m so lost in the sight of his eyes that I don’t notice his movements. He lifts a knee to maneuver one of his hands upwards, grasping against my jaw and hovering his lips just above mine,” good girl.” 

I sharply inhale as my head tilts forward in an attempt to connect our lips. I’m denied with a soft tug back at my jaw and a mischievous smile. His head dips down to my neck making my heart race and stomach flip. I was expecting a kiss, but instead receive his tongue tracing where he would sink his teeth in to soon after. My bottom lip curls back under my teeth, but the moan still escapes. I pull away slightly, pushing a hand against his chest,” what if my dad wakes up?”

“He won’t.” Shino huffs against my neck while tugging at my jaw once again, finally bringing our lips in to a lazy, drawn out kiss. One kiss becomes two. Three, then four. I’ve lost count how many times the presence of his lips graced my needy ones. His teeth draw in my lower lip, nipping slightly and letting go to catch a breath. My tongue acts on its own accord, darting in to find his. Shino doesn’t bother to hide his moan, only readjusting the hand that holds me up as my thighs grip around his torso tighter. My fingers wrestle away his hood, then tear away his forehead protector, releasing his quickly growing hair to tug to my hearts content. He groans at the sudden pull, bucking us both back in to the wall we’ve drifted from. 

“We should move this somewhere else.” I huff while pulling away for another breath of air and trying to wrestle his jacket off for real this time. Shino nods, falling backwards and over the back of the couch behind us effortlessly. I find myself on top, straddling a smirking Shino. I smile, finally able to tear away his vest and jacket in a sloppy and haphazard manner before I wrestle at his tight training shirt. My hands quiver with giddiness as his tightened skin flexes under my fingers in an effort to help. When I barely manage to coax the compression shirt to his shoulders, he grasps both of my hands in one of his and finishes his shirt off, exposing his upper half. Shino leans up to a sitting position and uses his free hand to pull me down further by the nape of my neck, tugging at my now tousled hair to hungrily guide our lips together once again. I feel my hands being released, followed by my vest being tugged at and shedded away. He’s gentle while lifting my shirt over the sickening bruises, his tender fingers ghosting over the lightning strikes of purple and disconnecting our lips to throw my shirt away. My aching core reignites at every twitch I feel against my pelvis from down below. 

“Fuck this.” I mutter, sliding down to grapple with the knot holding his pants at his waist. He arches slightly at the intimate touch of my hands dragging his pants downwards, then reaching up to drone lazy circles around his rising bulge. 

“I never got to properly thank you, Shino.” I whisper, slowly sinking my head downwards to place a kiss on his still clothed member. He twitches slightly and his hand once again feeds its way in to my hair as I place intentionally sloppy kisses on his hips while shrugging down his boxers. 

“That’s oka-“ Shino begins to talk before being cut off with his own moan at the feeling of my lips wrapping around the tip of his cock. His hand clenches deep at my roots and tries to follow the quickly erratic pace of my head. His hips soon follow, becoming a sloppy and unreadable pace until he pumps fully in to my mouth, causing me to slightly gag when I’m held there for a few seconds as he squirms beneath me. When he can’t handle the feeling anymore, I’m being thrown backwards to the other side of the couch and my pants have been effortlessly wrestled off during the process. All while I’m still trying to force myself to breathe air again. The circles being rubbed in to my thighs distract any sense I have, his head burying between my thighs going unnoticed at first. I can’t help but gasp, clawing up his back at the wet pressure kneading slowly at my clit. One finger slips in, shockingly cold against my rising body temperature. My hips try to move, but his other hand holds me down forcibly, making the pleasure even greater. I can feel him smirk against me, followed by a quick flick of his tongue to send me over the edge. My scream silences against the quick grasp at my throat from Shinoto aid him in sitting up,” if anyone ever lays their hands on you again, it better be me.”

“B-but we’re shinobi.” I stutter out as he crashes himself inside of me, pushing further and further until I squirm.

“Even in war, I’d go out of my way to be the last man to ever have his hands on you.” He grunts, thrusting quickly again and stopping. He holds inside of me for a few more seconds,” I wouldn’t just fight for you. I’d kill for you.”

Sex was an odd time for a love confession, but I wasn’t complaining. My thoughts were filled by the building pressure coming to a climax and focusing on not passing out from pleasure. The old couch was as close to breaking as my limit was. I grasp at his hand around my throat as the splotches of ecstasy bubble and obscure my vision like an old time cartoon,” Sh-Shino. Please, Fuck!”

“Y/N, shit.” Shino growls, pumping even sloppier and rougher than before. My head tilts back, brain shutting off and a scream of pleasure threatening to ring off. His hands clamp over my agape mouth, stifling what could’ve been an ear shattering, and dad waking shriek. The convulsion starts in my legs, ecstasy causing me to shake like a leaf in the wind and it was only building with every motion Shino made. With one last slam in to me with all his might, I see he’s reached his limit too. After several seconds, maybe even minutes of catching our breath, it’s a game of who will look at the other first. The walls and floor around us had suddenly become interesting, even though he was hovering directly above me. Shino takes a shaky breath, wiping away beads of sweat that threaten to spill from his forehead. I find myself fanning at my flushed face and finally looking in to his uncovered and nervous eyes,” was that… too far?”

“No. Was it too far for you?” He huffs out between gasps.

“N-no. I should probably go to bed… and you should get home. It’s getting pretty late.” I stumble out, trying to avoid the awkward after first time sex talking while fumbling around to put some clothes on and lay back down.

He hovers above me once again, then slides down, and I’m almost worried I may have to go for a round two. But he stops at my bruised ribs peeking out from my wrinkled shirt, kissing softly at the damaged skin,” I’ll leave if you come with me.” 

I ponder the challenge, knowing I definitely didn’t want to be home when my father regained consciousness, let alone having the man who knocked him senseless in the house. I nervously card my fingers through Shino’s hair and wait for his eyes to look towards me,” please?”

“Okay.” I mumble, quickly tiring with fatigue. My eyelids become heavy with the weight of todays events, I could sleep for days. I feel Shino’s weight disappear and I can’t help but twist to my side and curl in on myself like a cat taking a mid day snooze in the sun. As I drift off in to the waves of sleep, I feel an arm sliding below my head and the other under my torso.

The birds were singing jovially from the open window that let in a soft breeze. The side of my face pounded with my heart at the rising anxiety. Birds never sang at our compound, not for years. I turn to the unfamiliar landscape around me, seeing it was almost like a terrarium, the massive windows lining two of the walls looking out to the countryside of the hidden leaf just before sunrise. The nightstand held my neatly folded vest and a single lily that stood proud in a vase with a beetle crawling zigzags on its outstretched leaf. The pack I usually use for missions rests on the floor, stuffed full with my clothes. In my weak attempt to stand, an arm darts lazily around my waist to pull me back against a comforting heat,” We rise with the sun here, Y/N.” 

I trace his arm downwards to find his hand resting against my hip and entwine our fingers together. I force my eyes to close once again to break my family’s brutish habits, and as long as the sun droned lazily against the horizon we were both safe in each others embrace. Shino’s chest rises and falls in a melodic rhythm, coaxing me back to a sleepy serenity I could get used to feeling. All worries washed away with the excitement and anticipation of sleeping in and rising with the sun. 

[imawreck]

Present

Pairing: Bucky Barnes/Winter Soldier x Original Character

Summary: Bucky grows closer and closer to losing himself in the attempts to find Max, becoming more like The Winter Soldier once more. While they are searching for her, Max is losing more and more of herself.

Warnings: Pretty much the same as last few chapters so please be very careful with your reading!

Word Count: 3,252

Steve-

There wasn't a second to waste when the jet landed a mile out from where Tony had pinged the surge. Everyone was storming out of the hanger the second it touched the ground, Buck leading the charge.

I was following right behind him. I might not have had the best relationship with Max or believe that she was the best for my best pal but seeing him this close to falling apart was so much worse.

We approached the rubble of what was left from the old Hydra facility. All of us shot Tony questioning glances, because who the hell would set up camp here with no cover? There were hardly trees here. It was simply a couple of crumbled remains of a building or two in a flat clearing. No one would willingly use this as a base of operations, especially if they were going to use a weapon like the Scepter.

Tony frowned. "This is where the ping came from. I'm sure. Spread out but keep on the Comms. Look for some kind of sign that they were here."

When I turned to follow after Bucky, afraid he wouldn't be alright alone, he was already gone. Well, several yards away, anyway. His back was to me as he searched the ground, obviously following some sort of trail in the grass. I hustled over to him, noting the subtle footprints here or there, the half impression of a heel every few feet.

