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𝗖𝗼𝗻𝘁𝗮𝗰𝘁 𝗼𝘂𝗿 𝗲𝘅𝗽𝗲𝗿𝘁𝘀 𝗻𝗼𝘄 ☎️ - 0452 117 474

👉𝗟𝗲𝗮𝗿𝗻 𝗠𝗼𝗿𝗲 - Move To A New Home

[mi55delulu]

movie goers

pairing: jungkook x fem reader

synopsis: starting off on the wrong foot with your new neighbor was not on the top of your bucket list, yet you’ve made an enemy of jeon jungkook in less than 24 hours. unlucky for you, he’s not backing down either.

genre: enemies to friends to lovers (e2f2l)

wc: ~16.4k

cw: not so cute meet, slice of life, slight angst, fluff, mature language, mean jk and mean oc — they get better though, cheating (not main characters), fwb (not main characters), mutual pining, oc is lowkey a hopeless romantic, 18+ ONLY - MINORS DNI 🔞, smut, oral (f&m receiving), fingering, unprotected sex, creampie, multiple orgasms, love love love. if i got any rules/regulations wrong, i didnt. leave me alone, it’s fanfic 😇✨also written in lowercase bc that’s just how my phone setting is and i’m too lazy to go back to capitalize … ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

a/n: yuh … inspired by real life events. anyways, this is the first time i’ve posted a fic on this page. i’ve been an avid reader (still am) but i’ve been wanting to put something out too. so here’s my gift to close out 2024. also, i miss jk. I MISS BANGTAN. ;-; enjoy and lmk your thoughts!

—

if you had to describe your ideal neighbor in three words, it’d be: mindful, quiet, and kind. cause that’s what your neighbor, mrs. lee, was to you in the last three years you’ve lived in this apartment complex. she kept to herself, walked her small crusty (but cute) senior white dog, and brought you leftover cookies when she baked too much for her grandkids. you always had a feeling she made just the right amount with you in mind, but of course she’d never tell you.

so when she broke the news that she was going to move into her son’s home because they’ve been worried about her living alone, you were happy for her — happy that she’s going to get taken care of, but sad that you’ll be losing a great neighbor.

you tell her whoever moves in after her probably won’t be as good of a baker. she simply laughs and tells you to be nice.

three months pass and you hear footsteps outside your door one afternoon. when you try spying through your peephole to get a glimpse of the commotion, you see boxes stacked on the side of apt# 305.

finally, someone was moving in.

some of the boxes were spilling onto your welcome mat, but that didn’t really bother you. you were more curious about your new neighbor … er, perhaps neighbors. so any clue on whether it was going to be an individual or a family moving in would give you an idea of who you’ll be living next to.

unfortunately for you, all the boxes were neatly sealed off.

“dang it.” you mutter to yourself while squinting at the labels on the boxes. clothes, kitchen, shoes … workout? well, okay no indication of toys so you can safely assume there aren’t any kids … yet.

you look at your clock, it’s about time you head out to get your mail anyways. maybe you’ll bump into your new neighbor(s).

except, it wasn’t as easy to spot who exactly was going to be moving in with all the different movers. you sigh and sift through your mail as you walk up the stairs to your apartment. most of the boxes that were outside had already been moved inside the apartment by the time you returned from the mailroom.

as curious as you were of who your new neighbor could be, you had better things to do … like binge watch your kdramas before your shift starts. maybe if you’re feeling extra nice … you’ll say hi later. no one wants to start off on a bad foot with their neighbor. you fumble around your pockets for your keys and eventually hear your locks click open when you’ve successfully unlocked your door.

“hey, neighbor.”

you turn. now, in all your 28 glorious years of living, you can easily count the times you’ve been starstruck on one hand. seeing the northern lights by accident on your way home in 2024, meeting your favorite youtuber at a late night diner when you were 15 years old, and being noticed by one of the highest ranked players in maplestory’s world chat.

the person in front of you? a sight to behold. tall, killer smile, numerous piercings, and a forearm adorned in tattoos. yeah. you don’t think starstruck would fit for this occurrence, but what you do know is that they’ve gotten you tongue tied.

“welcome!” you blurt out and give a tight-lipped smile before barreling through your entryway. you don’t give yourself another second to study his expression once the door shuts behind you. were you lame to run away from your new neighbor? sure. will you regret this? well, the cringe is already seeping in. you’re probably branded as the weird girl now … whatever.

what’s done is done.

you don’t know if 305 is mindful, quiet, or kind.

but fuck, he’s hot.

—

305 was not quiet.

you know it’s a housewarming party with a couple of his friends. he didn’t have to tell you … you heard them loud and clear through the walls several times as they clinked their shot glasses for the 11th time that evening.

you’re texting your frustrations to dohwan, your boyfriend (?) er … someone you’ve been talking to (and fucking) these last 2 years. he hasn’t quite put a label on the relationship just yet and claimed that he is only seeing you. labels didn’t really matter to you but as time grew, you’ve come to like him a lot and wished for something more. he’s career-driven, great in bed, and knows how to whip up a good breakfast the morning after he stays for the night. he was supposed to come over tonight, but told you he got caught up with work. it’s times like these where you feel a level of uncertainty with dohwan. you spiral and don’t feel as secure as you want to be.

you shouldn’t feel hurt or disappointed … but you do, because hell, alright … maybe you didn’t just like him.

you love him.

you’re not embarrassed that you told him 9 months into seeing each other. has he said it back? no, but that’s okay! everyone has a different timeline when it comes to feelings. you could only hope he meets yours soon enough. why else would he stay for this long?

back to the situation at hand.

you’re not an irritable person, but the least 305 could’ve done was given you a heads up that he was going to have a celebration. you would’ve asked to stay over at dohwan’s in that case.

another round of laughter erupts through your walls and you grit your teeth in annoyance.

“fuckin’ hell,” you throw the covers off your body and march out of your apartment. you find yourself glaring at 305’s door — a juxtaposition from how you usually looked when mrs. lee used to reside here.

god, you missed her.

you knock on the door a few times, taking note how the chattering from the inside decreases and some footsteps grow close to the door.

again, you almost want to want to run back to your apartment when you’re face to face with 305’s handsome confused face.

realizing it’s you, 305 smiles, “oh, hey—“

“it’s nearly 12 a.m. do you mind?” you cut him off.

his smile drops and he leans one shoulder on his doorway.

“sorry,” he says, “we’ll wrap up soon.”

you’d usually drop something this trivial by now, but you’re in a foul mood. unfortunately for 305, this is will be his official first impression of you.

“how much longer is ‘soon?’ it’s been like this for 4 hours,” you really don’t mean for it to come out that way, but the damage is done.

little did you know, 305 wasn’t going to backdown either. he may be new to this complex, but he’s not privy to obnoxious neighbors. the only difference is that he thought you were going to be quiet and shy, much like the first meeting.

“don’t know.” he shrugs.

“i really don’t want to involve property management.” you cross your arms. it’s a half threat — you’ve never called because you never needed to … but you’ll flip through your 50 page rental agreement if you have to.

he mirrors your stance and looks out to your apartment’s door.

“well, sorry to burst your bubble, 307.” he says and you see red, “but management is aware of my get together. it’s not my fault they didn’t inform the other residents.”

“asshole.” you mutter under your breath.

he smiles again, a little less friendly and more condescending this time, “we’ll finish soon, 307. good night.” he shuts his door on you before you can formulate a sentence and you’re left outside in the dark.

—

“yo, jungkook … were we being too loud?” hoseok asks while popping a handful of m&m’s into his mouth.

“yeah, cause your laugh can be heard from all throughout korea,” jimin mocks, earning him a shove from hoseok.

“nah, don’t worry about it. just my neighbor saying hi.” jungkook plops down on the sofa with the rest of his friends.

“oh? should’ve invited them in. we have enough pizza to feed a village.” taehyung nudges his side.

jungkook laughs and shakes his head, “just scale down on the volume and we’ll be golden.”

jungkook loves good company, having lived with his friends for most of his college years, he was a bit reluctant to move out. it’s a little bittersweet, but all his friends are happy for him and his new journey in adulthood. he won’t have to deal with messy roommates and random guests … vice versa. as fun as it was to live in a house full of your best friends, at the end of the day, men will be men. gross, loud, and obnoxious.

not jungkook though, so he thinks.

“ha! called it,” jimin snorts, “you were being too loud, hyung.” this earns jimin a punch to the arm and hoseok’s booming laugh when jimin dramatically falls off the chair.

jungkook knew it was useless to request this of his friends, so he took it upon himself to give the property manager a heads up. lucky for him, the lady seemed more than happy to accommodate. she even left her business card with him after he signed the lease … something about calling her if there’s ever an issue with the apartment — any time of the day.

weird.

what’s weirder was his neighbor. from running away during the first meeting to demanding he end his housewarming on the spot. okay, to be fair, you didn’t, but you might as well have. it didn’t help that jungkook was hotheaded and gets a little irrational when something involved his friends.

so what if he thought you were pretty in your black pajama set? you called his friends loud, when in honesty, they could’ve been much worse. seriously. he knows jimin’s taunting held some truth. hoseok has been responsible for some noise complaints in the past. so this was considered manageable. plus, it’s not like he’ll be inviting them over every weekend.

but if it meant pissing you off, he might consider it.

alright, he wasn’t that cruel and he definitely doesn’t want to make living next to you unbearable. he’ll apologize first thing in the morning tomorrow, but for now, he just wants to enjoy his time with his best friends.

—

jungkook was going to murder you.

not literally, but he could if it wasn’t for the major hangover holding him back. he blinks twice, looks at the clock on his nightstand, reads 7:01am, and lets out a big sigh after another round of drilling vibrates against his wall.

fuckin’ hell.

it feels comical now that he’s in front of your apartment, face still swollen from sleep, but so visibly upset at being woken up at the ass crack of dawn.

“are you serious?” he asks, voice still laced with heavy sleep.

you, on the other hand, look put together and almost too happy this early in the day. jungkook can only rule you out as a psychopath — a pretty psychopath. your hair all in place, lashes kissing your cheeks when you smile at him, and not a single wrinkle on your clothing in sight.

“what’s up,” you peer outside your door just as he did last night, “305?”

he wants to let out a groan, but that’d give you too much power.

“drilling at 7 in the morning? that’s gotta be a violation.” his voice still laced with sleep, though, he’s sure to sound assertive.

“nope! here,” you smile and pull out your phone, the level of brightness makes jungkook squint, “county regulations allow work as early as 6:30am.”

“yeah, if there’s justification. there’s no reason for you to be drilling this early.” jungkook argues back.

you pout, evidently not sad at that revelation, “but my mental health. i was kept up all night by my neighbor and his friends … i need some wall decor to cheer me up. surely you could sympathize, right?”

you don’t allow him to formulate another thought as you’re shutting the door, “i’ll be done soon, have a good day!”

jungkook almost wants to laugh at how irritated he is, but all he can do now is try to get some shut eye before his shift starts. that is, if he can even go back to sleep.

should’ve asked his friends for some earplugs as a housewarming gift.

—

the drilling eventually came to a stop. only because you could not be bothered to wake up earlier than you had to and you think you made your point pretty clear to your neighbor — don’t fuck with me.

honestly, you’re not sure what came over you. you never liked causing issues for people and you’re also well liked by your work peers and friends, so this was out of character of you. it also didn’t help that your friends spurred you on and praised you for one upping him. as the rage dissipated from your system, you’ve come to the conclusion of why you acted out.

your new neighbor was a conventionally attractive man. he probably knows this too judging from the way he spoke to you — like you’d back down just because he said so. he probably was able to schmooze the lease manager into giving him a better rent deal and get pardoned for all the noise he made during his housewarming party. sucks for him; you’re not a fan of pretty privilege.

you had to set him straight, so drilling into a random piece of wood every morning right near his bedroom wall was the perfect revenge. you expected some backlash from him; surprisingly, he didn’t say a word to you after his first confrontation. so, you stopped the antics after the third day.

weeks later, you learned his name is jeon jungkook. not through a formal introduction … only because his mail got mixed in with yours and you tossed it onto his welcome mat. he eventually came to realize your name through the same way too.

though, he’ll always be 305 to you and you’ll always be 307 to him.

that’s fine.

you’ll scowl every time you see him and he’ll stick a middle finger up to you as well.

the feeling was mutual.

“so, are you still battling it out with your new neighbor?” dohwan asks one evening. his head was actually between your legs at the moment. you like having random conversations during sex, but talking about your annoying neighbor wasn’t on the top of your list.

“mm, yeah,” you moan lowly when he flicks his tongue on your clit. “well n-no, not anymore.” you correct yourself, “oh fuck, keep going.”

“good, i’m tired of hearing about him,” he chuckles against you and continues his ministrations between your folds. if you were caught off guard by his comment, you weren’t anymore. the pleasure coursing through your body is enough to make your head spin.

he moves away from your body once you’ve come by his mouth. without warning, he slips inside you and you hiss from the overstimulation, still sensitive from your previous orgasm.

“gonna fuck you so well.”he’s thrusting relentlessly, “it’s what you need, huh princess?”

you nod, too overcome by the power of his thrusts hitting all the right spots. dohwan is a little more vocal tonight — it makes you feel special but you’re also a little self conscious about your nextdoor neighbor hearing things. you’ve always kept it down even when mrs. lee lived next door, jungkook would be no exception.

people fuck, it doesn’t mean you can’t be courteous. you sure as hell don’t want to hear your neighbor fucking given that you’ve seen him bring back several different girls to the apartment these couple of weeks.

one thing you’ll commend jungkook for is not being a loud fucker in the bed.

“baby,” you whine as he pauses a little to listen to what you have to say, “we should keep it down.”

he tilts his head, reaches in between your bodies and circles slowly on your clit with his thumb while he resumes rocking into you. you keen and almost let out a moan.

“why? let the asshole hear.” he grunts when he picks up the pace again. dohwan kisses down your neck and leaves a red hickey on your collarbone. you let out a pretty sigh and wrap your legs around his waist.

“y-you,” he moans particularly louder and it throws you off slightly, “saw the way he looked at me today, right?”

you didn’t, but you definitely saw the way dohwan glared at jungkook and tightened his hold on your waist before entering your apartment. meanwhile jungkook had just come back from his evening run — at least that’s what you assumed since he was wiping away his sweaty hair from his flushed face coming up the stairs.

“baby, are you really going to talk to me about another man while we’re fucking?” you laugh and cup his face in your hands. he huffs in frustration but his eyes soften, it’s opposite to the brutal pace he’s set on your pussy.

“sorry,” he continues fucking into you and the room is filled with wet noises and his panting once again. even though he apologized, he does nothing to lower his volume.

knock-knock. the sound definitely did not come from the frontdoor, it was far too close to hear.

another series of knocks come and you realize it’s your bedroom wall. dohwan pays no attention to those sounds and is far into chasing his own high, but you move your hands over his mouth to muffle his grunts.

jeon jungkook is knocking on your wall.

he knows you’re having sex and you’ve become that obnoxious neighbor. if that wasn’t enough of an instant mood killer, you hear him blasting one of akon’s featured hits “i just had sex” to mock you and dohwan.

yeah, sexy time is over. you push dohwan off you and head into the bathroom to nurse your embarrassment.

shortly that night, dohwan leaves and it’s the first time you’ve gotten into an argument with him where you think he’s in the wrong.

—

people find it daunting to go to the movies alone. you’d agree until you were forced to go alone after no one wanted to go watch twilight with you in high school. it was awkward at first, but once the light dimmed and the movie started, no one cared about their surroundings.

that’s why you liked going alone. no one will pay attention to how alone you were. everyone in there will be focused on the big screen in front — you included. there was always something liberating about doing things alone too. ‘like yeah, stick it … i don’t need anyone.’ kind of energy.

the only thing you wished was to have someone to discourse with after the movie ended. it’s not a dealbreaker though. you could have easily asked dohwan to come with you, but you’ve been ignoring him since last week after the loud sex fiasco.

regardless, you’re watching moana 2 today. you’re sure it’s going to be a full house given that it’s the opening week. you can only pray that you won’t be surrounded by snotty (literally) kids. nonetheless, you’re excited and the theater was getting filled up as more movie goers come in during the preview. your row was nearly full, saved for the single empty seats on your left and right side.

score, no seat partners or snotty kids. you’ve won this time around.

you’re texting your friends and telling them your luck—

“ahem.”

you look up and you see two people standing in front of you. you’re sure it’s for the seats on your left and right side cause you double checked your ticket before sitting down and everyone else in your row has been seated for quite some time.

“can you move?” one person asks. weirdly enough, the voice is familiar.

even though the lights are low in the theater, you can see that it’s a man and a woman. and when you squint a little more at their figure, that’s when something catches your eyes. a tiger lily tattoo, the same one that your neighbor has.

no fucking way.

“hello?? can you move?” he asks again a little more aggressively. there’s no way he can’t recognize it’s you being that the movie screen is bright enough to shine a light on you. doesn’t matter. you weren’t going to move before and you definitely aren’t going to move now. hell, you’ve been asked plenty of times to move by both families and couples in the past — the difference was that they asked nicely. some were generous enough to offer you snacks when you did move for them.

jungkook? nah. no thank you. you’ll stay right where you are.

“nope.” you hold out your ticket to show your seat number and refocus back on the previews playing.

the girl behind him grabs his arm and gently asks him what seat numbers he got.

“k11 and 13.” he mumbles.

yeah, cause you had bought k12.

“oh, um, it’s okay! we wouldn’t even be talking during the movies anyways,” she reassures with a kind smile. “let’s sit so that we’re not blocking anyone?”

jungkook gives her a tight lipped smile and plops down on k11 while the girl takes k13.

“you’re fucking annoying for that.” he says only loud enough for you to hear. he’s angrily eating his popcorn and it makes you want to laugh mockingly. he’s dressed in all black with a silver chain dangling loosely around his neck. his hair is neatly styled and he smells nice. perfect for a first date … minus you being the factor to ruin it.

“i’m not the one that booked shit last minute. do better.” you shrug.

the previews are still playing and you look over at the girl. she’s so pretty and probably too sweet for jungkook’s good based on how she handled the seating situation.

you feel a little guilty, but that feeling leaves you the moment jungkook hands over the popcorn to the girl, spilling a couple on your lap. you glare, he smirks, and the girl unknowingly takes the bucket from him.

well, two can play that game.

“your nails are so cute, where’d you get them done?” you ask.

she beams and shows you her set, “a little shop called banger nails down myeong-dong! they’re great.”

“oh, your nails are so pretty though. where do you get it done?”

truth be told, you haven’t had your nails filled in over 3 weeks … you know they look rough, but you assume she’s just trying to maintain a conversation being that her actual date was a seat away.

you tell her your shop and she tells you she’ll definitely try out that location when she has the chance. she offers you some popcorn and you unashamedly take some, making sure jungkook sees.

he clenches his jaw and rolls his eyes, but makes no move to turn to your direction.

“oh, how rude of me. what’s your name?” you reach out to shake her hands.

“nayeon,” she answers and takes your hand in hers, “you?”

you tell her your name and she nods with a sweet smile. yeah, she’s definitely too good for jungkook.

the movie starts and you’re whispering commentaries and giggling with nayeon. you both held hands during the intense scenes and teared up at the ending. it felt really nice to connect with someone like this right off the bat. she was kind and funny throughout the entirety of the movie too.

you can’t say the same for jungkook. he had his arms crossed with a deep frown stamped on his face for two whole hours.

when the movie credit rolls, jungkook stands up and holds out his hand to help nayeon up. huh, chivalry isn’t dead you suppose. nayeon stands up and waves at you.

“it was so nice meeting you! we should definitely hang out. here, let’s follow each other on instagram!” she fumbles through her purse for her phone and you notice how jungkook closes his eyes in frustration behind her.

you and nayeon exchange contacts and as you’re reclining your seat upright, you hear jungkook ask her, “would you wanna get some froyo? my treat for messing up on the tickets.”

“aw, it all worked out though! i met a new friend,” she gestures over to you. jungkook doesn’t really acknowledge nor claim he has already met you.

why would he?

“i’m glad,” he replies, “still though, i feel bad that we didn’t really hang out. still up for that sweet treat?”

nayeon nods and looks back at you, “would you like to join us?”

unbeknownst to nayeon, jungkook looks at you in desperation this time and shakes his head pleadingly. you think you’ve tortured him enough this evening and you don’t want to subject yourself to hanging out with jungkook. seeing the couple link hands in front of you, you’re sorta missing dohwan a little now … so you’ll reach out to him and see what he’s doing.

“no, it’s okay. you both should enjoy that sweet treat together. i’ll text you on instagram!” you wave and jungkook lets out a breath of relief.

“let’s go?” now, what shocks you is his soft smile towards nayeon. it’s almost a 180 to the attitude you’ve experienced with him. then again, maybe it takes a special kind of person to bring that side out of you. nayeon can definitely do that.

she waves at you again and this time jungkook also waves at you (begrudgingly) too. it’s not a goodbye, but a ‘see you later … unfortunately.’ type of wave.

—

you come back from dohwan’s place a little after midnight.

nothing special happened, just hung out like normally. he didn’t bring up the argument and you didn’t feel like talking about jungkook either. this was a regular occurrence in your relationship with him. fights were always difficult, but the mend was easy … cause you guys tend to just sweep the issue under the rug.

clean slate.

“jesus christ!” you jump at the sight of a tall dark figure when you reach the top of your floor. your hand flies to your chest to hold down your hammering heart.

“relax, 307. just me.” jungkook says.

“scared the shit out of me.” you murmur to yourself. you proceed to open your door just as jungkook gets his keys out too.

“fitting for a piece of shit like yourself.”

“excuse me?” you raise your brows in question.

“you heard me,” he steps back out from his door, “loud for no reason, fuck like you’re the only one in the complex, and don’t even have the decency to move a seat over. it’s no wonder the previous resident moved away.”

you really want to argue back, but he read you for filth. you really have been an asshole, still, the comment about mrs. lee hurt. you’re not what jungkook makes you to be, but you’ve given him every reason to perceive you in this manner.

“look, i’ll apologize—“

“nah, save it. i’m tired of being nice too. have the night you deserve.” with that, he goes into his apartment and you’re left contemplating how you let things get this bad and awkward with your new neighbor.

there’s no point in trying to talk to your neighbor now. it’s late. you’ll process everything first and try talking to him tomorrow.

—

the talk never happened.

because for the next 27 days, you’ve been woken up by a blender at 5 a.m. you let that slide for the first 5 days thinking it was jungkook’s way of venting out his frustrations, but by the end of the week, you were back on hating your neighbor.

today marks day 28. you’ve had a long day at work and dohwan has been dodgy with you this week. you call him during lunch to ask him why he’s been so distant and he immediately goes off on you saying that he feels suffocated and that he likes his space. it hurts. because you thought that when you really like someone, all you want to do is fill your day with them.

it’s the evening after your shift and you barely make it up the top of the stairs before you sit down and cry into your hands. it’s so fucking embarrassing crying over a man, especially for one that you really like. majority of the time, he really does make you feel like you’re on top of the world, but then take you down to the pits of hell.

highest of highs, lowest of lows.

it fucking hurts, but you also don’t want to be more alone than how you are.

you hear footsteps come closer and you immediately wipe away your tears and look to the other side of the railing. the person coming up doesn’t stop and walks up past you.

you know them. you know it’s him. you can tell by his cologne and the black converse he fancies.

when you think he’s far enough and in his apartment, you let yourself cry some more.

little did you know, jungkook stands at the top of the stairs, contemplating on whether he should talk to you. he thinks you’re crying because of the blender. or maybe you’re crying because you have to go home to a shitty neighbor. feels bad and guilty. hates to see women cry or anyone cry for that matter …

you hear footsteps from behind and sniffle into your hands.

“uh, 307?”

“what?” your tone is biting but that’s understandable. you’ve been under a lot of stress.

he sighs, sits down right next to you on one of the steps. his legs are long so his knees fan out a little to brush yours. you scoot away and look at him with your bloodshot eyes.

ah, shit. he feels even worse.

“i know i’ve been a dick to you from the start.” he begins.

you scoff and look away.

“you didn’t make things easy either, okay?” he rolls his eyes, “but if you’re crying about the blender …”

“oh for fuck’s sake! no, this isn’t about the blender, 305.” you huff.

“ah.” he opens his mouth and closes it to think what to say next, “lemme guess … boy trouble?”

“shut the fuck up.”

he does so this time for a few minutes until you start talking.

“look, i’ve been meaning to say this but i’m sorry for being an asshole to you. you’re new here and i gave you a bad impression of me. i don’t want to continue making this a hostile living situation for the both of us.” you meant every word you said and whether jungkook accepts your apology, that’s for him to decide. at least you were the bigger person to apologize and take accountability.

“thanks. i’m sorry for being rude too. clean slate?” he reaches his hand out for you to shake. you look at his tattooed hand and a part of you feels relieved at the prospect of a resolution. you shake his hand in agreement. his hand was warm, a little calloused, but the hold was firm and promising.

“you’ll stop with the blender now?” you muse.

“aw man, i was getting used to the daily fresh green smoothies … but i think the blender is on its last leg. i’ll spare you for now and buy premade smoothies,” he grins and winks jokingly. his smile was friendly, similar to the one he gave to nayeon that one date. speaking of which, you’ll have to text her when you get home … she’ll definitely want to hear this update. you’ve been religiously in contact with her since the movie date and she’s been your person when it came to complaining about jungkook.

you and jungkook stare out at the sunset and breathe in the autumn air. it’s nice and just what you needed.

“hey, 307?” jungkook breaks the silence after a while and you hum in response, “for what it’s worth, he sounds like a dying gorilla when he fucks.”

it was the first time you laughed all day.

—

things have gone back to normal between you and dohwan surprisingly. he apologized to you the next day and said he acted out because work has been on him lately. you accepted his apology.

on top of that, you and jungkook are … getting along? he’s actually not that bad. he greets you every morning and makes small talk with you about the weather when you are both at the mailroom.

oh, and the blender at 5 a.m. have stopped completely. he does complain that he misses his green smoothie, to which you reply that he can still make it … just not when you’re still in deep sleep.

“no thanks, the prep is annoying.” he brushes it off.

so one morning after grocery shopping, you pick up a cup of green smoothie from your favorite shop and drop it off at his door before he’s back from his usual run.

‘drink up, 305. - your lovely, sweet, favorite neighbor 307 ♡’

to which, he dropped off a matcha pastry to you the next day after you mentioned how you’ve been craving it lately.

‘peace offering to the demon. ps. you’re my only neighbor LOL - 305’

needless to say, this started a ritual between you and him dropping off snacks and drinks to each other.

so yeah, things have been good.

tonight, dohwan is taking you out on a movie date to watch wicked. it’s not your first choice, but you love a classic so you’re open to see this modern-day remake. plus, he’s been extra sweet to you too.

you’re standing near the ticketing area waiting for dohwan to get snacks when you suddenly hear, “307?”

you turn your head and it’s jungkook with a girl you’ve never met before. he waves and asks what you’re watching.

you point at a nearby wicked movie poster and he nods.

“we’re seeing the same movie too. sorry, forgot to introduce you both — this is jinah,” he gestures at the girl next to him and she nods at you in acknowledgment, “and this is my neighbor.”

“ohhh the one that drilled for a week?” she marvels at you and you flush at her question.

“three days,” he corrects, “but felt like an eternity.” jungkook looks back at you like it’s an inside joke and you feel warm under his gaze.

“he’s exaggerating. eternity is waking up to a blender for almost a month.” you fire back casually and it earns a laugh from everyone.

“well, you’re here with someone this time right?” he teases since he notices your makeup is done extra nice tonight and you have on a shorter beige skirt that cuts right at the top of your thighs. you looked beautiful whether or not this was for an actual date.

anyways, it’s all said in pure jest and he knows you take no offense in it when you laugh. knows he can joke around with you now — you’ve both established a good rapport.

“mhm. you bought tickets right next to each other this time?” you retort and he snorts at your question.

jungkook stares off from a distance and his gaze changes. he takes hold of jinah’s hand in front of you.

“i’ll catch you later, 307. enjoy the movie, ‘kay?”

“oh, okay,” you stare at jungkook in confusion, “it was nice meeting you, jinah. hope you both enjoy the movie.”

they both turn and head to the the concessions first and you’re back waiting alone again, but not for long.

a hand touches your lower back and you know it belonged to dohwan.

“ready?” he hands over your drink and you both head to the screening auditorium.

there’s an unsettling feeling in the pit of your stomach, but you push it away once you’ve found your seats.

—

jungkook feels sick.

he’s seated behind you and dohwan. that was fine — wasn’t the problem.

the issue was seeing him be overly affectionate to you once he took notice of jungkook outside the auditorium. he doesn’t want to assume, but that’s the energy he gets from dohwan. it’s too much. though perhaps that’s how he usually was to you — he should be doting to you as someone you’re romantically involved with.

jungkook has a bad feeling about him.

jungkook has been on multiple dates this year, nothing ever leading to more because there wasn’t a spark beyond physical attraction. he doesn’t want to waste anyone’s time or hurt someone in the process if he were to continue something he sees no future with. which brings him to wonder why you still entertain that man when he clearly comes and goes as he pleases.

the sex can’t be that good … based on what jungkook was forced to hear that one evening. plus, he made you cry. that man can’t be good.

well, what does he know about relationships? he’s the “serial dater” while you’ve been with the same person. obviously jungkook is doing something wrong. maybe jungkook was just projecting.

he lets out a sigh when dohwan slips his arm around your shoulders to pull you closer.

“you good?” jinah whispers.

“yeah, sorry. didn’t realize how long the movie was. ass is starting to go numb,” he smiles apologetically.

she nods and refocuses back to the big screen. jinah was nice, but a little too uptight for his liking … she would stare back blankly at him when he tells a joke and it makes him question his own humor. he’s sure he’s a funny guy — you always seemed to laugh at his remarks.

shit.

why was he thinking about his neighbor when he’s on a date with another person?

he shakes away those thoughts and zones in on the movie. just a couple more hours till he can go home and relax. a bitter part of him hopes he doesn’t have to see you and dohwan enter your place together tonight.

—

you and jungkook have this thing where you go on walks and get your mail at the same time on fridays. that’s the day you work from home and he’s off.

you never liked walks but jungkook called you out one day for walking extra stiff up the stairs. you can’t help it … sitting for long hours at a desk job wasn’t ideal for your body, but it got the bills paid. by the end of your shifts, you’re too burnt out to do anything. you’re not like him who goes on routine runs at the ass crack of dawn. not everyone was fortunate to have a … wait, you’re not sure what he really did for work.

“305.” you deadpan, trying to maintain your big steps to match his long strides.

“hm?” he takes notice of your walking form and slows down his pace so that you can catch up. his dimples are on full display when he looks at you and it nearly makes you forget what you were going to ask him.

“what do you do for work?”

“what’s it to you, 307?” his brows raise in question and he chuckles when you scowl.

“just wondering. you seem to have a good work-life balance.” you shrug. he has to be making some form of income to afford the cost of living in this part of the city, so if it’s not an office job like yours, you’re curious what his line of work could be in.

“currently a tattoo apprentice, but i do art commissions on the side.”

“oh?” it makes sense. he had this artistic aura to him … tattoo apprentice also made sense too with his sleeve of tattoos. you wonder how many of those he designed himself.

“that’s very cool,” you mean it. you wish you could draw but your art skills could only rival a preschooler at best.

“yeah?” he scratches his behind his head, a habit you’ve noticed he does when he gets a little shy or flustered. “parents were super against it up until they saw what i made on my first commission.”

“it’s always like that with parents, huh? if you’re not a doctor or lawyer, nothing is ever enough for them,” you shake your head. it’s a small revelation, but jungkook feels the weight of your words. he can relate.

“you like what you do?” he tries to change the topic.

“it’s okay, gets the bills paid but honestly i’m developing a shrimp back from sitting at the desk all day.” you confess.

“good thing we’re going on these walks, miss hunchback.” he quips and nudges your arm with his elbow.

you stick your tongue out at him and his smile widens. jungkook takes out his phone and shows you some of the tattoos he’s assisted with on some clients these past months. you zoom in and stare in awe — the line work and colors were beyond beautiful and clean.

“they’re amazing, jungkook.”

his nose crinkles when he smiles at your compliment and cheeks flush at the usage of his real name.

