#i fucking love our countryside

[jumalanpelko]

Finnish countryside!! Or at least it is inspired by it!

[mywritersmind]

y/n and lando being so inlove and touchy in the kitchen while their friends are in the living room 🙈 bonus if max or anyone catches them ahaha

YOU AND I - LN4

listen up : fewtrell!reader. make out, mentions of sex, nothing explicit.

word count : 584

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“This is going well.” I say it to reassure myself as I attempt to open another bottle of wine. I am failing at the task when my boyfriend takes the bottle from me.

“It is…” He opens the bottle easily, making me seem incredibly weak as he stands behind me. “Love. They’re having fun.” Lando and I are hosting a dinner with all of our friends in the french countryside. I want all to be perfect but my boyfriend is more of the ‘fuck it let’s see what happens’ type.

I sigh, leaning my head back onto Lando’s shoulder as he kisses my neck, “Mmm.”

“I love you.” He whispers into my skin as a small smile rests on my face. He plants more kisses on the side of my neck before I turn around to stop him.

“Lan.” I brace myself against the counter as he places his hands on either side of me, “They’re waiting for more wine.”

“They can wait for me to kiss my girlfriend.” I give him a look but he just gently presses his lips on mine. I breathe, melting into him, and suddenly every worry I've had about tonight is gone.

I slip my arms around his neck, deepening the kiss. I can feel him smile against my lips, “Can’t wait till everyone is gone.” He jokes and I hit his arm.

“Max and P are staying here tonight.” At the mention of my brother, Lando pulls away and rolls his eyes. “Don’t give me that look. This house echoes.”

A mischievous smirk sneaks onto his face, “You’ll have to be quiet then.” He kisses me again as I laugh, slipping his tongue in my mouth.

This is why I love him. As a ball of nerves, Lando is the last person I expected to be so perfect with. He's careless and ridiculously goofy but makes me so much better.

Growing up together was especially odd, he claims he had a crush on me all of childhood but honestly I couldn’t get past the whole, ‘my brothers best friend’ thing.

He was annoying and teasing until he invited Max and I to a grand prix. It’s like all those years were just a trailer for our current love.

Lando moves a hand to my hip, making my skirt ride up a bit. I smile into him, happy just to have some time alone.

Sadly that alone time is interrupted by a whole ass scream.

I whip my head around to see Max with an empty glass in his hand and a shocked look upon his face.

“No!” Max groans, “Why!?” He motions to the wine bottle, “Around the wine?” He stomps over to us as Lando and I look at eachother, trying not to laugh.

“Hi Max.” Lando doesn’t move his hands off me but I drop my arms back to my side.

“Don’t give me that.” He pours the wine without looking at us, “You two are disgusting. All I ask is to not be all touchy around me!”

“You walked in on us!” I argue and Max looks up at me with a scowl.

Once his glass is poured he gives us one more dirty look before turning around, “I hate you two.”

“Love you!” Lando and I sing at the same time as my brother walks out. He plants one more kiss on my cheek before taking my hand and the bottle of wine to join the others.

note : thanks for the request i loved this one!! wrote this instead of thinking about todays baku quali…

[folkloresthings]

Hello darling I have a request from prompt ‘we were supposed to be just friends’. Lando x fem!reader, she work as legal for McLaren, they met at the McLaren technology center, and from the begging they had this special bond. During a party in a disco in uk with his friends, he stay very close to her and try to kiss her. After a sec of confusion, they kissing each other.

❛ ARE WE STILL FRIENDS? ❜ ❨ lando norris x reader ❩

where lando has loved the mclaren legal officer from the second he set eyes on her and has finally decided to do something about it.

eight months out of university and working in a coffee shop was not exactly how you had pictured your life post-graduation. you had a law degree from one of the best schools in england, but all it was doing was gathering dust on a frame in your living room. nights were spent in front of the television, only half paying attention, with your laptop screen lit up with job postings. it was like the four years of knowledge was itching to be used, instead of idle hands pouring overpriced iced lattes.

admittedly, you didn't remember applying for the job at mclaren. you were so desperate that you had sent your resume to every posting you could find, barely sparing a second glance at the job summary. it was only when they emailed with an interview date did you do your research. they were a formula one team, and a pretty good one at that. the sport had never much been your thing so you hadn't a clue what kind of work you'd be doing.

but it was work. legal work.

the interview went smoothly, then the second, and the third. they seemed to love you and your education. thankfully the internships you had done during university made up for your lack of experience. they hired you and had you come up to headquarters the next day. the drive from london to woking was full of jitters, turning your radio up to block out the nervous thoughts.

"ah, y/n! welcome to the mclaren technology centre." zak brown was the one to greet you by the front desk, with a smile and a firm handshake. you had spoken during your last interview, the final hurdle with the boss, and thankfully you got along fine. despite your age and greenness in the legal world, zak admitted he saw potential in you. they had gone through six other employees in the past two years for this position, all much older and more experienced. they needed a change.

"this is where you'll be working when you're in-office," zak explained, leading the way through a tour of the centre. it was much bigger than you expected, so modern and open. yeah, you could picture yourself here. "we usually would have you here one or two days a week, the others you can work from home. is that okay?"

"that's perfect," you agree, nodding happily. "i live in london, so the drive is only about an hour."

zak grins, continuing the tour and filling each space with small talk; your education, upbringing, hobbies. he only laughed when you sheepishly told him you knew very little about formula one, and didn't have a huge interest in the sport.

"you'd be surprised how many people here don't watch it," he chuckled, his american accent strange in the midst of the english countryside. "ah, speaking of. boys!"

in the foyer, at the end of the hall, two heads whip around at zak's call. both in the mclaren colours, one was thinner and smiling crookedly. the other, well. he was...

"lando, oscar, i want you to meet y/n. she's our new internal legal officer," zak explained. "meaning if you fuck up in any way, she'll have to deal with it."

the three men laugh, bringing your own bashful smile to wake.

"hi, i'm oscar," the thinner boy speaks in a soft australian accent, shaking your hand. "but it's lando here that you'll have to keep an eye on. i'm always on my best behaviour."

lando. he'd been staring at you since zak dragged you over to them, barely blinking despite for the odd laugh. he blushes then, gently nudging oscar with his elbow. he meets your eyes and his mouth goes dry, lips parting like a fish out of water as he tries desperately to think of something witty to say.

"don't worry, if you don't do anything wrong then i won't have anything to do," you jest, breaking the silence. a grin pulls at your mouth with the words, soon mirrored by the two drivers.

"i think i'd rather you didn't, then," zak scoffs, patting your shoulder. "go get settled, i'll come check on you in a while. boys, we've got that meeting in ten — c'mon."

smiling gratefully, you nod towards zak as he leaves — a silent thank you for his hospitality. oscar waves shyly, turning on his heel to hurry after his boss. lando follows suit, just about pulling his eyes from you, but only makes it a few steps before he's turning back.

"it was, uh, nice to meet you," he murmurs, clearing his throat. "hopefully i'll see you around."

biting at your cheek, holding back a small laugh, you nod. "hopefully."

lando finds himself grinning, walking a few yards backwards just to spare another minute looking at you. oscar calls for him and forces the teammate to hurry, shoes scuffing against polished tile as he catches up.

"stare much?" oscar asks him once they're side by side, a knowing smirk twisting upward.

"shut up," lando mumbles, but his own smile flickers. "she's pretty."

after that day, lando and you became close friends. he would sneak upstairs from briefings to bring you a coffee ("extra caramel, of course") and hide out in your office. he would vent to you about changes zak was, or wasn't, making with the car. you would confide in his about particularly stressful cases you would get handed. on days you weren't in the office, lando would text you pictures of him and oscar bored in meetings.

but the worst was race weekends. very rarely did you go along with the rest of the team, as there was little need for you there. if something went wrong, you could fix it from your desk in england. lando sent you updates from each city, everything from the track to sightseeings. you would often reply with a picture of your rainy window in central london and a sad face. and each sunday, you would sit up and watch the race with your fingers crossed. no matter the time, you were there. and when a race went particularly bad, you would wait up for the phone call from lando, needing a shoulder to lean on.

the staff at mclaren began saying you two were joined at the hip, partners in crime, so often not seen without the other. the best of friends.