"They were here recently," he mumbled, "Could still be here."

I watched him closely as I trailed after him. Bucky had gone from remotely friendly and sometimes conversational to a downright ghost around the tower ever since Max's capture. I hardly heard a word out of him during the weeks afterward, only heard him talk at the meetings he attended. If they didn't revolve around finding Max, he wouldn't even show up to those. Instead, I'd find him in the gym or locked away in his room. Sometimes catch him coming out of her old room with a blank look on his face and an agony in his eyes. 

Bucky had become a looming figure around the tower. Both physically and emotionally. His time in the gym was evident on every inch of him as I watched him search the ground. Tony even had to order him a new suit to fit. Despite his stature, every single step he took was silent as ever in the way only he could do. He was so starkly different from the Brooklyn boy I grew up with that I hardly recognized him nowadays. Especially in moments like these when he slipped back into The Soldier. 

When his face went slacken and his eyes became nothing but cold calculation. When his shoulders remained tense and nothing and no one, even me, could stop him from his mission at hand. I followed him as he pressed forward, following the trail of boot prints to who knows where.

"Buck," I called out, "We have to stay within eyesight of the team. We don't know who's up here."

He didn't listen, merely stalked forward. I pursed my lips and hustled after him. The brush was getting a little thicker, and it looked like Bucky was struggling a little more with following the trail. Every few feet he would stop and scan the area for who knows what. The training he possessed wasn't something I had, and I barely knew what to look for. I just tried to keep up with him in hopes that I could provide some kind of help if we were ambushed.

Suddenly, Bucky stilled.

He stood stalk still with his eyes trained on the ground a few feet in front of him at something in the brush. I raised my shield on instinct, approaching him as quietly as I could manage. Right in front of him, half buried in the dirt, was a concrete hatch. The dirt was smudged around the edges as if it had been heaved open and someone or multiple some ones had clambered out of it. 

Several sets of prints were scattered all around the dirt surrounding the hatch. Some were deeper than the others, some just partials as if they had been running. Bucky didn't waste much more time before he was reaching down with his metal arm and wrenching the door clear off its hinges. 

"Bucky!" I ran around in front of him. "What are you doing? We don't know what's down there, and we have to wait for the team. You can't go down there alone." I made sure to enunciate the importance of waiting on the team, tried to reason with him that this would most definitely be the worse way to go about things if there were still Hydra agents down there. "If you want to get her out, we do it as a team. It's the only way we can."

Bucky stalled, his eyes sweeping over to me and pinning me with the blankest look I think I've ever received from him even as the Winter Soldier. This was a side of Bucky I hadn't ever encountered before. There was a ferocity in his eyes that made me stop and really think that maybe trying to reason with him wasn't the best idea. He didn't look like there was a word in the entirety of the universe that would make him wait another second on anyone.

But he waited, lifting his hand to his ear and murmuring into it. I heard his voice echo back in my Comm as he listed off our coordinates to the rest of the team and allowed them to come into view before he dropped down into the hole without another word to me. I dropped in behind him, keeping a few feet between us and covering behind us as the rest of the team began filing in down the hatch one by one.

Bucky pressed ahead with his gun raised. He checked every single corner, searching each room one by one, but every single one of them was empty. The only thing that gave any indication that there were people here was the disturbed dirt on the floor or the occasional imprint on the dusty countertops of the labs we came across. 

Nothing else was left behind.

The closer we got to the main room, the more I could see the stress heighten in Bucky's shoulders. I knew the lack of evidence that Max was really here was getting to him. It was getting to all of us, even me.

But Bucky was unstable, and I feared that our failure to get here in time to find Max would push him to the edge. That it would put him somewhere so dark I wouldn't be able to reach him no matter how hard I tried.

We entered what looked to be the main chamber, a large room with several empty steel tables set in a semi-circle near the center. They were obviously new, and recently used at that. Unlike the other tables, there wasn't a speck of dust left on any of them. In the middle of the room was the obvious signs of something square being left there. A cage perhaps. In its absence, settled in the center of it, was a small brown box wrapped haphazardly in a paper sack and tied off with a black ribbon.

Bucky went impossibly still as the rest of the team filed in behind me. Everyone's eyes fell to the box. The only sounds that reverberated off the empty cold walls were the uneasy breaths of the team and the whir of Tony's suit. 

No one moved for what felt like forever, several minutes at least. I was afraid to speak, to breathe. I was afraid the smallest movement would set Bucky off, or whatever Roman Giles had put in that box. It could be a bomb.

I raised my shield at the thought, but I didn't have much time to do anything remotely heroic before Bucky was slinging his gun over his shoulder and snagging the box off the ground.

Panic welled up in my throat. "Bucky!"

But he was already opening it, already tearing through the paper. 

Wanda was raising her arms beside me, and Vision glided easily up beside her. "Sergeant Barnes, we don't know what's in there. It would be unwise to—.”

Bucky obviously didn't give a shit, because he flicked open the lid and glared at whatever was inside. What he pulled out was small and rectangular, not any bigger than my hand. I recognized it almost instantly from years ago. It was a recorder. I had stumbled upon the exact make and model some of the first years as Captain America taking down Hydra facilities. The scientists at the time used them to record their experiments.

As the information settles itself in the forefront of my mind, a dread sinks into the pit of my stomach. "Bucky, that could have something you might not want to hear on it." I knew very well that Giles had left it for us to find, for Bucky himself to find. This was child's play to him, a game he was very well winning.

Bucky's eyes met mine for a moment, a tidal wave of emotions crashing in them. But he didn't speak, simply clicked the button and let the recording echo off the walls of the facility.

"Tell me what you'll do to keep us from getting him." 

I flinched as Gile's voice ricocheted off the walls, rattling around in my ears. What really had my knees buckling was when a small, wobbling voice answered his demand. I could hardly recognize Max from the vulnerability leaking into her words.

 "I'll do anything, just don't hurt him. I'll kill if that's what you want. I'll become whatever you want me to be, just don't touch him. Leave him alone." 

A choked sob, garbled further by the recorder.

"I can't watch him die again, not anymore. I- I can't."

As I watched Bucky grip the recorder, eyes vacant and pinned to the floor as he listened to their exchange, I knew exactly who they were referring to. How he had made her watch him die; I could only imagine wasn't at all pleasant. Hydra was cruelly creative.

Giles spoke again, "Did you hear that Seargent Barnes? Isn't she sweet? Sacrificing herself to save you." He laughed, the sound like nails on a chalkboard and added, "The next time you see her, she will be but a husk of the woman you knew. Chow!"

At that, Bucky sent the recorder flying into the wall across from him. All of us flinched, diving out of the way to avoid the flying debris. The next thing to go was the table closest to him. His metal fingers snagged under the edge and sent it flying into the lights which sprayed us all in sparks in return. We all scattered to avoid them, immediately going into defense. 

There was a wildness in Bucky's eyes, a glimpse of a side of him we thought remained dormant without the mention of those wretched words. Alas, here he was. The Winter Soldier had come out at the mere pained voice of this woman. This woman who had somehow wormed her way so far into his heart that even this heartless killing machine had fallen for her, would break all mental bounds to come to her aid.

I was the first to snap into action, shield up and aiming for his left shoulder. I would have to disarm his strongest weapon before I had the upper hand. Bucky was stronger now, larger than I was. The fight would be over in minutes if he was fully functional. With that in mind, I rammed my shield into the plates of his shoulder as hard as I could.

Bucky stumbled, careening to the side with the impact. I had underestimated his strength, because a second later I was flying into the concrete wall. I hadn't even registered he had hit me until my head collided with the wall, effectively removing me from the equation as the room spun uncontrollably. That left it up to the rest of them.

Tony and Clint tag teamed him next, the latter shooting off several arrows that triggered into snares once they made their homes in his metal arm. Cords wrapped themselves around his torso in tight circlets. Tony took the opportunity to pin him to the wall and allow Barton to fire off a few more restraining arrows. Bucky struggled against them, yelling his head off and grunting in efforts to get away from them. 

I pulled myself from the man-shaped hole left behind me as I stumbled over to them. "Buck, you have to calm down."

If a man could snarl, that's exactly what Bucky would be doing right now. The anger on his face would be enough to send any lesser man running for the hills. 

"Buck," I repeated, "We're going to get her back, but you've got to come back first." I figured if this Winter Soldier like state he had snapped into wasn't triggered by words, then he could come out of it on his own. Right? "I promise we will."

There was a moment where he just stared at me with all the hatred in the world held in his eyes. But there was a pain there too. A pain I almost missed. Slowly though, that pain grew until it was all encompassing. His shoulders shook and his face began to twist as tears gathered in his eyes.