“whenever you’re free, you can come over to check out my commissions.” he offers.

“yeah? you promise this isn’t some secret invitation to get murdered?” you smile cheekily at him and he playfully rolls his eyes.

“no promises,” he says and grins when you dramatically stop in your tracks.

“come on, 307. your lunch break is almost over and i gotta get my mail.”

—

you and jungkook return from the mailroom with stacks of envelopes and coupon advertising from random companies.

he’s behind you looking through his stack. among his many bad habits, one is not having the patience to open his mail in the comforts of his own home. typically by the time you both get to your respective doors, he already has the majority of his envelopes torn open.

men.

you stick your key into your door and hear jungkook gasp.

“shit!” he lets out a string of curses and you glance over where he’s at in front of his door … absolutely decked out in glitter.

“what the hell is this?” he’s dusting himself off, but that only serves to worsen the damage.

all the lights in your head go off. fuck. you had forgotten about the glitter prank order you made during the time jungkook was being a little shit with his blender. you totally forgot to call the company to cancel it …

you feel bad, but you can’t help but let out a series of giggles.

“oh my … jungkook, i’m so sorry,” you say in between your fits of laughter.

he looks at you in confusion but it doesn’t take long for him to piece things together. he tips his head back and looks at you incredulously.

“you did this? 307 … this is too much. how the fuck am i gonna get rid of all this glitter?” he opens his arms out and it makes you laugh even more to see him in this state.

“‘m sorry, i …” you try to catch your breath, “forgot to cancel the request and you were being such a dickhead that time.”

“i fuckin’ look like edward cullen.” he groans, looking at you with a serious expression and that has you doubling over.

he eventually joins you in your laughter, hands clutching his stomach.

“h-here,” you say in between tears, “i’ll help you.”

you dust off some flecks of glitter on his shoulders and reach up to smear it over his cheeks. this has got to be the highlight of your week.

jungkook pulls away and laughs at your antics.

“you think this is funny, huh?” he opens his arms again and you nod while stifling away your giggles, but your demeanor changes when he smirks deviously.

his arms circle around you and presses your face into his hard chest. jungkook is cackling just as hard as you are. he’s rubbing his body on your frame and you’ve accepted your fate cause you’re no match for his strength. you’re both even now. all glittered up, laughing, and having so much fun with this “misfortune.”

you won’t admit you’re enjoying his embrace. you won’t admit you fancy his cologne and aftershave. you won’t admit how you feel so soft against the hard ridges of his torso.

you definitely won’t admit how starstruck you got when he finally lets up and stares at you cheekily, unknowing of his doings and how pretty the glitter flecks frame his cheekbones and nose bridge.

he really was perfection.

little did you know, jungkook was also completely enamored by the way your eyes sparkle despite the crazy amount of glitter now stuck on your face and body.

did time freeze? no one has said a word but you can hear and feel your hearts pounding against each other in this close proximity.

“what the fuck?” a voice pulls both you and jungkook out from that dream-like state.

you look and it’s dohwan. confusion and anger is etched and evident on his face. he’s holding a bag of takeout, for what you assume was going to be your lunch. he stalks over and grabs your wrist and yanks you away from jungkook.

“hey man, it’s not what it looks like.” jungkook says. jungkook’s expression is neutral with a hint of annoyance in his tone. dohwan pays no attention to him and looks at you instead.

“are you cheating on me?”

“the hell, dohwan?” you stare back in shock at his accusation.

realizing how awkward this situation was, you start pulling dohwan towards your apartment. you quickly turn to jungkook where he was still standing, he looks concerned for you, “sorry, jungkook. uh, i’ll catch you later.”

he nods and moves around you and dohwan to get to his apartment door.

when you and dohwan are finally in the privacy of your home, you turn and he’s setting down the takeout on your coffee table. you can tell he’s still upset because he makes no move to sit down — he leans against your wall with his arms crossed.

“well?”

“well, what? it really wasn’t what it looked like, dohwan.” you roll your eyes, making your way to your sink to wash off the glitter on your skin. glitter was a bitch to get rid of, but you’ll do just about anything to distract you of dohwan’s awful attitude. you have about 10 minutes till you have to get back to work and don’t have the time to be arguing.

“don’t fucking lie. you’re always raving about how nice he is to you now. and i’ve seen the way he looks at you. that’s not some ‘friendly neighbor’ shit,” dohwan raises his voice in frustration.

you toss the kitchen rag onto your counter and turn, “what’s so wrong about me talking about how someone is nice to me?! at least you know about the people in my life, but i don’t know jack-shit about yours. i don’t know what you’re insinuating, but you need to check yourself.”

“don’t try to spin this on me. whatever is going on with you and your neighbor, needs to stop.”

“literally nothing is happening between us??” you run your hand over your face, “i can pick and choose who stays in my life, dohwan. you can’t control that.” you try to level your breathing. you hated feeling like your partner laid claim on you as if you were some sort of property and had ownership.

don’t cry. don’t cry. don’t cry.

his eyes soften after realizing what he implied and he comes closer to you. he rubs your forearms and pulls you in for a hug. you let the tears fall now.

“i’m sorry. i didn’t mean it like that. it’s just … i was insecure.” he confesses.

you sniffle into his chest, “why?”

he chuckles, “my girl hanging around a good looking dude? who wouldn’t be insecure?”

his girl.

“wasn’t aware i was your girlfriend.” you pull away from his warmth and regret seeing the glitter you’ve transferred onto his clothing in the process.

“well … i mean, you’re technically not. who needs labels?” he brushes you off and sits on the couch now. you’re left standing there, another wave of uncertainty washes over you. 5 minutes till you need to start working … do you really want to open the can of worms right now?

fuck it.

“i don’t know. people who love each other?”

he snorts then rolls his eyes when he realizes you’re back in serious mode.

“here we go again. we’ve been through this plenty of times—“

“do you even like me?”

“yes, of course.” he answers quickly.

“do you love me?”

he’s silent.

“then what are we doing, dohwan?” the real question was … what were you doing? it’s hitting year three of this situationship and nothing more has progressed.

“hey, hey … i thought you enjoyed spending time with each other … we agreed that it was just me and you,” he comes close to you again, but you hold a hand out to keep some distance.

“i need to get back to work. can you give me some space?” you mumble, “thanks for the food.”

—

the fallout between you and dohwan was anything but amicable.

you both boiled it all down to two things: you want more. he wants things to remain the same.

you requested for space and a break in the meantime while you figure things out. during that time, you felt yourself distancing from jungkook too. he tried to greet you like normally after dohwan’s confrontation, yet every time you see him, you make a beeline into your apartment.

guess old habits die hard.

you took this time to focus on you. you spoke to a therapist, got in contact with some girlfriends, visited your family, and busied yourself with work. self improvement, if one could call it. your therapist recommended to decentralize men in your life for a while so that you can focus on yourself. which meant no dohwan.

… and no jungkook.

you’ve been keeping nayeon posted on your life and she calls you out for being inconsiderate to jungkook. funny, because she was on your side when he was being rude to you and immediately ghosted him after the movie date (you still haven’t told jungkook you’ve been in contact with nayeon because things have gotten a little crazy). you promised to her you’ll talk to him soon though. he was just unfortunately caught in the crossfire of your messy relationship.

honestly? you missed your neighbor — your friend. but you needed to get your head sorted out and you’d be terrible company either way.

jungkook didn’t deserve that.

the break between you and dohwan meant that you don’t talk to each other till you figured things out.

breaks meant for a reset.

he kept texting you and telling you how much he missed you.

you had to keep reminding him of the boundaries.

he eventually obliged.

thinking you were finally ready to talk weeks later, you went over to his place after work, only to find him in shock, hair disheveled, red scratch marks all over his chest and shoulders.

“oh, um, i—“ you panic, feel your heart drop to your stomach when the realization settles in after you hear another voice call out his name from behind.

dohwan took that break and fell into bed with another woman.

“w-wait, let me explain,” he follows you out his door and nearly topples over you when you turned abruptly to face him.

you feel betrayed — so much for ‘me and you.’ the anger bubbling in your chest has a way of migrating through your body. you tremble, tears threaten to fall from your eyes, and your teeth dig hard on your bottom lip … you can taste metallic.

“we’re on a break,” he says as if you weren’t aware of the terms you originally initiated.

“okay? so that means you go and fuck someone else?” your voice is shaky but you push on, “you cheated.”

“no! i mean, fuck, what did you expect me to do? we stopped talking and it was fucking lonely … i— you can’t put all the blame on me,” he stammers.

so, it was your fault?

“i didn’t make you sleep with someone else. a-all—,” you choke on a sob, “all i asked was for some space and time. you couldn’t even give me that.”

the thing is, dohwan hasn’t given you anything beyond what he was willing to get from you. he liked your company, thought you were a sweet and funny girl, and god were you good in bed. he didn’t feel ready to settle down in a relationship … felt that being with someone officially took the spark out, but he also wasn’t willing to let you go.

so he held out for as long as he could. as a result, you did too in hopes that he could find it in himself to change his feelings for you.

love is patient, love is kind.

you’ve been patient, you’ve been kind. if this is love, why does it break you down?

maybe this love wasn’t for you; but rather, he isn’t for you no matter how long you wait and the number of pennies you’ve thrown into the wishing well.

“goodbye, dohwan.”

—

jungkook hates overly loud sex.

it’s the reason why he takes the extra precaution to put socks on his bed frames to muffle any potential noises. if his partner was a huge moaner, he’d do what any sensible person would … stuff his fingers into their mouth. what? the girl usually doesn’t mind and it minimizes the noises. plus, it was hot.

win-win.

sex didn’t have to be over the top to show that you’re passionate. jungkook knows that very well.

it’s also why he originally lost a lot of respect for you when he overheard you and dohwan having sex that one time. well, mainly dohwan.

fuckin’ gorilla.

jungkook has been worried for you ever since that awkward glitter situation. he wanted to apologize and even talk to dohwan if it’d make things less stressful on your end.

you’ve ghosted him for weeks. no more walks, small talk, snack trades, or trips to the mailroom.

he has a feeling it has something to do with dohwan.

just like how he knows the sobs emitting through his walls tonight has something to do with him.

jungkook hates overly loud sex, but more than that, he hates the sounds of your cries.

—

‘cheer up, 307. you deserve some sweetness in your day. ps. i’m gonna make you run if you keep missing our walks. also? stop avoiding me, it’s annoying - jk’

you smile and sip the banana milk jungkook left outside your door.

he always had a way with cheering you up despite being a headache for some time in your life. your therapist recommended to decentralize men from your life for a while … sure, jungkook fits in that category, but he’s also your friend.

you slowly let him back in.

he’s been good to you. though, you can’t say the same for yourself. you’ve been a shitty neighbor and a shitty friend.

yet jungkook shrugs it off and treats you normally.

you’ve been mending a broken heart and jungkook has been a great company meanwhile.

“you really need to work on your conflict avoidance, 307.” jungkook says one evening. he’s sprawled out on your couch with a bag of chips in his hands. it’s movie night — a tradition he forced upon you because you’ve apparently never watched the movie trolls.

you peel your eyes from the screen and tilt your head, “what do you mean?”

“any time something gets tough, you run away. gotta stop that, say what’s on your mind and work it out.”

“hm.”

“what?” he presses.

“nothing.”

“see? you’re doing it again. just say what you wanna say,” jungkook rolls his eyes.

“fine,” you chew on your bottom lip, “i hate this movie.”

jungkook had picked trolls 2 and it was so much more awful in comparison to the first one you were forced to watch last weekend.

“fuckin knew it. you’ve been spacing out all night,” he laughs, “see, doesn’t it feel good to be honest bout your feelings?” he reaches for your remote to switch to another movie. you watch him. really take him in and almost want to laugh at how horrible your first couple of months was with him and now he’s in your apartment watching awful movies with you to nurse your brokenheart.

you really had read jungkook wrong. he wasn’t just some conventionally attractive man that used his pretty privilege to get his way. he was genuinely a good person.

which makes you think … why the fuck is he hanging around someone like you on a friday night? he could be hanging out with some friends or going on a blind date with a pretty girl. better yet, why isn’t he in a relationship with someone?

was he just like you?

his voice brings you out of your thoughts, “alright, spill it 307. you look like you have something else to say.”

you sigh.

“how are you still single? just … i know you’re always dating different people. it can’t be that bad for you right? i mean, if you’re struggling … i feel kind of hopeless for myself.”

jungkook looks at you, dimples on display as he contemplates on what he wants to say next. the thing about jungkook is that he looks like he belongs in your circle — fits perfectly, actually. has a way of making you feel safe and comfortable about asking hard questions. he may tease you, but he’ll never judge you.

he ruffles your hair.

“just haven’t found the right one. it takes time and i’m in no rush. you shouldn’t either.” you feel yourself soften from his remarks until, “or else you’ll end up with a gorilla again.”

—

jungkook is treading in dangerous territories.

aside from trying to potty train his new doberman puppy, bam, he’s faced with another issue.

he may have developed a small crush on his neighbor. he can’t pinpoint exactly when he started getting that fuzzy warm feeling around you. it was a telltale sign when he’d wake up and sleep to the thought of you.

you can’t really blame all of this on him though. you’ve been a little more open about hanging out with him since your breakup with dohwan. jungkook has gotten used to your presence as a result. some people would see it as using jungkook as a rebound, but he feels anything but that.

you’re a breath of fresh air to hang around after a long day of work. which is funny cause there was a period of time he considered hexing you. now? he longs to see you and fill in gaps of his day with you. when he doesn’t see you, he thinks of you.

that just might be his demise.

even bam has taken a liking to you and often refuses to let you go back home when you are over.

like dog, like owner.

“aw bammie,” you kneel down, “i’ll see you tomorrow.”

bam whines and follows you to the door.

“you can stay if you like, the guys won’t mind.” jungkook reasons. he’s having a small get together with some of his friends and extended the invite to you. you declined, telling him you don’t want to intrude and he should spend some quality time with them.

“just say that you want to be with me 24/7 and go,” you joke. jungkook won’t admit to you he does.

“nah, just need someone to watch bam while i have some bro time.” he teases back.

“hire a dog nanny then,” your hands automatically reaches down to scratch behind bam’s ear. there’s no need to hire one cause you’d willingly take care of bam for free. it’s all fun and jokes, jungkook knows this. he laughs and holds bam back from following you out the door.

“be on your best behavior tonight for your daddy, ‘kay?” you talk to bam like you’re his mom and jungkook’s stomach does flips at the mention of ‘daddy’ leaving your lips, “if it gets too much, you can sleep over at my place.”

bam has a sleeping mat at your place too. you’ve gotten it for him when jungkook comes over to watch movies — insisted that the pup should have a comfortable space in your home.

jungkook feels like he’s sharing custody with you. everything feels more domestic and it’s fucking with jungkook’s head and heart. which is why he asked you to dog sit bam while he goes on a date next weekend with some client’s friend he met at the tattoo parlor. thinks this date would be a good reset from you.

you wave goodbye to him, a playful grin adorning your lips, “have fun tonight, 305. if it gets too much, you can also come to my place too.”

he hates when you tease like this. makes him feel like he holds a space in your life more than he already should. knows you’re joking, but can tell there’s some truth in your statement. you’re attached to him just as much as he is to you.

“also, try not to be too loud tonight.”

“no promises,” he laughs, “hobi-hyung will be over.”

you giggle, you’ve met hoseok in the passing and also teased him too for causing a ruckus at the housewarming party. all his friends like you — it’s no surprise jungkook would eventually too.

so yeah, he’s treading in dangerous territories.

—

you’ve really been focused on yourself and your friendships. on your hardest days where you yearn for intimacy, you force yourself to be okay with the idea and concept of being alone. there’s a lot of bad days, but they get better.

it’s not always about being in isolation though.

it’s about not being dependent on someone to fill a void.

with dohwan, you realized you fell in the pattern of needing to be around him and when he wasn’t there, the world crumbled beneath your feet. over time, you realized he wasn’t good for you.

wrong person, wrong time.

because the right person will always make you feel safe and seen.

jungkook was right. it’ll take time to find that person — there’s no rush.

yet, you have this disquieting feeling when you see him rustling through his home to get ready for his date tonight. what do you do when you feel like the right person might be slipping away under your nose?

right person, wrong time, you suppose.

bam, his not so small puppy, lays his head on your lap and would occasionally lift it when jungkook walks close. if bam is doting with you, he’s completely devoted to jungkook.

doesn’t realize that his dad is gonna leave you both until he puts on his shoes at the door.

“ah-ah, bammie, stay,” you hold him and he whimpers for jungkook.

“well? how do i look?” jungkook does a quick 360 and you wanna poke fun at him, but you can tell he’s on edge for whatever reason. he has no reason to be. he’s charming, handsome, and knows exactly what to say or do to make someone’s heart skip a beat as he’s done so to you numerous times — you’d never admit it.

he’s your neighbor and most importantly, your friend. it’s a sacred relationship and boundary you’re hesitant to break. so you swallow down whatever you’re feeling and smile reassuringly to him, “you look great, jungkook.”

he beams and extends his hands out for a high-five, “thanks, wish me luck.”

your hands make contact with his and it feels electrifying.

“no luck needed, mr. 305 worldwide.” he absolutely hates the new nickname you’ve given him, doesn’t argue back though, simply scoffs and looks at the time on his phone.

“now go before you’re late and bam bolts out the door for you.” you shoo him out his own apartment.

he reaches down to pat bam on his head and give him some tender smooches.

“call me if there’s an emergency or if you’re bored.” he tells you with his hands shoved in his pockets and some of his bangs fall onto his forehead. there’s something so boyish about his mannerisms … you swallow thickly when you feel the knots tighten in your stomach. a part of you wonders if you tell him to bail on the date, would he? you’re not cruel enough to do that to him and his date. they could be soulmates for all you know.

“and what? you’ll come entertain me?” your eyes squint, “go enjoy your date, 305. we’ll be here.”

before you know it, he’s out the door and you’re left wondering what if.

—

jungkook didn’t realize how much of a disaster the date was going until his date seated across from him rolls her eyes.

“i’m sorry … am i boring you with my story?” he was telling her how he had to help you break into your own apartment because you forgot to bring your keys in the middle of the night.

“it just seems like you’re wasting both our times.” she says and places her drink down. her red manicured fingers circle the rim of her cup.

he’s confused. jungkook has been doing his best to keep the date afloat by talking and asking questions. he thought it’s been going well, minus the couple of times he checked his phone to see if he got any emergency texts from you about bam.

“i mean, why are you here when you clearly like someone else?”

“i don’t get—wait, what?”

“your neighbor 007 or whatever.” she says. it’s the wrong number and she knows it, but wants to see if jungkook reacts, “you’ve been talking about her all night.”

has he? he was just making light conversation … you’re a part of his life so slipping your name here and there feels natural.

“look, you seem like a nice guy. you’re obviously good looking too. if you’re not looking for anything serious, we can go back to my apartment right now for some fun. but long term? it feels like you have someone waiting at home for you.”

and the mood goes sour. jungkook is used to this. used to his dates objectifying him as a quick and good fuck — granted, he’s played this to his advantage when he was younger. now? it feels meaningless. he isn’t upset at that.

it’s the utter realization that he does have someone special to him and you’ve been right under his nose all this time. he’s always telling you to be honest with your feelings, yet he can’t even bring himself to uphold that advice for whatever reason.

jungkook apologizes to his date again, pays for the tab, and rushes home.

—

home can be a place, but for jungkook, it’s seeing you on his couch and greeting him with a sleepy smile.

bam jumps off your lap to nudge jungkook’s leg for attention.

“has he been good?” jungkook asks while scratching bam’s head, though he stops momentarily at the sight of you stretching and your shirt lifts a little to reveal the curves of your hips.

“mhm, an angel. how was the date?”

he contemplates on lying, but knows better. needs to practice what he preaches.

“bad.”

“oh? wanna talk about it?”

“uh, i kinda fucked it up,” jungkook toes off his shoes and avoids your eye contact.

“classic, first impressions have never been your strongest suit.” you put on your jacket and jungkook panics at the thought of you leaving early. he exhales a breath he’s been holding when you plop back down on his couch where he soon joins you.

“i’m not always that bad.” he mumbles.

“i know, i’m just teasing you.” you reach over to pinch his cheek.

when he doesn’t reply, it gets you a little worried. you didn’t mean to hurt his feelings.

“sorry—“

“i kept bringing you up during the date.” he cuts you off.

“oof, no girl wants to hear about another girl …” technically, you’re hoping jungkook doesn’t talk about this one … let alone his previous dates or exes.

“i know,” he murmurs, leans his head back, and sighs, “she … called me out on it.”

“good, as she should.”

jungkook hesitates with his next words, but pushes forward, “said it’s cause i liked you.”

you pause. you could hear a pin drop in the room, minus bam’s paws making contact with the hardwood floor.

“oh … um,” you’re not dumb, you understand what he’s implying. you just don’t know how you’re going to run away from this conversation.

“i know you’re already planning your escape, 307,” he chuckles. his laugh sounds a little melancholy and an instant flood of guilt rushes through you.

“what! no! i-i just don’t know what to say,” you nibble on your lips. you’re fucking scared for what’s to come.

“just hear me out, okay?”

you nod, listen to him clear his throat and exhale a shaky breath.

“i’ve really enjoyed spending time with you. maybe it’s cause i’m a creature of habit or whatever … well no, i don’t think it’s that. i like being around you and i’m thankful you’re in my life.” he looks and smiles at you fondly, as if he is preparing himself for the biggest rejection, “i like you … a lot. you don’t have to accept my feelings nor do anything with it. these feelings are mine and i just wanted to be honest with you. at the end of the day, i’d still like to remain friends as long as you’ll allow me.”

you want to fucking cry. he’s always been better at words and expressing himself. you see it in how he treats his friends, his dog, his profession and art … most importantly, you. you also want to be honest with him, but it already seems like he’s accepting the fate of nothing more.

you owe him the truth at least.

“jungkook … i—“ you begin, “i like you a lot too.”

jungkook lets out an exasperating grunt — he thinks you’re pitying him.

“please don’t feel the need to sugarcoat, 307. i just wanted to be—“

you press your lips to his. the kiss was too quick for anyone to process anything. you’ll remember though. you’ll remember his strawberry flavored chapstick, the cold lip piercing barrels, and the way he leans in slightly to chase after your lips when you pull away too soon. jungkook’s eyes widen at the realization that you just kissed him. all too short and he doesn’t think he can stop thinking about you after this anymore even if he tried.

“your feelings are yours,” you hold his hand, “but these are mine too.”

he whispers your name lowly and you shake your head.

“i’m no good with words,” you confess, “i just know that i like you too. but … i’m also a fucking mess, jungkook.”

“huh? no, you’re—“

“yeah, i am. i just got out of something long term … it wouldn’t be good for me to jump into another relationship. i don’t think it’s fair for you to deal with all my baggage when i haven’t sorted myself out.”

he nods, a little dejected but he understands what you mean.

right person, wrong time.

“okay,” he finally says, “nothing will change. friends?”

“friends,” you agree.

it’s a promise out of respect for you. will you regret this? possibly. though, everything feels normal when he walks you to your door later and wishes you a goodnight.

“don’t be fucking weird after tonight. if you avoid me, i’m making you run 10 laps every friday, 307.”

“rude,” you roll your eyes, “i should be saying that to you. don’t be fucking weird or else you’re getting another glitter bomb in the mail.”

“that shit was the worst to get off.”

“funny as hell though.”

“yeah, for you.”

everything feels so natural and safe with jungkook. how he looks at you, laughs at your jokes, eyes twinkle when you do the same for him. you don’t need the night sky when you got galaxies staring back at you.

—

“with all due respect, you’re being stupid.” nayeon says through the speaker.

“how? we both agreed that staying friends would be the best.” you reply a little louder over your sink. your kitchen was overdue for a cleaning and the weekends were the perfect time to catch up on chores.

you’re on the phone with nayeon and it’s a good distraction while you busy yourself with other things at the same time. though, you’re sort of regretting the call now with nayeon berating you for your decision to remain friends with jungkook a month ago.

“people can still date and work on themselves. it’s not a linear thing.”

“yeah, but—“

“you’re just scared. i know you.”

“nayeon …”

“jungkook and dohwan aren’t the same. anyone can get hurt in a relationship, but you shouldn’t deny yourself of something out of fear.”

“yes, but … i don’t think i’d be able to face jungkook if something bad does happen.” you’re serious. running away is your strong suit and you’d move out immediately if shit hits the fan.

“so you’d have no regrets staying like this?”

you don’t reply and that was an answer in itself.

“why are you so hellbent on me and jungkook? i thought you hated him …” it’s sort of funny to be talking to nayeon of all people about jungkook. hell, it’s thanks to jungkook’s mess up on their first tinder date that helped you land your friendship with nayeon.

everything happens for a reason.

“i only hated him cause you did. that’s what friends do, silly. also, if you’re feeling awkward because he and i dated … don’t. there wasn’t anything more. anyways, stop avoiding. you always do this.” she’s right. you’re the queen of avoiding hard conversations.

“i don’t want to lose a friend, nayeon.”

“you won’t. but you’ll lose your chance at experiencing something beautiful, sweetie,” she says, “you owe it to yourself. but hey, i gotta go to my pilates class. i’ll text you later, okay? i love you!”

“okay, love you too. i’m sorry for being difficult. don’t pull a muscle in class!”

“if i do, will you give me a massage?” she laughs, “and no, you’re never difficult. just you being you.”

the call ends and you’re left alone once again with your thoughts. things haven’t really changed between you and jungkook. he’s still his chipper self. you just yearn for more time with him these days. every subtle touch … whether it be his hand on your lower back guiding you upstairs, his fingers brushing yours during the walks, or when he massages your feet upon request sends you into a place where you feel yourself succumbing to your deepest desires.

you want more.

you can tell jungkook does too. he’s unashamed in his affections towards you but he’ll never pressure you or cross that boundary you’ve set.

you realize it hurts to deny yourself of wanting someone who wants you just as equally.

—

you’re at jungkook’s place again one evening. bam is all tuckered out from his walk and jungkook is fixing a bowl of popcorn to snack on while you search through netflix for something to watch.

it’s your pick tonight and you wanted to watch a crime documentary. ghost and thrillers don’t interest you, but crimes? yeah, full body chills because they’re real.

you turn to see jungkook in a big white t-shirt with grey sweats — he looks so comfortable. he’s seasoning the popcorn and catches you staring at him. he shakes his head and smiles back down bashfully at his bowl.

he looks like home … no, he feels like home.

fuck.

you really are torturing yourself.

when jungkook settles onto the couch and the documentary starts, you scoot closer to him. you don’t know if you’re making a fool of yourself, but jungkook pays no mind. his arm circle around you effortlessly and you nestle your cheek into his chest.

so warm — he smells so nice. jungkook sports on a lax expression, yet you can feel and hear the rapid thumps of his heart.

“you sure friends cuddle when they watch shit together?” he mumbles, eyes trained on the television.

“no,” you look up at him, “do you not want to?” you start to move away, but jungkook holds you in place.

he feels your smile through his shirt. yeah, you’re torturing him and he’s enjoying it.

as the documentary plays, jungkook gets immersed in the story. he looks a little silly with his big eyes and mouth slightly ajar as he soaks in all the crime details and backstory. his hand involuntarily moves to massage your scalp and you feel yourself lulled to sleep under his touch.

after a while, he calls your name and gently shakes you awake.

“hey sleepyhead. had a good nap?” he muses.

“mhm, sorry … was so tired from work. did i miss a lot?” you look at the dark television screen and feel guilty.

“just the entire documentary,” he teases, “it’s alright, you wouldn’t be traumatized like me now. i know i’m going to be having nightmares.”

“‘m sorry,” you snuggle closer to him and his breath hitches, “anything i can do to help?”

“hmm …” he holds his thinking pose, “i don’t know, maybe a kiss?”

“just kidding, 307. it’s late, so let’s get you hom—”

“yeah? think a kiss will make you feel better?” you press on.

you knew he was joking, but there’s a surge of confidence coursing in you when you push up on him and he swallows hard. he says your name in warning but he makes no effort to move or push you away. he wants this badly too. been thinking about you and your lips since you last kissed him — never stopped.

“don’t do something you’ll regret.” his hand cradles your cheek.

“i’m not,” your nose brush against his, “i wanna kiss you. please, will you let me?” you ask with pleading eyes and jungkook lets out a shuddering breath and nods.

you look down at his parted lips and back at his hooded eyes. you’re not sure who moved first — it doesn’t matter.

when your lips meet, it’s like heaven and hell collided and made earth — waves crashing onto land, blue horizons, and the smell of pinewood after rain. you don’t think you can let go of this feeling any time soon and when you finally do give into your longings, life feels a little more salvageable … freeing.

jungkook slots his lips between yours, pulling you up to straddle his lap. he moans when your hands tangle in his hair and pulls you in closer if that was even possible.

you lick into his parting mouth when he pants, indulge in the way he sounds as he’s kissing you back. the kiss is hard and passionate — so much more different than the first one you had. there’s a sense of urgency here … like there’s a time constraint or limitation to your affections. you wish you could reassure him; though the best you can do at this moment is to drink him in as much as he allows you to. his hands roam all over your body and you shiver in pleasure when one of his hand travels to the front of your throat possessively. there’s no pressure in his hold, but it’s telling you that you belong here with him.

when you finally do pull away, you plant dainty kisses on the corner of his lips and jaw. he giggles at the tickling feeling and brings your face back to his to give you a much gentler kiss. though you are no longer kissing, your foreheads stay connected in place.

“there, much better, right?” you say breathlessly.

“mhm,” he replies, “should’ve used the trauma card earlier if i knew i’d be getting free kisses.”

your brain is going a mile a second, but you’re sure of this.

“you don’t need to,” you say a little uncertain. jungkook straightens himself in his seated position when he realizes you’re about to say something serious.

“you can kiss me whenever you want … if you want! i know i said we should stay friends, but i think i like you too much to just stay that way. i want to see where things go and i’m fucking scared. i mean, fuck, am i making any sense? please say something,” you’re rambling and jungkook can only smile as you unravel through your confession.

of course he wants more with you.

“just say you want me and go, 307.” he laughs when you pull away cutely. he has no intentions of letting you go and you had no intentions of leaving. it’s too comfortable in his embrace.

“we’ll take things slow, okay?” he kisses your nose in reassurance.

“okay.”

—

fast forward three months, you and jungkook have been dating each other — slow and steady as promised. no official title (yet) but you know he’s exclusively seeing you. you’re enjoying his company and there’s no rush. when there’s something special and secure, it’s all smooth sailing and calm tides. you never have to guess with him.

he feels the same with you.

this marks the 13th weekend date with you and he’s going to do it. jungkook is going to ask you to be his girlfriend. he’s fucking nervous … has a whole date planned: dinner, movies, then back to his place where he’ll officially ask you.

part of him wants to wait for the next weekend because the number 13 was bad luck, but he’s felt nothing but luck with you. luck in the chances of meeting you in this apartment complex, luck in your friendship, and now luck with the prospect of love.

so when your door swings open to reveal you in a short black satin dress, hair done prettily, and your skin dewey and sparkly from your makeup, he knew was going to make 13 lucky no matter what.

“you look beautiful,” jungkook compliments and holds out his hand to walk you down the stairs.

“you don’t look half bad too,” you taunt, taking his warm hand. there’s no malice cause jungkook knows how you feel about him. notices how your eyes rake over his form, has caught you checking him out plenty of times before, felt the way your lips moved on his skin to praise how hot he looked one evening despite him coming back looking like a sweaty hog that’s been run over by a train.

if you’re curious … aside from making out and heavy petting paired with some dry humping sessions here and there, no, they haven’t had sex. probably for the better, it’s already hard enough to separate from each other after every hangout.

slow and steady. you are both fine with that.

“sooo, you gonna tell me where we’re going or is this where you murder me?” you check your lip gloss in the rear view mirror. jungkook’s right hand naturally find its way to your thighs while he drives.

“you’ll find out soon,” he gives you a little squeeze and it sends a little tingle to your core.

—

it’s going terribly.

traffic was absolutely ass for no reason, so they get to their first destination 45 minutes later than anticipated. the restaurant he had reservations for let him know that the kitchen caught on fire the moment he parked in the lot.

okay, fine. to the movies it is.

except, the movie stopped halfway through due to some technical difficulties. he was going to lose his mind, but you were a good sport through it all. jungkook still had one final trick up his sleeve for you.

when you both finally get back to his place with bags of takeout, jungkook lets out a wail of frustration.