"hey," lando chirped, knuckles rapping on your office door one friday morning. he had two coffees in his hand, as usual, perching both them and himself on top of your desk. "you going to the office party tonight?"

"open bar, free cocktails, seeing mark from marketing drunk?" you hummed thoughtfully, sipping at the hot drink. "you bet i am."

lando laughs, head thrown back slightly. the knowledge that you'll be there relaxes him, actually letting him look forward to the mandatory night out. "okay, good. i'll see you then."

"see you tonight," you call after him, watching until he disappears around the nearest corner. luckily, zak lets everyone go an hour early in account for the party starting at eight. you hurry home, sorting through every outfit option and getting ready as quickly as you can. the club was on the other side of london, at least forty minutes on the train, hence your rushing out the door with only one heel buckled.

inside of the club, completely booked out by zak for the company's pleasure, you realised just how many people worked in the world that was mclaren. legal was such a small part of it, a tiny cog in the whole machine. it was quite overwhelming, if it wasn't for the fact that you knew so many of the faces.

"y/n, hey!" the familiar sydney accent pulls your eyes to the nearby bar. oscar waves you over, smiling as you weave your way into a hug. "this is lily, my girlfriend."

you recognised the girl from pictures, but she was even prettier in real life. you exchange bright hello's, hugging in greeting while oscar orders you both some drinks.

"it's so nice to finally meet you!" lily beams, tucking her hair behind her ears. "i've heard so much."

curiosity peaks you, head tilted ever so slightly. "you have?"

"yeah, of course. lando is always—"

her words are cut short by a wide-eyed oscar, shoving in between you both to give you your drinks. "ha, hey! let's go sit, hm?"

your brows furrow, only more confused when lily shoots you an apologetic look. she takes your hand to lead you through the crowd to a booth at the other wall. amongst a few individuals you vaguely recognise, lando sits sipping a beer. he looks up when he hears oscar greet them, but his eyes instantly shoot to you.

"jesus," he mutters, quiet enough that only max next to him hears. you look absolutely stunning, your figure newly shown off by the little dress you have on. it falls to about mid-thigh, the rest of your legs accentuated by the heels you had on. your hair and makeup has been done a bit more than it would for work, and the sight has lando's stomach churning.

you squeeze in next to lily, across the table from lando. he can't tear his eyes away from you, even when max tries to strike up conversation. all you're doing is talking to lily, leaning over into each other to hear properly, face lighting up every so often with a laugh.

"so, that's who's had you so distracted recently?" max eventually catches lando's attention, watching his best friend's eyes widen. "she's pretty."

pretty? lando though. she was gorgeous.

"we're just friends," lando explains, shaking his head.

"bro, you've been staring at her like she's the only person in the room for the last twenty minutes," max laughs airily, nudging him. lando scoffs and rolls his eyes, but doesn't deny the fact. after another moment, you catch his gaze and smile softly. lando blushes, lifting his hand to wave slightly.

"okay, let's dance! this is my favourite song," max suddenly exclaims, standing up with a slap to the tabletop. a few follow suit, and you turn to lily with raised brows.

"oh, no," she shakes her head with a giggle. "i need at least two more of these drinks before you get me up there."

"well, drink up. i'll save you a dance."

smiling sweetly, you slip off of the seat to give her attention back to oscar. lando stands at the same time, smiling playfully when he looks at you. a hand of his stretches out and you can't even fathom denying it, slipping palm to palm and letting him drag you to the middle of the dance floor.

the song is drake or the weekend, something you don't really know, but the beat is so loud that you can feel it in the floor beneath you. falling into a rhythm, you giggle as lando begins moving with you. he sings along, but you don't recognise the lyrics, only the movement of his lips as his eyes shut. your chest thumps in time with the music, the heat of the people around you creeping onto your bare skin. the music mixes, changing into a melody you instantly know.

"i love this song!" you squeal, grasping lando's arms to shake them in excitement. he chuckles, watching on in admiration as you begin dancing again, reciting every single word to abba's lay all your love on me. your hands sneak down from his arms to his hands, forcing him to move along with you. he spins you around again and again just to watch your hair and dress float around you like magic, the lights of the club basking you in a heavenly hue.

somewhere in the midst of the second verse and chorus, lando feels his judgement cloud. he'd like to blame it on the beer, but he had only drank one, and he knew it was that usual intoxicating presence you carried around everywhere. your lips mould around each lyric, having listened to the song so many times (and your endless summer rewatches of mamma mia, as you once told him) that it was engraved on your memory. you looked perfect, the same as every day he snuck glances at you in the office or scrolled through your instagram late at night when he couldn't sleep for thinking about you.

you were it, for him. everything he loved and dreamed of, the only thing that had kept his feet on the ground this past season. and here you were, chest pressed to his thanks to the swarm of drunken guests, so close that he could smell your perfume and the shampoo from your hair. you had used a darker lipstick tonight, he noticed, unlike the usual clear balm you wore at work. it made you lips look even more soft than they normally do - he knew, because he spent a hefty chunk of his day staring at them.

abba fades out, along with the loud and out of tune singing filling the club, and all lando can think about is kissing you. it wouldn't be fair, for such pretty lips to go unkissed. and it wouldn't be fair on him, who has spent hours on end imagining how kissing you might feel, to let such an opportunity slip away from him.

so, he's tightening the hands that are already on your waist to pull you even closer, until there's not an inch of space left between you. his lips around rough, unmoving as they press against yours, eyes screwed shut and cursing the long seconds as he waits for your mouth to respond. eventually, he peeks through hesitant eyes to meet your surprise. your lips, colour smudged a little now from the contact, are parted and your eyes are wide. he can't discern what you're thinking, but he would bet it wasn't pure elation.

blame it on the beer, blame it on the beer, blame it on the beer.

his mouth opens just as all of his senses wire back in again, the end notes of the song just ringing out when he begins making his excuse. but your surprise and panic fills you so much that you can't breathe here, not with so many people around and lando's body heat still so close. stumbling, you push past him and everyone else that you meet to escape the busyness. the neon exit sign beckons you to the fire door, gasping when it opens and the fresh night air hits you.

thankfully, there isn't a soul to watch you and your flushed cheeks struggling for breath, and you wait until you hear the door shut behind you to fully relax again, frankly not caring if you lock yourself out. but the click of the lock doesn't come, only a familiar sound that crumbles you again.

"y/n—"

lando stands helpless in the doorway, eyes pleading for forgiveness when you turn to him. your head shakes, searching for something to say.

"i... you, what—” you struggle to grasp the right words, eyes squeezing shut. "i thought we were just friends?"

"we were! we are," lando corrects you quickly, striding towards you. "but that doesn't change the fact that i—"

"lan, please don't."

"— love you, y/n. i've been in love with you since your first day at work. how couldn't i be?"

his voice is smaller than you've ever heard it before, urging guilt into your throat until you have to swallow it back down. you make yourself look down at the ground, your heels and his sneakers facing each other, because you know you'll fall apart once you see those damned brown eyes.

"lando..." you murmur through a sigh.

"don't you feel it too?" he asks, desperately grabbing at your clammy hands. "us, me and you. it's right there."

you cave then, heart taking over from your mind, chin raised to look at him. lips turn into a frown, searching his lovelorn eyes for the moment he'll laugh and tell you its all a big joke. because he's lando, and you're just you.

"tell me that you don't, that there's nothing here," lando mumbles lower, gripping your fingers for dear life. "tell me this isn't real and i'll walk away. but — but i can't leave you if there's a chance."

your lips part with a breath, lips dry, and your sense screams at you to tell him no. that it'll never work, it's impossible. but something tugs in your chest and you realise something you had never wanted to admit to yourself: you loved lando norris.