And just like that, Bucky began to weep.

He wept hard. His whole body wracked with the sobs that left him. I turned to the others, begging them silently to give us a moment. Tony caught the drift and motioned the others to exit the room. I turned back to Bucky, all tied up against the wall, and gathered him up in my arms. "I'm so sorry Buck." It was all I knew to say and I knew it wasn't even close to enough.

"They've tortured her, Steve. They've done God knows what, and I can't even find her." He sniffled, wiping his nose on the Kevlar on his shoulder. "I'm one of the most trained for this bullshit, and I can't find her."

I could only pull him closer, desperate to keep him from going down this dark rabbit hole. "We will find her. I'll make sure we do. I just need you to stick with the team, okay? Keep your head level as best you can while we sort this out."

He nodded weakly, but a yes was a yes. I cut him loose, letting the ropes fall to the ground and waiting for him to collect himself before we both headed back towards the jet where I knew the rest would be waiting up for us. 

It would be difficult and dangerous, but I'd be damned if I didn't give finding this girl my all.

_____

Max-

I fucking hate tranq guns. 

That was my first waking thought. The second was that I at least got a sound rest untouched by nightmares or plaguing memories. At least I had that. 

It took a few minutes to come to, finally registering the restraints around my body. I still felt week. Extremely weak, more than I had been since my initial capture. Which was never a good sign. I curled my fingers around the evident arms of a metal chair, feeling the cool surface bite against my skin. Felt the pull of the cold cuffs securing me to it. 

There was something masking my vision, a blindfold perhaps. I didn't know why; it wasn't like I could go anywhere or tell anyone if they let me see where I was. Maybe Giles just liked the suspense. I was not impressed or willing to participate. I was tired and missing the tower, missing my friends.

I hadn't allowed myself to think about them since I landed in this lovely situation. It would just bring me more pain, so I had pushed them away for my own safety. Now that I was sure things weren't going to get any brighter, I allowed myself to savor my memories of them before Giles stripped me of everything I was.

Because I knew that's what it would do. That serum, whatever he had created it with, could do that to me. I had felt it eating away at my mind when he first injected me with it, and I had to fight tooth and nail to claw my way back from it. It nearly took everything I had. But now... now that I know what they'll do to Bucky, how easily they had broken into the tower, I didn't have any fight left in me.

There was the familiar creak of metal hinges before footsteps echoed in the room I was held in. I knew that gait, the soft brush of fabric against his knees. Giles.

"Good afternoon, little bird." Something scraped against a table, "I hope you are as excited as I am."

I didn't answer, couldn't even think of it as fear began to snake its way into my veins.

There was more shuffling and then the blindfold was removed from my eyes. I flinched at the bright fluorescent lights, blinking away the pain and focusing on Giles frightening face. He was grinning, like always, and holding a syringe alarmingly close to my arm. I jerked away only to be met with the restraints once more. I fumed at him, "I'll kill you for this!"

He laughed, loud and maniacal, "You won't be able to lift a finger without my command, don't you get it? You're mine. You won't do a damn thing without my say so."

I reared my head back and spit in his face. It was the only action of resistance I could perform at the moment. "Burn in hell!"

Giles sighed, plunging the needle into my arm unexpectedly. "I'm sure I will." 

Then the burning started.

Every nerve in my body was alight, blazing with whatever the hell was in that damn syringe. I screamed, writhed in the chair, desperate to get away from the pain. Giles just watched, that wretched smile plastered on his face. My head began to pound, pulsing as my heart pumped the serum through my body. It wasn't long before I felt myself slipping.

First it was just tidbits, where I was for a moment, then it was more. Fast. In a matter of minutes, I was struggling to remember how I even got here. I was grasping at straws, clawing at my memories as I felt them slipping out of reach. They were going somewhere dark and far away.

Then the confusion chased away the pain.

 Was I supposed to be trying to get away? Who was this man standing in front of me? 

I... I had something important to do but I-- I can't remember.

A flicker of a man with blue eyes, beautiful blue eyes.

A faint thump of my heart in my ears, a pull from the image.

What... What was his name?

Feelings became harder to connect with. With each passing flicker of my life, something else in my heart was taken with it. I felt myself empty out 'til I was just the wrappings of a person who no longer existed. An echo.

Tags<3

@cjand10 / @greatenthusiasttidalwave / @imdoingathingmom / @blackbirdwitch22 / @hzdhrtss / @calwitch

[grippingbeskar]

salt, ice and fire | frank castle

chapter twenty six - you bring me home

frank castle x fem! reader

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

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

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

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

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

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

“There was… traffic.”

“You get lost?”

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

“So yeah?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh yeah?”

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

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

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

“Least I was gonna go the right way.”

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

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

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

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

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

“M’alright with that.”

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

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

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

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

“Yeah, Frank.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Florida?” He nods.

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

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

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

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

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

“And safe.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Hardly.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

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

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

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

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

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

“Wait. What? Karen, I’m in Florida.”

“What?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Staying?” You nod. “You sure?”

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

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

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

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m not pulling over.” Frank groans.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Listen—“

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

In the dark of the room last night you wouldn’t of seen it, but now the lights streaming in from the car window, and Franks torso is nearly a rainbow in it— blue, purple and green bruises all up his side, with a short but deep cut on the low right side of his abdomen. He’s taken the bandage off it too early, the stitches still healing, but you can tell it’s expert work. Much better than the botched job you did a month or so back, something he still bares the reminders for.

“Just… just a couple scratches, huh?” He grunts something illegible and hauls you back to him.

“Shut up.” He keeps you pressed close, not giving you a chance to say something back, but then his hands dip lower and you’re a goner.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Yeah. Fuck waiting.

He’s got you here— now, on top of him, and he can’t even fucking think of anything else. Your hands are being so gentle and cautious when he really couldn’t care less about the pain, but you do. You always do.

He wasn’t gonna waste another second, and seeing your eyes close the second he got your pants off and dipped his hands between your legs… it’s pretty much as close to heaven as he was going to get.

You fall forward, Frank catching you with one arm and pulling you close while the other continues slow, teasing circles just how he knows gets you all worked up. Your head tucks away into his neck, and he lets you hide for now, but when he’s got you home— real home, then he’ll be able to look at you as much as he god damn wants.

Your hips move against him, chasing his slow rhythm, and he feels your teeth scrape agains this neck, wordlessly rushing him along. 

“You need me that bad?” He says lowly, and watches in awe the way his words wash over you and yank you closer to the edge. “I’m sorry, sweetheart. Shouldn’t of left you so needy—“

“Fuckkk… right there—please.” Your voice was so high it cracks a little, and it fucking sets him on fire.

“Get my belt for me, baby.” He whispers, feigning a bit of self control as he watches you quickly fumble with the buckle. The slight brush of your hands could finish him then and there, and he had to squeeze his eyes shut to try and remember why he wanted to wait. He had just one more card to play— one that you’d seen him play a few times before, but he doesn’t think you expect it this time, and he needed some semblance of composure to remember it.

A real house, white picket fence and all, smack bang on halfway between New York and Florida. He couldn’t leave New York, not ever, but he had a new anchor now, one that deserved to have it all.

Frank planned to take you straight home. Make a ten hour drive and keep his hands to himself, but how the fuck could he when you were like this? Looking like you do, touching him so fucking sweet and soft and saying how much you missed every part of him— it was a dream come to life, and one of the few moments he’d let himself go in.

You shuffle as close as the seat allows, your now naked chest pressing against his. He dips his head, kissing your jaw, and he’s suddenly surrounded by you. Arms around his neck, warm and soft as your fingers thread in his hair, both of you moan at the feeling of him sliding into you. It’s white hot and nearly painful, how even with the way you’re dripping down your thighs, it still takes you a second to take him all the way. You wriggle your hips, trying to settle yourself and Frank nips at your neck, slowing your pace just slightly. He can hear you sigh, but you listen. You always fucking do.

“Shit— so fucking good. You can take it.” He hums and runs his hands over your skin. You lean into the touch, and when you sigh again he sinks your hips lower, a short punch of your name bursting from his chest when you slam yourself down. “Fuck. There you go.”

He’s a wreck underneath you, and your hands slither away from his hair to his face when you pull him up to kiss you. As much as he loves the feeling of your hips grinding down ever so slightly right now, it’s this part he loves the most. The slow intimacy of it— how he knows he can stay right here for the rest of the day and nothing will change. He can feel how much you love it, how much care you handle him with, and it cracks something old and hard in his gut.