“bam, no!”

all the balloons he blew up have been popped. you look past his shoulders to see a torn up sign with the words: wil u e my fren?

bam prances to you and jungkook with his wagging tail, unaware of jungkook’s inner anguish and turmoil. jungkook runs his hands over his face and freezes in place.

“aw baby,” you try comforting jungkook, “it was an accident. bam didn’t know.”

“i know, i just … fuck, gimme a minute.” jungkook stalks over to his bedroom and closes the door. you place the bags of food on the dining table and crouch down to pet bam.

“you really upset your dad, bammie. he worked really hard on this,” you know bam doesn’t understand a single word you’re saying, but you’re disappointed for jungkook too. jungkook really put in the effort and you’re touched by it all. he really wants you and you want nothing more than to be his.

you feed bam his dinner and set the takeout in the fridge, unsure of when you and jungkook will be ready to eat.

hesitantly, you knock on jungkook’s door. know you don’t need his permission to come in — you’ve slept over plenty of times, but still do it out of courtesy.

“can i come in, kook?”

a moment of silence ensues before you hear a little, “… yeah.”

jungkook was on his bed, feet still on the floor with his arms sprawled out. poor boy.

you climb onto bed next to him and lay your head on his shoulder.

he’s visibly upset — not at you of course. he just wanted to make this special.

“that was fucking cute. no one has ever done that for me before.” you say. the best you got from dohwan were a bouquet of roses sent to your workplace. jungkook’s efforts superseded your expectations.

“which part? no dinner, no movies, or the shit show of a sign?”

“all of it.”

“pff, don’t lie.” he sulks.

you throw your leg over his torso to straddle his waist.

“i’m not! you’re so fucking sweet,” you move down to kiss his cheek when he doesn’t look up at you.

“come on, don’t you want my answer?” you place his hands on your hips, wanting him to touch you somewhere.

he cocks his brow at you, a little smile playing at the corners of his lips.

“fine fine, i’ll be your ‘fren’ if that’s what you want.”

he covers his face in embarrassment, “ugh, that shit was so humiliating. bam isn’t getting any treats for the next three days.”

“hey! don’t punish my baby. it was an honest mistake.” you reassure him, “plus, i gave him an earful.” yeah, and his dinner right after. it’s no wonder bam likes you a lot more these days.

“okay, okay … i’m still sorry about today. nothing went accordingly.” jungkook sighs and rubs soothing circles on your hips with his thumbs.

“you’re not allowed to punish yourself either,” you say a matter of fact, “did you mean it though?” you look at him through your lashes.

“hm?”

“want me as your girlfriend?” when you finally say those words, it sets off a bundle of butterflies in your stomach.

jungkook quickly sits up, holding you securely so you don’t topple over, “of course, i do. just wanted to make it special for you.”

you felt fucking special.

so fucking special in how you said yes, saw how he beamed at your answer, kisses you silly, tongue running down your neck, the little bites on your collarbone — you’re on cloud 9.

he involuntarily drags your hips over his clothed length and you whimper upon contact.

“you hungry, baby? we didn’t have dinner yet,” jungkook asks innocently through his heavy breaths, but you’re too busy trying to unbutton his dress shirt. how could he possibly think about food at a time like this? then again, you have to remember he’s the biggest foodie known to earth. he’s caring of your wellbeing so of course he’d worry if you’re hungry.

he’s also your boyfriend now.

you shake your head. you don’t just want him — you need him.

you slide off of him and are on your knees in between his legs. he looks at you through his heavy lids when you clock your head to the side, waiting for the green light to take off his pants.

“you’ve been so good to me, planning this date … lemme show you how thankful i am.”

jungkook loves being praised and rewarded. he especially loves it even more coming from you. he lets out a moan when you run your hand down his clothed bulge. yes, jungkook has had sex before — honestly, don’t ask him about his body count … he’s not sure either. what he’s sure is that he loses all senses when you touch him — like a virgin touched for the very first time.

his pants are down and kicked off to the side, shirt unbuttoned haphazardly, and head thrown back when you settle between his legs to give his hard length a squeeze.

he’s so fucking big in your hand and your mouth nearly waters at the sight of his precum leaking from the slit of his cock. fuck, you don’t know how he’s going to fit in your mouth, but it doesn’t matter. you’re going to make him come undone one way or another.

“baby, i’m literally going to nut if you keep squeezing me like that.”

you laugh, “how long are you going to last inside me then?”

“fuck, you can’t say shit like that.”

“why not?” you press a small kiss on his hip bone and pump his cock with your hand. his eyes closes and mouth drops open at the change of movement.

“gonna nut even faster,” he chuckles.

jungkook hisses when you lick a long stripe underneath his shaft without warning. one of his hand reaches behind your head for support while the other one grips his bedsheets.

“oh god,” he lets out a small moan when you wrap your lips around the head of his cock and begin to bob your head at a pace that has him seeing stars.

his cock was lathered with your spit and his precum. the sounds you made while you sucked him off were nearly pornographic. his eyes almost rolled to the back of his head when his cock hits the back of your throat.

“shit, oh f-fuck,” his fingers are caught in your hair and your moans vibrate against him when he gently pushes your head down while he fucks up into your mouth.

if you keep going like this, he wasn’t going to last long and he really wants to … can’t bring himself to cum in your mouth just yet. he really wasn’t kidding when he said he was going to nut quick, so he pulls you away when he nearly cums. you breathe heavily through your swollen lips. jungkook runs his thumb on your cheeks where some mascara has smeared as a result of your doing.

you’re still so fucking perfect.

he lifts you from your kneeled position back onto his lap and kisses you slow and tenderly. jungkook whines into your mouth as he tastes himself on your tongue. your dress has ridden up on your waist, the the thin straps are loose and off your shoulders.

“i somehow fucked up the entire night and you still decided to give me the best head? must really like me or something,” jungkook looks at you endearingly and takes notice of how you’re rutting yourself onto his length.

“you know i do. my boyfriend deserves the best.” jungkook’s heart soars at hearing the word boyfriend leave your lips.

yes, he’s yours.

you shake in pleasure as you roll your hips deliciously slow on him. you’re practically soaked through your thin panties.

“did you get this wet just by sucking me off, baby?”

you nod and trail kisses on his cheeks and jaw, “all for you, kook. you always make me this wet.”

he takes so much pride in how he’s able to get you all worked up like this.

jungkook wasn’t expecting to have sex with you tonight, but it’s like you said … it’s special. the rest of your clothing join his in a pile on the ground. he rolls you onto your back and drinks in your naked form. you shy away from his stares and kiss up at him.

your hand reach between you both while he continues to kiss you and you position his still-hard cock in between your folds for that additional friction. the wet clicks mixes in with both your pantings and synchronized moans. every time the head of his cock slides and catches onto your swollen clit, you shudder and arch your back in pleasure.

“want you to fuck me,” you kiss his pouty lips and down his neck, “please?”

jungkook leans back a little, sits on the heels of his feet, and pushes your thighs close to your chest. the angle lets him move and slide your hips up and down his length even more. you gasp and call out his name in wanton.

he drops your legs down and closes the distance between you both again. his bare chest brushes against yours and he lines his cock at your entrance.

“you’re so perfect,” his breath fans over your face, “so lucky to have you.” jungkook swoops his arms under you in a tight embrace. you look at him through your glassy eyes and wrap your arms around his neck.

your heart swells at his words.

there’s little to no resistance when jungkook finally enters you.

it’s a mixture of sweet, nasty, loving, and primal desire how jungkook fucks you into his sheets. he hates loud sex, but he wants to hear all of you. the way you mewl, whimper, cry, and breathe — all of it.

and when you wrap your legs around him and coax him into cumming inside you while your fingers trace the planes of his back, he knows he’s done for.

you giggle, nudge your forehead on his, hold his hand, and kiss all over his face. the afterglow on you both is stunning.

“you’re right, you didn’t last long at all.” you hum. jungkook raises one of his eyebrows and smiles mischievously. it’s a fucking lie since jungkook knows he made you cum at least twice in the span of fucking you, but who would you be if you didn’t try challenging him a little?

he doesn’t have to say anything before slipping down your body and burying his face in between your legs. he licks up your slit tentatively, watches your brows furrow and mouth part, and moans into your heat when your hand travels to his head to push him down as he did to you.

“don’t worry, i’m not going anywhere,” jungkook means it both literally and figuratively. doesn’t understand how anyone could part from you. it’s their loss.

he continues lapping up your mixed essence, nipping at your inner thighs on occasion when your hips jerk away from the pleasure.

“kook, mmph- yes! just like that,” you encourage when he wraps his lips around your clit. he sucks, soothes, and makes out with your messy cunt. he wanted to draw out the night longer, toy and dangle your pleasure in front of you as a punishment for your teasing. knows he’s the reason you’re this wet, can’t bring himself to edge you on a special night like this — maybe another time when he’s feeling more mean. he has all the time in the world with you; there’s no rush.

tonight is all about you, his girlfriend — his.

“so close, baby,” you look down, hips stuttering under his hold as he doesn’t let up with his ministrations on your clit. he trails his fingers at your entrance, coating them with your juices before entering you slowly.

“yeah? won’t you give me another one? come on, i know you can do it,” he says between bated breaths. you shake and arch your back, mouth parts open but no sound comes out as you let the waves of pleasure ride over. the squelching sounds increase as his fingers fuck into you faster.

“i-i’m fucking cumming,” you cry out and jungkook nods in acknowledgement, moaning with you to draw out your orgasm. when you come for the third time that night, he wants to paint the image in his memory and revisit it on a rainy day. no promises that he won’t sport a hard on every time. the sight of you quivering, hands squeezing your chest and rolling your nipples between your fingers to prolong the pleasure, has his head spinning. jungkook trails kisses down your pussy, takes his fingers out and licks them clean before spreading you wider to clean you up with his tongue. he only part ways with your cunt when you whine for him.

he comes back up your body slowly, presses his lips on your tummy and giggles when you squirm from the sensation. however, when he is finally face to face with you again, jungkook has on this determined look.

he can’t seem to get enough of you and your body. addicted, he is.

“you’re not done with me, aren’t you?” you give him that pretty post-orgasmic smile.

never, he thinks.

jungkook was about to reply until the rumbles of your stomach cuts through the silence. it should be embarrassing but you feel close enough to jungkook that you both laugh at how unserious the situation is.

“come on baby, let’s go eat our dinner.” he pulls you up and puts you in one of his oversized t-shirts.

you still believe your ideal neighbor should be mindful, quiet, and kind. jungkook was certainly not mindful, quiet, or kind with how he entered into your life.

though, he wasn’t just someone who’d be your neighbor by the law of attraction and the cosmic pull of the universe.

love is patient, love is kind.

you know you’ve found your home — you just never expected it to be right next door.

fin.

—

a/n: tadaaaaaa. what’d you think? 😜

[youvebeenlivingfictional]

Mrs. R Part Five

Previous Part | Masterlist

Notes: Not beta-read. Last part for real this time, y'all. Thanks for your patience!

Warnings: Fluff; smut: oral sex, unsafe sex; excessive use of the word 'fuck'

Summary: Choosing the hardware for the coat hooks in the front hall…Fighting over what color to paint the kitchen…Spending hours deciding which light fixtures to install in the hall, the bathroom, the living room…

A thousand little thoughts went into making this your home. Are you really about to leave it? 

“Hey, uh, miss? Where are these going?” 

If you had a nickel for every time you’d been asked that question, you would be able to buy yourself a damn mansion. You scrub a weary hand over your eyes, sliding it down over your cheek as the annoyance builds. How much money would it cost you to tell them that you changed your mind, to just find an empty spot on the floor and open the damn boxes, you’ll sort this all out later—

“Everything lined up by the door goes on the truck today. If you need an extra hint, look for the boxes with the word ‘storage’ written on the top.” 

The easy authority in Robby’s voice shouldn’t make you relax as quickly as it does, and you can’t stop the amused huff that puffs out of your mouth.

You turn to see the movers starting to take the boxes lined up by the door, giving Robby nervous nods. 

You turn back to the cabinet, reaching for the next mug and wrapping it in newspaper before tucking it into the box with the others. You glance back when you hear Robby coming into the kitchen. 

“Perfect timing. I was an inch away from tearing my hair out,” You grumble. He chuckles, and you hear the light rustle of him removing his backpack before he joins you at the counter. 

“They’ll get it done. You got a lot left to do?” 

“Uh,” You sigh, turning to look around the kitchen, “These and the cups, and then—I did the utensils already, got the plates packed away. I’ve still got some books in the living room, some stuff in the bedroom—Oh, and the basement’s done, completely done, except for two cans of paint that—I don’t even know how old they are, I’m not sure if they’re still good—?”

“Okay,” Robby soothes, sliding his hands over your shoulders. “I’m a little sorry I asked.” He offers you a soft smile as you sigh, scrubbing your hand over your face again. 

“I’m very tired and you’re being mean to me,” You pout. 

“Sorry, sweetheart,” He murmurs, crowding closer. “Tell me what you want me to do.” 

“...Bring the paint cans up and put ‘em on the curb. Write 'free' on top, make them someone else's problem.” 

“Mhm.” 

“And then pack the books up. I’ll take care of the rest of the kitchen and the bedroom.” 

“Okay.” 

“One other thing, first.”

“Anything.”

“Gimme a kiss.” 

Robby’s smile widens as he lifts his hands from your shoulders to gently cup your face, drawing you in for a tender kiss. You sigh, chest flooding with relief as you sag against him, and curling your arms around his middle. Neither of you push to deepen it, instead relishing in one another’s touch: the warmth of one another’s arms, the steady, kind pressure of your kiss. 

“Are these boxes goin’, too?” 

The call from one of the movers makes you wince, and you just manage to fight back a groan. Robby leans back, tipping his chin up and pressing a kiss to your forehead before drawing away with a murmur of, “I’ve got it.” 

--  

“How are we doing back here?” 

You don’t answer until Robby’s just beside you, then wave into the drawer that you’re staring at.

“You think I can get away with just leaving all this shit in here and taping it up?” 

Robby hums, reaching in and poking through the contents—cough drops, a couple of pens, a bottle of lube, a few stray condoms. 

“I think that’d be alright.”

“Done,” You sigh, shoving the drawer shut before flopping onto the bed, your legs hanging off of the side. “The guys still here?”

“Nope, just left. Said they’ll be here bright and early at eight.”

“Perfect.”

Robby lays beside you with a sigh. You let your head loll to get a good look at him. You take in his closed eyes, his slightly pursed lips.

“...Can I be honest?” He asks. You frown, rolling onto your side and propping your head up on your hand to get a better look at him.

“‘Course.”

“I didn’t think you’d really do it.” 

You consider that as you lay back again peer back up at the ceiling, chewing the inside of your cheek. 

“Honestly…I kinda didn’t think I would, either.” The two of you sit in that for a moment before you press, “Are you still mad at me?” 

“Mad at you?” 

“For deciding to move.” 

It’s Robby’s turn to roll over. You feel the bed shift as he moves, hear him sigh. 

“Not mad,” He insists. “I wasn’t before, either, I was, um…I think I was afraid.” 

Your brow furrows, and you frown as you meet his eye. “Really?” 

“So much has changed between us in the last couple of years. This was just one more thing—one more big thing. But I understand it now,” He smiles softly, “And I’m proud of you.” 

Heat rushes up your neck and sweeps across your face at his insistence, and you push yourself up with both hands. An uncomfortable, huffed, “Okay,” Leaves you as you start to stand, but Robby catches hold of you before you can get too far. 

“Hey,” His arm curls around your middle, “I mean it.” 

The urge to remove yourself from his sincere approval wells, but you stay there, resting your hand atop his as you settle back against the mattress. Robby gives a soft, approving hum, his thumb sweeping across the band of skin exposed by your top. 

“Look at us,” He teases, “Using what we learned in therapy.”

“Yeah?” 

“I’m communicating how I feel and you’re not completely running away from me.” 

You snort, raising a hand to toy with the tie on his hoodie. “I wasn’t running from you before.” 

“No, but you also couldn’t take a compliment.” 

You snort a laugh, nodding, grudgingly muttering, “That’s true.” You relax further as Robby scoots closer, nuzzling against your shoulder. “You staying? One more night in the old place?” 

“I didn’t pack my PJs.”

“Good.” 

-- 

Choosing the hardware for the coat hooks in the front hall…Fighting over what color to paint the kitchen…Spending hours deciding which light fixtures to install in the hall, the bathroom, the living room…

A thousand little thoughts went into making this your home. Are you really about to leave it? 

You comb your fingers through Robby’s hair, nails gently massaging his scalp. You glance down as he shifts beside you, his face pressing more tightly into the curve of your neck. It’s a moment before he draws in a deep breath, his fingers tightening in the fabric of your sleep shirt. 

“...You awake?” He mumbles. 

“Mhm.”

“Long?” 

“I don’t know. A while.” You turn your head, pressing a kiss to his forehead. “Did I wake you up?” 

“No.” He tips his chin up, kissing the curve of your  jaw. “Time is it?” 

“Mm—” You reach out, grabbing your phone from the bedside table and eyeing the time before dropping it again. “Five after five. You workin’ today?” 

“Mhm.” It’s a warm, lazy hum. Robby’s hand skims along your side, teasing under your sleep shirt as he brushes another kiss to your jaw. You tip your head to the side, catching his lips in a sweet kiss, and smiling as his tongue teases into your mouth. It’s only another two passes before Robby is rolling over you, the sheets sliding away, exposing you to the cool air of the room. You hum as Robby’s lips trail lower, tipping your head back into the pillow as his fingers inch higher and higher up your sides, shifting your shirt up to just under your chin. 

You suck in a stunned, sleepy breath as his lips brush across the top of one breast, his thumb sweeping across the other pebbling nipple. You groan softly, hips tipping up toward the heat of his body as you feel Robby’s hardening cock against your thigh. You draw your knees up to cradle him, sliding your hands over his arms as he inches further down, beard tickling the sensitive skin of your belly. His fingers curl around the band of your underwear, warm eyes turned up toward you as he waits. You bite your lip, stomach swirling with nerves and anticipation as you nod, tipping your hips up for him. 

The underwear has hardly hit the floor before Robby’s shoulders are spreading your thighs wide, his hands tucked beneath them as he laps broadly across your pussy. You whimper, hands fisting in his hair as your head presses back into the pillows. 

“Robby—Mikey, baby, fuck,” You mewl, grinding up against his questing tongue, skin tingling from the brush of his beard. He groans against you, moving his head from side to side before he leans up, lapping over your clit with sharp, flicking strokes. 

You can’t help the whimpers that drop from your lips. It’s almost embarrassing, the sound you make as he spears in one finger, then another. Your cunt throbs around them as he curls and strokes, pumping them harder as the familiar coiling sensation in your stomach winds tighter and tighter. 

You whine as he draws back with a final sucking kiss, reaching out as he kneels up on the bed. You reach out, palming his cock through his underwear as he leans across you, fishing into the bedside drawer. 

“Let me—” You plead, pushing yourself up, and pout Michael shakes his head. 

“Next time.” 

Next time, he says, like the two of you weren’t at each other’s throats just a few weeks ago—next time like you hadn’t considered moving fucking states to try and move on. 

Robby drops a condom on the bed beside you before his hand curls around your jaw, tipping your head up. 

“I need to be inside you.” He dips his head closer, and your eyelids flutter as his slick lips glide against yours. “Can I do that? Gonna let me cum inside you, sweetheart?” 

You nod almost dumbly, tongue flicking out to tease at the taste of yourself on his lips. You reach out, taking the condom from where he dropped it and flinging it out of view. Robby glances after it, surprise washing his features. 

“Are you sure?” 

“Uh-huh—”

“But I thought you got off of the pill.”

“I did.”

Robby’s brows jump up, his eyes sliding closed as you reach down, slipping your hands into his underwear and grasping his cock. He groans as you stroke him, forehead resting against yours. 

“Are you—fuck,” His breath hitches as you thumb the head of his cock, “Are you out of your fucking mind?” 

“A little.” You tip your head, lapping between his lips. “I wanna feel you, Michael. Fucking all of you.” 

He reels back, you fear that you’ve gone too far. But Robby is shoving off his underwear, pushing them away before he’s settling back over you. Your heart pounds in your throat as you lean back on your elbows, shivering as Robby draws the tip of his cock along your slick folds. Your hips twitch as he teases over your clit before leading it lower. The head just catches against your opening before he goes still. You glance up at him and find him watching you closely, almost nervously. You reach out, cupping his cheek. 

“What is it?” 

“You’re sure?” 

You push yourself up fully, smoothing your thumb across the apple of his cheek. 

“I want you to fuck me like this, Michael.” You lean up as the flush already crowding his cheeks begins to spread down to his neck, his bare chest. “I want you to cum in me. I want to be slick with you while I boss around those fucking moving men.” 

Michael’s groan blends with an almost pained chuckle as he crowds a little closer. 

“Do you wanna fuck me like this, Michael?” You push. 

“Yes.”

“Yeah? Wanna fill me up?”

“Yes, fuck, fuck—”

Your jaw drops as Robby's hips shove forward, easing in. You whimper as your pussy throbs around him, clenching around his length as you lean back against the bed. Robby follows you down, curling over you, his hands bracing on either side of your head. 

"Jesus christ, you're so wet," He swears, breath hot against your lips. 

"Move—”

"Not yet."

"Mikey—”

"Just—mm, god," He leans in, pressing his forehead against your jaw. "Need a minute." 

Your lips curl into a devious smile as you slide your hands up and over his shoulders. 

"Yeah?" You coo. "Why's that?"

"Don't." 

"Do I feel good?"

"You feel so fucking good." His hips grind forward, and you whimper, sliding your hand up into his hair as he begins to fuck you with steady strokes. "You are so fucking good." 

You turn your head, catching his lips in a kiss.  He breaks it with a gentle nip to your lip, tugging it before drawing back, pinning your hips to the bed as his thrusts pick up in pace. You slip a hand between your bodies, swiping over your swollen clit as you struggle to press up against him, to meet his thrusts. 

The otherwise quiet morning fills with your joint groans, moans, sighs, murmurs of praise, of need. For a few stunning moments, it feels like it used to—desperate, and loving, and steady. 

You lean up, straining for another kiss, and Robby bows over you, lips sliding messily against yours. You whimper, toying with your clit more roughly as you grow closer and closer to orgasm. 

“Robby,” You warn, raising your other hand to wind in his hair, “I’m—fuck, just like that—” 

“Yeah,” He goads between panting breaths, “That’s it. Take my cock, sweetie.”

“Just like that—Right there, rightthererightthere—Fuck!” 

-- 

“We gotta get up.” 

Robby doesn’t answer at first, and you worry that he’s fallen back asleep. But he nuzzles against your collarbone, letting out a soft grunt of dismay. 

“You’re gonna be late,” You warn, “And the moving guys don’t need to see either of us like this.” 

Robby chuckles, picking his head up and resting his chin on his shoulder. 

“I bet a couple of them want to.” 

“I think you’re projecting.”

“Oh no. I’ve seen guys size you up like that before.” 

“Blegh.” 

He chuckles, leaning up and giving you a soft kiss. 

“I'll come by after work, help you unpack.” 

“Only if you want to. I’m not gonna get it all done today,” You reassure, smoothing your fingers through his hair. “Just—See how your shift goes before you go making any promises.” 

Robby props himself up over you, holding your gaze steadily. 

“I am coming by tonight. I’m going to bring takeout, and I’m going to make sure none of your light bulbs need changing.” 

"Don't want me to wind up in the ER again?"

"I love seeing you, but I don't love seeing you at work."

Tag list:

@missredherring ; @fantasticcopeaglepasta ; @massivecolorspygiant ; @amneris21 ; 

@ew-erin ; @youngkenobilove ; @carbonated-beverage ;  @moonlightburned ; @milf-trinity ; 

@millllenniawrites ; @chattychell ; @dihra-vesa; @videogamesandpoorlifechoices ; @missswriter ; 

@thembosapphicclown ; @brandyllyn ; @wildmoonflower ; @realwhoreforfictionalmen

@mad-girl-without-a-box ;  @winchestershiresauce ; @lorecraft ; @kmc1989 ; @veryprairieberry ;

@kittenlittle24 ; @ilariyalavorowrites ; @morgy3456 ; @emily-b ; @txtdreamss

@caramelised-onions ;

[charliemwrites]

Hahahaha good morning I had the wildest dream last night so I’m going to inflict it on all of you:

(I’m not done with keeper/kept. Just had to get this out)

Warnings for obsessive/possessive behavior, unhealthy and semi-one sided relationship, not-quite-dark John price.

John Price who decides it time he has a wife. Not retiring, god no! He’s not done yet. But his home is lonely when he’s on leave; he’s getting sentimental as he gets “older”. So, he wants a wife.

In theory, it sounds like just what he wants. A pretty warm thing snoozing in his bed when he gets home at ass o’clock in the morning. Someone to fret over new scars and fresh bandages. Someone to fuss at him for “taste testing” meals and wrinkle their nose at his cigars.

In practice, it’s not so easy. If it was, he reckons he would have been married by now. Good thing he’s already got the perfect candidate picked out.

You own a small business in his town. Not fabulously wealthy, but comfortable and independent. Something to keep you busy while he’s away but you make your own hours so your schedule it flexible to see him when he has infrequent leave.

And he adores you, knows that you’ve got more than a little crush on him. You smile and blush and reciprocate his interest, have only refrained from perusing anything because you didn’t think he was serious. But oh, he is.

One day you say something particularly charming and he says, “marry me.”

He’s been dropping these little jokes for a while now and you always start laughing because it’s just the kind of dramatic humor you love. Today you say something different than your usual overdramatic “oh but it could never work, captain.”

Today you say, “if only.”

How pathetic is it that you’re holding a candle for a man you’ve never even gotten a coffee with? Your family laments that your can’t spend your whole life married to your job. That they want grandchildren and nieces/nephews, someone to tell embarrassing stories about you to on holidays. You used to roll your eyes, but the prospect doesn’t feel so obligatory anymore.

Anytime you imagine it, it’s John Price there. You’ve stopped trying to imagine it for your heart’s sake.

Except a week later he’s sweeping into your shop and dropping a kiss on your cheek. An unusual greeting, but maybe he’s in a good mood. His hand lingers on the small of your back while you show him the new product that just came in.

You live above your shop and one day he shows up at the door with a bottle of wine, telling you he could use some good company. You’re shocked and confused but he looks like an amalgamation of every heartthrob in a hallmark or romcom you’ve ever “ironically” enjoyed. You invite him in.

By mid morning, he’s had you in every room of your apartment. Ate you out slow and greedy on the counters. Bent you over the dining table. Bounced you on his cock on your couch. Fingered his cum out of you in the bathtub. And absolutely ruined you twice over in your own bed.

He even changes the sheets before the two of you pass out that final time. And when you finally do wake up, he’s taken the initiative to brew coffee and make breakfast. It’s like a dream.

He fucks you against the door before he leaves.

When he’s deployed again, he calls you every night. You don’t expect it the first time, but it’s a sweet gesture to show things aren’t ruined. You’re not expecting the second time either and have to call him back when you climb out of the shower. The third time you wait for it, but still startle a bit when his name pops up on the screen.

He calls you every night he can while he’s away. You don’t know what to make of it.

Then one day you come back from errands to see movers in the yard. You think it’s some kind of mistake until John meets you at your car.

“Fire in the next building over,” he explains. “Their insurance will cover all the damages but it’s not safe to stay in your place. Mine’s just up the road. Figured you could stay until it’s sorted out.”

You want to be annoyed, and you almost are. But the overwhelm of nearly losing everything - only to have all the stress already handled and the important, nerve wracking decisions smoothed over? You just take the good luck.

To thank John for his generosity (and to fill the void of not running the shop) you bustle around his too-big house. Cook meals, keep things tidy. Keep John company when he manages to snag you from your gratitude-induced work.

He spends hours fucking you nice and slow, whispering things you barely remember in your ear. That you’re perfect for him, so sweet like a little wife, that he’d come home to you for the rest of his life. You kiss him quiet and rock back against him when it starts sounding too tempting.

Eventually, the repairs on your shop/apartment are done. It feels like a rude awakening to a pleasant dream. Instead of moving your things back, John moves more things in. When you tell him that you appreciate his kindness, but you should probably get back to your own space, he gets an odd look. Asks what you mean when this is your space.

And the trap springs closed.

“John,” you half-laugh, shaking your head. “We’re not actually married you know?”

“Not last I checked.”

The marriage certificate gets framed in the bedroom you’ve been sharing for a month. You storm out and stay in a hotel. He lets you for three days before coming to retrieve you. When you try to be stubborn, he gives you an exasperated look (as if you’re the one being unreasonable) and politely asks that you not make a scene by forcing him to carry you of there.

For your own reputation, you comply, glowering out his car window the whole ride to his house. Try to give him the silent treatment which lasts about 30 minutes before he’s got you moaning and whining on his cock.

He drives you to the shop in the morning and picks you up at night. Anytime you try to put your little foot down, he just scoops you off them. The neighbors start cooing that he’s such a good man. You try not to scream.

When he’s finally deployed again, you try to move all your things back to your home. Except the movers apologetically tell you that they can’t trespass on John’s property.

Fine, you’ll do it yourself. Somehow.

You pack two suitcases and some of your cookware. Load it all up in a rental - because John sent your damn car into the shop - and trying to get comfortable in your own flat again.

Except it’s all wrong. The scent of smoke still lingers, it’s cold because the heating hasn’t been turned on yet this year. Half your things are gone and there’s no food in the fridge or pantries. You tough it out. Buy a ready-made meal and new bed linens and pillow. Sleep in a bed too cold even with the heat finally on.

When John calls, you don’t answer. He sends a text that simply reads “I love you.” You toss your phone across the room.

The next night, when he calls again and you don’t answer, he sends a “stay safe, love.” You spend twenty minutes with fingers poised over the keys. Chug a glass of wine and send back a neutral “you too, John”.

When he calls on the third night, you pick up, bark a sharp “knock it off” and hang up. Another text that he was so happy to hear your voice.

Another call, you pick up and demand “what are you doing?” He chuckles on the other end. “Calling my darling wife. I miss you.” You believe him. That’s the worst part.

When he gets back, you ride the long, long river of denial right up until he’s at your door, eyebrows arched. “Really, love,” he hums, “you didn’t have to come all the way over here just because you missed me.”

You want to hit him. You storm off to your bedroom instead. He wanders the house. You hear him clattering in the kitchen and wandering around the living room. When you hear the door close, you think he’s finally left and given all this up.

Twenty minutes later, he’s casually removing the door (sans hinges) and gathering you up. When you get back to his house, he carries you inside and fucks the tantrum right out of you in the shower, growling that you don’t smell like home anymore.

When you wake up from your three-orgasm induced nap, he’s washing the clothes you took to your old flat. On your left hand is a pretty diamond with “JP” carved into the band.

At the store, people start calling you “Mrs. Price”. The neighbors (John’s neighbors) invite you over as “the Prices”. You glare at him when he starts looking too smug about it.

When he’s set to deploy again, he sits you on the kitchen counter, caging you in with arms.

“Don’t make me come get you this time,” he warns, pressing kisses along your jaw. “This is gonna be a rough one. I just want to see you when I get home.”

It’s a warning that you know to heed. You don’t try to leave this time. When he calls, you answer, rattling off stupid details about your day. You’re shocked to hear him remember names and dates and tasks with everything else hes got going on. Promises he’ll deal with the creep at the post office when he gets home.

“And… you are coming home… right?” you ask.

“Nothing could keep me away, love.”

He doesn’t call for three days straight. You tell yourself the tightness in your chest is just anxiety over how the hell to handle his assets if he’s dead.

At 3am, the bed dips, a warm body pressing up against your back. You recognize John’s arms wrapping tight around your waist. You stir.

“Are you alright?” you ask.

“Perfect now, love.”

“Mm welcome home.”

“Good to be home, gorgeous.”