"it'll be too complicated." you settle for excuses instead, chewing the inside of your cheek, wincing when you nick the flesh. "we have to work together, so if something happens then it'll mess everything up."

lando steadies your shaking head with his hands, one on each cheek, staring deep into your eyes. "what are you so scared of?"

you swallow, shoulders raising with each shallow breath. "i don't want to lose you. you're my best friend, the only person i can talk to. i don't want to mess that up."

your confession melts his heart, affection bringing his thumbs to graze across your cheeks. "i won't let that happen," lando promises, tongue sincere as can be.

you wait a moment, scouring his features before the trust solidifies. gently, tentatively, you search for the taste you barely got inside of the club, lips ghosting together. strawberry and beer mix on your tongues, hands wandering over body heat and mouths hungrily moving together like two teenagers in a back alley. only when breathless does lando fall from your lips, hands still steady on the round hips of your dress, keeping you close.

"i'll always be your best friend," he whispers like an oath, a boyish smile tugging at the corner of his swollen and lipstick-covered mouth. "but can we be best friends who do that, like, a lot?"

writer's note: wrote this in one sitting and may have gotten carried away but pls enjoy <3

[eightstarr]

what's mine — ellie williams.

summary: the day you left for this assignment, ellie remembers thinking it would be okay— or maybe it was you who said it, your hands over her tense shoulders, her fingers tugging at your shirt, “you’ll be okay.” she goes home and knows it to be true, like words from a god. she’ll be okay and you’ll be back. what’s left to do but count the hours?

warnings: descriptions of violence (not very detailed), suggestive content near the end!

notes: uhhh i love being dramatic and i think it shows here. all i think about is the action of coming home to someone who loves you and how it is as meaningful now as it was a thousand years ago and as it will be in a hundred years but whatever haha sorry about that guys. if you read this i love you btw

don't support zionist neil druckmann.

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・。.・゜✧・. ────

Being without Ellie is disorienting. The first week feels like walking alone in a dark room, feeling the walls for a light switch, running into sharp corners that stab your sides. You miss her like it's a sickness, less a longing and more a threat to whatever you’re made of.

There's a small community way outside of Jackson offering a trade. Maria makes it sound simple, like everything else. “They know us, it’ll be quick. You pick up the supplies, drop off our part of the deal, and come back.”

It takes 26 days. The exchange is simple but the journey less so, you and three others have to carry home the much needed medical supplies through herds of infected and a heavy storm that slows you down and cuts off your communication for three terrifying nights.

Ellie wanders the house and feels like a stranger, sickly, a sleepless corpse searching for living blood. The light coming through the windows feels too bright and her skin abnormally cold. She knows, or thinks, that if she’s not careful she could get lost in it— merge every wall together until there’s nothing left to see but a stark flatness, an unfamiliar box. The space is not huge. It's not a tall castle or a manor in the countryside or anything fitting to the theatricality of loneliness, but it’s your home. So much of you is in it. Ellie finds herself focusing on a different thing each passing day, clinging to them with a nauseating desperation, a hundred random pieces of you scattered like breadcrumbs to keep her sane. A book with a folded corner somewhere along the first half of the story, your favorite mug next to the sink, an old pair of jeans ripped at the knee on your side of the drawer. Too many things for you not to come back.

“Do you think I'm losing my mind?” she asks, a soft wrinkle between her furrowed brows, her eyes focused on a random spot ahead. “I mean, it’s been two weeks,” she’s trying to sound like it's not as bad as it looks, like she finds any of it funny or interesting instead of plainly horrifying. The sole of her shoes hits the floor in an anxious rhythm, mocking her— tap, tap, tap, tap. “Isn’t that fucked up?”

Dina curses at the lighter until it flickers back to life with a weak orange flame, holding it near the end of the half finished blunt. She inhales and passes it over, breathing out, “You’re not crazy.”

A pause. Ellie lets the comment comfort her for a single second before it flies right through her head, sounding more quiet than usual when she admits, “...I have this feeling like someone took something from me.”

Dina raises her eyebrows, her chuckle cut off by a short cough, smoke itching her throat. “You mean, like… what’s her name?” she squints her eyes and tries to remember. 

The name worms around Ellie’s head like it has been for days, bold letters, clear as day. She makes no attempt to let it pass through her lips, self aware and unrelenting at the same time, maybe finding some indefensible satisfaction in the fact that it can be forgotten. Cruel, you'd tease, and Ellie would smirk a lot like she tries not to now.

Dina gives up a second later, “Whatever— the girl that volunteered to go with them before you could. You're blaming her?”

“I guess.”

“Hm. That’s a little…”

“Don’t say crazy—”

“Crazy.”

“Fuck you,” she rolls her eyes. “It’s not like that.”

“So you’re not jealous?”

Ellie scoffs, tongue pressed against the inside of her cheek. Dina argues unlike anyone else. She’s confident, her goal clear and her strategy already lined up before you get a word in, loaded like a gun. But her strongest contender, perhaps the only one, might be Ellie’s simple stubbornness. “I’m concerned. She got picked over me even though I've studied that route a hundred fucking times. I could've done a better job,” she says, steady and tireless like bulletproof glass.

“At getting the supplies or at taking care of your girlfriend?”

“You’re starting to sound like Maria.”

Dina pauses for a short moment before she shrugs. “Maria makes good points.”

Ellie takes one last hit of the blunt and flicks it across the room to die out somewhere on the permanently damp floor. She tries to believe it. No one took you, she thinks, you left dutifully like anyone else in Jackson would've, like Ellie would've. It’s a dangerous trip but a job like any other, the same risk of deadly infection that comes with any of them. She should be used to it by now. Does it not also exist every other day of the year?

Still, she can't remember the last time she didn't see your face for this long. You’ve been dating for a little over three years, living together for half of that— it's a terrifyingly meaningful chunk of your young lives, months and months of seeing you everyday, of falling asleep with her face on the crook of your neck and waking up with your fingers pressing into her waist. You've built a world where things like this don’t happen, where all Ellie can think about as she leaves home is the way you hum in the mornings, soft and sleepy and so fucking cute, when you wake up to her back against your chest and her hair on your face. She thinks about her own laugh, how shy it sounds, how your lips press to her head before she turns around to claim a proper kiss.

But now you’re not here, and she’s too terrified to even utter the words out loud, and there's a hole in her chest where you should be that makes her feel insane everywhere she goes. It's an open wound leaving a hazardous trail of shame and memories, humming in her ears like a boiling kettle, who took what's mine?

Ellie has never considered herself to be the jealous type, but she never was the type to sleep with her back turned to someone this comfortably, either. It’s different with you. It's theatricality, it’s the coldness of that bed at night, it’s your legs tangled with hers like growing roots now disjointed. It’s a thing, breathing and alive, screaming at nothing— I miss you, I miss you, I miss you.

Is that girl you went with hanging from your every word in that way she always does? Is that a shameful thought to have? Ellie wipes it clean in a second and finds it immediately there again, at the front of her mind like a message on a cloudy mirror. She can't think about anything else. Is the storm keeping the two of you awake? Does a part of you find the girl brave for volunteering? Is she turning to look at you and asking, just loud enough, are you asleep? That fall earlier was rough, how are you feeling? Is she looking at your wounds like they matter more than doing a good job? Is your blood, warm and red and yours, on her hands now?

The last of the smoke spills past her lips in a sigh. Ellie pulls her knees closer to her chest and tugs at the loose thread on your ripped jeans.

─────✧･ﾟ: *✧･

There’s a comfortable weight that keeps you under, the loving press of her arm resting over your chest, her thumb brushing your chin. The sun feels warm where it’s draped across Ellie’s back, white tank top wrinkled slightly up her waist.

She watches you until you let out a little sigh, squint one eye open and then slowly the next, a smile stretching your lips as soon as your sight focuses on her. She looks beautiful. She looks just like she did before you left, your girl.