You shudder as he lifts his hips, keeping your mouths together and kissing hungrily. He’d think you’d both been starved for a year the way you two act, but he’d admit it to anyone that asked that he was gone for you. He knows it well and true, in his chest and in the way you bounce in his lap, moaning into his mouth like he’s breathing air into your burning lungs.

“Fuck— fuck, I love you. I fucking… Jesus Christ, you’re so good. I love you.” He can’t shut himself up, and your breath gets faster. He knows you love it when he talks. “C’mon, baby. Let me see you— wanna feel you. I know you want to.”

“Slow… Frank, you’re gonna hurt yourself—“ You suck in a breath and squeeze your eyes shut. His hands stay tight on your hips, and he feels the pleasure buzz under his palms, your skin nearly alight with it on top of him. “Oh my god, don’t stop.”

He wraps his forearm around you and fucks you harder, any pain and injury burnt out by how tight you are around him, and how perfect you fit him. He’s close, so close that he’s hardly able to kiss you now. You both collide in a mess of tongues and sighs, and when he hears you croak out his name into his mouth, he knows you’re cumming for him.

He can’t hold himself back, chasing you into that high with blinding abandon. It hits him like a freight train, bowing him over you like he’s taken a hit, but it feels so good he can’t register that he isn’t breathing like this. He keeps kissing you until he’s sure he’s going to pass out, and only stops when you pull away, eyes darting to the highway where headlights slowly flicker on the horizon.

“Shit.” You say breathless, and you laugh. He can feel it, the sound shuddering through him from where he was still deep inside you, and your giggles soon turned to something less innocent when you heard Frank groan into your chest. “C’mon. Someone’ll see us.”

“Don’t move yet.” He puts his hands on your waist, fanning them out to reach as much of you as possible.

“Mhmm.” It’s like your body gives out at his request, slumping forward and moulding into him like you were made to fit this way. This was what he was talking about. The way you fit together— something that should be out of the question for him fits so right. “I love you, too.”

“Mhmm.” He copies and feels you smile against his skin. His hands trail up your spine, tracing the line of bones lightly to leave goosebumps in his wake. “What time is it?”

“Who gives a fuck?” You mumble, the words half muffled into his neck.

“I want you to see the house in the light, but you wanna go at it blind, be my guest.” It takes you a second, a scoff coming out of you before you sit up abruptly, making him groan again.

“House? What house? Another safe house.” Frank couldn’t keep a secret to save his life when it came to you.

“It’s a house. Twenty minute drive from here.”

“But New Yorks not—“

“I know. Good thing we got cars, yeah?” Your eyebrows are crossed together, and Franks thumb slips over the small scar he left on your face. The movement shifts your gaze to something softer, and he feels the brush of your eyelashes on his finger as you blink up at him.

“You did it on purpose. It’s right in the middle.” You say softly. “Jesus, Frank. You didn’t have to… I mean you—“

“Take a breath. I didn’t buy it. Was a gift from the US Goverment. One thing those guys are good for is their money. I just picked the spot.” He could nearly hear the rave of your heart, and you crushed yourself into him, words hushed and mumbled into his ear, but they melt him to the core all the same.

He’ll never get over hearing you say things like this to him. That you’re grateful for him, that he’s doing a good thing. It’s like nothing he did before you was ever good enough. There was always the next job, always the next group to track, but nothing would be enough. There wasn’t a light at the end of the tunnel for him. But here you were, telling him that he was the reason you were gonna be alright, and if he squints he can see it. The flicker of something hopeful, and if he holds onto you as tight as he can, he might just live to see it light him on fire.

“Did you say… you said twenty minutes from here. Why didn’t we just wait until—“

“Would’ve ruined the surprise.” You laugh again, and the feeling has him gripping you tighter. He leans closer to whisper in your ear, his voice low. “And I wanted to fuck you here and now. Don’t want there to be a single fuckin’ surface where I ain’t had you.”

“Better get driving then, Castle. Sounds like you got a job to do.” The glint in your eye nearly makes him drag you outside and bend you over the hood, but the kiss you give him after is sickeningly sweet, so much so that he lets you slide off him and back into the passenger seat without so much as a nip of his teeth. “Tha–”

“Wait. Wait til you see it.” Frank said, and something about the way he looked at you had you nodding simply, and watching the trees race by as he sped you home.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

You were asleep on the balcony again, and Frank moved as slow as he could to let you stay that way.

In the two weeks you’d been here, he could count on one hand how many times you’d actually slept in the bed. There were no neighbours for miles, nothing interrupting the stretch of sky all the way to the hills. Even Frank had to admit it was a killer view.

He came inside, pouring himself a drink, and a strange pit in his stomach settled after the burning liquid soothed his throat. He can’t seem to kick that feeling when you’re asleep. When you were awake, next to him, there wasn’t anything else he could think about. But alone, walking around a house he owned, a life he might try and live staring him in the face, he felt guilty. There were parts of him he wouldn’t ever get back, but this wasn’t something he thought he’d ever have. Peace and quiet, time to himself. A woman he loved within eyesight, buried under blankets cause she was too stubborn to come inside when it got freezing. He couldn’t figure out why now, of all times, was the time to be thinking of Maria. The weight of the ring around his neck was like an anchor. He knew it was stuck on the bottom of the ocean, but he couldn’t find it in himself to let go. He would sit there, hand cut up and bleeding, holding on for dear fucking life if no one moved him, waiting until he drowned.

Your footsteps were soft, in a way that he knows you can’t help. You tread through the open double doors, and Frank would roll his eyes at the way he could hear your teeth chattering if he wasn’t so distracted.

“You should of woke me.” You say, voice muffled from the mess your head was buried under. He took a step toward you, pushing it back so he could see your eyes.

“It’s late.”

“Couldn’t tell.” He can hear the smirk in your voice.

“You finally frozen to death, smart-ass?” You grumble something in reply, and he catches a few curse words before you look at him again. It’s nearly scary, the way you can read him with one sweep of your eyes. You clock his tone, the way he isn’t leaning into you with his full weight, and squint your eyes.

“What is it?” Frank sucks in a long breath, and kisses you.

He’s a complete idiot. That’s what it is. He can feel the buzzing pulse you wake in him, every movement of your lips on his rooting you deeper in his soul, chipping off ice until theres only warmth. How’s he supposed to tell you, after you’ve just kissed him like that, that he was thinking about his–

“You can talk to me about her, Frank.” You say with your head against his. Not it, her. Before he can ask, you smile a little. Even just a hint of that smile and he’s forgetting how to breathe. “You play with the ring when you’re nervous. It’s actually a bit of a tell.”

“Yeah?” He manages, hands trying to search their way through the blankets for you.

“Yeah. You have a lot of tells. For someone in your line of work, it’s actually a bit worrying.”

“You got me all figured out.” He says and means it, but you just roll your eyes.

“And you lean to the left when you think you can’t make a shot. You think it helps your angle.”

“Who woulda thought you were so observant.”

“You know, I actually did watch you when you were teaching me how to shoot.” Frank smiles, your skin finally under his palms. His hands splay on your back, and you lean closer.

“You were trying to fuck me the whole time. Don’t blame me for being surprised.” You try to whack him but your arms are pinned under the layers. Your laughter carries through him, skittering into his chest until he can’t help but laugh too.

“You came onto me.” He laughs harder. “It was very unprofessional. I was there to learn.”

“Damn fucking right I did.” His voice is low, and you shuffle around under his hold until your hands snake up behind his neck. His hair is too long, but he hasn’t cut it just yet. He tells himself that he hasn’t had time, but truthfully he likes the way it feels when you sift your fingers through the ends of it. Like now.

“You can tell me.” You say again, softer. He’s softer too– more malleable now you were here.

“I can’t help it.” He looks over your shoulder, and you follow his gaze to where the sun is now just starting to rise. “She woulda… woulda liked it here. The kids, too.”

“You think so?” He nods, still staring into the orange sky.

“Probably would of had a lot to say about the inside, though.” You wrap around him tighter, head on his chest. “She was so good with those things. She loved when we painted our house. She had all these colors painted next to each other on the wall. All these different kinds of green. Everyone kept sayin’ it all looked the same but she... she could tell the difference. I could see what she meant when she put the couch next to it and shit, you know? She was real good with that stuff.”

“We could use her help around here. This place is sort of… ugly, on the inside.” He laughed again, his throat feeling tighter as he looked around. There was those same colour swatches, but none of them were coordinated like he was remembering. Pinks, blues, oranges and grays were all mixed together in big, sweeping strikes along the wall, stopping right above where your arm would be able to reach. “What would she have gone with?”