[shelbygraces]

i wanna thank everyone who came to my subathon, and all my friends that raided or came to chat! the support was insane and i’m so so grateful. with my recent and sudden move, this was so helpful and brought me so much peace, because i didn’t move under the greatest of circumstances.

it was in a matter of days that i found a new home, hired movers and packed up all my things. and it was because someone, who got my address from the people who had doxxed me, got into my building and came up to my apartment.

so obviously it was not safe for me to stay. i spoke against the behaviors of people sending death threats and doxxing online several times but unfortunately my voice alone isn’t enough to stop every horrible person from doing a horrible thing.

i’m so thankful to my friends who offered me a place to sleep and who made sure i felt safe again. things haven’t been exactly easy, but they’ve been getting tremendously better. i have a beautiful new home that’s everything i could have dreamed of. there’s more space for me and my cat. i’m safe, i’m loved, i’m cared for.

i wasn’t sure i would share that this happened at all because i didn’t want anyone to feel like they “won” by forcing me to move. but the truth is i left behind a place where i experienced a lot of pain, and that was something i needed. now i’m somewhere new and my soul feels so at peace. and i’m really excited for things moving forward!

i just want to continue encouraging kindness from others. meeting each other with a little more compassion and understanding. and to know it is never ok for anyone to take away a persons safety in this way ❤️

[billionstarsandhereweare]

mirror, mirror

pairing: matt murdock x fem!reader

summary: moving sucks. matt does not. (well… maybe he does, in a way)

warnings: y’all this is straight smut. 18+ only! mdni! established relationship, oral (f! receiving), tiny bit of edging, lots of kisses, no use of y/n

a/n: this is a dirty little love letter to the glorious work of art that is matt’s back and broad shoulders. everybody say thank you to charlie for never missing back/arm day. this is my first time posting smut, hope y’all enjoy 😊

If there is one singular, universal truth in the world, it’s that moving sucks.

No matter how excited you were to be taking the proverbial next step in your relationship with Matt, you still complained every day leading up to move-in weekend about how much you hated packing. How much you were dreading carting the contents of your life, carefully wrapped in paper and bubble wrap and fit into cardboard boxes and plastic totes, down seven flights of stairs, across New York City, then up six more flights of stairs to their new home. The end result would be worth it, getting to start the next chapter of your life with the love of your life, but the process? The worst. Actual torture. A previously undiscovered tenth circle of Hell.

“Sweetheart, if you’re really that upset about moving everything ourselves, we can hire someone,” Matt had offered weeks ago as you were on yet another rant of why are books so heavy? Do I need plates and bowls? Maybe I’ll just donate everything I own and start over…

“I looked at prices already. For like, five different companies. You don’t even want to know what the going rate is,” you grumbled as you stacked yet another box in the corner of your apartment. “I’ve got a better chance of catching Jessica Jones giving you a compliment than finding an affordable mover.”

He had just chuckled as he wrapped his arms around your waist from behind, gently kissing the top of your head. “Think of how nice it’ll be to always wake up together. No more running across the city to pick up something you forgot, no more nights apart…”

“No more shitty neighbors,” you sighed as Matt swayed you both from side to side, “and we both might actually get some real rest more often.” Sleep always came easier when you were curled up next to Matt, tucked into his warm chest, safe and secure. He slept better too, knowing you were safe, focusing on the soft beat of your heart and your steady breathing as it pulled him down into deep, dreamless rest.

“See?” he said, lips brushing your temple in another gentle kiss, “All worth it.”

“I know. Still gonna complain though.”

“I’d be worried if you didn’t,” Matt teased.

Over the next few weeks, you had slowly started to bring over boxes after work, ones that were easy to haul or filled with items you didn’t need to survive for the immediate future. But for every tub or bin you brought, three more seemed to take their place. When moving day finally came, you thought they may actually be breeding with the amount you somehow still had left to haul.

Foggy and Karen had joined you in loading boxes and bins into the moving truck, while Matt had somehow managed to convince Frank Castle of all people to help with the heavier pieces of furniture. It was dark by the time all the heavy items had made their way to Matt’s place. By some miracle just a few pieces got scuffed, and only three death threats had been made. Surprisingly, only one had been from Frank.

“Swear to god Red, you ever ask me to do sumthin’ like this again, I’ll hang you from the fuckin’ clothesline on the roof.”

“You owed me from that time I saved your ass from the Italians.”

“Yeah, figured I’d be doin’ recon or sumthin’, not haulin’ an entire fuckin’ thrift store’s worth of shit ‘cross the Kitchen.”

Karen had stepped in before teeth started gnashing, rubbing Frank’s shoulders as she walked past. “I’m proud of you both for not killing each other, but it’s getting late and we have an early morning tomorrow.” She looked your way, a fond smile on her face. “Are you good if we take off?”

“Yeah, I can’t thank you guys enough for your help. Made it… less shitty.”

“Of course,” she replied as Frank muttered something about capital punishment under his breath. “Let’s go, you grump.”

You bid your goodbyes, Foggy trailing behind Karen and Frank as they left your new home.

Exhausted, you shuffled your way into the bedroom before flopping face-first onto the silk-clad bed. Stretching your arms out above you, you groaned, “I’m never moving again. We’re staying here forever.”

Matt huffed out a laugh as he sat down beside you. “I’m perfectly fine with that.” A strong, warm hand ran across your shoulders, seeking out the knots that had started to form from the lifting you had done earlier. A second hand landed on your lower back, slipping under your thin tank top and kneading at the base of your spine. “Staying in this bed with you for the rest of our lives sounds like paradise,” he said, voice dropping into that low, raspy tone that meant trouble as his hands continued to massage the tension from your back. You sighed into the covers, skin warming under his touch.

“Mmm, don’t tempt me, you devil.” His short beard rasped just below the base of your neck as his lips followed the path his hand had been taking across your shoulders, leaving feather-light kisses in their wake. A shiver ran down your spine at the heavenly motion, anticipation curling in your stomach even in your tired state.

“Want to know one of my favorite things about you moving in?” Matt whispered into your ear.

You turned your head enough to peek one eye out from the duvet. “What’s that?”

He let out a soft noise, almost a purr, before burying his face in the nape of your neck. “Everything smells like you now.” A sigh escaped him as he continued to nuzzle into you. “It used to fade after awhile, especially when you were gone for a night or two.” His chest pressed into your back on a deep inhale before almost drunkenly continuing, speech the tiniest bit slurred. “I’ll never get tired of it.”

Rolling onto your back, you smiled at his relaxed form hovering just inches above you, lips curved into a small smile, unseeing eyes bright with adoration. “Probably a good thing I moved here instead of you moving in with me. Mrs. Howard’s candles would’ve driven you crazy.”

He chuckled before lowering his forehead to yours, one hand next to your head supporting his weight as the other slowly roamed down your side to settle at your waist, calloused fingers on bare skin where your tank had ridden up. A peaceful quiet spread through the room as you basked in the warmth of his touch, soaking up the love that radiated from him. You brushed a thumb across his cheek, fingers curling under his jaw as he leaned into your touch. “I’m glad I finally made the jump.”

“Me too. Welcome home, love.”

His lips met yours in a sweet, gentle brush as his hand at your waist began tracing small circles into your skin. You returned the kiss, slow and unhurried, the hand on his face slipping back to weave your fingers into his hair. The graze of his fingers brushed over a sensitive spot of skin above your hipbone, eliciting a quiet moan from you as sparks of heat ran through your core, your hand tightening in the short strands at the base of his neck. Those same sparks seemed to light Matt up like a dried-up pine, because the next thing you knew, he had pulled you upright and onto his lap, his tongue slipping into your mouth, deepening the kiss. You let out a small gasp as he dragged you further onto his lap, your knees on either side of his thighs, warmth pooling low in your stomach. His mouth moved against yours in hungry, passionate laps, his hands roving up under your tank, the electricity from his touch pebbling your skin. With every expert caress of his lips, you could feel that telltale dampness growing between your thighs, hips beginning to rock over his rapidly hardening cock.

Matt was the first to break for air, breathing in deep and exhaling out with a shudder. “God, angel, you smell divine.”

You took the opportunity to grab the hem of his tee, pulling it up off of him, intentionally dragging your hands oh-so-slowly up the broad expanse of his chest. Shirt discarded, his toned chest was now on full display, scars and soft skin almost glowing in the low light of the room. You dragged your hands back down, inching towards the waistband of his sweats, before he grabbed your wrists in an iron grip, stopping you.

“Uh-uh. Not yet, not with how good you smell. I need to taste you first.”

His mouth crashed back onto yours, desperately chasing you as his hands found the edge of your shorts. He trailed down your jaw, to your neck, nipping and sucking at where your pulse thrummed in your throat intensely enough to bruise. A low moan rose from deep within your chest, pleasure building from his lips on such a sensitive part of your skin. He slid smoothly down in front of you, kneeling on the hardwood as he slipped your shorts down your hips. “Please, let me have a taste of you. Can I, sweetheart?”

With those pleading hazel eyes and plush lips saying your name like a prayer, who were you to deny him?

“Yes, Matt, please.”

A satisfied grin spread across his face as you fell backwards onto the bed. A trail of soft, teasing kisses crept up one thigh, then down the other, as he slowly dragged your shorts from your body. The warmth of his breath ghosted over just above the waistline of your underwear as he savored the scent of you, how the soft skin of your hips pebbled with goosebumps as he teased a finger along your panties, relishing in the warm wetness that had already accumulated. You sat up, leaning back in your elbows, to watch the utter rapture on his face, eyes darkened with lust as he took in the scents and textures that were all you. Matt had a way of making you feel not only desired, but so seen, even without being able to physically see you. He knelt in front of you, almost in offering, devoted to you and your pleasure. It was a heady sight, one that captured every bit of your attention.

That is, until he shifted back onto his heels.

Getting comfortable, Matt leaned to the side just enough for you to notice a movement of light behind him, one that your hazy brain didn’t quite follow. Letting your focus drift away from his face, electricity shot straight through you once you realized what that movement was.

The beautiful, broad expanse of Matt’s naked back was reflected in the floor length mirror you had propped against the wall so carelessly earlier in the day. The lamp in the corner of the room radiated out a soft, golden light as shadows caressed the dips and valleys of the muscles in his shoulders and along the ridge of his spine. Even the world collapsing around you couldn’t make you look away from the sight reflected back to you, the devil you loved with muscles seemingly carved from marble, scars painted like brushstrokes across silken ivory skin.

Jesus, this man is an actual work of art.

Matt, ever observant, sensed the stuttering of your heartbeat and the flush that warmed your skin. He ran one hand up over your waist, dipping below your tank to cup your breast over your heart, the warmth of your skin radiating back into him.

“Mmm, you’re burning up. Care to share what’s got you so worked up?” he teased, tone casual but with the slightest edge that said I expect an answer.

You swallowed, throat dry as you struggled to find your voice when lust was clouding your thoughts. “Um, you know that uh, mirror we moved earlier?”

Matt continued his journey he had set on moments earlier, pressing kisses onto your stomach, along your waist, slowly moving lower as you somehow managed to get even hotter under his touch. His thumb slowly circled your nipple, your back arching as you sought out more. “The one that used to hang by your bedroom door?”

“Uh huh, that one. You’re uh- well, it’s right behind you.”

He shifted, rolling his shoulders back so slightly you wouldn’t have known it was intentional if not for the cocky smirk on his face. “I take it you like the view?”

A groan left you as you threw your head back. “You have no idea.”

He brushed a single finger, light as air, up the seam of your clothed pussy, causing a shudder to roll through you, sucking in a shaky breath. “Oh, I’m pretty sure I have some idea,” he crooned before pressing a kiss over the damp spot of your underwear before sliding them slowly down your legs, tossing them to the side. You ran a hand over your face, cheeks heating up. A sudden tug at your knees as he spread you wider made you yelp, your head snapping back up.

“Don’t get shy now, sweetheart. Eyes on me.”

All you could muster up was a soft whine as he left more kisses in a trail from your knee up your thigh, the gentleness in stark contrast with the power that ran through the reflection of his built form you were locked onto. You felt more than heard his dark chuckle at your noises.

“I want you to watch while I ruin you.”

With that, he dove in.

He licked one long, wide stripe up your soaked cunt, swallowing your slick down with an obscene moan that vibrated right through you. Another lick had you spreading even further for him, whimpering as your hands scrambled in the sheets to brace yourself as he started to methodically break you down. You squirmed, hips bucking up before he threw one forearm across your stomach to pin you in place. He teased your entrance with hot, wet laps, nose grinding into your clit, red-hot fire ricocheting through you. That band of pressure in your core had already started to build, tightening with every lick into you.

“Oh–oh fuck, Matt–”

He groaned against your cunt, muttering out “I know, sweetie, you’re already so worked up. Eyes still on me?”

You watched the muscles in his shoulders roll and tense as he doubled down, sucking on your clit, one finger teasing in circles at your entrance. A long whine escaped you, you were so close already, spiraling upwards, clenching around nothing, moaning out his name–

He pulled back.

“Matt no, please, I was right there–”

He kept up the slow circles of his finger, a smug smirk on his face, stubble glistening from your arousal. “Not yet. Want to make this last,” he said, nipping at the inside of your thigh. “You’ll be patient and let me take my time, right? It’ll be worth it, I promise.”

You just nodded, unable to form anything coherent on your tongue.

“Good,” he praised, before sliding into you.

Sensitive from being pulled back from the edge, you jerked up off the bed as he pumped one finger in and out of you, curling just right at the spot that made stars dance at the edge of your vision. He brushed a soft kiss to your clit as he continued, settling into a rhythm that by now he knew better than his own heartbeat. You were already succumbing to the sticky-sweet waves of bliss that lapped at the edges of your body, building and building as Matt worked a second finger into you. The stretch hardly registered, only the sweet sensation of fullness, as he began to lick and suck at that tender bundle of nerves again. You kept your eyes on the mirror, the visual of his back tensing as he rutted up into the mattress adding another layer to the intense pleasure you were slipping under. The friction on your clit, his fingers curling again and again and again at that spot inside you, the delectable view of him knelt in front you with muscles taut and tensed, had the wave of your orgasm cresting, and cresting–

“Matt I’m–I’m gonna–”

He groaned into you, and that subtle vibration from his throat had you coming, falling head-first into wave after wave of burning heat, pulsing through you as you gasped out his name. Your orgasm rippled through your core and out into your limbs, walls spasming around his thick fingers as he worked you through it, pulling back from your oversensitive clit to lap up your slick. You let out a long, shaky noise, part exhale, part whine as he pulled his fingers from you. Only once he was satisfied he had gotten every last drop of you he could did he pull away, bring his fingers up to his mouth to clean the last of you off of them.

Thighs trembling and small aftershocks still pulsing inside you, you could only watch as he stood up, stretching his arms above his head before he leaned back down onto the bed to run his hands up your sides. His mouth found yours, lips parted so gently against yours as he shared the taste of you. Breaking away, you ran your hand through his soft hair, already mussed from his enthusiastic performance. He melted into your touch, your nails gently scraping against his scalp.

You were the first to speak, voice raspy.

“We can’t leave the mirror there.”

That got you a laugh. “No? Sounded like you enjoyed it.”

“I’ll never let you leave this bed if it stays.”

Matt’s lips brushed the tip of your nose, your forehead, and finally your own lips. “I don’t see a problem with that.”

“You might after I wear you out.”

“Oh yeah? How are you and your jello legs going to accomplish that?” he challenged with that cocky little smirk you knew and loved.

“Gimme five minutes Murdock, and I’ll show you.”

[bitchinbarzal]

Secret Drawer | B Faber

summary: you’re broken up and now you’re roommates.

-

Brock is exhausted when he steps off the plane. A four-game road trip, back-to-backs, and a brutal loss in overtime have drained every ounce of energy from his body. He just wants to get home, throw his bag on the floor, and collapse into his bed for about sixteen hours.

Except, when he gets to his apartment complex, his key doesn’t work.

He frowns, trying again. Still locked.

“What the hell,” he mutters, tugging his phone out of his pocket. His notifications are a mess, mostly texts from teammates about bad calls, group chat chaos, and random NHL updates he doesn’t care about.

Then he sees a missed call from his landlord.

His stomach sinks as he calls back immediately, pacing outside his apartment building.

“Faber! Good, I was hoping you’d call,” the landlord greets. “Listen, man, your place got flooded while you were gone.”

Brock’s brain short-circuits. “Flooded? What—how?!”

“Pipe burst. Maintenance is already working on it, but your stuff had to be moved. Don’t worry, I had the movers take it to the address you had listed as your emergency contact.”

A cold chill washes over him.

No. No way.

“What address did you send it to?” he asks, voice tense.

The landlord rattles off an address, and Brock physically winces.

Because that’s not just any address.

It’s yours.

His ex-girlfriend’s apartment.

“Shit,” Brock mutters under his breath.

The landlord keeps talking, but Brock is already tuning him out, mind racing. He had meant to take you off the emergency contact list when you broke up, but between travel, training, and pretending he was totally fine without you, it never happened.

And now all his stuff—his clothes, his hockey gear, his entire life—is sitting in your apartment.

This is a disaster.

When Brock finally makes it to your apartment, his stomach is a tight knot of anxiety.

The moment you open the door, the air shifts.

You don’t look surprised to see him. If anything, you look like you’ve been preparing for this exact moment.

His eyes dart past you, and sure enough—his stuff is everywhere.

Boxes stacked in the hallway. His old jerseys draped over the couch. His gear bag tossed to the side, sticking out like an ugly reminder that he doesn’t belong here anymore.

Brock runs a hand through his hair, exhaling slowly. “So, uh… I guess you got my stuff.”

You cross your arms, leaning against the doorway. “Yep. Shocking surprise, by the way. Really made my week.”

The sarcasm stings.

He shifts on his feet, feeling like an intruder in a place he once called home. “Look, I didn’t plan this. My landlord screwed up.”

Your expression stays neutral, but there’s something in your eyes—a flicker of old history, of memories you both left unresolved.

“Yeah, well,” you sigh. “It’s not like I can kick you out. Turns out, the lease is still in both our names.”

Brock’s head snaps up. “What?”

“I tried to fix it months ago,” you say, rolling your eyes. “But apparently, you never signed the paperwork, so now, legally, this is still your place too.”

He stares at you.

So not only is his stuff here, but now there’s no easy way to leave.

“Great,” he mutters under his breath.

You sigh, rubbing your temples. “I don’t want this either, Brock. But I don’t have the energy to figure it out tonight, and clearly, you don’t either. So for now? Just—stay out of my way.”

And with that, you turn on your heel and walk toward your room, leaving Brock standing there, surrounded by everything he thought he had left behind.

The next few days are pure hell.

Every interaction is painfully awkward—like two people who used to fit together perfectly but now can’t even exist in the same space without stepping on landmines.

The first morning, you walk into the kitchen to find Brock standing there, shirtless, drinking coffee like this is totally normal.

It is not normal.

You freeze. “You can’t just—be here.”

He raises an eyebrow. “Pretty sure I live here.”

You groan, grabbing your own coffee mug and avoiding eye contact at all costs.

Then there are the accidental run-ins—like when you’re both trying to leave at the same time and nearly collide in the hallway.

Or the one time you walked into the bathroom only to find Brock hadn’t locked the door.

“Jesus, Brock!” you yelped, slamming the door shut.

“You could’ve knocked!” he shot back, voice muffled.

“You could’ve locked the damn door!”

Neither of you spoke for an hour after that.

The tension only builds.

There are moments when you almost talk—when he looks at you like he wants to say something, like there’s something unspoken between you.

But neither of you take that step.

Until the night you go looking for a pen in your nightstand.

And you find the drawer.

It’s filled with your stuff.

A necklace you thought you lost. An old hoodie of his that you used to steal. A handwritten note—the one you gave him on your anniversary.

Your breath catches.

Because Brock never threw it away.

And suddenly, everything you’ve been pretending doesn’t hurt—hurts all over again.

You hear footsteps behind you.

“You weren’t supposed to see that,” Brock says quietly.

You turn, clutching the note in your hand. “Why do you still have this?”

His jaw tightens. “Because I couldn’t let it go.”

You shake your head. “You broke up with me, Brock.”

His face twists. “Yeah, and I’ve regretted it every damn day since.”

Silence.

Raw. Unfiltered.

For the first time in months, you’re looking at each other without the walls up.

“I thought about reaching out,” Brock says, voice rough. “But I figured you didn’t want to hear from me.”

“I waited for you to,” you admit softly.

His expression crumbles.

“I thought I was doing the right thing,” he says, shaking his head. “I thought I was giving you space, letting you move on. But I never did. And now I’m standing here, and all I want to do is tell you that I was an idiot for ever thinking I could let you go.”

Your heart pounds.

You could walk away—tell him it’s too late, that you’ve healed and moved on. Maybe it wouldn’t even be a lie.

You could try.

Slowly, you inhale. “If we do this again…”

Brock’s breath catches. “Yeah?”

“It has to be different,” you say firmly. “No half-measures. No leaving.”

His eyes darken with something determined. “I won’t mess it up this time.”

You search his face, looking for doubt, hesitation, anything that makes you think he’s saying this just because it’s easy.

But you don’t find it.

You find Brock. The same one who never stopped holding onto the past, even when he thought it was too late.

Maybe this time—it’s not.

You exhale.

Then, finally, you let go of the note.

And instead, you reach for him.

Brock doesn’t hesitate.

His arms wrap around you, holding you tight, like he’s terrified to let go again.

And this time, He won’t.

[yelenaslyubov]

Be My Baby

main masterlist || florence pugh || requests

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ pairing: florence pugh x fem!reader

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ warnings: MINORS DNI (18+), smut, reader receiving, fingering, reader starts story married to a cis man!, cheating

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ description: (inspired by florence’s new shoot with vogue and set in the mid-to-late 1900s), after moving to the suburbs for a quieter life, your next door neighbor turns out to be a sweet surprise. infatuated by her personality, you make it your mission to get to know her better, even if that means breaking the rules.

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ word count: 2.8k

A thinly paved road and bushels of trees flew past on either side of the car. Being away from the city was a dream at last, as you had begged your husband for years at the opportunity. Now, he had the chance and he took it.

It was just as you had pictured it; perfectly wooded with plenty of neighbors around to keep you company. Your husband would work in the city, which was about an hour drive, but it was what you asked for with easy living.

As you neared the end of the road, you passed a large house coming up on the right. The sharp home was white with plenty of wood finishes. It seemed to fit just right in front of the trees.

Just like you remembered, your house was the last on the road and it looked just like the pictures you had seen in the mail. The accents of stone and black trim were to die for, and you knew the inside would be an even better satisfaction.

The car pulled into the driveway and it stopped with a squeak. The smile on your face could not be disguised. Your husband opened his own door but regretted not opening yours as well. Your smile faded as you helped yourself out of the car.

“Well, I hope it is everything you’ve dreamed of because I spent a pretty penny on it.” Even the sound of his voice repulsed you more than you could ever imagine.

Truthfully, this was all for you. You knew that getting the dream house you wanted allowed you to be in peace for most days. Your husband traveled for a living which left you in solitude to your heart's content.

When you walked into the house, boxes of your belongings littered the floor. The movers had gotten there the day before you and dropped everything off. The only thing put together was your bed, thank goodness.

“Hopefully this can all be unpacked by the morning, I need to leave tomorrow early for the airport,” your husband said.

“So soon?” you asked with an undertone of happiness.

He shot you a glare. “Yes, so soon. I couldn’t imagine you would understand.”

And so, the night was spent listening to records on vinyl after you were able to find the turntable, while each of you made a silent effort to unpack your life. By about midnight each of you called it quits and decided to go to bed.

Your bed felt just like it always had, but with a new view. Your eyes fluttered shut as you watched the tall pine trees dance in the breeze swooping by. How lovely it was to finally be surrounded by nature.

.

.

.

By morning your husband had already left with no trace but a simple note at your bedside that read “car delivery this afternoon. I will see you later.”

Later. Later could mean anything, so you anticipated hours or even days that he could be gone. Without a car until the afternoon left you stranded at home with no food, which seemed just like him.

You stumbled out of bed and threw your green, silk robe around you as you shivered. You nearly jumped at the sight in front of you in the mirror. The move had clearly been rough, with your disheveled hair and mascara smudges painted under your eyes. Luckily, with the unpacking you did last night you had just enough collected to take a shower and make yourself more presentable.

You made your way into your new bathroom that was covered with baby pink tile, along with a toilet and bathtub to match. You reached for the dial in the shower, but just before you were able to turn the water on you heard the doorbell ring. You waited a moment just in case you misheard, but it rang again.

Living in a new place called for precautions because you did not know what you would find behind the front door. You hoped for the car delivery, but you assumed that was slim.

You approached the door and peaked out the window beside it; no car. You walked closer to the door and jumped when the doorbell rang again.

“Hello?” a sweet voice spoke from the other side of the door. A woman.

Your chest became a bit lighter when you realized it was a woman. You wrapped your robe tighter around you since you did not know exactly what to expect when you opened the door.

The lock snapped to the left with a pop and you opened the door to reveal a blonde haired woman.

“Good morning! Oh, I’m sorry if I woke you up!” she exclaimed.

“You didn’t wake me, it’s no problem at all,” you responded.

You felt severely underdressed standing in front of her. She was wearing a light blue dress with white trim and shoes to match. Her hair was cut shorter but you could see the curls that were meticulously curved above her forehead. You became very distracted by the way she presented herself and the pretty smile she had.

“I saw you get in last night and thought I would just bring something over for you from my family. My husband and I live in the house on the right through the trees.” You looked in the direction she was pointing and it turned out to be the house you noticed when on the road last night.

“Oh my, well thank you very much, I appreciate that!” Your new neighbor handed you the glass dish of food. “My name is y/n y/l/n, it’s nice to meet you.” You held out your hand for her to shake.

“My name is Florence Pugh, it’s wonderful to meet you. It’s nice to have a friendlier face around here, most of the women I’ve met have been absolute vultures, but I can tell that we’ll get along just right,” she giggled and it warmed your heart.

“I appreciate you coming and introducing yourself to me. I’m new to the area and don’t know a soul, so having some company around here will be so lovely,” you expressed.

“Anything, my dear. Well, I best get back home and leave you to your day.”

You hesitated to protest her departure. “Well, my husband travels for work and I’m not sure when he will be back, so if you’re not up to anything…”

“I’ll be back in an hour to help unpack!” she said.

“You’re too kind, I appreciate you, and this food,” you laughed.

“It’s no problem at all! I’ll see you in a flash!”

She was gone just like she had come and you couldn’t help but watch her leave. The flow of her dress rocked back and forth with her hips and her hair bounced as she walked.

You went back inside and tried to resume as you were. You put the food in the fridge and tried to contain your excitement for the dinner you would be having.

That day, Florence came back over and helped you unpack for the rest of the night. You shared your stories with one another and laughed until your stomachs hurt. A real friendship began to blossom between the two of you, which helped with your boredom.

A couple months went by and your husband had been back to the house a couple times before traveling again for work, and Florence never left your side. You saw your friend almost each day and adored every second spent together. She made your world feel less lonely just by being there.

One morning while your husband was gone, of course, you decided to take a walk over to Florence’s house to see her. You noticed her husband stomping to his car with a look that could kill. He got in the car and drove away with only dust behind him. You tried to stay hidden until he was down the road, then you approached their house.

You knocked on the door and heard footsteps hurrying towards you. She opened the door and she was crying.

“Oh Flossie, what’s the matter? Is everything alright?”

She sniffed and wiped away her tears. “Yes, I’m alright.”

“You’re not alright and you know it.” You slid inside past her, closed the door, and took her hand while dragging her over to the couch. “Tell me what’s wrong.”

“We’re just having marital problems, that’s all. Just a rough patch.”

“You’ve seemed off the last couple weeks, so I wouldn’t say it’s all marital problems,” you said.

You poured the two of you a glass of white wine and brought out your box of cigarettes, offering one to Florence as well.

“Y/n, it’s 8 in the morning, we can’t drink yet!”

“Says who?” you smiled, which made Florence smile back.

The two of you talked for a couple hours and Florence poured her heart out to you, all of it that she could at least. She explained the indifferences between her and her husband, as well as her own personal indifferences.

You placed your hand on top of hers and squeezed it. “I’m sorry you have to do that all on your own,” you said.

“Believe me, you being here helps more than you will ever know.” Florence smiled at you, her kind eyes meeting yours and getting lost in each other.

She had been looking at you longer than anticipated, but you couldn’t seem to look away. Florence looked from your eyes to your lips; back and forth, and back and forth.

Before you could control either one of your impulses, each of you were leaning in close, meeting each other in the middle. Her lips found yours so easily and you closed your eyes. You couldn’t believe the comfort and softness you felt for her, even in this unexpected moment.

You were so wrapped up in the moment that you hadn’t realized what was actually happening. Florence seemed to gain consciousness the same time as you and you both pulled away quickly.

“I- I’m so sorry y/n, I don’t know what overcame me!” Florence said frantically.

“Please, don’t apologize, Flossie, it’s alright. Just calm down.”

Florence was pacing around the room, anxiously picking at her hands not knowing what to do. “This is so unlike me, I’m so sorry,” she kept apologizing.

“Florence!” you tried to get her attention. “It’s alright, I promise. No harm done.”

You grabbed her hands so she would start to calm down a bit. You smiled at her to reassure her that all was well.

“I believe you then,” Florence smiled. “You better be going, I’m sure you have things to do.”

“When do I ever have things to do?” you laughed.

“Well, you know…”

You could tell that one way or another, Florence was trying to make you leave, so you decided to go ahead and go before she kicked you out.

“You’re right… I should get going. I’ll see you later on, Flossie. You take care of yourself, you hear?” She nodded in response and you left her standing in the middle of the living room.

As you got home, you felt confused and disoriented as to what happened. You had to admit, you didn’t hate it, but you knew it was wrong. You both had husbands and you were both… women. Even with the doubts and differences in your mind, you couldn’t stop thinking about it.

Florence didn’t leave your mind all night, or for several days for that matter. You figured you were better off leaving the two of you with some space after what happened. Florence was clearly shook up about it and you didn’t want to push her. You wanted her to come to you first; and that’s exactly what she did.

One day, a couple weeks after the incident between you and Florence, you had just finished up cleaning the kitchen and vacuuming the house, so you decided to hop in the shower to clean up.

It happened almost the same as it started between the two of you. Before you had the opportunity to shower, your doorbell rang. You answered it to find Florence waiting for you.

“Hello, I thought I would stop by and see how you’re doing, but I can see that you’re busy-”

“Flossie, please don’t go,” you begged.

Florence stopped before she could leave. “I’ve missed that— ‘Flossie.’”

“I’ve missed you,” you smiled. “Come in.” The two of you made your way to the couch and sat down.

“I’m sorry I haven’t been by, I’ve just been… thinking a lot and I just feel bad for that day.”

“Please, don’t apologize anymore,” you told her. “It was just something silly in the moment, it meant nothing.”

Florence’s head dropped and she looked down at her hands. “Right, it meant nothing.”

You looked at her and saw the sadness that she expressed. You took her hand and she looked back at you.

“Unless… it did mean something?” you asked. Instead of sadness, her eyes were hopeful, just like yours.

“I know it’s not right, but I can’t seem to help it. I can’t stop thinking about you,” Florence said.

It was more forced this time, much more indeed. Florence crashed herself into you, knocking you down on your back against the couch. These two weeks left you hungry for each other, leaving you starved and grabbing for anything you could touch.

Her hands grasped your blushed cheeks, your tangled hair, and the spaces of your neck. You held her flush against your body, not wanting this secret moment to end.

Each of you couldn’t stop yourself, which is how you found yourself in the position of your robe being taken off. Your body was exposed to the brisk air, but you didn’t seem to mind.

There was no time for Florence to get a good look at you because she was too busy touching every part of you. She was quick to drag her hand down your front half and stopping down before your stomach.

Hesitation was not an option because you both knew you may never get this moment again if anyone were to find out. Without thinking, Florence drew her fingers through your center which caused you to squirm.

You let her do whatever she desired with you simply because she was Florence. Part of you had waited for this moment, but another part was taken by surprise that it was happening at all.

She began rubbing her fingers all through your cunt. It didn’t seem to matter what she did to you, your body was completely euphoric.

Florence’s fingers rubbed circles on your clit while you cried out of pleasure. You had never felt anything that had been quite of this measure, and you didn’t think you ever would again.