It’s weird— you’ve showered, scrubbed your hands clean and raw, changed clothes. And still you feel like you’ve brought in something dirty, like it’ll be stuck on you for a while, the grime, the guns, the storm. Your muddy shoes must still be sitting by the front door. Something in your head screams that you should get rid of them, burn them like an evidence of guilt. Do you look anything like you did before you left? You feel like a worn version of yourself, sticky and darkened. It’s a ridiculous worry to have, but the thought comes hand in hand with embarrassment and you can feel it crawling up your neck. You cover your face with your hands and groan tiredly, shy.

Ellie laughs, warm like musk, salve on a wound.

"Are you watching me sleep?" you mutter, voice ridden with exhaustion and joy all at once. The thing, love, obsession, both— breathes along with you. "Freak."

"Yeah, I was,” she shifts to sit on your lap, one knee on either side of you, spilling her confession easily. Ellie leans over to push your hands away from your face and press her lips to yours, passionate but short lived, still softly brushing against each other when she says, "I missed this face."

You chuckle, eyes tracing over her freckled cheeks, hands squeezing her thighs, feeling strangely like you’re being washed clean. “I missed you.”

Ellie closes her eyes and rests her forehead against yours, her fingers caressing your cheeks, looking at you again when her thumb brushes against the ridge of a scar. It’s a warped line that almost follows the shape of your cheekbone, from your hairline to somewhere near the corner of your lips. She'd seen it last night, nauseous with worry and relief to have you back, her vision clouded. The morning reveals it in a different, heartbreaking light. It’s okay, you’d said during the night, your hands on either side of her face much like hers are on you now, didn't even need stitches. Ellie tries to let that sink in, make the guilt feel any better. But it can't. Maybe you’d been saved the prick of a needle, but she knows it still hurt, she knows it bled and stung. It feels like a betrayal. If I can't save you the pain, she thinks, I owe you the witnessing, the chance to clean its wry edges, pat it dry. "How'd you get this one?" she asks, as softly as she can.

You’d been prepared for the question but not the devastation in her eyes. It falls over you like a ton of bricks, her love making your chest ache and sinking you back into the memory.

There was an empty house, or what looked like one. Pieces of broken glass scattered over the rotting wood of an old, wobbly table. A man's hand placed forcefully on your head. The side of your face rammed into the table with a thud when he pushed you down, the faint pain of something slicing into your cheek made worse by your struggle to get free. A kick and he stumbled back. A slice of your knife and he fell dead. You don't think the fact will do much to comfort Ellie. So, in hopes of sparing her, you hum and shake your head. "Come here," you say, or beg, a hand on the back of her neck like fond guidance. "Let me kiss your pretty face."

She feels soft like satin on your lips, tastes like honey and black tea. Ellie kisses like she argues, experienced and unruly all at once, with a point to make— I need you and I want you to know it. Her tongue slips past your parted lips and brings a muffled sound from your throat that almost makes her pull slightly away, if it weren't for the feeling of your fingers tightening on her neck to have her closer. A faint thought crosses Ellie’s mind, a feeling like pity for the person she was before you, whoever that was, an old self who couldn't know what it's like to be devoured so caringly.

She brushes her nose against yours and you let out a sigh that sounds painfully like a prayer, her short hair a dark veil over your eyes when she turns her head to press kisses on your cheek. "You can't leave me like that again," she breathes out.

You swallow her words, a confused wrinkle between your eyebrows. “Ellie—”

A kiss cuts you off. You slide your hands up her thighs to her waist, a surprised hum vibrating against her lips when she wraps her fingers around your wrists and squeezes, as if to keep them there. She leans back and stares into you, and for the first time since you’ve known Ellie, you can't tell if she's commanding you or begging. “I won’t let you.”

It’s a gesture. It goes beyond the reality of your lives, the fact that any day either one of you could be made to leave again, that any day either one of you could die. It means I missed you. It means I need it to be me who looks after you. It means I love you.

Your stomach flutters, hungry with an urgent craving. And like you have every day since you’ve known Ellie, you find yourself unable to deny her love or the indulging promise of a different world— but maybe those mean the same thing. "I'm not leaving you," you say, breathless, and it might as well be true.

Ellie makes a sound in response that feels painfully close to a moan, a soft mmhm that clouds your head of anything that may or may not exist outside of this room. The tip of her nose brushes against your neck and then continues its way down, her fingers sneaking inside your shirt, pulling up the fabric and pressing kisses over the skin that’s revealed. "I love you," she says, almost near the band of your underwear, her blushed lips parted. You feel her breath against the burning fire in your lower stomach, reaching out to cradle her cheek against your hand. She feels hot, flushed pink under her freckles, and you’re not sure if she hears you say I love you, Ellie as much as she watches you mouth the words. She presses her face further into your hand, wetting her lips with the tip of her tongue, begging as if she’d ever have to, “Baby, I need— please.”

You don't hear yourself say yes, but the look in her eyes says you must have.

[malehypnofantasy]

My husband moved us together from our beautiful Moroccan countryside life to this inhospitable and lonely American metropolis to pursue his lifelong dream. The accumulating wealth left me with lonelier times and less moment with him as his job drowned him while he decided to boarded the twins to this private boarding school where most of his friends placed their kids into. The isolation he confined me into when we started here caused me to be practically friendless and it's not like my English is that fluent. I also hated how people perceived me due to my look and background, so I eventually "resigned" from the peering public eye and never really went out unless it's very necessary. So, can you blame me when I tapped into my ancestral roots and decided to forge my own happiness?

Hany here is just the latest addition of my growing collection, and I love how his cockiness is just so infectious everytime I phased my consciousness into him, I simply felt like I have no more worries in the world

It's always a delight for me to just be out there, no shirt on and having the ability to move my muscles the way men can do all of the amazing tricks that their bodies can pull off.

Hany, my cocky bachelor neighbor, is quite a tricky one to capture as he's mostly alert for most of the time. But when he knocked on my door one night with my husband nowhere in sight, clearly drunk from the way he slurred his words and the intense smell of alcohol mixed with his musk, I took that opportunity. Instead of taking him back to his unit, I phased out from my body and went straight to met his soul. The weakened and half-conscious state of the soul allowed me to simply moved him aside and planted my control over his physique. Then, from there, I use Hany's body to give my frozen body a kiss as a way to build a "connecting bridge" as my soul transferred back to my body but at the same time, our body is connected. Ever since that moment, I can simply drowse off or focused myself a bit to be able to feel what Hany is feeling or even better, controlling his body right away to do what I want him to do

It wasn't this powerful and complex at first. My earliest subject was this drained construction worker that I saw everyday working on the site a couple building from mine. I've tried to phase out a couple times before but none of it worked because I realized that the soul and/or the body managed to resist me. So, looking at the hard-working men in hard hat and hi-viz, I decided to took a leap of faith and phased out from my body. Why I selected the body in particular? For starter, I saw him smoking weed before, and not just once, so I deduced that he probably smoked his fair share of weed for the day and the cigarette in his mouth meant that he's in a sort of relaxed state.

Other reason? Well, I heard him once in the bodega talking about his "fucked sleeping schedule" and the lack of "sex from the noisy demanding bitch" of a girlfriend who worked the same graveyard shift with him as of now, so I knew he must be stressed and mentally drained. Sounds like an easy target, and he was that easy, I slipped in and out of him for 1 month straight with no resistant

So many firsts happened when I was inside Dezz. My first (I lost count on how many times after just 2 weeks) orgasm as a man, my first sex with a girl, my first deadlift, my first fight, just endless adventure. I also learned about building the connection during my time inside Dezz. It's simply out of pure instinct and in a the spirit of experimentation, but I tried to transfer back in a more discreet and less exhaustive manner so I booked this motel and left the door unlocked, phased into Dezz and then drove his truck to the said motel as I basically made out with myself. When our lips connected and even before Dezz cock slipped into me, I found myself staring at Dezz scruffy face right before he passed out. I ran away from that motel room, sensing something is different from that kiss, but I brushed it off and let Dezz sorted himself out back to whatever routine he's having. Later that evening, around an hour or so before the time Dezz started his shift and as I tried to get some sleep, somehow I felt this pulsating sensation from my clitoris and that's when my vision started to get glitchy for the first time. One second I saw my room and then the following second, a slender statuesque figure sat on top of a scruffy happy trail I knew belonged to Dezz. As he nutted inside his girl, I was leaking from the "ghostly" experience, but that led me to the groundbreaking "connection" that I always utilized ever since

Dezz is my first. Hany is my latest. But those two just cannot compete with Chris the Beast.....