He looks down at you, your face washed in the light of the sunrise.

“The light orange. It looks good with the brown.” He nods over to the couch, an old leather one you’d made him pick up off the side of the road.

“We’ll do that one, then.” You tuck yourself under his chin, sighing.

“I think about ‘em everyday. What the kids would have looked like now. What they’d be doing. How Maria and I would of… raised ‘em. I was away all the time, but I just-”

“I think you would have been just fine.” You say into his chest, and Frank takes a shuddering breath.

“Why’s that?“

“Cause she was in love with you.” His chest tightens, and the grip he’s got on your waist gets a little tighter. “I’m… I’ll never be able to fix…that. It’ll always be with you, and nothing will change what happened, but I want you to know that they will always have a place here. You don’t have to apologize for talking about them– the kids, or Maria. I will never, ever not listen, and it will never be something I don’t want to hear. If they’re always with you, they’ll be with me, too.”

Frank takes two steps forward, and your feet pick up just in time to catch yourself before he throws you back on the couch. He’s never been good with words for things like this. He doesn’t think he should try to shove it all in a sentence, either. Not when theres so much he wants to say, but even more he wants to do.

You lay back, and he moves slowly. He wants you to know every move, every brush of his hand and his mouth is by design. He wants to know every square inch of you inside and out like you know him. He wants his hands to pull the strings, letting you hear all the things his mouth could never possibly form.

“Perfect.” Frank sighs against your mouth, over and over again. It was. You were. Are. The pit in his stomach disappears, pushed out and engulfed by the flames in his chest. There was no room for anything, not a single other feeling or word could possibly fit the way you two fit together. Your fingers tug at his shirt, and he takes it over his head. Your hands run and smooth gentle lines over his chest, over the healing wound on his side. It's jagged and wonky, and it nearly spelt your name. Frank thinks it’s the first time he’s looked down at himself and not hated to see the scars.

He unravels you like a gift to himself, savouring every moment even when you try to shrug off the blanket. You hadn’t dressed since last night, and Frank liked it even more this way. You sighed his name, and Frank shuddered, sealing his mouth over yours again. When his eyes opened for a split second, he could see your face, washed in orange light, and your hair swept to the side. He shut his eyes and kissed you again, the image seared into his mind forever.

Frank had faced a lot of bad things in his life. He had been shot, stabbed, pulled apart and put back together more times than he could remember. He thought he’d seen it all, felt it all before, but there was nothing like this. Nothing made him as weak as your fingers in his hair, and nothing made him as strong as the way you moaned his name. Nothing felt as good as sliding inside you, and nothing felt as empty as when you were gone. It made him lightheaded and brought him to the brink of consciousness, but he knew that this was right.

It could of been minutes or hours that had passed when he let himself go, but no amount of time with you under him would stop him from wanting more. The sun was up now, and Frank had you tucked to his side on the small space of the couch, legs tangled together in the blankets and each other. He felt you shiver against him, and the blankets wrapped around you had come loose. He bent to fix them, and when he moved you did it again.

He looked down, seeing the cold line of metal pressed against your bare back. The ring at the end was hanging over your ribs, and when Frank touched it, it was freezing. Holding it in his palm, it didn’t feel as heavy as it used to, and when he read the engraving on the back, he still felt cold.

Looking down at you, how you rolled over and sought him out even with your eyes closed, he leaned down to kiss the scar on your forehead. Then, like it was the simplest thing in the world, he slipped the necklace off over his head, and placed it in a neat circle on the coffee table next to his head.

They would always have a place here. But it wasn’t them who gave him warmth anymore.

When he tucked himself back under the covers, he knew it was you. It was always you.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

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okay theres going to be an epilogue at some point, but it will probably be small and have very little plot, so this is the end of the main story. so, heres a little rant for you. if you read it, thank you, and if you dont, thank you anyways. knowing anyone is reading my words is a gift enough.

i think i have been writing this series for like 5/6 months ish?? thats fucking wild. i dont have an exact word count, but all i know is its fucking long. i cannot believe i wrote this much about a fictional character, but damn. that is a lot.

basically all i want to say here is thank you. to anyone who has read, interacted, or will read in the future, thank you from the bottom of my heart. it might be a lil dramatic but having people read stuff i write, let alone actually enjoy it makes me so incredibly happy. starting to write on here, and for frank especially, is probably one of the best decisions ive ever made. this series was a struggle to finish for so many reasons, mainly my incredible lack of planning and overall dumb writing schedule, but i have met so many incredible people along the way, and i am just so grateful to have a lil space to share my work.

frank castle will probably always own a giant spot in my heart, so thank you for letting me share my version of him. and letting me add as much smut as i want to this with no complaints bc i fuckin needed it okay!!!!!! i love you all. rant over. series over. damn!

p.s. i am never not going to write frank. dont worry. i already have an idea for my next series lmao!!!!!!!! luv ya!

[midnightechoes]

Okay, so I wanna talk about Jaune a little bit (RWBY volume 9 spoilers warning)

My friend @shera-dnd​ (and others on the internet) have pointed out that in the opening of volume 9, when we see Alyx, we see that there is a second set of footprints already there.

And after today’s episode (v9e5), it seems likely that those prints are Jaune’s, and that he was The Rusted Knight that Alyx writes about.

Also judging from this last episode, Jaune’s been there a while. I had a feeling that this would be the case, and I think a lot of us expected it to an extent. My suspicions that Jaune arrived first was reinforced when we saw Neopolitan arrive so much later than Ruby, despite falling at the same time.

Jaune being the Rusted Knight certainly isn’t surprising, we’ve all been speculating that since we saw the first trailer last July, but I’m not sure many of us were thinking that he was the ORIGINAL Rusted Knight. I figured he would have arrived a few weeks or maybe months before everyone else. But this man’s obviously been here for a few decades at least!

Although, it could have been even longer. We don’t know how time really works in the Ever After, and we have no idea how it affects humans. Do we age at the same rate there? Slower? Faster? 

Back in volume 8, when Ozpin talks about the “Girl Who Fell Through the World” fairy tale, he calls it an old fairy tale. Pure speculation, but if Ozpin is calling it an old fairy tale, then I wouldn’t be shocked it it was a century old at least. If time in the Ever After flows at near the same rate as on Remnant, Jaune’s been there for over a 100 years.

But again, we don’t know how time really works in the Ever After, especially in relation to how it passes on Remnant.

Either way, Jaune’s been in the Ever After for years. His character model certainly has similarities to that of older characters like Qrow, Willow, and Raven, meaning he’s probably well into his 40s at least.

Our poor boy has spent more of his life in the Ever After than on Remnant!

I feel so bad for him. Most of the options feel very bittersweet. Does he go back to Remnant finally, and have to face his teenage best friends as an old man? Does he get de-aged when he returns? And if he does, does he retain his memories? I’m not sure which way is worse. To have gone through that much, only to have it erased feels... hollow. And if he keeps them, he’ll now be a 19 year old with over 40 years of life experience. That’s gotta mess you up.

But what if he stays? What if the Ever After and being the Rusted Knight feels like his calling to him? Could he trust that those feelings were true? Maybe he had come to feel that way as a way to deal with his predicament.

Life in the Ever After feels very... narrow. Which probably works for the denizens of the place, they were made to be content with fulfilling their roles. But Jaune’s human, and we tend to have more robust wants and needs.

Again, he probably pushed a lot of those down or forgot them in order to deal with his situation, but there’s something tremendously sad about him remaining there, content with his narrow existence.

I feel for our poor boy. He’s struggled all his life and had to overcome so much, only for him to be stuck in this position, with mostly only complicated, not great options to choose from.

If you had told me after volume one that someday I would be in near tears at the prospect of Jaune’s fate, I would not have believed you, but here we are. There’s a very real chance that this is Jaune’s last volume, and that his fate may be very bittersweet, and the very thought breaks my heart.

[yeonmuse]

Puppy Love | Lee Sanyeon pt 1

Pt 2

PAIRING: Golden boy Sangyeon x Best friends Coworker Reader

WORD COUNT | 2.1k

GENRE Fluff

SUMMARY in which Lee Sangyeon visits his best friend at a rescue shelter he volunteers at and finds himself captivated by his Coworker.

It was almost spring break and recently the weather had been nice and sunny outside which only meant the guys were free to do whatever they pleased,and in Sunwoos eyes this was the perfect opportunity to have a kick back. Sunwoo was known around the university for throwing some of the most insane and exclusive parties,last party he threw they filled his entire swimming pool with bubbles and rented out water slides, sprinklers, and ball pit balls and threw one of the biggest parties at his family's estate.