She picked up the pace while her lips were still all over your face and body. You couldn’t stop moving and reacting to the touch you were receiving from her, so Florence had to take matters into her own hands.

She barred down and put her weight on your body, preventing you from squirming too much.

“It’s so cute how much you move under me,” Florence said, turning your cheeks hot. Her words didn’t help you move any less.

You could feel yourself getting closer, as it didn’t take much for you to relinquish yourself to her completely.

“Flossie, I think I’m-” you tried to get out.

“I know, my dear. You can do it,” she whispered to you.

All it took was her words and the gentle but hot kiss she left by your ear that did you in. Your moans could be heard loudly over Sam Cooke who was playing from the turntable across the room.

You felt in a daze as your high came to a close, and all you could see now were the hazy eyes of Florence staring back at you. She rubbed the side of your face and swiped the hair out of your face.

You sat up out of surprise. “I can’t believe that just happened.”

“Me neither,” Florence giggled.

You stood up and got your footing before looking at Florence. She looked so naturally ethereal with the white pleated dress she had on, along with her messy royal looking hair. She stared at you and covered her mouth with her hand, laughing at you.

“What’s the matter?” you smiled.

“I didn’t even realize I did that much damage.”

You walked over to the mirror and gasped. There were dozens of lipstick marks all over your face and chest.

You smiled at her in the mirror. “That only means you have to help me clean it all up again.”

You took Florence’s hand and pulled her towards the bathroom while a trail of each of your clothes littered the hallway.

.

.

.

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[freedomfireflies]

Take Me*

Summary: An extra for Teach Me*

The one where you and your best friend, Harry, decide to move in together.

And christen every inch of the new apartment.

Word Count: 4.6k

*Contains Mature and Explicit content! Please only consume what you feel comfortable with!💞You are so much more important!*

“Harry, you can’t be serious—”

“I am. Sit.”

With a huff, you step closer to where he’s lying on the floor, those beautiful, big green eyes peering up at you. “We have a ton of work to do, okay? And the movers will be here any minute—”

“Don’t care.” He shifts a bit, back arching from the carpet as he smooths his shirt down, getting ready. “Sit.”

Your hands find your hips and you toss him an amused frown. “Harry—”

He grabs your ankles. Tugs until you lose your balance and go crashing to the ground. And he catches you, palms on your waist to make sure you’re steady before sliding them down to your thighs.

“Harry—”

“Shh. I’m busy.”

He pulls you to his face, fingers slipping around the crotch of your large cotton shorts until he can pull them aside. He smirks when he sees there’s nothing else underneath. 

“Well, well, well,” he tsks, and you could smack the dimples off his face. “Seems you forgot something.”

You snort. “All of my underwear is packed, okay—”

“Sure.” He grins. “Yeah, no, I’m sure that’s it. I’m sure you definitely didn’t think to leave any out for today. Especially since we’re doing so much packing. And moving. And running around.”

Your expression gives you away. As does the subtle whine that rips free when he lets the tip of his nose ghost across the tender skin of your leg. “Harry…we can’t—”

“We can.” His voice is resolute as he trails his lips closer to your cunt. Tongue licking his bottom lip in anticipation. “This is our place, baby. We can do whatever we fucking want.”

Our place. It makes your heart as warm as your cheeks, and you can’t help but smile. 

It’d taken a bit of convincing from Harry to get you to move in with him. But after some extensive apartment hunting, you both found the place you wanted to call home.

And now, here you are, in your new home. Surrounded by boxes and somewhat empty rooms as Harry insists on christening this new adventure with you by having you sit on his face.

In fact, you’d no sooner walked through the door and set some of your stuff down before he suggested it.

And proceeded to throw himself onto the ground in wait.

“Harry,” you try again. A desperate whimper that seems to urge him on.

“Darling,” he retorts, fingers curling around your skin as he plants you above his mouth. “Just let me have a taste, hm? Wanna remember today like this.”

And you’re barely able to reply with a fatigued nod before he yanks you down and sucks you between his lips.

He starts fast. Quick licks to your folds and clit. Just enjoying you. Enjoying how easily you fall apart. Your hands in his hair, scratching and pulling. The pain.

He loves the pain.

Teasing you is far too easy. Circling your hole, feeling you out, flicking the delicate nerves. But the sounds of his lapping at you like a dying man with a drink of fresh water is excruciating. 

It echoes around the empty room and it’s so very loud. But it’s everything. And he’s beautiful. And he’s doing this to you purely for his own enjoyment. He loves to taste you. Loves to make you squirm on his face as you plead with him for mercy.

Everything is wet. So goddamn wet. Your pussy, his mouth, his face. He's not trying to remain poised. Not trying to keep clean. He wants all of it. Wants to share his saliva with your already soaked pussy and drink you down until there's nothing left. Let his tongue slip in, out, and through you until you can't breathe. Until he can't breathe.

His hand suddenly smacks your thigh. Once. Twice. Three times, and the sting makes you clench around the little bit of his tongue he’s taunting you with. 

He grins. “Keep going, baby. Ride my tongue. Go.”

So, you do. Hands finding the floor beside his head as you roll your hips over his face. Over and over until you feel dizzy. Until his hold on your body is the only thing keeping you upright.

It’s sinfully sweet, but before you can really lose yourself in his lips, you hear the giant moving truck parking down below. Hear the men opening the large door as they begin unloading your furniture and carrying it inside.

However, Harry doesn’t seem to be stopping, and the idea that these men will hear you as they approach is mortifying. But just when you think it’s game over, he nips your clit with his teeth and pulls.

Dazed, you smack your palm over your mouth and cry out, the orgasm ripping through you. You feel weak, nearly wilting in his hold as he struggles to keep you up right. Smirking with endless amounts of satisfaction as your thighs squeeze his head.

The moment you’ve caught your breath, there’s a knock on the door, and Harry chuckles as he calls, “Just a minute.”

He gently pinches your leg and readjusts your shorts before he’s dragging you down for a kiss. Palm around the back of your neck as he slips his tongue in beside yours. Allowing you a taste and then some. 

And you whimper through every second of it before he’s suddenly popping off your mouth with a gleeful hum and jumping onto his feet to answer the door.

Leaving you to sit on the apartment floor with your heart in your throat. 

“Bee, shit…fuck, I can’t…I can’t—”

“You can. Know you can, baby. M’so close…just hold on a little longer for me, okay?”

Harry’s eyes roll back while his arms tug on the heavy rope keeping him tied to the headboard.

His expression is pained but blissfully fucked. Sweat collecting in his hairline as his swollen lips part for a desperate groan. 

You figured this was the best way to break in the new bedding you’d purchased for the room. The beautiful king-sized mattress with a sturdy headboard.

And after seeing him flop down onto the freshly washed duvet, you knew what you wanted to christen next.

So, you’d grabbed the restraints and wrestled his wrists to the bars. Keeping him stuck as you begin yanking his pants down his legs.

He was intrigued, to say the least. And more than willing to put the control in your hands once you grabbed the cock ring.

But he had no idea what you really had in store.

“Bee,” he tries again, gasping the closer he gets to his orgasm. Watching as your tits bounce directly in his face. “Bee, please…please, lovie—”

“I know,” you coo, one hand scratching down his chest while the other squeezes your nipple between determined fingers. “Soon, I promise. Doing so fucking good—”

“Shit.” His head drops back as his hips buck up. Body wrecked with inescapable pleasure that he can’t seem to find. 

You’ve kept him edged for almost an hour now. First by taking him into your mouth and sucking him right to the brink before leaving him there.

Then by fucking yourself with his cock, hard and with fervor only to pop off just when he was about to cum.

And finally, to really make sure he got the most of your torture, you’d slid on the vibrating cock ring, and began bouncing on him again.

He’s felt you cum around him twice already, and each time, it’s nearly killed him. Because it’s brought him that much closer before abandoning him there.

You have to admit, he’s doing incredibly well. Even when he had the chance to cum, he held back as best he could. Obeying your instructions as you got the most of his prolonged erection.

And he loves it. Loves when you use him as your own personal toy. Perhaps even more than you love it.

“Can’t…fuck, can’t hold it,” he pants, eyes pleading with you before he looks down at where your cunt is sliding down his incredibly hard cock. “Shit…shit, please. Bee, please. Do anything…anything, please—”

“Anything?” you hum, biting back a smile as you roll your hips forward just to hear him whimper.

He nods quickly. “Yes, anything. Fucking anything you want, swear…I swear…”

He sounds so depraved like this. A submissive tone of voice that breeds a certain yearning deep in your stomach.

You love this man. Love how beautiful he sounds when he’s begging. Love that you get to live with him and start a new chapter of your lives together.

You’ve never felt so lucky.

“Okay, baby,” you murmur, lifting yourself off as he whines quietly and glances down at the arousal you've left behind on his cock. “M’gonna take the ring off, okay? And I want you to tell me where you wanna cum—”

“In you,” he says before you can even finish the question. “Fucking please, Bee. Please let me cum in you. Please…be so good. Need…need to cum in you.”

You grin. “In me where, hm? You want my throat?”

His head shakes, lips pushed into a pout.

“No?” You slide the toy up the length of him, making him hiss through gritted teeth. “Do you wanna cum in my pussy, then, sweet boy?” 

He makes another noise that nearly breaks your heart as you toss the ring to the other side of the bed and return to him. “Yes…shit, yes. Please…please—”

“So pretty when you’re polite, you know that?” you hum, reaching out to cup his cheek. 

In turn, he nuzzles into your palm, seeming to settle gratefully. Looking at you like you paint the stars in the sky.

You take hold of him in your other hand and guide him back to your fluttering hole. “Okay, baby. Want you to cum for me, yeah? Give me all of it.”

He steels himself, attempting to straighten up despite the way he’s bound. Placing his feet flat on the mattress while your knees come down beside his hips.

It doesn’t take long for him to reach that inevitable end. Only a few thrusts up into you as you clench around him until he’s finishing. And you don’t even mind because he feels so good. Fucking love the way he spills inside of your cunt. The way it drips back out the minute you lift up. The way it looks, smearing across your thighs and the tip of his cock.

You both moan rather lewdly, surely horrifying your new neighbors, but you don’t mind. Because this is everything you’ve ever wanted.

Everything.

“Har? You awake?”

The perpetually sleepy man hums as he nuzzles his face further into your neck. One arm draped over your stomach while the other is tucked beneath your neck. “Yeah.”

You smirk. “Are you sure? You seem a little out of it. Do you wanna go to bed?”

His head shakes slowly as he takes another deep breath, lashes fluttering against your skin. “No, m’fine. Just comfortable.”

You reach out to brush your fingers through his curls, smiling when you hear him sigh contently. “We can finish the movie another time, H. Come on, let’s go to bed—”

His grip constricts around your hip as he keeps you planted to the sofa. “No,” he repeats, lips disappearing into your shoulder. “No, we spent all day getting the TV and speakers set up. Wanna sit here with you and enjoy it.”

“But you’re not enjoying it. You’re sleeping,” you insist playfully. “We can finish it tomorrow, really—”

“No,” he breathes. Unrelenting. “This couch is really comfy and if you move, I’ll cry.”

You grin a bit bigger. “Fine.”

“Thank you.”

The next couple of minutes are quiet. His face is still nestled just beneath your jaw. Happy. But he’s not watching a single thing that’s happening on the screen and you have to bite back a laugh.

You love a lot of things about Harry, but one of them is his inability to admit when he’s tired. He’ll keep himself awake all night before he’ll acknowledge how sleepy he really is. In fact, he could be mid-yawn and still insist he’s fine.

However, just when you think he’s begun to drift off, you feel the hand on your hip smooth down your stomach. Stopping near the band of your sweatpants—almost innocently—before quickly dipping inside. 

Warm fingers dance beneath the lace of your underwear until they can find your folds. A mindless action. Stroking softly and without devious intent. Almost as if touching you just to touch you.

You press your cheek into the top of his head. “Whatcha doin’?” you whisper.

“Nothing,” he hums. “S’just comfortable.”

“Touching me is comfortable?”

He nods once and continues gently moving his digits up and down. “I like playing with you. Makes me feel relaxed.”

“Yeah?”

“Mhm. Like a stress ball but better.”

You lightly scratch your nails down his scalp. “You’re cute.”

“And you’re soft,” he murmurs, taking a deep, content breath. “Always so soft, Bee. And warm. Have no idea how good you feel.”

“I mean, I have some idea,” you tease. “It’s not like I haven’t touched myself before.”

“Funny.” His movements are lazy. There’s no alternative motive, he simply wants to feel you. “M’very happy.”

Your heart leaps into your throat as you glance down. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” He rolls his head back to meet your eye. “Wanna warm my fingers in you…can I?”

There’s a racing in your chest that can’t be contained as you nod and spread your left leg a little further. Allowing him the room he needs while he pulls his hand out and sticks two fingers into his mouth.

He sucks on them slowly, coating them just so before dipping back in and smoothing the soaking digits down to your hole.

You exhale shakily at the feel of him stretching you slowly. The way your body draws him in, bends to his intentions. Clenches around him and keeps him warm.

He makes a satisfied noise of approval before nuzzling his face back into your neck, seemingly oblivious to the way you’re beginning to squirm. 

But after a moment, the ache begins to dull. And you feel happy to merely lay with him like this, one of his legs tucked over yours, his fingers sitting deep in your cunt.

It’s serene, this moment. Perfectly blissful and endlessly safe.

Here in his arms.

“Harry…if you don’t stop—”

“What?” His grin is cheeky as he aims the showerhead down at the tile floor, allowing the water to dance down the drain. “M’just helping you get clean.”

“No, you’re being a menace,” you correct with a smirk. “I told you, no funny business—”

“I’m not being funny.” His finger taps along the cord, almost as if readying himself. “I mean, what’s the point of having a handheld showerhead if you don’t use it?”

You can’t argue that he has a point. After all, this was one of the features that drew you to the apartment in the first place, but you also know that he’s deliberately trying to tease you. “Harry, we came in here to shower because we have to leave in thirty minutes—”

“So—”

“So we don’t have time,” you remind him, handing him the loofa. “Okay, so clean yourself off, and we can try it out another time.”

However, he doesn’t accept the sponge, instead stepping even closer to you as the stream of water begins to rise. “That was before I saw how pretty you look…all soaped up and wet.”

You shoot him an amused yet playful frown. “Har…”

“What?” His eyes travel down your dripping torso and toward your cunt, the stream seeming to follow his line of focus. “I’m just helping you rinse off. S’what you wanted, right?”

The warm water feels amazing against your skin, but the pressure feels…

Your lashes flutter as you reach back to press your hands against the shower wall, needing something to brace yourself with as he continues stepping closer. “Harry…”

“What?” he says again, but it’s soft. Dangerous. Keeping the water on your inner thighs before moving up to your clit. “Tell me to stop and I’ll stop.”

But you couldn’t tell him even if you wanted to. Because the sensation of the pointed stream hitting you just right is turning your muscles to jello. Your vision is hazy, and your head is spinning, and your body is trembling—

“Har,” you whimper, undone by the look of adoration on his face as he loops an arm around your lower back. Holding you steady as he angles the water a bit lower. “Please…”

“Please what?” His voice is a soft purr. Sexy and silky and you feel powerless to resist him. “What do you want, Bee, hm? Tell Daddy what you want.”

Your head falls back against the tile, needing some stability. You’re too far gone, too lost in his eyes. In his need to unravel you. Legs shaking as the water does everything you need it to.

Slowly, he begins to lower himself into a crouch. Now eye level with your pussy as he readjusts his grip on the showerhead. Studying you with purpose as he works you closer.

“Come on,” he coos, glancing up through wet lashes. “Come on, lovie. Let me take care of you, yeah? Just wanna make you feel good—”

Your fingers reach for his freshly washed curls, tugging hard on the soaked strands as you whine. “Don’t stop.”

He smirks. “Never.”

With that, he lowers the water, and surges forward. Lips wrapping around your clit until you gasp out his name and thrust your hips toward his mouth.

He rotates between using his tongue and the showerhead. Pushing and pulling you toward that sweet release as all other thoughts and cares melt away.

“Just like that,” he murmurs, one hand reaching back to knead your ass in his palm. Practically tugging you down before landing a firm spank to the wet skin. 

The sound echoes around the small room, the sharp contact making your pussy clench as you nearly lose your balance. 

“That’s my girl.” He massages the flesh before smacking it again, and your eyes nearly roll out of your head. “Gonna cum for me, Bee?”

You nod quickly, chest heaving as you settle into the steam rising around you. “M’so close, Har…please…”

“I know,” he says, dipping down to nudge his nose against your clit. “Can see your pretty little hole fluttering for me. Just so…fucking…empty.”

Two wet fingers slip inside you, and it’s nearly impossible to remain steady with the way he beckons the orgasm out of you. 

The pressure of the water against your clit, the fingers in your cunt, the goddamn smirk on his face. It’s everything and everywhere and you lose your grip on reality as you’re dragged through such euphoric harmony.

He rides you through for a couple minutes more before he’s standing back up and pressing his body into yours. Chest to chest, wet and flushed. His lips effortlessly capturing your own as you whimper against his tongue and throw your arms around his neck.

And maybe being late isn’t the worst thing.

Harry is beautiful. 

In every way. And it’s not just his face or his body. But his heart. The way he speaks to you. Speaks to others. The way he carries himself, carries you. Protects you, loves you, fights for you. 

The way he betters himself for you.

And now, you get to wake up to this man every day. In this beautiful new room with large windows and sunshine and promise. A moment of tranquility reserved just for you as you count the faint freckles across his nose. As you press your finger into the dimple on his cheek. As you study the rogue, messy curls that are matted to his forehead.

You could watch him sleep for hours. Would happily lay beside him until morning turned into afternoon. 

But today? You have other plans.

It doesn’t take long for him to realize, eyes shooting open as you take him further down your throat.

He chokes on a strangled breath before glancing down, mouth dropping open with the sound of your name. 

You pop off long enough to smile and whisper, “Morning, baby,” before you’re dragging your tongue along his tip.

His head falls back into the fluffy pillows, too heavy to stay upright. Streams of golden light dance through the curtains and hit the side of his face in the most magical way you’ve ever seen. Setting that beautifully structured profile aglow in the warm hue as he sighs gratefully.

Your hands curl around his thighs, squeezing gently as you scoot closer. Getting comfortable while you bob your head up and down the length of him.

His stomach is beautiful. Muscles quivering and skin soft. Littered with a few tattoos. The same tattoos you love to run your hands down. Your lips. Your pussy.

You could stare at him for a lifetime. And your heart feels like it’s going to burst inside your chest as you suck the man you love further into your mouth.

You love waking him up like this. Granted, it’s a rare occurrence, but each time, it’s ceaselessly enchanting.

And it’s another kink the two of you have found you adore. After giving each other consent to use the other’s body as a wake-up call, you found that there was something…safe about the experience. About knowing you trusted each other enough to allow them to decide for you. 

It might not happen often, but you’re grateful for the times it does. Like now. When you get to see him look at you with lust and appreciation. 

“Bee,” he whispers, reaching out to brush his hand along your head. Cupping it gently and without force. Letting you choose how much of him you want to take. “God, m’so lucky.”

You hum around him, and he groans. “Taste so good, Daddy. Just had to have a taste.”

His thumb brushes along your cheek, feeling the way it swells with his cock. “Can have anything you want, baby girl,” he sighs. “You know that. I’m all yours. Can take whatever you want, whenever you want it.”

You’d smile if you could, instead squeezing his thighs three times to tell him you love him.

“There you go,” he grunts when you lean back to spit on him. “Fucking just like that…shit. So fucking good, baby—”

Your hand works the base of him while your lips and tongue focus on the tip. Spreading the extra lubrication around until the room fills with the sound of your pumps.

His hips are bucking up, but you can tell he’s resisting the urge to drive himself into your mouth. He wants to be gentle for you. Wants you to have the control, but he’s losing the battle quickly.

So, you shoot him a soft grin, and murmur, “Fuck my throat, Daddy. Just wanna feel good for you.”

Which is all he needs to hear in order to weave his fingers through your hair and tug.

“Is that right, hm?” he whispers deviously. “Then be a good girl…and fucking take me.”

So…you do.

The paper towel roll goes flying to the floor, along with a bag of coffee grounds and the mail.

Harry has you bent over the kitchen island, cock deep in your cunt while his hand tugs on your hair.

“That’s a good girl,” he groans, forcing your cheek into the marble. “Fucking take me, Bee. Just like that.”

Your tits are pressed to the cold counter as you whimper something that resembles his name. Followed by a very lascivious moan when he angles his thrusts up.

He’s been insatiable all afternoon. Starting with eating you out at the breakfast table, just to edge you with seconds to spare. 

Then, the firm smacks to your ass every time he walked by. Along with sneaking up behind you to scatter hickies along your exposed neck. 

And now this.

You’d been unpacking some of the kitchen utensils and newly bought groceries when the idea hit him. Wild eyes watching you closely as you sat atop the island and rummaged through a box.

He’d slipped his way between your dangling legs and began to kiss you. Hand dancing down to your shorts to feel you out. Toying with you until you realized what he really wanted. 

Not long after, he had you down on the ground. Your panties shoved around your ankles as he took you from behind.

And you figured unpacking could wait.

“Har,” you whisper now, attempting to meet his rhythm with gentle rolls of your own. “Please…”

“What, baby girl?” he coos, feet kicking your legs further apart. “Isn’t this what you wanted?” 

And it is. It has been ever since he started eating you out on the newly built table. Warm and deliciously skilled mouth on your cunt as the dishes and plates rattled beside you.

You’d cursed him to hell for stopping before you could finish but you’re more than grateful for his remedy now. Because while his lips and tongue are divine, his cock is what you really crave.

He pulls out and lands a firm spank to your dripping and sensitive cunt. The sensation and the sound nearly making your knees buckle until he has to slip an arm around your stomach and keep you still.

Then, he does it again. And once more for good measure before he’s driving himself back in.

“Fucking hell,” he murmurs behind you, his palm still pressed to your head to keep you down. “S’fucking pretty. This sweet little hole just takes me so well, you know that? Gets me all nice and wet. Lets me fuck it the way I want. Fucking begs for me, doesn’t it?”

You nod beneath his hold, nails scraping down the counter in bliss. 

“So fucking pretty.” His other hand comes back to your thigh to squeeze it harshly before moving for your ass. Spreading you even further so he can see the way he disappears into you. “God, just like that. So cute when you’re desperate. Know you aren’t gonna last much longer, are you, lovie?”

“No,” you whimper, gasping when his cock brushes the perfect spot. “Shit, no. Can’t…can’t hold it.”

“Then you better fucking ask, hm?” he taunts, quickly yanking on your hair to force you up. “Ask me to cum. Beg me to let you cum on my cock—”

“Please,” you obey without pause. Desolate and deranged. “Please, H, please—”

“Do better,” he hisses, spanking your ass in retaliation. “Know you can do better than that, Bee. So come on, let’s hear it—”

“Daddy, please,” you correct, tears in your eyes as you try to hold back the pleasure threatening to escape. “Please, I’m so close…can’t hold it—”

“No,” he grunts, landing another smack to your skin. “Again.”

You choke on a moan and work to find the right words. Or any words at all. “Please, Daddy. Please let me cum on your cock. Need it so bad, can’t…can’t fucking stand it. Just need you, Daddy. Need you, please…”

You feel him twitch inside you before he’s growling through a clenched jaw and murmuring, “Good fucking girl…go. Right now, Bee. Fucking cum—”

And you do. Only seconds before he inevitably follows, and the overwhelming rush nearly breaks you. The way he spills inside you, the way he holds you upright, the way he presses his fingers to your clit in order to drag you even further.

He ignores your whimpers and cries for mercy, tugging your squirming frame back into his chest until you go quiet. Lips nuzzled to your cheek as he whispers, “There you go, you’re all right. Deep breath, baby. You’re okay, just want one more—”

“Daddy—”

“Shh. Just one more.” His voice is gentle although his touch is anything but. Pressing and rubbing against the overused nerves until you’re actively arching in his hold. “One more, baby girl, you can give me one more. Know you can. Doing so good—”

It doesn’t take long for the second one to find you, and you feel him smile against your jaw as you come down from his fingers. 

“There you go,” he praises quietly before taking his hand away and crouching down. The tip of his tongue ghosting up your inner thigh as you sigh.

You feel him smirk.

“Now…let's do something about this mess.”

Next Part:

~ Break Me*

Previous Part:

~ Guide Me*

~ Full Teach Me Masterlist

Amazing credit for the beautiful dividers to @firefly-graphics 💞

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[puppygar]

THE AMERICAN FOX & THE RUSSIAN BEAR

Summary:

Fawkes. Fox. Agent. Never your first name. You’re a counter-terrorism agent, ready to retire early, when a new case is shoved in your lap. Alexei Shostakov: The Red Guardian. You move into the house next to his, and instead of being met with a gruff angry man like your bosses expected, you’re met with a genuine kindness that makes your heart flutter in your chest. He has his quirks but so do you. The growing feelings in your chest are starting to scare you more than the past you can’t remember, more than the nightmares that plague your every rest.

Chapter 1/?

Word Count: 3.8k

Warnings: Nightmares, General Anxiety

Rating: M (Language and Themes) ((Might go up to E at some point.))

A/N: Please tell me what you think??? I’m my worst critic so please tell me if yall think this is good lmao

You had gone to DC to leave the counterterrorism unit. You had planned to resign. So when a new case is shoved into your hands? It makes your blood boil.

The next day you're back in Illinois shoving your items into a moving truck. It’s a 15 hour drive to the small house the FBI has stationed you in, right next door to the man you’re supposed to be keeping an eye on.

Alexei Shostakov, The Red Guardian. A Soviet super soldier who moved to the United States. Your job was to make sure he wasn’t defecting to the Russians.

You’re struggling to get your couch into your home when you meet him. You had thought the FBI had hired you movers but, alas, they had not.

“Small thing like you shouldn’t be carrying something so big.” He says as he closes the door to his limo. It took up most of your shared driveway. Not that you really cared. After you drop off this truck it’s back to no car for you.

“Job moved me.” You grunt as you drag the couch. “Thought they were gonna hire me movers.”

He picks it up effortlessly. “Where?” He asks. You motion to the open space in the living room and he puts it down. You hadn’t expected kindness, not from a hardened Soviet super soldier.

He helps you bring the rest of your heavier items into your home and finally asks your name. “So you do have a name, da?”

You nod. “Friends call me Fox.” You smile. “Comes from my last name.”

Alexei grins at that. “Alexei.” He holds out his hand.

You shake his hand and give him a beer in one quick motion. “For helping.” You explain. “I was gonna order pizza if you wanna hang around.” You offer.

Alexei gives you a smile. “Pizza and beer? Speaking my language now, Fox.”

“Oh really, Alexei?” You tease. “You’re that easy to please?” You laugh, plopping on the couch and opening the pizza app on your phone.

Alexei grins, and sits on the couch. He is quite a large man, so the couch looked almost comical with him on it.

“Ehhh... I simple man.” He chuckles, pulling out his phone and pulling open a game app. “Simple tastes. Simple needs. This is a good couch.”

“Work a lot.” You explain. “Moved here cause it’s close to DC.” You sip your beer. “Is just cheese okay?” You ask about the pizza.

Alexei leans back on the couch, one arm on the back and stretches out his legs. He looks rather relaxed for a 6’3 Soviet Super-Soldier.

“Yes. Cheese is fine.” He responds. “So, you’re an office worker?” He asks. He gives you a smirk, thinking back to the couch you were struggling with and the big moving truck. “Or a spy?”

You laugh at that. You know you can give him little truths. “I work for a government firm. Foreign Relations.” Foreign Relations is a nice way to say Counter-terrorism right?

Alexei taps his beer against yours before he takes another sip. “Foreign Relations.” He repeats, his eyes gleaming mischievously as he leans in closer. “Sounds fancy. Does fancy government worker have a real name, or is it just... Fox?” He’s clearly amused by the secrecy.

“Fawkes.” You clarify. “Is my god given last name. I was born with it. Don’t like my first name.” You explain.

“So…” You motion to the limo in your shared driveway. “Limo driver? Man of your size I’d expect you to do security of some kind.”

Alexei grins, his eyes flickering over you with an air of playfulness. “Good guess. Limo driver.” He leans back on the couch once again, taking another sip.

“Security?” He says. “Pah. Who needs security when I can just break men with my bare hands?”

He flexes his arm, showing off his muscles. “You like?”

It makes you laugh. “Fresh out of a *long* relationship, Alexei.” You comment. “Not

Looking.”

You lean back against the couch, taking in the quiet for a moment before there’s a knock on your door. Pizza Time.

You return with the pizza a moment later. “My plates are buried”. you comment. Grabbing scissors from an open box and cutting two plate-like pieces of cardboard out of the pizza box top.

Alexei watches you, his eyes sparkling with amusement at your resourcefulness. He chuckles at the makeshift plates. "Efficiency. Good skill to have."

He takes the cardboard plate and picks up a slice of pizza. "Long relationship, eh? How long?" He asks, taking a bite of the pizza. "I find it hard to believe someone like Fox would stay long in one place."

“Last job assignment left me outside of Chicago for about 10 years.” You explain. “But I was with him before the accident, before my job moved me.”

Alexei looks at you confused and you explain. “I was in the Pentagon on 9/11. Can’t remember anything before it. Even like the accident itself I can’t remember. I woke up in a hospital in mid October. Haven’t been back to the DC/Baltimore area since.”

You don’t mean for the conversation to get so heavy. “Sorry.” You say quickly.

Alexei listens attentively, his expression shifting to concern as you share your story. He sets down his pizza, giving you his full attention. "No need to apologize, Fox. It's... a lot. I appreciate your honesty."

His demeanor softens, his playful demeanor giving way to a mix of understanding and sympathy. "I can't imagine how challenging it must have been for you. The accident, the memory loss... it's heavy burden to bear."

“I get flashes of before.” Something in your brain is telling you to shut up. “As nightmares mostly. The timeline doesn’t make sense though.”

You don’t know why it’s so easy to talk to Alexei but your words are like a faucet now. Maybe you were drunker than you thought.

Alexei's expression remains compassionate, his eyes showing genuine concern for your well-being. He reaches out and places a reassuring hand on your shoulder. "Nightmares can be... haunting. But they don't define you, Fox."

He pauses, considering his words carefully. "If you ever need someone to talk to, or if there's anything I can do to help... just let me know. I might not be able to fix things, but sometimes just having someone to listen can make a big difference."

You two talk well into the evening and you pass out against Alexei’s shoulder. He places you in bed and heads home. He locks your door behind himself.

It’s a couple hours later when he hears the screams, you’re having a nightmare. It’s an almost animalistic, fearful noise that escapes your throat. That was a noise he didn’t want to have to get used to.

Alexei is quick to respond, not wanting to intrude but also not wanting to ignore your distress. He rushes back to your house, entering quietly and finding you in the midst of your nightmare.

Approaching your bed, he gently shakes you, trying to wake you without startling you. "Fox, wake up. Wake up, it's just a dream," he murmurs softly. "You're safe, it's okay."

His arms go around you. “You’re gonna have to g-get used to that.” You say, voice shaky. You finally come to your senses fully awake now. “Did you break down my front door?” You ask, voice exhausted.

He releases you once you're awake, his concern evident in his expression. He runs a hand through his hair, "Nyet, Nyet. No break. I pick lock," he admits, his accent thickening slightly in the tense moment. "I heard you scream, thought it was emergency. You alright?"

“Nightmare. They happen almost every night. You should invest in a good sound system.” You say quietly. “Don’t need you rushing over at every scream. Promise I’m okay.”

He takes a moment to process, nodding in understanding. "Understood. Sound system."

He is hesitant to leave. It's late. You're still shaking from a horrible nightmare. "Should I stay on the couch? In case you need something?" He offers.

You give him a weak smile. “You can stay with me if you’d like.” You offer, patting the empty space on the bed. “Don’t need you getting a knot in your back from sleeping on that couch.”

You shouldn’t be this relaxed, you’re the agent assigned to watch him after all. Your bosses find out? You’re fired. Kept away from him at all costs.

You ignore those thoughts for a moment as Alexei joins you, you get comfortable against his side. “Thank you.”

"Good compromise." He responds as he takes his place on the bed next to you.