Oh that one is the craziest, and maybe I'll share more about my time inside of Steve and the others when I have more time. My husband is arriving soon and I need to phase out from Hany now if I wanna be safe and look more presentable to welcome my husband.

[starkwlkr]

celebrity skin | cillian murphy

barbenheimer series

‘Is Hollywood done with Y/n?’

‘Y/n L/n, the girl failure’

That’s what the articles published on their front page. Recently, Y/n had refused to do a big budget film for a legendary director claiming that she wanted to take a break from the world of acting. Her and Cillian were looking to buy a house in Ireland so she was busy looking at listings and calling multiple real estate agents.

The director ended up calling her a bitch over the phone. He had insulted her over and over, stating that she would regret her decision.

After a source told multiple magazines about the situation only the ‘source’ didn’t tell the full story, the media started calling her annoying, selfish, dumb blonde, and the one that stuck the most, a bitch.

Cillian was not having it. Instead of going to his audition for a new series, he stayed home with her. He didn’t want her to be alone, especially at a time where the media and ‘fans’ were turning their backs on her.

“You don’t have to stay with me.” Y/n sighed as she snuggled up to Cillian. They were currently in London since Cillian had gotten an audition for a BBC series. He called the casting director and canceled, which made Y/n mad. Why wouldn’t she be? He had talked about the audition for months and now he canceled?!

“I want to.” He replied, giving her a kiss to the side of her head. “You haven’t eaten anything. I can make you pancakes, I know how much you love breakfast for dinner.”

“I’ll eat in a bit. I think I want to take a nap.” She said.

Cillian had noticed how she’s been taking naps all week. Sometimes she wouldn’t even come out of her room and all she ate was granola bars and orange juice.

“I want you to know that I’m with you every step of the way. Those articles? They’re wrong. Fuck those articles. You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me and I love you so much.” Cillian admitted.

Y/n could feel a tear roll down her cheek. Sometimes all she wanted to do was run away with Cillian to whatever country and live their lives in a nice house.

“You’re a jerk, you know that. . I wasn’t planning on crying today. But I love you too.” Y/n laughed as Cillian pulled her in for a kiss. “I wish we could leave this place and go to one of those cottage houses in the countryside. That’s always been a dream of mine.”

“That sounds nice. Why don’t you pack your bag and I’ll buy our tickets and we can leave tomorrow.” Cillian said.

“What?” Y/n asked confused.

“I saw you looking at this cottage the other day on your laptop. I bought it two days ago and I payed my mum to buy us some nice furniture and food so by the time we get there it’ll be okay for us to stay there for a while. So go pack and I’ll arrange our flight. You and I are leaving all this behind for the next few days. No work, no fancy dresses or premieres to attend. Just us and our new home.” He explained.

“You’re full of surprises, my love.”

TIME SKIP

OCTOBER

It had been a few months since Y/n and Cillian left their life in London and stayed in their new cottage in the countryside. She loved it there. No paparazzi or pushy fans to bother her or Cillian. It was paradise for her. Eventually the casting director for Peaky Blinders offered the role of Tommy Shelby to Cillian since last time Cillian was going to audition he had called to cancel. The casting director desperately wanted him to portray the protagonist of the new BBC series.

Y/n encouraged Cillian to take the role. She was fine with staying in their cottage after all she had made new friends with the women that lived nearby. So Cillian flew back to London to film and Y/n stayed behind. She had picked up new hobbies, fixed some stuff that needed fixing like the guest room and even started working on her garden.

Soon, Cillian had finished filming and made it back home to Y/n just in time for her birthday. Even though it was her day, Y/n insisted on making dinner herself. She decided to cook a comfort food of hers, chicken alfredo.

Cillian watched as she set a plate full of pasta and chicken in front of him then placed hers on her placemat. “I should be cooking for you.” Cillian said, grabbing his fork and beginning to eat.

“If the birthday girl wants to cook then let her.” Y/n stated then began to eat. “How was filming? I saw some pictures on twitter of you on set and I have mixed feelings about the haircut.”

“You don’t like it? Be honest. I don’t like it.” Cillian admitted.

“Well it took some time to get used to it, but I kind of like it now. I don’t know, you look hot either way.” Y/n smirked.

“Then I guess I’ll have to thank the hair department.”

Soon, both plates of food were forgotten as the two lovers made their way to their bedroom, pieces of clothing scattered around. It had been months and both Cillian and Y/n were counting down the days until they say each other again. Months without a single kiss or the feeling of skin on skin. What a way to end your birthday . . .

TAGLIST

@leclercloml @butterfly-skinnylegend @rockerchick05 @agustdpeach @celesteblack08 @probablypossesedbysatan @kittyrumbl3r @electrobutterfly @knpgituloh @butlersluvbot @captainwans @bellstwd @theekyliepage @marti-su @multifans-things @ceruleanrainblues @litterallnobody @jackierose902109 @sinarainbows @cosniffee @thatgirlthatreadswattpad

[novashelby]

His Beautiful~A Tommy Shelby Smut: 18+ only.

Pairing: TommyxFem!Reader

Prompt: They didn't send one, but I did use #59 from this list.

Word Count: 2.2k

Warnings: Some dub-con, rough smut, degrading language, spit, spanking. Maybe gaslighting?

Summary: Tommy and his new wife spend some special time together during their honeymoon. Tommy's the little bossy pants he usually is. Request by @elenavampire21.

A/N: Please, please for the love of it...please reblog and/comment. Like are so sweet and I am happy you are reading my stuff. But reblogs and comments help writers out.

He loved her. He had to have loved her, right? That’s the only reason he waited until marriage like she wanted. It was hard. A whole six months of watching her body sway as she walked. Each day he had been more and more eager, and his left hand was not cutting it. Of course, a visit to a whore house would have been satisfactory enough, but he promised her. Fucking promises! And since he loved her, right? He had to stay honest. Something Tommy Shelby struggled a bit with. 

The previous night had been their wedding. Just a small thing. It was his third after all and the older he got, the less he gave any care to frills and luxury. They were married in a small church and then after, joined their family for a meal and dance. Both were too tired to fuck after. But the next day was their honeymoon. He decided to take her to the countryside far from the city grit and pollution. She was a city girl, though, and when she hopped from the caravan, looking around the empty greenery, she cocked her head. Turning to him, she winced. “Oh, it’s….lovely?”

Tommy snorted, wiping his greasy hands with a dirty white cloth. They popped a wheel and he’d been fixing it the whole time she finished a nap. “You’re awake. We’ve been here for a couple of hours. I figure we can relax out here for a few days before heading back-”

“This is our honeymoon?” she asked, wanting clarification.

Tommy could read people very well, and she was no different. Stress lines tainted her beautiful face. A city girl like herself hardly could consider this a honeymoon, and he understood that. But he needed to get away, and as his wife, she should have understood his needs. “I can tell you are not happy,” he commented. “But this is where we are staying. The fresh air will do you good.” He walked over to her, softening his face a bit. Gently, he rubbed her cheek. “Besides, you know we are all alone out here?”

She gave him an unamused look, arms crossed. “Thomas-”

“Just you and I, me and you,” he whispered, leaning down and placing a kiss on her forehead. She whined as he did so, turning her head. Sighing, he commented, “you’re a fucking brat. This is our first day as husband and wife, why the theatrics, hm?” 

“Because, Thomas! This is not a honeymoon,” she explained, motioning to the nothingness around her. To her, she was being completely reasonably annoying. But to him, she was being a selfish little brat. “This is a-”

“Shhh,” he said, wanting her to calm herself. He smiled, dragging his fingers down to her hips before bringing her in. “Don’t you understand, hm? You and I are alone out here, sweetheart. Just you and I.” 