“Are you sure you can even top your last party? It made headlines in the news and it’s still trending two months later.’’ Kevin spoke absentmindedly as he scrolled through his phone in the backseat of Sangyeons car.

“I gotta admit, it was one of your best.’’ Eric finds himself agreeing with Kevin from the passenger seat.

“Yeah , but I think I can go a little bigger, or maybe I should just try something a little more calm this time, ladies love a man that can show off his diversity. What do you think hyung?’’ Sunwoo slips a little closer to the driver and passenger seats, slipping his head through the opening above the middle compartment.

“You’re asking him as if he’d really know, i’d be surprised if he even paid his surroundings any attention with all the girls that were falling at his feet the entire time.’’

“Hey it’s not his fault the girls love our golden boy.’’ Kevin chuckles, finally having lifted his gaze away from his phone long enough to be involved in the conversation.

It was true that Sangyeon was very popular at their university, truth be told all of them were pretty popular amongst the ladies on campus. On top of being rich and good looking all of them were some of the most eligible scholars at the school which might come as a shock to many when they cross paths with a few of them. Amongst all eleven of them Sangyeon was the most popular, perfect grades, perfect looks, great with kids and an absolute gentleman, his only downside being he was a complete charmer. When it came to the ladies on campus he never shied away from their flirting and temptations, of course he never slept with any of them but he’d find himself stealing a few kisses or two, makeout sessions and the occasional flirting with a random girl sat upon his lap at the parties. Though he would never cross the line of going any further than that.

“Yeah no matter how much of a playboy our golden boy is they just can’t seem to leave him alone.’’ Sunwoo kicks back against the back seat, his feet hanging outside of the car window.

“Playboy?’’ Sangyeon almost sounded offended at his friend having called him such a thing

“That’s what I said.’’

“I am not a playboy, just because I kiss a girl or two it doesn’t classify me as a playboy, Erics way worse.’’

“Hey wait why was I dragged into this.’’ Eric chimes in from his spot in the from seat

“You know that what you just said is exactly something a playboy might do. “I may kiss a girl or two” it was clear that Sunwoo was amused by his friends denial of his own behavior

“And let’s be honest, it isn’t like you ever turn any of them down, at this point I wonder if you even know what it’s like to not have someone just fawning over you.’’ Kevin adds onto Sunwoos words only adding more fuel to the fire.

“You two do realize that I can go without just hooking up with some girl right? You’re both making it seem like I live off the attention.

“Mmm i guess we’ll have to believe it to see it, since sunwoos party is coming up let’s see you put your words into action.’’

(paw prints indicate a time skip )

🐾🐾🐾🐾

The four of them had finally arrived at their destination, Sanyeon parked his car in the empty spot closest to the door as always and they all stepped out before taking a look up at the familiar sign.

“I’ll never understand why Younghoon chooses to work when his parents own half the fucking restaurants in this city.’’ Eric stretches out his arms before closing the car door.

“He doesn’t work here he just volunteers, it’s where he rescued his dog Jiji so he comes here often with jiji to help out.’’ Kevin slips his phone into his pocket and the four of them enter the building.

As they entered the building it was both chaotic and lively, between the sound of the dogs barking and their paws against the hardwood floor and the occasional yelling from the employees that had been watching over them all. Kevin, eric found themselves distracted by the puppies as Sunwoo and Sangyeon made their way to the counter to wait for Younghoon.

Leaning up against the counter Sanyeons eyes scanned over the playpen area, an amused smile on his lips as he watched Eric and Kevin prance around with the dogs as if they were one themselves. The smile slowly faded on his lips as his eyes landed on her. Her smiling face as she stood amongst the dogs making them do tricks and run around for treats. As many times as he had come to visit Younghoon here or pick him up because the brat never felt like driving, he had never set eyes on her.

“Oh you guys are here early.’’ Younghoon who finally appears behind the counter places a box of dog toys on the counter as he spots his two friends standing there waiting for him.

“Sanyeons idea.’’ Sunwoo looks over at his dear friend who he could tell was obviously not the slightest bit interested in the conversation being had.

“Who’s that.’’ Sangyeon finally opens his mouth to speak, his eyes still fixated on her who was now gathering all the puppies to take them outside.

“Uh, yeah no before you even think those thoughts in your head, let it go. Her names Yn and she just moved here a few weeks ago, i won’t allow you to treat her like one of your little minions.’’

“Minions?’’

“Yes minions, no offense Yeon , but you’re a great guy and all but when it comes to women you like to have your fun and it doesn’t go beyond that.’’ Younghoon’s words only shed further light on the earlier conversation the others had had in Sangyeons car

“We tried to tell him, but then he started spewing nonsense about not needing the attention.’’ Sunwoos' persistence on the topic only made Sangyeon roll his eyes.

“Whatever he said in the car, or whatever nonsense was spewed leave her out of it, she’s supposed to be starting the new semester of uni with us and I want you to leave her alone. She’s not like your other pick mes and fangirls. She worked hard for her scholarship and she’s really sweet. I don’t need you playing around with her if you aren’t really interested.’’ Grabbing the box he entered with Younghoon walks off before joining Yn in the playpen, the both of them eventually disappearing out back.

🐾🐾🐾

Of course Sangyeon had listened to his friend's words, but that didn’t stop him from admiring her, or spending every chance he got to observe her. He even went as far as going to pick up younghoon every day for the next two weeks. Younghoon of course found it suspicious at first, but eventually he had gotten used to his friends' persistent visits. On this day, Sangyeon found himself doing something quite foolish, something he had never done before, after all he was never the type to chase, he was always the attractor.

There he was standing outside the familiar building where his best friend would usually volunteer. The only difference was, Younghoon wasn’t here today and he knew that. The moment he walked inside he realized how dumb it was to just show up there without reason, he had no plan what-so-ever.

“Can I help you?’’ A soft voice spoke up from behind him pulling him out of his thoughts, as he turned around to face the owner of the sultry sound, his eyes landed on her.

“Oh- you’re Younghoons friend, I'm sorry I didn't recognize you. Did he not tell you he doesn’t come in today?’’ For a moment all Sangyeon could do was just stand there in silence, this was unusual for him , usually when it came to women he always had the right words to say , but right now he was completely stuck.

The moment he opened his mouth to speak he was interrupted by a loud bark and a brown dog chewing at the leg of his pants.

“Kio No!!’’ She frantically runs over and reaches down to pick the pup up off of the floor.

“I’m sorry he’s one of our newer rescues. He tends to get a little over excited when he sees new people. We’re still kind of training him.’’ She apologizes as she gives the pup a stern look at which Kio whimpers and lays his head on her shoulder.

“Anyways, I didn’t really catch your name, did you want me to tell Hoon you stopped by?’’

“Ah right, Sangyeon, Lee Sangyeon. You don’t have to mention it, I'm sure i’ll see him today so i’ll just tell him i stopped by.’’ He lied, he knew very well younghoon didn’t work today and he would absolutely not be telling him that he stopped by, to younghoon his true intentions would immediately become clear.

“Okay well if theres nothing else I can help you with i’ll get this little guy into the playpen.”

“Wait- actually there may be something you can help me out with.’’ he stops her as she had been preparing to turn around and return to work. She simply looks at him as if asking him to continue, but the way her curious eyes looked upon him waiting for him to say more made him want to just hug her.

“You attend Whisper University right? I’ve seen you around campus sometimes and I’ve seen your name at the top of the boards in the lecture halls.’’ their conversation was interrupted as Yn was being called back to work by her coworker (the coworker that everyone including Younghoon absolutely hates.)

“Ah I’m sorry I really don’t mean to cut this conversation short but, if I don’t get back to work she’s going to complain the entire time.’’

“Wait- what if I rescue a dog, wouldn’t that give us time to talk?’’

“You want to rescue a dog just so you can talk?’’ as if realizing how weird it may have sounded he immediately corrects himself

“No no, that came out wrong. Initially when I came here I was going to adopt, but you thought I was here for Younghoon so I didn’t want to say anything.’’ at his panicked response Yn couldn’t help but laugh and he found himself admiring her once again.

“I was only kidding Sangyeon, come on we can talk in the back while you look.’’ Hearing his name from her lips was like hearing the song of angels, he needed to hear it again

“So you attend Whisper University too? I honestly didn’t know you went there, Younghoons pretty much the only person I know there so far and he didn’t really mention that you all went as well.’’

‘Of course he didn’t’ Sanyeon thought to himself

“Yeah he probably didn’t want to overwhelm you with so many new people since there are a lot of us.’’