He wraps one strong arm around your waist, pulling you close. It was rather protective. Your mind goes back to work. Alexei was not your friend. You were supposed to be keeping an eye on this Soviet. But that was a problem for tomorrow's mind.

Besides, he was warm, in the literal sense. His body radiating warmth, the warmth spreading to you and your bed, easing you into a more pleasant sleep.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

You wake up and he’s gone. You shower and get ready. You take the bus to the FBI office. They wanted in person updates now that you weren’t halfway across the country.

Your boss greets you in the lobby. “Fawkes! Over here.” Hoffman yells over to you. “How’s the old Soviet?” He asks.

“Shostakov doesn’t give me any signs that he plans to defect.” You say quickly, fidgeting with your shirt sleeve. “Honestly, I think he’s here for a fresh start.” You add quietly.

Your boss seems unsatisfied with your response. "We can't afford to underestimate this man, Fawkes. The Red Guardian wasn't just a title; he was a symbol of Soviet might." He cautions. "I need more than just 'signs.' I need concrete evidence."

He leans in closer, keeping your conversation discreet. "The intelligence you gather could have global implications. Keep your eyes and ears open, and report any unusual activities immediately."

Hoffman's skepticism remains unwavering. "I hope you're right, Fawkes. We don't need another Cold War."

“The Cold War never ended.” You say with a scoff. “You know that. I know that.”

He leads you to his office, “I know. That’s my point. Ex Soviet starts a chauffeur business in the US Capitol? Raises some alarm bells.”

You give him your full report of your first day. Omitting the information about your nightmare and the beer and pizza. “Like I said. Nothing eventful. He was nice enough to bring my couch in for me.” There’s a pause. “Thought you were hiring me movers.” You can’t help but add a tinge of anger in your tone.

Hoffman furrows his brow at your comment about movers. "We're dealing with national security matters, Fawkes. Your personal logistics were a lower priority."

He leans back in his chair, studying you for a moment. "Now, about this unexpected friendliness from Shostakov. We need to consider the possibility that he's trying to manipulate you. Be cautious, Fawkes. Don't let your guard down."

He reaches for a folder on his desk and hands it to you. "Read these files thoroughly. Understand who you're dealing with."

He shouldn’t have given you those files without thoroughly looking trough them.

You focus hard on a mission he was apart of in Cuba, he fought a CIA asset. Something they only refer to in the reports as ‘The Animal’. You’re so engrossed, focused on how you feel like you remember this.

You get close to what you think is an answer, when you suddenly pass out. Alexei finds you after knocking on your door with a home cooked meal. You don’t answer even after he pounds on the door.

He doesn’t look through the file you're reading, he only notes that it has FBI papers. He doesn’t notice that it’s about him. Thank God.

Alexei enters cautiously, his concern evident on his face. He takes in the files scattered around you and raises an eyebrow. "Interesting reading material," he remarks, keeping his tone light.

He sets down the tray of food, crouching down beside you with genuine concern in his eyes. "Fox... are you alright? You look pale."

You gather the papers quickly as you come to. “Alexei! Hi. What are you doing here?” You’re dizzy and you have a migraine. “I must’ve passed out?” You say, confused.

Alexei's eyes flicker with worry as he helps you to your feet. "You didn't answer the door, and I brought dinner. Just wanted to make sure you were okay."

He glances at the scattered files, his expression growing serious. "This... is classified material, Fox. It's not wise to delve into things that could get you into trouble."

“Work stuff.” You explain. “Boss needed me to look over these files for my assignment.” You say quietly.

“You brought me dinner?” You ask after a beat of silence, voice shocked. “You didn’t have to…” You say quietly.

Alexei simply grins, "It's no trouble. I enjoy cooking, and thought you could use some real food after a long day."

He glances at the files again, concern etched on his face. "You don't look well. Perhaps you rest, Fox. Let your mind recover from all this intense work." He gently guides you to your dining area, setting out the home-cooked meal he brought. It smells delicious, something traditionally Russian. Food from his homeland.

You eat the soup he brought and damn is it good. The soup warms your soul. “Alexei if you cook like this all the time I might have to lock you in my kitchen.” You joke.

Alexei doesn’t usually cook, but a meal for a meal and you were thin enough as it is.

He chuckles at your joking remark, happy to see you regaining some of your spirits. "Well, my cooking is just one of many reasons to keep me around," he quips playfully.

He watches as you eat, his concern still present but tempered a bit by the warmth of your appreciation. "Feeling a little better, da?"

You nod, “Yeah. Sorry to have scared you earlier.” You look up at him, he can see how tired you are.

“If you’re not against trying non Russian recipes I have a couple of requests.” You sit back, bowl of soup finished now. “It's all more soup because I’m a soup goblin.” You laugh.

He smiles, taking note of your tired expression and appreciating your attempt to lighten the mood. "No need to apologize, dorogaya. We all have our moments. And who can say no to a soup goblin?" He says with a chuckle.

He rubs the back of his neck. "I'd be happy to try non-Russian recipes. Just tell me what you'd like, and I'll do my best to make it for you." There's something comforting in his willingness to adapt, his genuine concern for your well-being.

You add him on Facebook and over the next few weeks it becomes routine where you’ll send him a recipe and he makes it and brings it over. This happens a few times a week depending on the jobs Alexei has.

He slowly gets used to your nightmares. Learning it really is an every night thing like you said.

The fall chill turns into a bitter cold, and one day you call Alexei your voice shaky. He knew you had a work meeting.

“Alexei? I can’t get an uber and the buses are shut down due to snow…” He can hear how cold you are in your voice. “I’m stuck in Central DC. I know I’m an idiot for not planning ahead.” You sigh.

Alexei picks up his phone, concern immediately lacing his voice. "Fox? Stay put, I'll come to get you." He doesn't hesitate. In this weather, being stranded in the cold is dangerous. He quickly shrugs on his coat and heads out.

He finds you huddled at the bus stop by the FBI building. You rush into his car before anybody sees you. “Thank god you weren’t on a job.” You say as you hop into the passenger seat. “Thank you for not letting me freeze.”

He’s not in the Limo, he’s in his SUV. Still red and marked up with the business, it’s the vehicle he uses for jobs when weather is bad. The Lincoln wouldn’t ever make it in this snow.

Alexei gives you a warm grin, "No need to thank me, Fox. It's what friends do." His casual use of that word, "friends," is reassuring, a gentle acknowledgment of the bond that's been building between you.

As he drives, you notice the SUV is well-equipped for winter weather, with sturdy tires and a cozy interior, a testament to Alexei's practicality and preparation. "How was your meeting?" he asks, steering the conversation away from gratitude.

“Same old same old. Russia trying to do cyber attacks.” You shrug. “We’re worried they’re in the voting systems.” You sigh.

You know you shouldn’t be telling him this, but Alexei manages to turn off your filter. There’s a beat of silence before you decide to ask the question that’s on your mind. “Is your daughter coming for the holidays?” You ask, despite knowing the answer would be ‘no’.

Alexei's smile fades slightly at the mention of his daughter. His eyes remain fixed on the road, his gaze distant. His fingers tap rhythmically on the steering wheel, a sign of emotional turmoil.

"Nyet," he replies softly, "My daughter... she does not visit. Complicated family situation."

There's a note of sadness in his voice, a vulnerability that he rarely shows. He focuses on the road ahead, his jaw setting in a stubborn line as if to ward off any further discussion.

“Hey…” You reach out, interlocking your fingers with his free hand. “Sorry. I shouldn’t have—“

“So, voting machines?” He asks. “Honestly, Russia gone soft.” He chuckles. “Everything internet. What happened to spies and espionage?”

You laugh at that. “Internet stuff is what spies and espionage are now. Everything’s drones and the internet. It’s the cyber Cold War.”

He pulls into your shared driveway and walks you into your house. He lingers, waiting for permission to hang out.

“Yes. You can stay. You’re paying for take-out though.” You say before disappearing into your bedroom to change.

Alexei chuckles at your comment about paying for takeout. "Da, da, I'll handle the food. What's on the menu tonight?" He calls out, his tone light and teasing.

While you change, he takes the initiative to set the table and call for takeout, placing your usual order. The easy familiarity that has sprung up between you two is both comforting and puzzling. He's not used to this -- easy friendship, trust, vulnerability.

You join him on the couch in an oversized hoodie that he can’t tell if you’re wearing pants under. Another sign of your comfort together. You’d seen him in his too small bathrobe more times than you can count.

“I’ll put pants on if this makes you uncomfortable.” You say as you sit. “This is just comfy.” You say quietly.

Alexei shakes his head with a smile. "Nyet, no complaints here. Comfort is the utmost important, da?"

He eyes the hoodie, curious, "Did you steal that from someone?" He can't help but tease, a playful glint in his eyes as he awaits your response.

“And if I did?” You give him a playful smirk. “Jealous, Alexei?” You tease in return, snuggling up to him on the couch.

He chuckles, his arm naturally finding its way around your shoulders. "Jealous? Not at all. Just admiring the fine taste in clothing."

He leans back into the couch, pulling you closer. There's a comfortable silence between you two, broken only by the sound of the evening news playing in the background. "This is nice," he murmurs after a while, his voice soft and content.

“It is.” You respond quietly. Your voice is barely audible over the sound of the furnace in the hallway. You feel yourself start to drift off, eyelids suddenly heavy.

“Stay awake, ptichka.” He says tickling your side for a moment to wake you up. “Food almost here.”

You stir and frown. “Tickling is illegal.” You state. “Unfair move, Shostakov.”

Alexei grins wickedly, his playful side surfacing. "Illegal? Da, da, whatever you say, Fox," he quips, clearly enjoying your reaction.

He can see the tiredness seeping into your expression, and he makes a mental note of it. He knows how taxing your job can be, and he's happy to provide this moment of respite. His arm tightens around you just a bit, pulling you even closer to him.

"Sleepy, Fox? Or are you just trying to avoid conversation with me?"

“‘M tired.” You respond. “Sorry I’m not being a great host tonight.” You add. “Think I might’ve gotten sick out in that cold…”

You can already feel it, the heaviness in your head. The exhaustion.

Alexei's playful demeanor softens at your response. "Hey, no need to apologize. Your body is tired, and that's okay."

He studies you carefully, his eyes taking in your pale face and glazed eyes. "You look pale, Fox. Maybe you are coming down with something."

He presses a hand to your forehead, frowning at the heat he feels there. "You're burning up. You should rest, da?"

“I don’t like being alone when I’m sick…” God, you hate how pathetic you sound. “Carry me to bed? Stay with me?” You ask.

He chuckles softly at your request, but his eyes give away his concern. "Alright, alright. I'll get you settled in bed."

He lifts you into his arms effortlessly, carrying you to your bedroom as if you weigh nothing. He lays you down gently on the bed, pulling the covers up around you, tucking you in like a child.

"I'll stay as long as you need, Fox. You're not alone," he assures you, sitting down on the side of the bed next to you.

You cuddle up to him. “I get clingy when I’m sick…” You say quietly. “I’m gonna get you sick and I’m sorry.”

He can’t help but hate how nervous you get when you don’t feel well. One time, you had thrown up in front of him after drinking too much, and you had spent the next half hour in tears apologizing because you were sick.

Alexei shakes his head, his hand reaching out to stroke your hair gently. "Don't worry about me, Fox. I've been through worse. A little virus is no match for the Red Guardian."

He's careful not to touch your face directly, instead continuing to stroke your hair, hoping to soothe you. "Just rest now. And no more apologizing, da? You have nothing to be sorry for."

You fall asleep, your body suddenly heavy against his side. He keeps the news on, audio quiet. You’re shivering despite the blanket you’re under, you cling to Alexei.

Alexei feels the shivers, his concern deepening. He carefully lays down next to you, pulling you closer so you can share his warmth. He wraps his arms around you in a protective embrace, hoping his body heat will help chase away your chills.

He stays vigilant, watching over you as you sleep. He'll keep any nightmares at bay tonight

[destinationtoast]

A tale of two kitties who must move.

So in less than a month, the kitties and I will be moving to a new house. I'm very excited about the impending move! The kitties very much would not be, if they knew about it.

Those of you who've been following me since 2020 may remember the last time I tried to move my kitties (who were born feral and have never fully recovered). That attempt resulted in me spending the first day of covid lockdown getting emergency hand surgery after Bennet administered some truly epic bites.

I've known for some time that I was going to have to try again to move the cats eventually. Because a while ago, I bought a house on the same block as my polycule and started renovating it. And I hoped to someday finish those renovations and move in. But -- the cats! Or, mostly: but -- Bennet! (Winter can be picked up and put into a carrier with only mild trouble. And back when I thought I would be moving three kitties, we were sometimes able to capture Tico.)

I thought for a while that I'd come up with a clever solution. During renovations, I frequently had to hire a vet tech to come give Tico insulin injections when I wasn't home. And I thought, "Oh good -- all the cats will all get used to the vet tech, and then the vet tech can help me move all the cats, because she's much better at catching and handling struggling animals than I am."

One problem: the vet tech was never able to even catch sight of Bennet, no matter how much time she spent here.

I thought I had another solution. I bought big leather gloves. I started wearing them for long periods of time and trying to pet/brush/feed Bennet, so that she'd get used to them.

Turns out, though, that Bennet will not be in the same room as me if I'm wearing the gloves.

I did also try all the more standard advice -- feeding them inside their carriers so that the carriers stop freaking them out, and giving them treats regularly inside the carriers.

But Bennet just giraffes her little calico neck way out whenever the food is in the carrier, and she eats without ever placing her feet inside.

Bennet is also the least food-motivated cat I've ever met, and she is highly suspicious of treats. This makes it extremely hard to mix sedatives into her food, because she simply won't eat if anything tastes at all weird.

But she can only avoid food for so long (I presume).

So I'm going extreme: I've got out the Big Trap.

It's a bit Looney Tunes, I know.

For now, it's very solidly propped up. All their cat food will be inside this thing for the next couple weeks. Bennet will have to get used to going inside... and as the food moves further from the entrance, her giraffe-neck trick will only get her so far.

Sometime in the couple of days before the movers arrive, I will remove the extra props. I will hold a very long piece of string attached to the remaining leg that holds the trap up. I will wait for as many hours as necessary, until Bennet goes inside. And then -- boom.

(What then? Well, then you throw a blanket over the drop trap, and you attach a separate carrier to the door on the side of the drop trap, and then you remove the door between the trap and the carrier. And supposedly most freaked out cats will run out of the blanket-covered drop trap and into the carrier, especially if you put one of their favorite towels inside the carrier, and treats, and such. Bennet is hardly Most Cats, so there remains some question in my mind about that part? I think I will add a hard surface underneath the trap and the food soon, and then worst case I may end up nailing the dropped trap to that board and loading the whole darn thing into the moving truck. But assuming I do manage to capture them, there is an easy-to-close-off room where the cats can stay until the rest of the move is finished, so at least that part is figured out.)

Right now, Winter is nervous but accepting -- so long as I stay back in the living room. She's been pretty far inside the trap a few times and has sniffed everything extensively, though she prefers to sit outside while she eats.

(The feeders will be migrating to the back of the trap over time.)

Bennet, so far, is having none of it.

But she has to eat someday, right?

[octaneink]

Love in the years we almost had

James Marriot x FTM!Reader

Summary : You've known James since you were children. You've felt things for him even then, but you lack courage to say the quiet part out loud. Until you don't. Warnings : None (I could be wrong on something but I hope its alright) Notes : Answering this ask, I hope you like what I wrote! Childhood friends to lovers + pining/yearning goes HARD. This is also quite long as well. Big thanks to @super-gay-for-u for reading over this and giving some pointers! I really apreciate you!

You and James became inseparable the summer you turned eleven. It was the year your family moved into the house next door to his, and from the moment you met, it was like the universe had decided you were meant to be in each other’s lives. Kids have a way of finding friendship in the simplest of moments, and with James, it was effortless. The world was simpler back then—just two kids sitting on the steps, building blanket forts in his living room, and sharing bags of crisps under the old oak tree in his backyard. You were just you, and he was just James, and that was enough.

The first time you met, you were sitting on the porch of your new house, watching the movers haul boxes inside. You felt out of place, like you didn’t belong in this new neighbourhood, this new life. And then James appeared, walking up the path with a book tucked under his arm and a curious look on his face. He had this quiet confidence about him, the kind that kids around that age seem to naturally have.

“You’re the new kid, yeah?” he asked, stopping at the bottom of the steps.

You nodded, unsure of what to say. But James didn’t seem to mind. He just sat down next to you, setting his book aside, and said, “I’m James. Welcome to the neighbourhood.”

From that day on, you were inseparable. He showed you all the best spots in the neighbourhood—the park with the old, creaky bench where you could sit and read, the corner shop that sold the best sweets, and the tree in his backyard that was perfect for climbing, even if he preferred to sit under it and sketch. He was your first friend in this new place, and somehow, he made it feel like home.

One afternoon, you were sitting under the oak tree, passing a bag of crisps back and forth. James was scribbling in his notebook, his brow furrowed in concentration. You leaned over to peek, and he immediately snapped it shut, pretending to be offended.

“Oi, no peeking!” he said, though his grin gave him away. “It’s a work in progress.”

“What’s it about?” you asked, nudging him with your elbow.

“Wouldn’t you like to know,” he teased, shoving a crisp into his mouth. “Maybe one day I’ll let you see it. If you’re lucky.”

You rolled your eyes, but you couldn’t help smiling. James had this way of making everything feel easy, even when it wasn’t.

But that was in the past. Back then, you were still she. At the time you didn’t have the words for it yet, the way your reflection in the mirror never quite felt like yours, or how the sound of your name sometimes made your skin crawl. But James never made you feel like you had to explain yourself. He just accepted you, exactly as you were.

As you got older, things started to change. Not between you and James—never between you two—but inside you. The world began to feel heavier, like you were wearing a costume that didn’t fit. You started to realise that the person everyone saw wasn’t the person you were. It was like living in a house where all the doors were locked, and you didn’t have the keys.

At first, it was the little things. The way your reflection in the mirror felt like a stranger staring back at you. The way your name, when spoken aloud, sounded wrong, like it belonged to someone else. The way clothes that were supposed to fit felt like they were suffocating you. You didn’t have the words for it yet, but you knew something was off. You just didn’t know how to fix it.

James noticed, of course. He always noticed. He was the one who sat with you on the roof of his house one summer night, the stars stretched out above you like a blanket. The air was warm, and the world felt quiet, like it was holding its breath.

“You’ve been quiet lately,” he said, his voice soft. “Everything okay?”

You hesitated, your fingers picking at the hem of your shirt. How could you explain something you didn’t fully understand yourself?

“I don’t think I’m… who everyone thinks I am,” you said finally, the words feeling clumsy and inadequate. “I don’t think I’m a girl.”

James didn’t say anything at first, and for a moment, you were terrified you’d ruined everything. But then he reached over and squeezed your hand, his grip steady and sure.

“Okay,” he said simply. “So who are you, then?”

The question caught you off guard. “I… I don’t know yet. But I’m figuring it out.”

He nodded, like it was the most natural thing in the world. “Well, whatever you figure out, I’m here. Always.”

It took time, but you started to find your way. You began to experiment, trying on different clothes—things traditionally for males that made your grandmother click her tongue and gain an ugly grimace—hairstyles, and looked for a name that felt like…you.  James was there through it all, his support unwavering. He was the one who used your new pronouns, never once slipping up, even when others did.

But it wasn’t easy. There were days when the weight of it all felt unbearable, when the world seemed determined to remind you that you didn’t fit. You’d come to leave school, your chest tight with frustration, and James would be there, waiting for you at the school gates with a bag of crisps and a knowing smile.

“Rough day?” he’d ask, and you’d nod, walking in step next to him.

“It’s just… hard,” you’d say, your voice barely above a whisper. “Sometimes I feel like I’m never going to get it right.”

James would bump your shoulder with his, his way of reminding you that you weren’t alone. “You’re already getting it right,” he’d say. “You’re being you. That’s all that matters.”

There were days, though, when even with James’s words, things weren’t enough to quiet the storm inside you. Days when the dysphoria felt like a weight too heavy to carry, pressing on your mind until it was hard to think. You’d been binding for a while, but some days it felt like no matter what you did, it just didn’t help. You'd avoid looking in the mirror, the reflection you see not matching who you see as you. It was exhausting.

One particularly rough day, you showed up at James’s house unannounced, your chest tight with frustration and exhaustion. You hadn’t planned to go there—you hadn’t planned much of anything, really—but your feet had carried you to his doorstep almost on their own. He opened the door, took one look at you, and pulled you inside without a word.

You sat on his couch, your hands fidgeting in your lap, while he disappeared into the kitchen. The familiar sounds of him puttering around—the clink of mugs, the whistle of the kettle—were a small comfort. When he returned, he handed you a steaming cup of tea, his fingers brushing against yours as you took it. The warmth seeped into your hands, grounding you, if only for a moment.

“Bad day?” he asked, his voice soft. You nodded, your throat too tight to speak. He didn’t press, just sat beside you, his presence a quiet reassurance. The two of you sat in silence for a while, the only sound the occasional sip of tea and the faint hum of the refrigerator in the kitchen. It was one of the things you loved most about James—he never made you explain yourself. He just knew, in that way he always did.

It’s funny how the heart works. You don’t get to choose who it latches onto, who it decides to weave into the fabric of your being. For you, it was James. Of course, it was James. How could it not be? He was your first real friend, your constant. But somewhere along the way, the way you felt about him shifted. It wasn’t just friendship any more. It was something deeper, something that made your chest ache in the quiet moments when you let yourself think about it too much.

The problem was, James didn’t feel the same way. Or at least, he never showed it. He dated women—smart, funny, beautiful women who made him laugh and lit up his face in a way that made your stomach twist. You watched from the sidelines as he fell in and out of love, always the supportive best friend, always the one he came to when things went wrong. And you were happy to be that for him, truly. But it hurt. God, it hurt.

You never said anything. How could you? James was your best friend. You couldn’t risk losing him, not when he meant so much to you. So you buried it, tucked it away in the deepest corner of your heart, and pretended it didn’t exist. You told yourself it was enough to have him in your life, even if it wasn’t in the way you wanted. Even if it never would be.

It was a Friday night, and you were sitting on the floor of James’s living room, a half-empty pizza box between you and a movie neither of you were really paying attention to playing on the TV. He was sprawled out on the couch, his feet propped up on the coffee table, while you leaned back against it, your knees pulled up to your chest. It was comfortable, familiar. This was how it was always with the two of you—easy, effortless.

“So,” James said, breaking the silence, “I’ve got a date tomorrow.”

Your heart sank, but you kept your face neutral, your voice light. “Oh yeah? Who’s the lucky girl this time?”

“Her name’s Clara,” he said, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “We met at that art exhibit last week. She’s… really cool.”

“That’s great,” you said, forcing a smile. “I’m happy for you.”

James glanced at you, his brow furrowing slightly. “You sure? You seem… off.”

“I’m fine,” you said quickly, too quickly. “Just tired, I guess.”

He didn’t look convinced, but he didn’t push. Instead, he reached over and ruffled your hair, a gesture so familiar it made your chest ache. “Alright, mate. Just making sure.”

You ducked your head, pretending to focus on the movie, but your mind was elsewhere. You couldn’t help but wonder what it would be like if things were different. If James looked at you the way he looked at Clara, or Sarah, or any of the other women he’d dated over the years. If he ever thought about you as more than just his best friend. But he didn’t. And you couldn’t blame him for that. 

You were just you, and he was just James, and that was how it had always been. 

You couldn’t change that, no matter how much you wanted to.

The next day, you were sitting on your front step, sketching idly in your notebook, when he came outside. He was dressed up, his hair neatly combed, and he had that look on his face—the one he always got when he was excited about something. You knew it was because of Clara, and it made your stomach twist.

“Hey,” he said, sitting down next to you. “What’re you drawing?”

“Nothing,” you said, closing the notebook and setting it aside. “Just doodling.”

He nodded, leaning back against the steps. “I’m nervous,” he admitted after a moment. “About the date, I mean.”

“You?” you said, raising an eyebrow. “Nervous?”

He laughed, shoving your shoulder lightly. “Shut up. It’s different this time. Clara’s… different.”

“Different how?” you asked, though you weren’t sure you wanted to know the answer.

“I don’t know,” he said, his voice softening. “She just… gets me, you know? Like, really gets me. I think I really do love her.”

Yep, you didn’t want to know. 

You nodded, your throat tight. “That’s great, James. Really.”

He smiled, and for a moment, you let yourself imagine what it would be like if he were talking about you. If it was you he was nervous to impress, you felt understood by. But then he stood up, brushing the grass off his pants, and the moment was gone.

“I should get going,” he said. “Don’t want to be late.”

“Yeah,” you said, forcing a smile. “Have fun.”

He grinned, giving you a mock salute before heading back inside. You watched him go, your chest aching with a longing you couldn’t put into words. You wanted to be happy for him, and you were, in a way. But it was hard. So hard.

You picked up your notebook again, flipping to a blank page. You started to sketch, your pencil moving almost on its own. It was James, of course. It was always James. His smile, his eyes, the way he looked when he was lost in thought. You drew him the way you saw him, the way you wished he could see you.

But you knew it would never happen. James was your best friend, and that was all he would ever be. And maybe, someday, that would be enough. But for now, you just had to live with the ache in your chest, the quiet longing that never quite went away.

Because James was James, and you were you, and that was how it had always been. And maybe, just maybe, that was how it was meant to be.

The years passed, as they always do, and life carried you and James in different directions. After high school, James went off to university, still dating Clara. You watched him go with a bittersweet ache in your chest, knowing that things would never be the same between you. But you were happy for him—truly, you were. He deserved to chase his dreams, to build a life that made him happy. And you? You needed to do the same.

So, you left too. Not for university, but for Italy, where you’d landed an apprenticeship at a small, family-owned restaurant in Florence. It was a world away from everything you’d ever known, and it felt like a fresh start. The cobblestone streets, the smell of fresh basil and simmering tomatoes, the way the sun dipped low over the Arno River—it all felt like a dream. You threw yourself into your work, learning everything you could about the art of cooking. It was hard, exhausting, and sometimes really lonely, but it was also exhilarating. For the first time in a long time, you felt like you were exactly where you were supposed to be.

You and James kept in touch, of course. Texts, random memes, and the occasional late-night phone call when one of you needed to hear the other’s voice. He told you about his classes, his friends, his life with Clara. You told him about the restaurant, the recipes you were mastering, the way the Italian sun felt on your skin. It wasn’t the same as having him there with you, but it was enough. It had to be.

Over the years, you dated. Men, women, people who made you laugh and challenged you and made you feel alive, if only for a little while. But it was never the same as it had been with James. No one ever made you feel the way he did—like you were home, like you were seen, like you were enough, exactly as you were. You tried not to think about it too much, but sometimes, in the quiet moments, you couldn’t help it. James was your person, even if he didn’t know it. Even if he never would.

Dating wasn’t always easy. There were people who didn’t understand, who couldn’t see past the fact that you were male. You’d meet someone, feel a spark, and then watch it fizzle out the moment you told them about your transition. Some were polite but distant, their interest evaporating as soon as the words left your mouth. Others were less kind, their discomfort or outright rejection leaving a sting that lingered long after they were gone. It wasn’t everyone, of course. There were people who didn’t care, who saw you for who you were and loved you for it. But those moments of rejection, of being made to feel like you were somehow less than, stayed with you. They made you cautious, guarded, even when you didn’t want to be.

You learnt to brace yourself for the possibility of rejection, to steel your heart against the inevitable questions and doubts. But no matter how many times it happened, it never stopped hurting.

The breakup left you raw, like an open wound that refused to scab over. At first, you tried to numb the pain—sleepless nights scrolling through your phone, half-hearted attempts to distract yourself with films or music that only reminded you of what you’d lost. But the ache was relentless, a constant hum beneath your skin. Eventually, you realised you couldn’t outrun it. So, you turned to the one thing you’ve been trying to control: your body.

You started small. Walks around the neighbourhood at first, the crisp air filling your lungs and clearing your mind. Then came jogs, your feet pounding the pavement in rhythm with your heartbeat. Soon, you found yourself at the gym, surrounded by the clang of weights and the hum of treadmills. It became your sanctuary, a place where you could pour all the hurt, the anger, the confusion into something tangible. Something productive.

Weeks turned into months. Your body began to change—slowly at first, then all at once. Your shoulders broadened, your posture straightened, and your reflection in the mirror started to feel less like a stranger and more like someone you could recognise. One day, you caught a glimpse of yourself after a workout, your shirt clinging to your frame, and for the first time in what felt like forever, you felt a flicker of pride.

The binder had been a part of your life for a while now. It wasn’t one of the fancy, high-end brands you’d seen online—those were way out of your budget. But it was yours, and it was good. Good enough to make a difference. You wore it every day, the familiar pressure against your chest a constant reminder of the person you were becoming. It wasn’t perfect; sometimes it dug into your ribs or made it harder to breathe after a long day. Those were the days that reminded you to slow down. But it was yours, and it helped you feel like yourself.

Then came the moment. You stood in front of the mirror after a shower, the binder snug—but not tight—against your chest, your shoulders strong and defined from months of hard work. You ran a hand over your torso, tracing the lines of your body—your body. For the first time, you didn’t see the parts of yourself you wanted to hide or change. You saw yourself. The person staring back at you wasn’t just surviving; you were thriving. You were strong. You were whole. You were enough.

A smile spread across your face, slow and genuine. You didn’t just feel okay—you felt happy. Happy in your skin, happy in your body, happy in the life you were building for yourself. The breakup still sometimes hurt, but it didn’t define you any more. You had built yourself back up, piece by piece, and in the process, you had discovered a strength you didn’t know you had. You were no longer bracing for rejection or steeling your heart against the world. Instead, you were stepping into it, unafraid and unapologetically yourself.

And for the first time, that felt like everything.

Then, in 2019, you came back to the UK. It wasn’t a decision you made lightly, but it felt like the right time. You’d learnt everything you could in Italy, and now it was time to bring that knowledge and experience, home. You found a job at a restaurant in London, a sleek, modern place with a menu that made your heart race with excitement. It was a new chapter, a new adventure. But deep down, you knew there was another reason you’d come back. A reason you didn’t like to admit, even to yourself.

James was still in your life, of course. He and Clara had broken up a few years ago, and he’d been single ever since. You’d talked about it once, late one night over the phone. He’d sounded sad, but resigned. “It just wasn’t right,” he’d said. “I think we both knew it, but we didn’t want to admit it.” You’d wanted to ask if he was okay, if he was lonely, if he ever thought about you the way you thought about him. But you didn’t. Instead, you’d changed the subject, and the moment had passed.

Now, standing in the arrivals' hall at Heathrow Airport, you felt a strange mix of excitement and nerves. You hadn’t told James you were coming back—you wanted it to be a surprise. But as you stepped out into the crisp autumn air, your suitcase rolling behind you, you couldn’t help but wonder if you were making a mistake. 

You pushed the thought aside and hailed a taxi. You’d figure it out. You always did.

A few days later, you found yourself standing outside James’s flat, your heart pounding in your chest. You’d texted him earlier, asking if he was free for the day, and he’d said yes without hesitation. Now, as you raised your hand to knock on the door, you took a deep breath, trying to steady your nerves.

The door swung open, and there he was. James. Your James. He looked older, of course—his hair was a little shorter, his face a little more defined—but he was still the same. His eyes lit up when he saw you, and he pulled you into a hug before you could say a word.

“You’re back,” he said, his voice muffled against your shoulder. “Why didn’t you tell me you were coming?”

You laughed, pulling away to look at him. “I wanted it to be a surprise.”

He grinned, shaking his head. “You’re such an idiot. Come in, come in.”

You followed him inside, the familiar warmth of his presence wrapping around you like a blanket. His flat was small but cosy, filled with books and sketches and little reminders of the life he’d built without you. It felt strange, being here after so long, but it also felt right. Like you were exactly where you were supposed to be.

You spent the rest of the evening catching up, talking and laughing like no time had passed at all. It was easy, effortless, just like it had always been. But as the night wore on, you couldn’t help but notice the way James looked at you—like he was seeing you for the first time, like he was realising something he hadn’t before.

Finally, as you were getting ready to leave, he stopped you at the door. “Hey,” he said, his voice soft. “I’m really glad you’re back.”