“I know,” she pressed, still not pleased. But she was not getting his hints. 

“You are so innocent,” he teased, kissing her cheek, lingering there for a quick moment before dragging his lips up to her ear. He grinned, taking her lobe between his teeth, tugging teasingly. Appalled, she crouched her neck, wincing just a tad. 

“Thomas!” What he did next took her for a loop. His other hand found its way to her neck. Her instinct was to scream and gasp for all the air her lungs could suck in. Stuck in a mode of panic, she hardly realized he wasn’t choking her. His fingers only pressed lightly against her pulse. Her hand rested over his. Breath rapid, she asked, “what are you doing?” 

While preoccupied with the hold against her throat, he dragged his other hand between her legs. With no patience for anything getting in his way, he quickly bunched up her skirts and shoved his hand between her thighs, pressing up against her silk panties. Resting his forehead against hers, he peered down. Quietly with a sharp edge, he said, “trying to see. Does my little wife have any edge to her? Or is she always just going to be so…good.”

“Thomas!” she hissed, trying to pull his hand off of her crotch. “Thomas, we are outside. We can’t do this outside. What if someone sees?” 

“Who?” he chuckled. “The birds? Have you not been listening, it’s just you and I out here.” His fingers pressed a bit harder against her neck when she opened her mouth to protest. Her string of words came out as a pile of whimpers. Perhaps he was a bit selfish in what he wanted. A highly sexed man having to wait six months, that hardly equals patience. Of course, he pictured swooning her and spoiling her in the mix of the bedsheets. Making sure to kiss every aspect of her body, making sure she felt loved and adored. But in that moment, he just wanted to fuck. Any inkling of intimacy slipped away and the thought of making love seemed tedious. A little sliver of him felt guilty that her first time would be getting railed raw over rock. But maybe seeing as how much of a pain in the ass she has been, maybe it was her thing. A little pain and roughness. “Come on, beautiful,” he cooed, eying the lump of rocks just off to the side. “You are so beautiful��my beautiful wife.” She resisted against him, attempting to dig her heels into the wet ground.

“Outside?” she protested. “Please, Thomas…let’s go inside and do it.”

“Oh, but we will,” he chuckled, picking her up. She yelped loud enough to move the mountains in the far off distance. “Shh, shhh,” he told her, accompanied with a light smack to her behind. Despite her hesitations, he brought her to the rocks and sat her down. “Love, I want you to feel comfortable with me-”

“Thomas,” she warned, jaw tight, clearly not pleased with her new husband. “I’ve ruined my skirts! And look at my boots-”

“You married a Gypsy,” he pointed out. “The fuck I care about your skirts and boots. Now, we are on our honeymoon.” He slid from his suspender straps before his fingers started to work at his belt clasp. “And from what I recall, our honeymoon is to celebrate our marriage.” She looked up at him from her new seat, a mix of annoyance and admiration. 

“We have a mattress in the caravan, for fucks sake, Thomas,” she complained, but before she could get another word out, he picked her up and placed belly flat over the rock. She was slowly giving in as her walls broke down. “Mattress would have been better, but….” She sighed and positioned herself for him; ass arched and legs spread just enough. “I know you aren’t about to fuck me without any forepay-”

“Sweety,” he said, in a mocking tone as he bunched her skirt up over ass and gave it a love tap. “You’re a virgin. What do you know of foreplay? Hmm? Maybe you don’t get foreplay because you’re acting like a whiny little brat. Maybe I just want to use you.” He was teasing her of course, but his poor little wife had not an idea of his antics. Pouting, she looked back at him pathetically. Winking, his finger pulled down her panties while his other hand lazily stroked at his cock.

“That’s mean,” she accused, wiggling her behind a bit, feeling a pool of desperation build. Tommy glanced down at her arched ass, grinning to himself as he positioned his cock. “Warm me up, Tommy, please?” The tip of cock pressed against her entrance. 

“No,” he said, leaving it at that as he rested his chest against her back as he leaned over her. He watched as her fingers clung to anything she could, white knuckling. It was as if she was preparing for something painful. The tip pushed in and he rested there for a moment, gasping as her virgin walls broke around him. She sucked in her lips, muffling whatever moans wanted to come through. Reading her eyes, she was aroused. He could tell. His beautiful wife always loved his upper hand. He was sure she found it thrilling to fight against him. Pushing in further, he let out a long, deep throated groan. To steady himself, he slipped one hand under her, resting his palm against her left breast. His other found its home around her neck. “Good girl. You feel so good wrapped around me. I think you were made specially for me, you know that?” he breathed in her ear, ending his sentence with a teasing kiss. 

She whined, trying to inch forward to release the tension pain burning her lower half. It would have been nice if he prepped her. But that would require Tommy Shelby to be nice. To be nice and put his needs last. Unfortunately, if she wanted that, she married the wrong Shelby. “It hurts,” she told him.

“You’re fine,” he replied, in an attempt to dismiss her concerns. “It feels exactly how it should feel. It doesn’t hurt.” He left a trail of kisses along her jaw before meeting her lips. “Give me a kiss.” He was pleasantly surprised she didn’t fight him, reaching up a bit to place a soft peck to his lips. “Good girl. My beautiful wife. Look at me…I want to see your face.`` Their eyes connected. Teasingly, his index finger ran circles over her nipples. The sensation started off small until it crept up on her. He watched as her eyes became heavy and hooded. Just a simple touch like that had her clenching herself around him, sucking him in. “You like this.” 

“Thomas,” she gasped out, her hips slowly pulling away only to push up against him. In the midst of pleasure was still a little bit of pain, making her hiss through clench teeth. He started to slowly move with her, wondering if he’d even last long enough as it’d been too long since he had pussy. Especially a pussy as pretty and perfect as hers.

“What if,” he started, a chuckle mixed with a desperate, feral grunt, lacing his words. “What if your’re just a fucking hole, hm?” His words were like a poisonous berry; sweet, but deadly to her emotions. Just a hole? Her eyes rolled back before she even could comprehend how much she liked it. He picked up the speed, his balls lightly bouncing off her puffy clit. “Only a fucking hole.” His index and ring finger slipped between her lips, needy to hear those choking and gurgling noises. Muffled, she tried to tell him something, but he didn’t care. “Shut up,” he told her, closing his eyes, lost in his thrusts that became increasingly fast. “Just a hole…that’s all you are to me. A hole I can breed and own.” He pulled back and paused before slammed himself against her, letting out a loud moan. “Fuck! Yeah? You like that! Nod for me….” She nodded, whimpering. Her face was getting beat red with insults and abuse, but it wasn’t a complete lie. She did like it. She liked how feral he was in wanting to fuck her. 

His pace became fast and steady, as his pleasure built up. The air mixed with their moans and spewed, incomprehensible words. “My pleasure is your fucking pleasure,” he continued. “You like this…you like being a…fuck…ah! You like being a filthy wife for me.” He continued to drill the thought process into her as his thrusts become uneven and ragged. “Take it…fucking take me!” His hands scratched down her sides before gripping her hips, fingers digging into her sensitive flesh. 

“Tommy!” she groaned out, trying to meet his pace by slamming back her hips. She threw back her head, eyes rolling back. “Shit! More-I want more…rub my clit.” She pleaded for him to pleasure her. It was a need. But he refused.

“No,” he forced out, breaths hitched and uneven. “Fuck…fuck, baby. My wife, such a perfect cunt.” With one last slam, he held himself there, feeling his orgasm take over him. Panting, he laid over her, running kisses on her clothed shoulder. “My beautiful wife,” he got out one last time before sliding off. “Come on,” he cooed, pulling at her legs. She was so limp and weak, legs shaking. “Turn over, baby.” She was too faded to argue, simply going limp for him to turn her over. “Let me look,” he whispered, kneeling down to study between her legs. It was beautiful; red and fucked with a line of of cum seeping out. Without warning, he got in close and stuck out his tongue, pressing it against her pussy, tasting their mixed cum. She was anticipating something erotic, feeling at her breasts and getting into the rhythm of rolling her hips against his tongue. Unfortunately for her, he stopped as soon as he started. It wasn’t meant to pleasure her, but to get her right on the edge. To be at his mercy. He mounted over her and gripped her, pushing her mouth open before spitting in her mouth. “Good girl, my beautiful wife,” he said, watching it pool. She swallowed it, wincing. Sweetly, he kissed her lips with a smile. “My beautiful wife, I love you…and thank you for humoring my needs. Tonight, it will be your turn and I will make you very, very happy.”