“Mmm makes sense, now what exactly did you need to ask me?’’ The two strolled past a few kennels here and there, none of the puppies having caught his eye. Truth be told he wasn’t even thinking of puppies when he came in, but now he was too far deep into his lie.

“ well lately i’ve been struggling with Chem, I noticed you’ve been top of the board for a week now and i could really use some help.’’ He lied again, in fact he was a complete ace at chem, had been since high school, but he knew studying with her would be the perfect cover to get close

“So you need a tutor?”

“If that isn’t too much to ask, ill obviously pay you for your time.”

“Hm…okay, how does the cafe down the street sound? 7 o'clock saturday?” That was the day of Sunwoos party, obviously he was going to take her up on her offer but he knew that would mean coming up with some sort of excuse to tell the others.

“Sounds good, I'll meet you there.” He responds with a subtle smile curved onto his lips

“Now onto the task at hand. Has anyone piqued your interest?”

“Huh?”

“Um…the pups, have any one of them caught your eye.”

After her words a soft snore could be heard from the pup that was now fast asleep on her shoulder.

“Is kio Ready for adoption?”

[maverick-werewolf]

Werewolf Fact #71 - Book Review: Sabine Baring-Gould's The Book of Werewolves

While it may not be a "werewolf fact" of the traditional nature, it's very important when studying folklore to know and understand one's sources.

One of the very best sources for werewolf folklore - and indeed other folklore and mythology besides - is Sabine Baring-Gould's The Book of Werewolves (or The Book of Were-Wolves as he called it), written in 1865. However, like any academic/rhetorical source, it shouldn't be taken at face value. Let's dive into why it's such a useful source - and why you shouldn't always take to heart everything Baring-Gould attempts to assert.

Already a scholar, Baring-Gould was a skeptical guy. It all began when, during his travels, Baring-Gould encountered several people terrified of a werewolf. He was baffled they truly believed in such a thing, and that it would stop them from wanting to traverse a road at night...

“If the loup-garou were only a natural wolf, why then, you see”—the mayor cleared his throat—“you see we should think nothing of it; but, M. le Curé, it is a fiend, a worse than fiend, a man-fiend,—a worse than man-fiend, a man-wolf-fiend.”

Baring-Gould, not intimidated, walked the road alone. However, along the way, the words of the others got to him, and he found himself frightened. The manner in which such preposterous superstition (naturally, he wasn't exactly a believer) would actually make him afraid at all made him very curious about such things and why people would believe in them...

This was my first introduction to werewolves, and the circumstance of finding the superstition still so prevalent, first gave me the idea of investigating the history and the habits of these mythical creatures. I must acknowledge that I have been quite unsuccessful in obtaining a specimen of the animal, but I have found its traces in all directions. And just as the palæontologist has constructed the labyrinthodon out of its foot-prints in marl, and one splinter of bone, so may this monograph be complete and accurate, although I have no chained werewolf before me which I may sketch and describe from the life. The traces left are indeed numerous enough, and though perhaps like the dodo or the dinormis, the werewolf may have become extinct in our age, yet he has left his stamp on classic antiquity, he has trodden deep in Northern snows, has ridden rough-shod over the mediævals, and has howled amongst Oriental sepulchres. He belonged to a bad breed, and we are quite content to be freed from him and his kindred, the vampire and the ghoul. Yet who knows! We may be a little too hasty in concluding that he is extinct. He may still prowl in Abyssinian forests, range still over Asiatic steppes, and be found howling dismally in some padded room of a Hanwell or a Bedlam.

Baring-Gould has his biases, but he also has an open mind about some topics, even if he's shut tighter than a bear trap on others, especially where anything scientific is concerned, as he was a big believer in the science of his time (not all of which is applicable to today). He's a complicated bag of tricks, and reading his work is quite an experience.

Whatever his biases and whatever one might think of his occasionally very judgmental and overly authoritarian words (i.e., he can sometimes think he knows better than everyone, including the people who actually lived during the time periods he's discussing), he is nothing short of phenomenal at his work of gathering and examining sources... even if he isn't always right. He contradicts his own research at least once, namely in relation to berserkers, but I won't go into all that (unless you read my edition of his book, of course; I discuss it extensively there).

He even spins some of his sources into thrilling tales. He honestly isn't bad at narration, able to paint an impressive and thrilling picture when retelling various werewolf (and other) legends...

But when dusk settled down over the forest, and one by one the windows of the castle became illumined, peasants would point to one casement high up in an isolated tower, from which a clear light streamed through the gloom of night; they spoke of a fierce red glare which irradiated the chamber at times, and of sharp cries ringing out of it, through the hushed woods, to be answered only by the howl of the wolf as it rose from its lair to begin its nocturnal rambles.

Something to note with Baring-Gould is that some of his sources are actually no longer with us. They did clearly exist, and he could access them during his own time, but they've since been lost, especially in such original formats (or they might be gone altogether). This is just another reason why Baring-Gould's work is irreplaceable as a source for many, many fields, not just werewolf studies. He cites and discusses works about many kinds of folklore, mythology, and even history, and he even provided the first English translation of the trail of Giles de Rais, a famous killer (and basis for the fairy tale Bluebeard). It's a fascinating read, even if you're just there for general folklore and mythology or if you're there specifically for werewolves or, broader spectrum, all manner of shapeshifters - he even talks a little bit about dragons!

However, when reading, bear in mind that Baring-Gould is not without his biases, as I mentioned before. He can be very judgmental of other scholars, especially from the past, but that isn't exactly uncommon even in modern scholarship. It's easy enough to read around, as long as you don't take everything he writes as fact. No scholar is perfect, no matter how impressive their work is, and that certainly includes Baring-Gould. He also approaches his work with werewolves specifically with the determination to relate them to "madmen" and serial killers, which is a consistent theme throughout the book. He will discuss werewolf legends and detail them well, but toward the end of each section, when providing his own assessment, he will generally offer how such things could be rationalized in his own mind. In doing so, of course, he does offer interesting discussion and food for thought, regardless of whether you agree with him (I agree with him at times but can also find him very disagreeable; it's like that with most everything one reads, so no shocker there). And, of course, his work even if only used for informational purposes is still impressive.

Biases is no reason to pass on what might be the best single source on these many topics. Besides, reading around potential biases is a skill everyone should learn.

One of his biggest downsides is that he doesn't provide English translations of all his quoted passages and sources. This was a problem in the original publication from the 1800s, and it continues into today with nearly all editions...

However, if you do want translations of nearly all of his quoted passages from various sources (as well as extensive annotations discussing werewolf studies, mythology, and more, and putting his scholarship into a modern context and even pointing out his errors, such as when he contradicts himself), then you need to see my edition of his work!

I personally translated and annotated The Book of Werewolves this year, and it's now available for purchase both through Amazon.com and my personal website, with a cover that's a different take on the book's original 1865 release...

Be sure to check it out at Amazon.com and my personal website!

If you buy it directly from me, I'll sign it for you, too. You can also download an ebook, if you prefer.

I assure you it's the best edition of this book you'll find. I know because I've bought nearly all of them trying to find one that's at all easy to reference. My edition even includes a bibliography that will assist you with further related reading, among other useful things. I've made sure the formatting is easily readable, so it's good for both casual reading and citation/quotation in research/academic projects. This was a lot of work, and I'm very proud of how it turned out, especially as I myself have worked with this book for years.

Final words: even with all my own personal biases about werewolves, the study of werewolf and other legends, and my opinions on some of Baring-Gould's assertions, I have to give Baring-Gould's work a 10/10 for being a must-read for anyone interested in werewolves. Trust me - if you love werewolves and studying their folklore like I do, you won't be able to put this book down, and you'll walk away with far more knowledge than you had before. Reading this book alone will give you a decent foundational knowledge of werewolf studies, while also touching upon other fields.

However, of course, I do recommend reading mine. Obviously. Especially because Baring-Gould is just so wrong about berserkers (hence, my own assertions)! But anyway.

That's all for now. Until next time, and be sure to check out my newsletter linked below!

( If you like my blog, be sure to follow me here and elsewhere for more folklore and fiction, including books, especially on werewolves! You can also sign up for my free newsletter for monthly werewolf/vampire/folklore facts, as well as free fiction and nonfiction book previews.

Free Newsletter - maverickwerewolf.com (personal site + book shop)  — Patreon — Wulfgard — Werewolf Fact Masterlist — Twitter — Vampire Fact Masterlist — Amazon Author page )

[servin-up-surveys]

survey #243

What do you want for your birthday? I think I'll get a piercing, but my mind could very well change by then.

What’s your favorite flavor of tea? I hate tea.