The words hung in the air between you, soft and heavy, like the first drops of rain before a storm. You hesitated, your hand on the doorknob, your heart pounding in your chest. James was standing close, closer than he needed to be, his eyes searching yours in a way that made your breath catch. For a moment, you let yourself imagine that he felt it too—the pull, the ache, the unspoken thing that had always been there between you. But then he stepped back, running a hand through his hair, and the moment was gone.

“Yeah,” you said, forcing a smile. “Me too.”

You left his flat that night with a strange mix of hope and frustration swirling in your chest. Hope, because maybe—just maybe—James had felt something too. Frustration, because you didn’t know how to bridge the gap between friendship and something more. You’d spent so long burying your feelings, so long pretending they didn’t exist, that the idea of bringing them into the light felt impossible. But you couldn’t keep living like this, could you? Watching from the sidelines, always the best friend, never the one he chose.

The next few weeks were a blur of settling back into life in the UK. You threw yourself into your new job at the restaurant, working long hours. But no matter how busy you were, James was always there, lingering in the back of your mind. You saw him often—grabbing coffee, going for walks, spending lazy Sundays on his couch watching terrible movies. It was easy, familiar, and yet something felt different. There was a tension now, a quiet undercurrent that hadn’t been there before. You caught him looking at you sometimes, his gaze lingering a little too long, his smile a little too soft. But every time you thought maybe, just maybe, he’d say something, he’d pull back, and you’d be left wondering if you’d imagined it.

One evening, after a particularly gruelling shift at the restaurant, you found yourself standing outside James’s flat again. You hadn’t planned to come over, but you’d needed to see him, to feel the comfort of his presence. He opened the door with a surprised smile, stepping aside to let you in.

“Rough day?” he asked, his voice warm with concern.

You nodded, sinking onto his couch with a sigh. “Just… one of those days, you know?”

He didn’t say anything, just disappeared into the kitchen and returned a few minutes later with two mugs of tea. He handed one to you, his fingers brushing against yours, and sat down beside you. The silence between you was comfortable, but there was something unspoken in the air, something that made your chest feel tight.

You stared at the steam rising from your mug of tea, the warmth doing little to ease the chill in your chest. It wasn’t just James—it was everything. You thought about the first person you’d dated after your transition. They’d seemed so understanding at first, so open. 

“You know,” he said after a while, his voice quiet, “you don’t have to do everything on your own. I’m here, yeah? Always.”

You looked at him, your heart aching with the weight of everything you wanted to say. “I know,” you said softly. “I just… I don’t want to mess this up.”

He frowned, his brow furrowing. “Mess what up?”

It had been with Alex, someone you’d met in Italy. They’d been charming, funny, and for a while, you’d let yourself believe it could work. But when you’d told them about your transition, their smile had faltered. “I just need some time to process,” they’d said. And then, a week later: “I don’t think this is going to work.” You’d told yourself it didn’t matter, that you didn’t need their approval. But the sting had lingered, a quiet reminder that not everyone would see you as enough.

You hesitated, your fingers tightening around the mug. “This. Us. I don’t want to lose you, James. You’ve been my friend for so long.” 

He was quiet for a moment, his eyes searching yours. Then he set his mug down and reached over, his hand resting on yours. “You’re not going to lose me,” he said, his voice firm. “No matter what.”

You’d told yourself it was fine, that you didn’t need someone who couldn’t see you for who you were. And now there was James. James, who had always been there, who had never once made you feel like you had to explain yourself. How could you risk losing that? How could you risk losing him? But the rejection had left its mark, a quiet voice in the back of your mind that whispered, “What if James feels the same way?”

The words were a balm to your frayed nerves, but they didn’t ease the ache in your chest. Because you wanted more. You wanted him to see you, really see you, the way you saw him. But you didn’t know how to say it, how to put it into words without risking everything.

A few days later, you found yourself at a small art gallery in Brighton, sipping a glass of wine and pretending to be interested in the abstract paintings on the walls. James had invited you, saying he needed a second opinion on a piece he was thinking of buying for a friend. You’d agreed, of course, because you always did. But now, standing next to him as he studied a particularly chaotic canvas, you couldn’t help but feel restless.

“What do you think?” he asked, glancing at you.

You shrugged, taking a sip of your wine. “I don’t know. It’s… interesting.”

He laughed, shaking his head. “You hate it.”

“I didn’t say that,” you protested, though you couldn’t help smiling. “It’s just… not really my thing.”

He nodded, his gaze returning to the painting. “Yeah, I get that. But there’s something about it, you know? It’s messy, but it’s honest. Like it’s not trying to be anything it’s not.”

You looked at him, your heart skipping a beat. “Yeah,” you said softly. “I know what you mean.”

He turned to you then, his eyes meeting yours, and for a moment, the noise of the gallery faded away. It was just the two of you, standing there in the quiet, the air between you charged with something you couldn’t name. You wanted to say something, to tell him how you felt, but the words stuck in your throat.

“James—” you started, but he cut you off, his hand brushing against yours.

“We should get out of here,” he said, his voice low. “Go somewhere quieter.”

You nodded, your heart racing, and followed him out of the gallery. The night air was cool against your skin, and you walked in silence for a while, your shoulders brushing as you moved through the crowded streets. Finally, he led you to a small park, the kind of place you’d gone to as kids to escape the world. You sat down on a bench, the city lights flickering in the distance, and for a long time, neither of you spoke.

“I’ve missed this,” he said finally, his voice breaking the silence. “Just… being with you.”

You looked at him, your chest tight with emotion. “I’ve missed you too.”

He turned to you then, his eyes searching yours. “You’re a great friend.” He said your name softly, for a second you could trick yourself into thinking it was said in a tender tone. “Thank you for being here.”

The words hit you like a punch to the chest, and for a moment, you couldn’t breathe. Friend. Of course. What else could you be? That’s what you were, what you’d always been. But as you looked at him—at James, with his easy smile and his deep eyes—something inside you twisted. This was it, wasn’t it? The moment you’d been waiting for, the moment you’d been afraid of. The moment you could finally tell him the truth, the one you’d been carrying for years, buried deep beneath layers of friendship and fear.

Your heart pounded in your ears, a deafening rhythm that made it hard to think. You took a deep breath, your fingers twitching at your sides, and for a split second, you almost reached for his hand. But then you stopped yourself, pulling back slowly not to draw attention to them. Your hands clenched into fists, nails digging into your palms, grounding you. You couldn’t. Not yet. Maybe not ever.

The weight of it all pressed down on you—the years of longing, the quiet ache in your chest, the way he looked at you like you were the most important person in his world, even if it wasn’t in the way you wanted. You wanted to tell him. God, you wanted to tell him. But the fear was paralysing. What if it changed everything? What if he didn’t feel the same? What if he looked at you differently, like you were someone he didn’t recognise any more? The thought of losing him, of losing what you had, was unbearable.

So you stayed silent, your throat tight, your chest heavy with the words you couldn’t say. You forced a smile, hoping it didn’t look as shaky as it felt. “You’re welcome,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper. “I think you’re a great friend too.”

James smiled back, his eyes soft, and for a moment, you let yourself imagine what it would be like if things were different. If he saw you the way you saw him. If he felt the same way you did. But then he turned away, his attention shifting to something else, and the moment was gone.

The tension between you and James continued to grow, a quiet undercurrent that neither of you acknowledged but both of you felt. It was there in the way he’d look at you sometimes, his gaze lingering a little too long, like he was trying to figure something out. It was there in the way your heart would skip a beat when his hand brushed against yours, even if it was just to pass you a cup of tea or a bag of crisps. It was there in the way you’d catch yourself staring at him when he wasn’t looking, memorising the curve of his smile, the way his eyes crinkled when he laughed.

There were moments—brief, fleeting moments—where it felt like something might happen. Like the time you were at his flat, sitting on the floor with a pile of old photo albums between you. He’d been flipping through them, laughing at the awkward haircuts and questionable fashion choices of his teenage years, when he suddenly stopped on a photo of the two of you. It was from that summer you turned twelve, the two of you sitting under the oak tree in his backyard, your faces smeared with dirt and your hair sticking up in all directions. You were both grinning like idiots, the kind of grin that only kids can manage, full of pure, uncomplicated joy.

“God, we were such dorks,” James said, his voice soft. He traced the edge of the photo with his finger, his expression unreadable. “But look at us. We were so… happy.”

You nodded, your throat tight. “We were.”

He looked at you then, his eyes searching yours. “We still are, right? Happy?”

You hesitated, your heart pounding in your chest. “Yeah,” you said finally, your voice barely above a whisper. “We are.”

He held your gaze for a moment longer, and for a second, it felt like he was about to say something, something important. But then he looked away, closing the photo album with a soft thud. “Good,” he said, his tone light again. “Because I don’t think I could handle it if you weren’t.”

It was moments like that—moments where the air between you felt charged, like the calm before a storm—that made it so hard to ignore what you were feeling. But every time, one of you would pull back, retreating into the safety of friendship. It was easier that way, safer. Because as much as you wanted more, you couldn’t risk losing what you already had.

Then there was the night you stayed late at his flat, the two of you sprawled on his couch with a half-empty bottle of non-alcoholic wine between you. The TV was on, but neither of you were really paying attention. You were too caught up in the conversation, the kind of deep, meandering talk that only happens in the quiet hours of the night. At some point, the conversation turned to relationships, as it often did, and James let out a long sigh.

“I don’t know,” he said, running a hand through his hair. “I just… I feel like I’m waiting for something, you know? Like there’s this… thing I’m missing, but I can’t figure out what it is.”

You looked at him, your heart pounding in your chest. “What kind of thing?”

He shrugged, his gaze fixed on the ceiling. “I don’t know. Something real. Something that feels… right.”

You wanted to say something, scream, yell, to tell him that maybe what he was looking for was right in front of him. But the words stuck in your throat, caught somewhere between fear and hope. Instead, you reached for the wine bottle, refilling your glass with hands that weren’t quite steady.

“You’ll find it,” you said finally, your voice soft. “You deserve it.”

He looked at you then, his eyes searching yours. “Yeah,” he said quietly. “Maybe.”

The moment stretched out between you, heavy with unspoken words. You could feel the tension in the air, the pull of something you couldn’t quite name. And then, before you could stop yourself, you leaned in, your hand brushing against his. It was a small gesture, almost accidental, but it was enough to make your heart race.

James froze, his eyes widening slightly. For a second, it felt like he was going to lean in too, like he was going to close the distance between you. But then he pulled back, his expression unreadable.

“We should probably call it a night,” he said, his voice rough. “It’s getting late.”

You nodded, your chest tight with disappointment. “Yeah. You’re right.”

He walked you to the door, his hand resting on your shoulder for a moment before he let you go. “Get home safe, yeah?”

“I will,” you said, forcing a smile. “Goodnight, James.”

“Goodnight,” he replied, his voice soft.

You walked home that night with your heart in your throat, the memory of his hand on your shoulder burning like a brand. It was moments like that—moments where it felt like you were on the edge of something, only to have it slip through your fingers—that made it so hard to keep pretending.

The tension came to a head one evening when you were at the park, the two of you sitting on a bench under the stars. It was one of those rare, perfect nights where the air was warm, and the world felt quiet, like it was holding its breath. You’d been talking for hours, about everything and nothing, when James suddenly went quiet, his gaze fixed on the sky.

“Do you ever feel like… like you’re waiting for your life to start?” he asked, his voice soft.

You looked at him, your heart skipping a beat. “What do you mean?”

He shrugged, his expression thoughtful. “I don’t know. Like, I’m happy, I think. But sometimes it feels like I’m just… going through the motions. Like there’s something more out there, but I can’t quite reach it.”

You hesitated, your chest tight with emotion. “Maybe you’re just scared,” you said finally. “To reach for it, I mean.”

He looked at you then, his eyes searching yours. “Maybe,” he said quietly. “Or maybe I’m just scared of losing what I already have.”

The words hung in the air between you, heavy with meaning. You wanted to tell him that he wouldn’t lose you, that no matter what happened, you’d always be there. But the fear was still there, a constant ache in your chest. 

Before you could say anything, James leaned in, his forehead resting against yours. “You’re my best friend,” he said, his voice soft but sure. “No matter what happens, that’s never going to change.”

You closed your eyes, letting the warmth of his words wash over you. “I know,” you whispered. “You’re mine too.”

He pulled away then, his hand still resting on yours. “Good. Because I’m not going anywhere.”

The tension between you continued to build, a quiet storm that neither of you could ignore. It was there in the way he’d look at you sometimes, his gaze lingering a little too long. It was there in the way your heart would race when he touched you, even if it was just a casual brush of his hand against yours. It was there in the way you’d catch yourself imagining what it would be like if things were different, if he felt the same way you did.

But every time, one of you would pull back, retreating into the safety of friendship. It was easier that way, safer. Because as much as you wanted more, you couldn’t risk losing what you already had.

Until that rainy night.

The rain was coming down in sheets, the kind of rain that made the world feel small and intimate, like the universe had shrunk to just the two of you. You stood under the awning of a corner shop, your hands shoved deep into the pockets of your hoodie, watching the water cascade off the edge of the roof. James was next to you, his leather jacket damp from the sprint you’d both made to escape the downpour. He was laughing, that warm, familiar laugh that always made your chest tighten in the best way.

“Well, this is just great,” he said, grinning as he shook his head, sending droplets of water flying. “Nothing says weekly catch up like getting caught in a monsoon.”

You chuckled, glancing at him. His hair was plastered to his forehead, and his cheeks were flushed from the cold. He looked unfairly good, even soaked to the bone. “Yeah, real cinematic. Next time, maybe we can just stay in and watch a movie.”

“Next time?” he teased, raising an eyebrow. “So there’s gonna be a next time?”

You rolled your eyes, but you couldn’t hide the smile tugging at your lips. “Shut up.”

He laughed again, and for a moment, the sound of the rain faded into the background. You felt safe here, standing next to him, even as the storm raged around you. It was a feeling you hadn’t known you were missing until he came along. James had this way of making everything feel okay, even when it wasn’t.

“Hey,” he said softly, his tone shifting. He reached out, his hand hovering in the space between you. “Take my hand, will you?”

You hesitated, your heart skipping a beat. It wasn’t that you didn’t want to—God, you wanted to—but there was still that voice in the back of your head, the one that whispered doubts and fears. What if he changed his mind? What if he realised you weren’t enough?

But then you looked at him, really looked at him, and you saw the sincerity in his eyes. He wasn’t going anywhere. He never had.

You slipped your hand into his, and his fingers closed around yours, warm and steady. It was a simple gesture, but it felt like a promise.

“You’re my safe place,” you admitted quietly, the words slipping out before you could stop them. It was the first time you’d said it out loud, and it felt like shedding a weight you hadn’t realised you were carrying.

James squeezed your hand, his thumb brushing over your knuckles. “We’re each other’s safe space,” he said, his voice soft but sure. “You know that, right?”

You nodded, your throat tight with emotion. You did know. With him, you always knew.

He hesitated, like he was trying to find the right words. Then, before you could say anything, he leaned in and kissed you. It was soft, tentative, like he wasn’t sure if it was the right thing to do. But it was perfect. It was everything you’d been waiting for.

When he pulled away, you looked at him, your heart racing. “James…”

“I know,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “I should’ve done that a long time ago.”

The rain continued to fall, but it didn’t matter. The world outside the awning felt distant, unimportant. All that mattered was the warmth of James’s hand in yours, the way his lips had felt against yours, and the quiet certainty that this was where you were meant to be.

You stood there for a while, neither of you speaking, just letting the moment stretch out between you. The rain drummed against the pavement, a steady rhythm that seemed to echo the beat of your heart. James’s thumb traced small circles on the back of your hand, a gesture so tender it made your chest ache.

“I’ve been such an idiot,” James said finally, breaking the silence. His voice was low, tinged with regret. “All these years… I should’ve realised. I should’ve seen it.”

You shook your head, your free hand reaching up to brush a strand of wet hair from his forehead. “You did see me, James. You always have. That’s what mattered.”

He let out a shaky laugh, his eyes searching yours. “But I could’ve… I don’t know. Done more. Said more. I just didn’t want to mess things up. You’re my best friend. I couldn’t lose you.”

“You’re not going to lose me,” you said, your voice firm. “Not now, not ever.”

He smiled at that, a real, genuine smile that lit up his face. “Good. Because I’m pretty sure I’m in love with you.”

The words hung in the air between you, heavy and sweet. You felt your breath catch, your heart pounding in your chest. “James…”

“I mean it,” he said, his voice steady now. “I’ve been in love with you for years. I just didn’t know how to say it. Or maybe I was too scared to. But I’m not scared any more.”

You didn’t know what to say. All the words you’d been holding onto for so long—words you’d never let yourself say out loud—felt like they were bubbling up inside you, threatening to spill over. But before you could find the right ones, James leaned in again, his forehead resting against yours.

“You don’t have to say anything,” he murmured. “I just needed you to know.”

You closed your eyes, letting the warmth of his words wash over you. “I love you too,” you whispered, the admission feeling like a release. “I always have.”

He pulled you into another kiss, this one deeper, more certain. It was a kiss that felt like coming home, like finally finding the missing piece of yourself you hadn’t even realised was gone. When you finally pulled away, you were both breathless, your foreheads still pressed together.

“So,” James said, a grin tugging at the corners of his mouth. “What now?”

You laughed, the sound light and free. “I don’t know. But I think we’ll figure it out.”

“Together?” he asked, his voice hopeful.

“Together,” you agreed, squeezing his hand.

The rain began to let up, the storm passing as quickly as it had come. You stepped out from under the awning, James’s hand still firmly in yours. The world felt new, like it had been washed clean by the rain. You didn’t know what the future held, but for the first time in a long time, you weren’t afraid of it.

Because James was James, and you were you, and maybe, just maybe, you could be together and that was more than enough.

[fashionteahouse]

PRETTY PLEASE MAKE SMTH FOR SAM ULEY HES SO UNDERRATED AND I read sour candy AAND LOVED IT but I’ve been silently waiting for more with sam i think he’s so underrated but yeah MORE SAM‼️‼️‼️‼️(if you feel like it ofc im not trying to be rude yk i js love your writing sm 😭)

YESS OKAY 🤭 btw im super glad you like sour candy ! hope you enjoy :)

midnight decisions - sam uley x reader

The hug was tight. You tried to breathe out a chuckle but it turned into a rasp.

“Okay, Kim. Let her breathe.” Her high school sweetheart, Jared laughed out.

“Sorry. I’m just so happy to see you.” Kim lets go of you and looks you in the eye with two hands planted on your arms.

“Yeah. You too. It’s been forever.” You tell her back with a smile. She flings an arm around your shoulders.

The year after high school, you two fell out of touch. So much to catch up on, so much to talk about, now that you were back.

Being back in La Push, it was easy to fall into the rhythm of being a spaces that you knew. You felt comfortable being in the reservation that you once spent your time dreaming of leaving from.

“So, make any babies since I’ve been gone?” You raise an eyebrow at Jared. Kim shyly laughed as Jared smirked.

“Don’t give us any ideas, Y/N.”

You crashed at Kim’s. She wanted to show off her new place.

The next morning, the sounds of the lawn movers were ringing from outside.

Kim was still asleep, you were hungry.

You chewed on cereal as you looked outside. The man mowing his lawn had beads of sweat that shined from the sun’s beam.

His muscles flexed in the rays of the sun. The way he moved and carried himself, showed he was a man of getting things done.

It was like you were in a trance. You wanted to watch this. And only this.

A yawn broke you out of it.

“Hey.” You turn as you watch Kim enter the kitchen.

“Don’t eat all of the cereal.” She mumbled tiredly as she picked up the cereal box for herself.

You and Kim walked out of the car from a day out. You shut your door, peering out at the house next to Kim’s.

In the front lawn, the man from before, was checking the mail. No shirt, just a pair of shorts. He had his head turned as he stared at you. You couldn’t help but to stare back.

You fought to not stumble your steps. His eye contact was intense, but thrilling.

“Who’s that?” You ask curiously once you both took your shoes off in the home.

“Just my neighbor.” Kim dismissively says.

“Oh. Did he just move in?”

“No. He was here when I moved in. I don’t even know the guy. He doesn’t bother anyone though.”

You wondered what his name was.

The corner market dinged out as you opened the store door.

Nothing could prepare you for the sight.

You slowly walk as you saw the tall figure at a freezer, deciding which drink to get. You slowly walk along the chips as you stared at him like you’ve never seen a human being before.

“It’s rude to stare.” He says.

You blink rapidly. You look around to see who he’s talking to. He never looked at you.

“Yeah. I’m taking to you.” He clarified.

You look at him again, this time, he’s walking towards you. You move to the side as he stops at the counter.

The breeze of him walking past, smelled really great. It was better than any fragrance you’ve ever smelled.

“Sorry.” You mutter.

“You’re in the house next to me, right?”

“T-that’s my friend’s…,” you clear your throat, “House.”

“Oh.” He says and collects his change before he leaves out.

You saw family. They were hoping you would stay in La Push. You were trying to pace it. It was hard to be content after seeing what else was out there. But, something was telling you that La Push would treat you well.

Your knocks were unanswered as you called Kim but no answer. You shrug and turn to the direction of your rental car, you would rather wait in it than to be standing outside.

“You want to wait inside?”

You turn to see him.

Tall and broad shouldered with watchful eyes. Older and wiser.

“Uh..” you hesitantly say.

“Might be better than standing out here.”

Your fingers tightened around your keys. Every nerve lit up inside of you at the idea. You found yourself nodding before you could second guess the decision.

His home was quiet and clean. Wood floors, no clutter, no chaos. Just chosen peace.

“Have a seat.” He encouraged as he walked through the open space.

You slowly sit down on the soft couch.

He came back out with some water.

“Don’t really have much else in the fridge right now.”

“It’s okay.” You nervously smiled as you take the water.

Your eyes scanned the room. No pictures of children, no pictures of a girlfriend. You scanned his hand that sorted through mail, just feet away from you. No ring.

“How long have you been friends with the girl next door?”

“Years.” You answer.

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

Silence fell but it oddly wasn’t uncomfortable.

“You never told me your name.”

“You never told me yours either.”

He smiled, nice teeth, “Fair.”

“Y/N.”

“Sam.”

“Is your full name Samuel?”

“It’s definitely not Samantha.”

You chuckled. His dark smile only grew.

Kim called back. You wave to him as she told you she was on her way. When you hung up, he told you not to be a stranger.

You had no plans on doing so.

Kim helped you look for a place. Whenever you came over, his glances from his yard weren’t shy, like as if he was daring you to say something to him. You almost did, but you don’t know why you didn’t.

At night, Kim fell asleep. That’s the one thing you hated about Kim. She was not a night owl at all, but you were.

Glancing at the time on your phone, it was midnight.

You try to drink water in the dark kitchen, but looking out of the window, you seen that Sam’s light was on. Probably his living room light.

You made some midnight decisions, choosing to walk over to his home.

You knock.

He opened the door, peering down at you.

“I can’t sleep. Kim’s sleeping body is not much company.”

“Is this your way of saying you missed me?”

You look down with a nervous chuckle.

“I’m just messing with you. Come on in.” He says with lightness in his voice. You walk in and a movie was playing on his large television.

You join him on the couch.

“What are you doing up?” You tease.

“What am I doing up?”

You nod with a sly expression.

“I sleep during the day time.”

“Really? During the day time I’ve seen you watching me.” You speak as you take a peak at the television.

“Does it bother you?”

“No.” You answer in a small voice.

“Do you like it?”

You heard the edginess of his voice. The dominance. You snapped your eyes back to him. His darkened eyes weren’t shy at all. You eventually grew nervous.

“I…I..” you couldn’t even speak out answer. You wanted to say yes, but you didn’t know if it was any good for you.

“Why are you nervous?” He asked with a smile.

“I’m not nervous.” You breathlessly say with a nervous laugh.

“You are so.” He leaned closer. You shake your head, “What are you, some kind of detective?”

He chuckled softly, “It’s just easy to tell.”

“What else can you tell?” You challenged.

“That…You enjoy this..But, you’re worried about your friend.”

“Kim? I’m not worried her.” You chuckled as you quickly glanced at the door.

“Oh, really?”

“Yeah.” you say as you look at your lap.

“I see you watching me too.”

Your heart started to stutter.

He used his fingers to turn your face closer to his. His lips met yours. You’ve never felt such softness, his passion was intense but you wanted it to suffocate you. It was mature. Different but it was a good different. He took over your lips as if he owned you. You felt a slip of his tongue snake into your mouth. The tentativeness of your tongue touched his. A deep groan elicited from him and it shot to both your womanhood and the pit of your stomach.

You let out a small sigh as he pulled back.

“I should head back.” You say after a long silence of you two staring at each other. His eyes swam with deep satisfaction.

He only nodded.

You slipped back into bed carefully to not wake Kim up. You knew she would ask questions.

You absently touched your lips as you stared up at the dark ceiling. He was a really good kisser.

Going over there, was just simply a midnight decision. Kissing him, was just simply a midnight decision. But, that’s all your brain could focus on. And you liked it. You couldn’t even find it deep within yourself to regret any moment of it before you turned over in bed.

[saintslewis]

❝ 𝐁𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐊 𝐌𝐘 𝐒𝐎𝐔𝐋 ❞

𝐑𝐄𝐍𝐀𝐈𝐒𝐒𝐀𝐍𝐂𝐄: 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐄𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐒 - 𝐋𝐇𝟒𝟒

pairing: sir lewis hamilton x fem!oc

summary: truly, nothing can break Nadia’s soul.

warnings: cussing, outfit descriptions, slight angst, typos, it’s a long one 😭 click on the links, i’m watching you 🤨

wc: 6.4k

saint’s team radio 🎀: don’t beat me up y’all! this took more than forever and i am really sorry. hopefully this chapter brings you guys joy 🤭 thank you so much for all the love on renaissance so far! 🥹 i also want y’all to know that Nadia is a thick babe, when she wears shorts or mini skirts/dresses, it’s mini!!! just wanted to remind y’all!!!!

pls like, comment and reblog! 🫶🏽

renaissance: the series masterlist • general masterlist

-

The thin white thread from the duvet cover couldn't be any longer as Nadia continued to pull on it, clicking her nails together in the process. Her buzzing phone sat on the bed in front of her with the voice of her mother pressing her about the past week.

"I'm sure it wasn't easy being the trophy wife this weekend, people were going crazy this side." Her mother chuckled from the other end.

"Ma, you haven't spoken to me since I signed on that dotted line, you haven't checked up on me yet this is what you have to say to me after nearly 3 weeks without contact?" Nadia said with a strain in her voice.

"Oh come on. I was just giving you time to adjust to that fame you've always wanted and for the love of all that is good, cover up more. Do not need to see more than what I've already seen." Thembi said, not understanding how much she was hurting her daughter.

Quietly wiping her tears with her wrist, she thought back to how much peace she had before she called her mother.

The journey from South Africa to the uk had been a tough one when Nadia was much younger. Although the mother daughter pair had gone through hardships, they were as close as they could be. Residing in South London at the time had been a rollercoaster, from trying to fit in with the other kids to adapting to the new culture around her, it became easier thanks to friends she made along the way.

Within a year and a half of moving countries, Thembi announced to her daughter that they would be moving in with a new man, her 'friend' for the time being all the way in Stevenage. Nadia saw her mother's entire personality change the second the last box was dropped off by the movers, a new demeanour being shown off to the neighbours and a less kind version of her was shown to Nadia.

Conversations were barely there, hugs were rarely given and reassurance was never enough as opposed to the affection she would previously receive from before the move. Wanting to keep the positives on the surface, Nadia decided to distract herself from her feelings and continued to go to school with her old friends even if it meant travelling distances just to get away from her mother.

As Nadia grew older, so did the sudden change of attitude from her mother, finding the need to comment on everything she found wrong with Nadia. In rebellion, the girl would wear whatever would make her happy, get the tattoos she felt she needed and not spending as much time with her mother as she did before. When university opened, she hurried to move out, already planning her life out and visited her home country to find comfort in her family back home, her cousin Rea becoming a younger sister to her.

However after uni, Thembi seeked therapy to better her relationship with her daughter. Happy to go back to the way it was before, their relationship became healthier and happier after years. What changed?

Sighing out, Nadia ignored her mother's harsh words. "When is Rea going to get there? You've cancelled her flight three times already."

"Only next week Thursday. Ooh tell me, has he bought you anything fancy yet?" Anyone could imagine the smug look on her mother's face as she asked the question.

"Bye mom. Greet James." Rolling her eyes, Nadia hung up and gently rubbed her eyes, getting rid of the tears with her knuckles. Texting Rea that she should rather move in with her, she let out a sigh at the thought of her mother's sudden phone call the day after the race.

Walking into the en-suite bathroom, she fixed up her light makeup with music playing from her phone. Lewis had texted her earlier that he would be going on a run, not too sure what Nadia would want to do during the day before their trip to Malibu. She blinked the tears back whilst tilting her head backward to avoid them falling once again.

The cold tiles of the bathroom were cooling off the high temperature of her body, mainly from all the emotions and the overall heat in Miami. All she wanted to do was leave Miami and curl up in her bed - her old bed. The one she would lay on after an incredibly long day of teaching high schoolers. The one that had her plushies that she was gifted by her students. The one where she could be lying in at that very moment but she decided to drive to her mom's house that fateful day.

Deactivating her social media accounts was a no go as instructed by Tia, saying the engagement was good and for her to keep it up, the public unfamiliar with the concept of a WAG speaking to people as if they've been friends for decades. Having not gone too far into the mean and hateful comments, Nadia gets chills just thinking about it. How she's perceived by the world now with her newfound fame. One she did not ask for but she was willing to help her new friend.

That's all he was. A friend. Right?

Not realising she had zoned out and begun picking on her old acne scars, she hadn't heard her hotel room door open, a slightly breathless Lewis stood in the bathroom doorframe watching her pick at her skin whilst looking at a specific tile.

"Nads?" He called out but the girl still hadn't heard anything. Wiggling his neon sneakers on his feet within her vision, she snapped out of it, her eyes widening at the sight of him there. "Oh, hi." She greeted, voice as soft as silk as she looked at the man once then back to the mirror to avoid eye contact. "Everything okay?" He asked, wiping his forehead for any sweat left.

Nadia nodded, packing up her mini makeup bag from the marble counter, jewellery jangling as she zipped it up. "Just woke up a little weird and hungry, that's all. Are you good?" She responded, giving a half smile and she finally maintained eye contact with him.

"Yeah. Yeah, the run was good and ready for the day." He answered, feeling her energy yet just not sure where to put it between sadness or anger. "Still very proud of P2 yesterday, it was insane to see that live." She added, the gold grills matching her jewellery perfectly. Very casually dressed with a tired look in her eyes.

"Nads, are you sure you're good? Have you had breakfast?" He moved to the side as he watched her leave the bathroom with heavy footsteps. "The heat is killing me, not used to such and I was going to wait til the plane for something. Got too nervous to order room service." She slightly chuckled to herself, feeling a slight twist in her stomach.

Not wanting to upset her, he just gave her a look with his eyebrows a little raised and that made her crack. "Oh my days, don't look at me like that. We can go for lunch or something, I don't know." She suggested, looking away from Lewis to avoid looking into his eyes.

"What if I was going to compliment your hair?" He joked and crossed his arms with a slight chuckle.

"Please, I know that look from anywhere. I give it to my kids all the time." Nadia said while rolling her eyes, a soft smile on display. "Now let me change. The room's got stuffy air so we need to take a step outside." She shooed him away as she walked into the bathroom once again and closed the door with a huge smile.

Left standing in awe of her, Lewis shook his head as he headed out of her hotel room to change up for their outing.

-

The cold granadilla slushy had been freezing up Nadia's hand but she couldn't care less, the heat in Miami unbearable to no end. The pair sat in the back of the Escalade on the way to any mall nearby where Nadia could get some sandals, her feet suffocated by her sneakers.

Tia had advised them to travel by their allocated security cars because the streets of Miami were still buzzing with F1 fans, hungover or sober, hunting around for any f1 drivers that were around.

"Not that it isn't weird, it is, but I have to live with the fact that the women I have dreamed of styling one day know I exist and Pharrell too! Like my colleagues are blowing up my phone like crazy." Nadia emphasised, the slushy swishing around in her hand as she was talking.