She whacked him playfully with a pout. “You better. You just spit in my fucking mouth!”

He laughed and pinched her chin. “I’ll do it again, y’know? If you don’t watch yours!”

[duhnova]

Dancing Queen | Choi Seungcheol

Pairing: disco club owner!choi seungcheol x performer!reader (fem)

Genre: smut, fluff, tiny bit of angst if you squint but its almost nonexistent

Synopsis: the stage is where you felt the most comfortable, letting go and singing for everyone that would sit and listen. but it was hard making a living in America, every corner you turned there was trouble waiting for you because you were too comfortable with your sexuality for the public’s liking. so when you stepped off the ship that took you to your new life in Paris, you were surprised to collide with a disco club owner who was in a similar boat as you.

Warning(s): smut under the cut (mdni!!!), mentions of food and alcohol, joke about marriage, ambiguous sexuality, talks on sexuality and swinging any which way, cat calling, talks of sexism and a little power imbalance, mentions of religion and leaving the church, mentions of immigration, implications of a future threesome, cheol has a sir & daddy kink (big surprise), spanking, bruises (cheol has a bit of a heavy hand and thrust), office sex, a bit of praising (both ways), lowkey breeding kink (are we surprised?), i feel like the sex was a bit tame in this but please let me know if i forgot anything else! - don't mind grammatical errors and typos, i tried!

A/N: biggest shout out to @onlyseokmins & @the-boy-meets-evil for proof reading for me and offering feedback/opinions, and for also putting up with my late night bullshit these last few nights of constantly putting off finishing this - jess really saw my turmoil with this one and BLESS her heart for not telling me to go fuck myself after id message her late saying i either finished a section or i didn't end up writing like i wanted too (and then id send her an idea right after for her to read in the morning). anyways i spent the last few months struggling with this fic and i hope ya'll like it and if you don't... keep it to yourself <3

70s;teen collab masterlist | my svt masterlist

Paris was beautiful, the long voyage was more and more worth it the longer you spent in the city that bustled and thrived. America was nothing compared to France, the countrysides and the cities alike felt like they were straight out of a book. 

Life was starting to finally look up for you, even if you weren't fully able to escape the turmoils you faced in America, you were given more opportunities in the so-called city of love. Cars driven by men still honked at you and women with their children glared and covered their kin's eyes as you walked down the street, your cleavage and shoulders on display and your skirt far above the knees. 

Despite the business of the city during the day, there were plenty of shops downtown that didn’t open up until nightfall. One in particular, Club Kidult, was said to be the best nightclub in all of the country. It’s owned by a man from Korea who is a wildcard, with a knack for “adopting” foreigners - or so you’ve been told. 

“Can’t you read? We’re closed right now.” A man glares at you after knocking on the front door of Club Kidult. 

“Is the owner here?” You brushed the strange man’s hostility off. His glare turned to curiosity as he finally eyed you up and down in a manner that wasn’t unfamiliar. 

“Why? Does he owe you money, doll?” The man moves to fully stand in the doorframe, letting you get a nice view of the inside of the shop behind his tall stature. 

“No…” You huff quietly at the insinuation before giving him your sweetest smile, knowing exactly how to play with a man. “I wanted to see if I could perform here tonight.” 

“You a dancer?” 

“I can be if you want.” You couldn’t help the flirty tone, the man was attractive and so far he hasn’t treated you like an object. “But I mainly sing.”

“A singer?” He hums quietly, his grin showing off his sharp teeth. “We don’t get many of those around here, most women want to dance on our stage.” 

“I could imagine,” You cross your arms, pushing your boobs up slightly. “So… Is he in?” The man hums quietly. 

“Ah, no.” He was very blunt with his answer before he looked back over his shoulder to look at the empty building. “But…”

“But?”

“He might kill me for this but,” he looks back at you. “I’ll let you wait for him. He likes to stop by and make sure everything is ready for the night before he goes to get dolled up.” 

“Well I don’t want to get you in trouble now.” 

“Oh, I’m sure you’ll get me in a lot of trouble, doll,” He gives you a wink before he’s moving out of the way to welcome you into the club. “Too bad I’m not scared of Cheol.”

“Cheol?” You question as you hesitantly walk into the establishment. Despite it being closed still, there was music playing and you could hear a lot of voices coming from somewhere in the back - easing your nerves of possibly being alone with this stranger. 

“Choi Seungcheol is the name of the owner, but don't call him that or he might bite your head off.”

“So what do I call him then?” 

“I’m sure he’ll tell you, but you can address him as sir, I guess.” The man shrugs. “I’m Mingyu by the way, head of security at this joint.”

“So head of security, do you just let all the people that come knocking on the door looking for your boss in?”

“Only the pretty ones.” He smirks as he walks around the bar. “Our bartenders don’t show up for another hour but I can whip you up somethin' simple if you like.” He leans against the counter as he watches you take a seat at one of the bar stools. 

“Whiskey please.”

“Just whiskey?” He looks at you with raised eyebrows as you nod your head. You never felt comfortable in bars back home, the majority of them filled with only men and so the list of mixed drinks intimidated you. The only thing you were comfortable with was bourbon and whiskey as your father always had them in stock in his cabinet. “I like you.” Mingyu grins as he pulls the most expensive bottle of whiskey off the shelfs to pour over ice for you. 

“I’m wonderin'…” You mumble as you pull the glass towards you after Mingyu set it down on a napkin for you. 

“About?” The tall male leans against the counter top. 

“Is it true?” You take a sip of your whiskey and before you can reiterate what you mean, Mingyu beats you to it.

“If the rumors are true?” He shrugs at your scoff. “Most of us workin' aren’t from here… Couple of the girls are from across the pond like yourself.”

“They're American?”

“Well… A little more south. Brazil I think.”

“Are they dancers?” You take another sip of your drink. “I’m assuming that’s what Mr. Choi likes.”

“A few are but one of them is our head chef.” Mingyu hums quietly. “And dancers aren’t Cheols favorite, they're mine.” You laugh quietly at his wolfish grin. 

“Well what does Mr. Choi like?” 

“Well he doesn’t like to be called Mr. Choi, that’s for sure.” He pushes off the counter just as the door to the club opens. “And he likes singers!” He’s quick to rush out as he speed walks around the bar to stand in front of you a little. 

“Wha-” You stop midway through your word as you spin in your chair to see a man dead staring in your direction. 

“Cheol!” 

“Mingyu…” His voice was low and dangerous as he tried to scope you out from behind the tall wall of a man. 

“Hiya boss… Look.” 

“What have I told you about bringin' strays in while I’m not here.”

“C’mon man look at her, she’s smokin'!” He whips around to quickly apologize before he’s turning back towards the man you presumed was Choi Seungcheol. “She wants to sing here.” He doesn’t give anyone a chance to breathe as he steps to the side to give Seungcheol the full view of you. He falters for just a millisecond as his eyes scan you from head to toe before he’s turning to Mingyu. 

“Next time ya bring someone in here without me knowin', I’m cuttin' your pay.”

“Noted.” Mingyu nods quickly. 

“Come with me upstairs.” He doesn’t give you a second glance before he’s walking towards a set of stairs that are blocked off that lead up to the upper level where his office sits.

“So, ya wanna work here?’ Seungcheol wasted no time as he offered the seat in front of his desk for you to sit in. His accent a little different from his friend downstairs and you figured it had to do with the duration of time each had spent in the country. 