What’s your favorite fall drink? Hot chocolate.

What’re you going to be for Halloween? I'm not dressing up. Don't have the money to buy a costume, don't have the motivation to make one. I also don't do anything.

Do you think you’ve learned a lot and grown a lot in the past year? I don't know. I've just struggled a lot the past year. There was around a two-month period where I was in my worst mental state since the start of '17, and I've only barely improved.

Are you satisfied with how you’ve spent your year? NOOOOOOOOOOOO! Again, I've struggled. I've been particularly upset that I haven't done a photoshoot since LAST November. That was my last one. I've barely touched my camera. The few pictures I've taken, I haven't liked enough to really do anything with.

Do you have a lot of friends? No.

Do you own a yellow scarf? I don't.

Do you own anything leopard print? No, not a fan.

Will you buy a cake for your next birthday? I mean, *I* won't, but Mom probably will, unless she makes one.

Are you excited for something currently? I'm looking forward to playing more of the Silent Hill 2 remake with Girt.

If you could change just one thing about your life right now, what would it be? I just wish I was in a mentally better place. It would help me with a lot of other things.

What’s your favorite color? Pink, particularly lighter hues.

Are you artistic? I think so. I just wish I exercised that more often.

When was that last time you drew a picture in a sketchbook? A few months ago.

Is there a tree right outside your bedroom window? There is, actually. Crape myrtle tree.

Have you ever dressed up as a witch on Halloween? I have.

Have you ever been to a masquerade? No.

Do you eat vegetables? I mean, I do, but not often or with much diversity at all. I tend to not enjoy vegetables.

Is there anybody you think is hot over the age of 40? There are people in their 50s I find hot lmao

Did anything bad happen to you in August? It was either July or August when my anhedonia just got so, so much worse and I REALLY struggled to get through the day.

Who in your phone has a heart after their name? Girt.

Do you think your last ex deserves to die? No. I may not like her, at all, but no.

Do any girls like the last guy you kissed? I mean possibly? I trust Girt, though.

Have you done anything sexual today? No, it's actually been a HOT hot minute, just because I haven't been in the mood. Girt doesn't push me or complain about it, even if I have my times of worrying about not giving him enough.

Do you have a second mom? I mean, I have a stepmom. I don't see her as a "mom" to me though, my dad remarried when I was basically an adult, and besides, she's a massive fucking bigot so I struggle to bond with her properly. We're perfectly mannerly with one another, but knowing the shit she believes, it's hard to actually love her. But she makes my dad happy, and that matters to me.

Other than your name, what was the last name someone called you? Ozz. Derivative of the screenname I usually use.

If you could find one long lost friend of the past, who would it be? Megan. I shouldn't care about her, but I do.

Was your sixth grade teacher a man or a woman? I had different teachers for each class in middle school. I remember my math teacher was a male, maybe others, my middle school memories are foggy.

Have you ever had any teeth pulled? My wisdom teeth, which I only had two of.

Do you wash your hair or your body first when taking a shower? Hair.

Have you ever eaten something other people might think is gross? Sure. People hate hot dogs (even I think the concept's gross), but I like them.

When was the last time you colored with crayons? Probably sometime during a psych hospital stay.

When you were a kid, who was your best pal? Varied with grade/age. There was Brianna, Kim, Jenna, Quiata...

Have you ever been to a nursing home? Visited, yes. That's where Girt's grandma is.

Do you own any board games? Somewhere.

Were you born in the state you live in? Yes.

Have you ever lived in a house that has been broken into? No, thank fuck.

Who do you know that watches the most sports? God, probably some AWFUL in-law of Ashley's. He's such an ass, he literally comes into her house and immediately demands she turns "the game" on. I can't even remember exactly who he is, but Ash can't stand his ass, he's so rude.

Have you ever been 4-wheeling? I have.

Will you be attending any weddings in the near future? Next November my younger sister gets married, but that's not exactly the very NEAR future.

Do you live anywhere near the woods? Tragically no.

Do you have any important anniversaries you celebrate? Mine and Girt's.

What’s your favourite brand of energy drink? I don’t drink energy drinks.

Do you have (or have you ever had) acne? I did growing up. At around 17 or 18 it stopped being a big thing.

What will be the next concert you attend? Hell if I know.

Can you rap? There ain't no way in hell I could.

What do you usually order when you’re at McDonald’s? Quarter pounder or McDouble, fries, Coke.

Do you like to wear long, dangling earrings? No, I really can't. I got my lobe piercings at Claire's, which is very unprofessional, and I think they pierced too low, especially my left lobe, because the hole tore quite badly to where the hole has very nearly torn through. Dangling earrings make it worse, I think.

Do you pay any attention to your country’s politics? Mostly, I think. But it can get overwhelming, and I CERTAINLY don't know everything.

Tell me about the sickest you’ve ever felt. Probably this time I had the stomach virus super fuckin' bad, puked a lot to where barely bile would come up, and my abdominal muscles were in a lot of pain.

Any important birthdays coming up? My boyfriend's nephew's bday is next month, I go to his birthday parties.

Fireworks: yay or nay? Fireworks shouldn't be legal. They disturb the hell out of animals (some animals LITERALLY die from fear), people with trauma too, and they cause waste. It's not worth it.

Think of the last long car trip you had, where did you go? Charlotte.

Do you have a Twitter account that you use regularly? Fuck Twitter.

Have you ever seen a horseshoe crab? They’re scary, right?! I have not. I wouldn't call them scary, but their undersides can be a bit creepy with all the legs moving.

Do you like people watching and is it something you do often? If so, where are your favorite locations to do so? Not really, I just don't care.

The last time you ate leftovers, what was it that you were eating? Pizza.

What is your favorite board that you've made on Pinterest? Rammstein pics lmao

Do you get on Facebook or Instagram more? Facebook.

What was the last thing you ate or drank that was blue raspberry-flavored? Mountain Dew Voltage.

What was the last song you listened to? I'm not sure.

Have you discovered any new hobbies in the past couple months? No.

What's the wildest animal you've ever come in contact with? I'm not sure.

Do you ever question if your mother loves you? No.

What is your favorite type of Lunchables? The nachos one.

Are any of your siblings' friends like family to you? No.

Do you have any friends who you exchange memes with? Ha, Girt.

Are you in any Discord servers? How often do you use them? I'm actively in a meerkat RP one. I'm also in the Rammstein server that is primarily the Tumblr fanbase, but I'm not active there because it's too active for me to keep up, I get overwhelmed.

Have you ever had to see an emergency vet after hours? I don't think so?

When was the last time you sat under a blanket on a couch? I dunno, it's been a long time.

Can you bite into ice cream or are your teeth too sensitive? I can.

Do you know anyone who's been bitten by a snake? Maybe at one point or another.

Do you prefer strawberries or cherries? I hate cherries, meanwhile strawberries are my favorite fruit.

Biggest insecurity? My weight.

Describe your mom with one word. Selfless.

Do you like fast food or does it disgust you? I HATE how much I tend to enjoy fast food. I know it's not good for you, but.

Who was the last person you kissed? Girt.

What’s your favourite alcoholic drink? Sangrias.

Do you like the smell of BBQs? I like the smell, but hate the taste of southern BBQ. I know elsewhere a "barbecue" just means burgers and hot dogs on the grill, which I like, but southern BBQ is garbage to me, I can't eat it.

Do wasps scare you? Yes.

Have you ever worn flip flops in the snow? I sure have lmfao. Not very heavy snow, though. And I wouldn't if I was STAYING in the snow for more than a minute.

Have you ever heard people having sex in the next room? Yes.

Have you ever been in a beauty pageant? Thank fuck no.

Have you ever lost your voice? Yes. This happened bad the first time I had Covid.

Did you ever have an emo or scene phase? Emo, yes.

Could you see yourself having a child with the last person you kissed? We don't want kids.

Which of the guys you’ve been interested in hurt you the most? Jason.

Do you know anyone who is engaged? Yes, my younger sister is among them.

What are you listening to? A John Wolfe let's play of Red Dead Redemption 2.

What was the last thing you looked up on Google? How to get the "Leave" ending in the SH2 remake to see if it's changed from the base game and just as a reminder since there are multiple factors. When Girt and I played the OG, I aimed us for "In Water" since it's my favorite, so I want him to see a new one.

Ever been kissed on the leg? I mean probably.

Do you think you are ready to be on your own (have your own home, job, etc.)? I very firmly believe I could never survive living solely on my own for many reasons.

Are you friends with someone who’s autistic? Yes.

Have you ever had a Big Mac? No, considering I don't like lettuce on my burgers.