Lewis could watch her talk for hours, even more when she was excited about something. He had thought that this weekend would be too much for Nadia with all the attention on her much more than the Grand Prix itself but the way she handled everything from the instagram posts to the multitude of introductions was incredible to watch.

She was graceful but with a spunk to her, expressing her personality to the friend group but not yet to the f1 media, wanting to get a bit more comfortable in that vicinity with Lewis by her side. Already seeing how she could get when someone were to wrong Lewis, the man was certain that they will get through this fake marriage with ease and fun, gaining a friendship within it.

"So what's your biggest goal with being a stylist? I haven't seen your work yet but I feel like it's phenomenal." He asked, smiling once he saw her roll her eyes at him.

"Phenomenal is a stretch but I'm trying to get like Law Roach or even work with a fashion house to be honest. I always wanted a way to show my work but I just never knew how to." She shrugged, taking a sip of the slushy.

"How about you style me for a few events and for a race or two?" He suggested.

"And take Eric's job? Are you crazy?" She stared at him with widened eyes and furrowed eyebrows but all he did was chuckle. "It'll be fun plus Eric knows already, he's more than excited for it." Lewis continued smiling, Nadia stared at him before releasing a sigh.

"When do I start?" She shook her head in disbelief, not believing what just happened. "Friday but the main brief is that we're sitting courtside." And like clockwork, he gave her a smile that she couldn't resist.

"You're just so full of surprises, aren't you? Let me find out there's more events you're hiding from me." Nadia said squinting her eyes at him, his cheeks eventually hurting from smiling at her.

"A magician never tells his tricks."

"Yeah yeah, Hamilton." Nadia replied, shaking her head once more as she got her purse ready, seeing the Miami Fashion District come into her view.

-

Pulling the bottom of her dress down constantly, she looked around at all the luxury stores that were never ending.

This wasn't the norm for her, she was hoping to see a much cheaper alternative than what was in front of her but she had to remember who she was in that very moment. She felt safe with two security detail walking stealthily behind them, her hands staying at the hem of her sundress.

"Your dress is okay, don't have to worry." Lewis leaned a little closer to her shoulder to whisper, sending back a reassuring smile. All she responded with was to hold his ring-clad hand in sign of appreciation.

Reaching Gucci, Nadia's first thought were those platform sandals she had seen on social media and in that exact moment, her mind went to the comfort she had been wanting since she hadn't packed any open shoes. Pulling him towards the store, everything in that store went quiet.

Sale associates just stopped and stared whilst costumers began whispering and muttering to themselves. Immediately spotting the sandals from afar, they walked slowly towards the shoe section of Gucci, trying to ignore all the eyes on them. From her peripheral vision, she could see someone speed walking towards them, fixing her uniform and her appearance once she reached the couple.

"Hello, welcome to Gucci. I'm Roni and I'll be your sales associate today." The woman introduced herself, looking straight at Lewis as she did.

"Nice to meet you, Roni. I'm Nadia and really we just came for a quick visit, hopefully get a few things whilst we're here." Nadia had on a bright smile as she spoke, the worker's smile fading as she looked at Nadia.

"Of course," Roni said, licking her teeth. "Where would you like to start? Perhaps dresses. It is a hot day in Miami." Looking at Nadia up and down with the slightest hint of disgust shown on her face, the woman continued to smile in her face.

Taken aback by the tone of her voice, Nadia just smiled and averted her gaze back to the shoe section. "It truly is but I have to pass. I'm much more interested in the shoes right now." She said, still holding onto Lewis' arm, who was enjoying every moment of this. "Alright, let me go get some champagne for you guys, racing must be tough in this heat." Roni smiled, turning around to walk in a different direction.

As soon as she was out of earshot, Nadia sighed out as they sat on the large velvet green couch. "Is this the crap i have to deal with? Her eyes said it all." She complained, rolling her eyes and placing her purse down. Following suit, he sat next to her and did not keep a friendly distance between them, relaxing his arm behind her.

"Don't worry about her or anyone else for that matter. People will purposefully piss you off for their enjoyment so let's just have a good time and we'll get ice cream later." He advised, not bothering to look around the shop but had focused all his attention on Nadia.

"Stand on your promise, Hamilton. I don't play about my ice cream." She joked, both chuckling after a beat of silence. Eyeing the store, she saw a few pieces that she knew would look good on Lewis and a few on herself. This one particular top was screaming her name, the Gucci monogram sticking out but it had a level of class to it, already imagining outfits with it on.

"The top is quite nice, I don't know what you could match it with to make it work but it seems cool." Lewis said, staring at the same top, unaware that their heads were tilted the same way. "You think so?" Nadia pondered. "Well you can't not be stylish around me so." He shrugged jokingly, earning another laugh from her. "Okay whatever you say, pookie bear." She patted his knee, watching a completely different sales associate head their way with a tray of champagne.

"Hi, I'm Tracey, my colleague Roni just decided to not help a couple because she didn't like the wife. Crazy I think she's talking about the Hamiltons because they came in here the same time." The new associate rambled off, placing the tray onto the small table next to them.

Finally looking up, Tracey's breath hitched. "Oh shit, that's you guys. Oh god, I'm sorry for my words." The younger girl apologised, eyes widened at the couple who just smiled at her.

"It's okay, lovely to meet you Tracey." Nadia smiled, amused at her actions. "What can I do for you today?" Tracey asked.

After a rather pleasant sales interaction with Tracey voicing how much she loved the both of them as a couple and as individuals, there they stood at the counter waiting for their items to be fully scanned. Lewis was very content with the pieces that Nadia had picked out for him, confident that every single one was going to look tailor made. When it came down to payment, Lewis had no problem in swiping his card as Nadia dug through her purse to find hers.

"Thank you for spending your time with us here at Gucci, Mr and Mrs Hamilton." The lady at the till said, handing the the large green bags that felt so good in Nadia's hands.

"It was really fun and tell Roni we said goodbye." Nadia smiled wickedly as she waved and walked out of the store with Lewis laughing at her words right behind her. "Damn that felt good. Gotta keep it cute and classy until it's not." She smiles as they walk to a different shop.

-

LOS ANGELES

"I swear, the powder I used for my under eyes is just super cakey." Natalia complained as she walked down the plane stairs onto the asphalt, Nadia following close behind with her carry on bag on her shoulder.

The Californianian air was different from that of Miami, less humid but a little hotter. It was late in the afternoon when the group landed, greeted by a beautiful sunset behind the Los Angeles skyline. After the impromptu shopping session, the plane was already for takeoff so everyone had hurried to be in the air by lunchtime.

Taking the time to catch up with everyone, the group shared laughs and their stories from Miami although it was less than a week that they had spent in the eccentric city. There was a gnawing feeling in the pit of Nadia's stomach, unable to get the guilt of spending Lewis' money as if it was hers. Although he reassured her multiple times that he was more than okay getting her whatever she wanted, she still felt uneasy about it all.

The all too familiar Escalades were parked on the ground, Lewis waiting patiently for Nadia to get down so that they could go to their destination. Seeing her confused face as Natalia, Miles and Daniel waved goodbye to them as everyone went to their respective cars, Lewis then spoke up. "Everyone's going their places, we're going to our house."

Snapping her head to look at him in bewilderment, she almost stopped in her tracks just to recall what he had said. "Another one?!" She whisper yelled, not wanting anyone near them to hear. He nodded with a closed smile as they reached their car with all their luggage inside, all similar to when they landed in Miami.

The morning came quite quick as the rest of the day ended with Nadia yet again exploring a new home, almost screaming when she saw the garage full of cars she only wished she could drive and you can imagine the shock when Lewis told her that in hindsight, they're her cars. In his words, "I don't really like to drive as much so you can use them as freely as you want."

Climbing out of the huge bed of the even larger guest bedroom, Nadia was careful to not wipe her eyes too much because of her extensions. Stretching every limb on her body, she walked towards the bathroom to splash water on her face to fully wake her up. The birds were still chirping from beyond the closed curtains and the sun was shining through the slivers of the curtain, creating a peaceful aura throughout the room.

Her bonnet luckily stayed on through the night, grabbing her glasses from the night stand along with her phone, she walked out of the room with her fluffy slippers on her feet. The trip downstairs was quiet and the aroma of something sweet wafted through the air, making her wonder where Lewis was.

Reaching the last step, she saw something move in the corner of her eye. Rather small, the thing moved towards her with its feet patting against the floor. Looking in its direction, the first thing she saw was the droopy mouth belonging to the short dog and her heart almost stopped, the fear running through her body as she continued to stare at the dog.

"Oh my god, please don't come close." She whispered out loud, hoping the dog would listen. Nadia was frozen in her place and she was too afraid to look anywhere else in case the dog moved towards her. "I see you've met Roscoe. Hope he's been kind." Lewis' voice spoke from behind her, crouching down to pet the dog lovingly. The silence from Nadia was odd, he turned his head to see her frightened state as she didn't move her gaze from Roscoe.

"Nads? Nads? Okay, let's get Roscoe out of here." He called out then whispered to himself, carrying the dog out of the living room then hurrying back to Nadia.

"Well that was my dog, Roscoe. I'm sorry he scared you." With a worried expression on his face, Lewis placed his hands on her arms to snap her out of her frozen state. Finally making eye contact with him through her glass lenses, she spoke up. "I-it's okay. Just have to get used to seeing him." She nodded, wanting to end the awkwardness right there.

"Anyway, good morning. Did you eat yet?" She said, slightly smiling and making her way towards the marble kitchen island, the two plates on top of it were filled with stacks of waffles with a side of fruit next to it. "Uh no, waited for you to wake up so I just took a run in the meantime." He mentioned, following behind her and took his seat across from her.

In that very moment, her heart fluttered at his words. It was so simple yet so sweet of a gesture to do for her. "Thank you for that, Lew. Let's eat up then." She replied, a shy smile on her face as she felt his eyes on her. The two dug in to their breakfast that Lewis had made for them earlier in the morning, wanting the logistics of their relationship.

"So, I need to know how you feel about pda and how much you're willing to show to the public. We have to make this look real." Nadia said, biting down on a slice of apple. "I don't have an issue with it, just as you're comfortable with it." He responded. Just nodding along, she continued to eat the fruit.

"This is just so weird to me. Three weeks ago I would've been in my apartment trying to think how i'm gonna get groceries for the month and now i'm in Los fucking Angeles eating fruit with 5 cars sitting in the garage. It's crazy." She blurted out, everything now properly dawning on her as they sat down in peace.

"Life works in mysterious ways for sure, never thought I would be sitting in my kitchen with my wife on a Wednesday morning." He said, the smallest of chuckles escaping him. "You are very good with your words, sir. A lil too good." She joked, pointing the fork at him.

"What's the plan today? I don't think I can handle anything hectic." She asked, her accent changing when she said 'hectic' . Giving her a cocked eyebrow at the sudden change of accent, Nadia looked smug.

"A little history on me. I moved to the uk at 8 years old and this south african accent stuck with me for a while until I reached high school. By then my mother decided to send me back home with my aunt and cousin to complete high school that side then year 12, I went back for university. The slang and accent never left me along with the 6 languages I know." She explained, almost bursting into laughter after seeing his face morph from curiosity to shock.

"Six?!" He vocalised. "And counting, my kids don't call me Superwoman for nothing." Biting into another piece, she smiled as her phone vibrated multiple times. Looking at the name across the screen, she immediately sighed and got up off her seat and signalled that she would be back.

The school's name flashed across her screen as she walked into the familiar hallway towards the guest bedroom.

"Hello Ms Brown! I hope this doesn't disturb your holiday." Lisa, the headmaster of the school, greeted with such enthusiasm.

"Well, it slightly is but what does that matter. Anything you need? Has the parents evening been postponed?" She scratched her head as she held the phone up to her ear.

"Uh, no. There's something I wanted to discuss with you and I thought it would be great for a one on one. We as the school has noticed you are quite the star these days, bringing much more traction than what you get from school already." Lisa chuckled at the last sentence, seeming to quiet down when she realised Nadia wasn't laughing.

"Oh, yes Ms Crawford. This was a subject I had wanted to discuss with the rest of the staff when we get back from the holidays. Of course this isn't something minuscule, all the media attention has been quite intense." Nadia responded, watching as Roscoe walked closer to her and sat by her feet.

There was a beat of silence from the other end of the phone call. "That was what I wanted to actually talk to you about, Ms Brown-"

"Its Mrs Hamilton." Nadia corrected.

"Ah yes, my apologies Mrs Hamilton. As much as we do appreciate your ways of teaching here at our school, we as the board have been thinking of releasing you from your position as the history teacher. Now I know it's all sudden but we feel it's good for our school." Lisa announced, voice filled with pity.

"Now excuse my manners, Ms Crawford, but I would like to know who all decided to quote on quote, fire me. Furthermore, when signing the work contract, you personally had assured me that you would stand behind your teachers through it all. Am I correct?" She started, standing up straight with Roscoe following suit.

"You are correct however this would ruin the reputation of the school and our relationships with other schools in the district. It truly pains us to do so." With the same false pity tone, Lisa spoke.

"I hope you do realise that we are about to start the second term of the school year after these two weeks and I do not appreciate the current dismissal you are going through with just solely because I married a prominent figure. Neither do I wish to leave my flourishing students because the board does not agree with my marriage." Nadia indicated.

"Not to mention prior to this conversation, no one had contacted me in regards to a possible sacking. So I would like for you and the rest of the board to rethink your approach on this matter. I do not accept this and this issue can be taken to court if you prefer to continue with this. And through a phone call? Really?" With that, Nadia knew she had won upon hearing the sigh on the other side of the phone.

With a few moments passing by, Lisa sighed out. "You are correct about this, I do apologise. See you after the holidays then, Mrs Hamilton." And with that, the headmaster said her goodbyes in defeat.

Crouching down to pet Roscoe, she held his face in her hands. "We fucking did that, boy. Thanks for being there, you not so bad after all." She smiled at the happy dog, standing up straight to back downstairs to finish her breakfast.

"And? What was that?" Lewis spoke up, putting his phone down next to his fruit bowl.

"These bitches tried to fire me so I said no. Can't get rid of their only history teacher." She wiggled her shoulders with the biggest smile on her face, biting down on the remaining fruits.

"And your dog's cool. Sat with me the whole time."

"Damn. Remind me to never get on your bad side. Let's get celebratory croissants?" Lewis giggled, taking both of their plates to wash them off.

"You read my mind, Sir!"

-

Standing in front of the open garage door, Nadia stared at the two cars in front of her. The sun in the courtyard was hitting her back but she didn't mind, as long as she continued to look at the cars.

Lewis' words rang in her head, unable to shake off the fact that technically, these were her cars as well. The Urus was very tempting to drive but she knew she didn't trust herself with that type of speed yet. The Mercedes GLE however, looked so classy and seemed like a joy to drive.

The decision took so long that she didn't notice that Lewis was taking pictures of the scene in front of him, his wife stuck between choosing cars to drive on the sunny streets of LA. "Can I drive today?" She asked once realising that he was next to her, wearing a comfortable outfit.

"You can drive whenever you want." He smiled, handing her the keys of the suv he knew she was going to pick. "Okay, cute. You'll be my passenger prince." She smiled, pinching his cheek then happily walked towards the driver's side.

Just sighing in content, he walked to the passenger's side, hopping in to see Nadia exploring the interior of the car, matching that of the black exterior. "This shit is huge." She muttered to herself as she leaned over to look at the backseats and all its intricate details.

"And before you say anything pookie bear, Tia made me do an international license when we didn't see each other. So you're safe driving with me." She reassured, putting her now blonde hair behind her ears.

"I think i like this passenger prince business." He expressed, already making himself in the seat, pushing it back and relaxing.

"Let me search up a bakery and we'll be on our way." Nadia started the car up and was geeked by the roar of the car.

And on their way they were. Blasting Beyoncé as Lewis suggested they go to a vegan bakery in Malibu, the two sang both old and new songs during the drive. Barely through her hip hop playlist, she found parking in front of the surprisingly popular bakery.

"Now you know I don't play about Beyoncé. I did not expect this place to be busy right now." Nadia pointed out, fixing the sunglasses on her head. "You'd be shocked at the amount of vegan people in Malibu alone. If you want, I can go in by myself and get the treats." He offered, unbuckling his seatbelt and holding his phone in his hand.

"We're going in together, I do not look this cute to sit in the car." She flipped her hair, dramatically exiting the car, making him laugh quite loud at her antics. Holding his hand out, Lewis connected his with Nadia's, feeling a chill when he felt her ring touch his skin. He led the way into the bakery, the sweet smell of the treats was a bit of a treat in itself.

Gasping at the baked goods on display, she didn't hesitate to greet and place an order, mouth salivating at the sight of the treats. Once Lewis also made his order, Nadia brought out her card to pay, wanting to test that it actually worked and it definitely did.

Enjoying the chocolate doughnuts in the bakery, the two laughed at the whole ordeal of the phone call this morning. "I've never had a good relationship with this new headmaster at all. She has been on my case since she joined two years ago." Nadia informed, drinking a bit of her pink lemonade.

"The courage of just saying no is so endearing to hear. Can't believe she wanted to sack you in the middle of a term. Again, the courage is so cool, Nads." He complimented her and he watched as her shoulders started to rise as a way of blushing.

"Thanks, pookie bear. Means a lot. So where to from here?" She asked, ignoring his gaze on her the whole time.

"We've got lunch with friends of mine, then home time." He said so calmly, not noticing Nadia's eyes widening at the information.

"I'm not dressed for lunch with your friends, Lew! Could've warned a girl first." She stressed, looking down at her outfit. "Wanted you to be comfortable the whole day hence I didn't tell you our plans today." He showed his full smile, wanting so badly to laugh at her facial expression.

"You are so lucky you're sitting across me right now or else I would've bitten you." She rolled her eyes at his giggles. 

Within a matter of time, the Mercedes suv entered through the high black gates of their destination with a press of a button on the intercom outside. Nadia drove in the driveway quite slowly, unfamiliar with her surroundings as she saw a cars parked in the courtyard. The sound of the waves crashing could be heard when stepping out of the car.

"Damn your friend's got bank." She commented, opening the backseat door to get her purse. "And by the sea too? I just know it's a different world here." She added, closing her door and locked the car when she saw Lewis walk closer to her with a smirk on his face.

"Yeah, Bey and Jay wanted serenity next to the sea." He said, looking back at Nadia who was frozen in her tracks.

"Did you just fucking say Bey and Jay?!" She whisper yelled as she pulled Lewis closer to her. He nodded with the same expression he had from before. "Are you fucking crazy? I can't meet Beyoncé, Lewis! I'm not ready!" Nadia's stress levels were sky high as she held onto his arm tighter, standing by the car.

"Wanted to tell you earlier but when you started playing her music in the car, just knew I had to surprise you." He smiled. "Look, if it makes it any better, she's excited to meet you as well." Lewis told her and if her eyes couldn't get any wider, she looked behind her husband's broad arm to see the woman of the hour walk towards them.

"There you two are! We were scared y'all weren't coming no more!" The happy southern voice rang through the courtyard and Nadia was scared shitless. "My goodness, Lewis! She's a beauty. Hi, I'm Beyoncé." The woman introduced herself to Nadia and she quickly snapped out of it once she realised her favourite artist was speaking directly to her.

"Hello, I'm Nadia." She managed to speak up as Beyoncé extended her hand out to shake hers. Surprisingly enough, Nadia's hands weren't sweaty neither did she stutter over her words like she thought she would. The woman went on to greet Lewis with a side hug then invited them inside.

"It was so lovely meeting you guys, a full circle moment on my end." Nadia smiled, holding onto her purse and onto Rumi's hand, the little girl so interested in everything that has to do with Nadia. "No, it was our pleasure to host you guys. My God, a couple I never saw coming. Y'all welcome back here anytime." Beyoncé said, the group of 4 walking towards the front door and into the courtyard once again.

"We'll definitely take you up on that offer, thank you for inviting us into your lovely home. Better get home before it gets too dark." Nadia replied, leaning into the hug between her and Bey whilst looking at the sunset over the horizon.

"We'll catch y'all in Paris." Jay Z smiled with a toothpick in his mouth. He dapped Lewis up as everyone said their goodbyes after a successful lunch. Now sitting in the passenger seat, Nadia held her head in her hands as he swiftly drove out the long driveway.

"I just met Beyoncé, I don't think you understand the damage you just did." She turned to Lewis, who kept the same smile as before. "And that is?" "I'm never going to stop talking about it."

"I'm glad you're happy. Saw an opportunity and I ran for it." He voiced, patting her thigh before putting his hand back on the steering wheel. "Remind me to give you the biggest hug when we get home." She smiled, becoming comfortable in the seat, not knowing how much Lewis' heart raced after hearing her refer to the house as home.

-

FRIDAY

"Stay still! I need my vision to come to life." Nadia ordered, holding his face in her hands. There were two different earrings on his ears and she was trying to decide which better suited the outfit. "Okay, wear the first pair then go to the mirror and tell me what you think." She requested, standing back to let him look at his outfit.

"Oh this is really good. Ooh, this outfit is good." He admired his outfit in the mirror, impressed by her styling and how she kept it simple yet so him.

"Glad you love it. Let me go get changed so that we won't be late." She rushed, almost running out of his room to hers, luckily her hair and makeup was done. Nadia quickly put on her outfit and made sure to take pictures in the big mirror in the closet.

Soothing over her top, she then places her sunglasses on her head and spritz her perfume for the last time before stepping out the room. At the same time, Lewis stepped out of his room and glanced at her outfit before doing a double take.

Everything sat so perfectly, the outfit had really simple colours that weren’t too loud but her silhouette accentuated it all. Both outfits complimented each other greatly whilst showing their own style individually. “Wow.” He blurted out, hoping that she didn’t hear that.

“Damn I did good.” She muttered to herself as she looked at him as well, very proud of her styling.

“You ready to go?” Lewis asked, finally focusing on her face and fidgeting with his rings. “Yeah, yeah.” She said in a light voice, carefully walking towards the stairs then feeling his hand slip into hers to help her downstairs.

“Remember, this isn’t real,Nadia.”

“Remember, this isn’t real, Lewis.”

nadiahamilton • 15 min ago “great day to be a lakers fan”

-

dividers by: @cafekitsune

nadia’s faceclaim: @/unclewaffles on ig!

all pictures are from ig and pinterest!

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[natashaslesbian]

Another Mother (Pt 2)

Summary: it’s your first morning in Scarlett’s house and after an argument with your dad you find yourself leaning on Scarlett

Word Count: 2.1k

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You flopped down dramatically onto your mattress, hitting it slightly harder as it was only laying against the floor. “Thanks Dave” you said as you rolled onto your back “no problem darl” he smiled. Dave was one of the movers helping you and your dad move into his girlfriend’s place, he had single handily got all your furniture up to your new bedroom on the second floor. In just a few hours you had got to know Dave well, it was nice to talk to someone who didn’t see you as the girl whose mom had died. Dave picked up the last of cardboard boxes on the floor “welcome home darl” he said. You smiled politely but couldn’t quite thank him, because this wasn’t your home. It was Scarlett’s home. Yes, Scarlett Johansson. “Bye Dave” you waved as the mover gently closed your door. You sat up slowly on your mattress, looking around at all the furniture you would have to re build tomorrow. In reality, the size of the room made it look like a lot less work, you were worried about how you would fill all this empty space. You heard laughter from downstairs, reminding you of the two love birds down on the first floor. Colin, your dad had managed to fill his empty space, but you weren’t quite so open. You didn’t want a new mom, you wanted your mom.

It was late by the time everyone was someone settled and Scarlett decided to treat the three of you to takeout, as if it was a dent in her purse spending $30. You decided to eat in your room, wanting to be alone for a while. Your dad had tried to convince you to sit with them but you knew you wouldn’t be able to stop the gag in the bag of your throat seeing them so lovey dovey. “Ok Kid, we’ll come say goodnight in a bit” Colin said as you trudged back up the stairs. “She hates me” Scarlett sighed, looking down at her engagement ring. “She doesn’t hate you, she just doesn’t know you that well yet” Colin said as he wrapped an arm around his partner. “It’s not been easy since her mom, she’s not as adaptable as me. It’ll take time but one day you and her will be the best of friends” he said. “Do you think so?” Scarlett asked “I know so. She’ll never admit it but when she was little I tried to get her into superhero’s. Black widow was her favourite before she watched Harry Potter and decided that that would be her entire personality” Colin smiled, Scarlett smiled as the little story. “I know deep down she’s excited to get to know you, she’s just scared. She thinks I’m replacing her mom, I just wish I could tell her that would never happen. But I have moved forward, and I’m happy. I’m so happy with you” Colin said as he lent forward to kiss Scarlett’s forehead. “Let’s eat, then we can say goodnight to y/n and snuggle up in OUR bedroom” Scarlett said with a wide smile.

Waking up in a new unfinished bedroom felt strange, what felt even more strange was the sound. At your old house, you would wake up to the birds singing, no matter the time. Living next to a large field had its perks and you loved the fresh air that came rushing into your bedroom every morning. You felt stiff having slept on a thin mattress against the bare floor, stretching out your sore muscles felt so good. You checked your phone briefly, seeing it was still very early. Your stomach growled as you looked over at the untouched takeout from last night, food had been the last thing on your mind sitting in your new room. You figured it would be a bad idea to eat next day cold chicken, so you ventured down to the kitchen in search of breakfast. It had only just gone 6am so you were surprised to hear cluttering coming from the kitchen. Shuffling in slowly, you saw Scarlett at the stove, pouring what looked to be pancake mix into the pan. Your heavy footsteps alerted the blonde to your presence “morning y/n” she said as she turned around to give you a warm smile, making you cringe internally. “Morning” you said as you crossed the room.

Scarlett continued her actions until she noticed your confused glance “thought I’d whip up a little something for breakfast, I’m a bit of an early riser so was gonna surprise your dad with breakfast in bed” she said as she flipped a pancake. The sweet tone of her voice infuriated you and without thinking you spoke your true thoughts “my mom used to do that for dad, she made her pancakes from scratch though” you coldly said, not missing the slight frown in Scarlett’s features. “Well I’m not the best at cooking” she said as she painted a smile back on her face “I did get a vegan mix tho, your dad told me you don’t eat dairy” she finished. “You’re making me pancakes?” You questioned, feeling slightly guilty at your earlier outburst. “Oh if you want something else feel free to help yourself. I have oat milk for cereal and there’s some eggs if you’d like those” Scarlett said, delicately moving the hot pancake from the pan to the plate. “I could make you some bacon if you’d prefer or perhaps some sausages?” Scarlett continued as she listed off the long list of breakfast items she had. “Can you just stop!” You yelled out suddenly, Scarlett froze at your outburst. “You don’t have to do…all this! I can take care of myself ok. I know you weren’t expecting some random teenager to be dumped with you when you got involved with my dad but I wasn’t exactly expecting a new mom. And just so we’re clear, I’m not looking for one either!” You yelled as you stormed out of the kitchen and stomped back up the stairs.

The noise from downstairs had woken Colin up and you brushed past him on your way back to your bedroom. “Y/n?” He said as you stormed past him with tears coating your cheeks. Your dad decided not to press you straight away, he’d learned early on after your mom passed that it was important for you to let out your emotions. Colin headed downstairs to see if his fiancé might be more open to talking. Walking in slowly, he saw a saddened looking Scarlett standing by the stove “honey?” He said softly. “You’re supposed to be in bed” she said as she turned to Colin “I was making pancakes for you” she said sadly. “What happened?” Colin asked as he made his way over to Scarlett. “Does y/n think I’m gonna replace her mom?” She spoke quietly. “Is that what she said?” Colin asked “well sort of” Scarlett said with a large frown. Colin ushered his fiancé over to the kitchen island where they sat together hand in hand. “She just said that she’s not looking for a new mom. She got upset when I was giving her some ideas for breakfast” Scarlett said. “Oh my god she’s so dramatic” your dad sighed “I’ll have a word and get to her apologise, she’s not gonna get away with being so rude” Colin said angrily as he rose from his seat. “I don’t think she meant it like that” Scarlett called, pausing Colin’s movements “she just got…overwhelmed. Maybe I came on too strong, I just wanted her to feel welcomed” the blonde frowned.

Back in your room, you sat in silence letting the guilt consume you. It was only when you heard the thumping footsteps outside your door did you finally return to reality. “What the hell is the matter with you!” Colin shouted as he threw open your bedroom door “I told you that you would be respectful to Scarlett and then you go and talk to her like that!” He yelled. “I’m sorry” you whispered under your breath “I’m not finished!” your dad screamed as he interrupted you “I am running out of options with you y/n, this behaviour has to stop! You are not the only one who lost your mom and it would be nice if you could just appreciate that I am happy. You may not like it but I am with Scarlett now and you are just gonna have to get used to it because this is reality now! I’m getting sick of you.” Colin said as you just sat and took your medicine. He didn’t even give you a chance to explain or apologise before he was out the door, bumping into Scarlett on the way. “You’re supposed to be taking a shower” she said with a disappointed glance. “I’m now going” Colin said in a huff as he brushed her off. “If that’s how you talk to her it’s no wonder she gets riled up so quickly” Scarlett said softly “what would you know? You’re not a mother are you” Colin said as he slammed the bathroom door closed.

Your door was gently pushed open and you glanced up cautiously to see Scarlett carrying through a tray of food. “Brought you some pancakes” she said brightly, slowly depositing the tray atop your desk. You could see the glimmer of sadness behind Scarlett’s eyes “I heard what my dad said to you, I’m sorry” you said. “It’s not your fault y/n” Scarlett said as she sceptically came to sit with you. “If I hadn’t made him angry he wouldn’t of said it, so I’m sorry” you sheepishly said “and I’m sorry for what I said too” the blonde placed her hand on your shoulder in what she hoped was a comforting touch “does he usually speak to you like that when he’s mad?” She asked. “You heard?” You said in an embarrassed tone “could hear him from downstairs” Scarlett replied. “He expects a lot from me, especially since mom died” you frowned. Scarlett had never seen such an angry side to Colin, she found herself feeling somewhat protective over you, despite her unconditional love for your dad. “He shouldn’t have yelled at you like that” the older woman said “he’s just going through a lot” you said, trying to find excuses for your dads behaviour. “So are you” Scarlett said as she rested her arm around your shoulders. You felt tears well up in your eyes and couldn’t resist but to lean into Scarlett’s embrace. You didn’t expect it to be so warm and so comfortable, something that felt almost like home. You forgot for a second that you weren’t basking in the comfort of your mom and sat up quickly to wipe your eyes. “Sorry, you shouldn’t have to deal with me being all hormonal and teenagery” you said while rubbing at your nose with your sleeve “thank you for breakfast” you said ending the conversation. Scarlett smiled as she stood up and left your room.

It was lunchtime when you next dared to venture out of your room, once again in search of food. Silence followed you throughout the large house as you journeyed towards the kitchen. You helped yourself to an apple from the spotless fruit basket on the corner counter. “Hey kiddo” your dad said from behind, startling you slightly. “Hi” you said questioningly over your shoulder, you watched as Colin took a seat at the island counter and assumed he wanted you to do the same. “Y/n I’m sorry about this morning, I shouldn’t have spoken to you like that” Colin said “it’s no excuse but I guess the move has been harder on me than I thought it would. I know you miss your mom sweetie and so do I but I just want you to get along with her” he finished with a face full of regret. “It’s okay, I forgive you” you said quietly before taking the first bite of your apple. “Scarlett said you got a bit upset, it was her who made me realise I was wrong, she was really mad at the way I spoke to you” Colin said with an uncomfortable laugh. “Oh mother of the year everybody” you said sarcastically, making your dad raise his eyebrows at you in a warning way “sorry” you huffed. Assuming the conversation was over you made a break for your bedroom “fancy a movie night later?” Your dad said pausing your movements “the 3 of us, your pick first?” He said as he walked up next to you “I think Scarlett might like another little hug” he said with a cheeky grin. you watched as he went into the living room, slightly annoyed that he knew about your slip up. Deep down, you knew the hug felt nice, but you remained decided - Scarlett isn’t your mom, she never will be.

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Taglist<3

@saraaahsstuff / @dannipotatoo / @tobiaslut / @nevaeh-daughterofvalcarol / @marvelnatasha12346 / @yelenasdiary / @mousetheorist / @ashadash0904 / @strange-night-owl / @kkreader78o / @hatergirl-69 / @asv-xx