“Yes,” you take the seat with a small nod of thanks. “I wanna sing on your stage.” The look Seungcheol gave you as he sat back in his office chair, the slight glare of his eyes as they raked your body, caused shivers to run up your spine. 

“A singer?” He mumbles behind the hand that rested over his mouth as he propped his elbow on the arm of his chair. 

“Yes. I used to sing in New York an-”

“New York? You're American?”

“I... yes,” you mumble. “Is that a problem?”

“No... Not one bit.” He sat up straighter, fixing his coat as he eyed you up again. “My whole staff is foreign, as are my performers.”

“So I’ve heard.”

“My reputation carries, I see.” He smirks. 

“So... Will you let me sing here?” You lean forward a little, letting your chest pop out a little, hopefully his eyes will linger long enough for him to fold. 

“I’ll need to hear you first before I let you on my stage.” His eyes don’t waver from your face, he knew the game you were trying to play - it’s one he’s played plenty of times to get where he was. 

“Oh...” You huff quietly before sitting back in your chair. 

“Don’t sound so disappointed darlin’, I didn’t say no.” He has to bite his tongue to keep from grinning at the way your demeanor changed in seconds. “We’re closed on Sundays, come back then and show me what you got and I’ll decide if I have room for you or not.” 

“Sunday?” 

“What? Don’t tell me you’ve got plans already.” He watched the way you messed with a beat up rosary sticking out of your pocket.

“I didn’t take you for someone that got on their knees for men that were higher than them.”

“Only the rich ones.” You smile back. “But no, I don’t go to church anymore. I just have a date with the eiffel tower.”

“I see, sorry I assumed because I saw the rosary. I’ve only known church goers to carry them.”

“I abandoned the church a long time ago, it just used to be my grandma's, it’s kind of like my good luck charm now.”

“I abandoned the church a long time ago too.”

“Yeah?” Your eyes lit up in curiosity. 

“Times are changing, life’s too short to not love who and what you wanna love.”

“So you swing one way… two ways?...” Your voice trailed off as you tried to guess his preference.

“I swing anyway you want me to, darlin’.” He leans over his desk and rests his chin on the back of his interlocked hands so he can give you a cheeky grin. “We can even invite the idiot downstairs that let you in if that floats your boat…” Your legs squeeze closed at the idea and his eyes can’t help but wander this time. “And I’m sure it does.” 

“So Sunday?” You whisper, your voice getting lost in your throat at the way Seungcheol's eyes looked back up at you through his lashes. 

“Sunday, nine in the morning. Can you do that?” You nod quickly. 

“Yes!” You clear your throat as your voice cracked from the change in volume. “Yes, I can do that.” He laughs a little at your contained excitement as he sits back in his chair again. 

“Good, don’t be late. I expect you to be here the second the clock hits nine and if you’re not… My doors won’t open.”

“Got it... Sir.” You smile sweetly at him, his adam’s apple bobbing a little as he scoffs quietly. 

“Good… Girl. Now go, suns goin down and we open soon.” 

“Right. Well, I’ll see you on Sunday.” You stand up and straighten your shorts before you give him a curt nod and scurry to the door. Just as you open it you turn your head back and give him the cutest smile you could muster. “Thank you, Sir.” 

Before you could get any kind of response from him you close his office door quickly and rush down the stairs, cheering quietly to yourself. You were going to spend the rest of the week anticipating this little “audition.”

“I take it he’s lettin' you in?” Mingyu was leaning against the bar top, a shaggy brown haired male working behind him, cleaning glasses. 

“Well, not exactly.”

“What?” The unknown male stopped what he was doing to look at you wide eyed. “You’re the finest girl to walk through those doors and ask to work here and he just turned you down?” 

“Chan…” Mingyu's voice was laced with warning. 

“Sorry…” He mumbles to you before he goes back to cleaning his cups. 

“It’s alright, I’m used to it.” You shrug with a smile. “But he didn’t turn me down, he just said I have to show him what I got first before I can sing on his stage.”

“First, ya shouldn’t be used to men treatin' you like that, this world is disgusting.” Mingyu pushes off the counter so he can walk you to the door. “And second, Cheol has never allowed just any singers to sing here. You have - ”

“I have to be good, I know.” You smile up at him and pat his arm that was firm under your touch and it took everything in you to not do it again just to feel the muscles that laid under his shirt. 

“Piece of advice...” He mumbles to you as he opens the club’s doors for you. “He likes upbeat songs, things that are funky and out there.” 

“Has he heard of Abba?” 

“Honey... I don’t know who that is.”

“So I know what to play then.” You both mirrored the same grin as you stepped out into the dimming light. 

“Will you be okay walkin' home?” You nod your head as you turn to walk backwards to watch Mingyu watch you walk while he leans against the doorframe. 

“I live close enough to see your neon lights shine!” You call out over the loud roaring of a car passing by. “I’ll be fine!”

“You better be! I wanna see you perform!” He yells back, waving at you as you wave and turn to start to run down the sidewalk in joy. You laugh to yourself, twirling and jumping over the curbs - your dream was one step closer to coming true. 

Sunday couldn’t come any quicker as you spent everyday exploring Paris just to sit at your window and watch the crowd in front of Club Kidult every night. To think that that many people could be lining up next week to hear you sing - if all goes well - when you meet Seungcheol again. 

When you woke up to the sun barely peeking over the horizon, you groaned in frustration. Your little alarm was set to go off in forty more minutes but the excitement of what was going to happen in a couple hours had you jumping up to take a long hot shower. 

You let your hair air dry for a little bit before you set it up in curlers so you could finish off drying them with the fancy new hair dryer you splurged on when you moved here. You could never afford these types of luxuries back home, the prices being drastic. 

You hummed the tune of the song you were going to be performing quietly as you danced around your room getting clothes out so you could change while your hairs cooled off in the curlers - hopefully making your curls last longer. 

“I can’t believe today is the day,” you mumble as you buttoned up your high waisted pants that flared a little at the bottom. Tucking your shirt in a little, you make your way to your front door where all your shoes sat waiting for you to choose from. 

You go back to humming your song as you slip your shoes on, fixing the straps on them before standing up straight to check your makeup in the mirror by your door. You yelp quietly at the sight of your curlers still in before you are carefully rushing to take them down. 

“Can’t believe I almost walked out the house lookin' like a clown.” You laugh quietly at yourself as you go back to your bathroom to hairspray your hair, mumbling that you’ll clean your apartment floors later tonight as you trudged your outdoor shoes through your living room.

Once you were out the door, you all but skipped down the hall, taking the steps two at a time as you happily jumped down them so you could make it to the club on time - early even, which you hoped made a good first impression on the owner. 

“You’re early.” Mingyu chirps from behind you as you make your way up to the front doors of the club. 

“Jesus!” You yelp in surprise.

“Sorry darlin’, didn’t mean to scare ya.” He walks past you to unlock one of the doors. “Cheol ain’t here yet, it’s barely eight.”

“Guess I’m earlier than I thought.” You laugh nervously. 

“He’ll like that. Most of us barely run on time.”

“You’re here early too, though.”

“Actually, between me and you I’ve been here since seven.” He laughs quietly as he hangs his coat over one of the bar chairs. “We have a delivery comin soon and I was supposed to be here waitin' and cleanin'.”

“Well your secret is safe with me.” You smile at him as you watch the way he messes with the clock on some machine on the wall before he’s putting a card through it. “Don’t forget to set that clock back.” 

You watch Mingyu almost break his back as he jerks back around to make sure the punch machine clock reads the same time as the clock on the wall before he’s putting the glass cover back on it. 

“Thank you, darlin'’” He gives you a grin full of teeth. 

“No problem, handsome.” You giggle at the way he puffs his chest out a little at the comment. “If you need any help I obviously have some free time.”

“Just sit there and look cute while I restock the bar to make room for new inventory in the back.” He winks at you. “Wouldn’t want you gettin' hurt before you're supposed to perform for me and the big boss.”

“Lookin' pretty is no fun.” You huff as you sit at the bar just as the club door swings open to let in a bunch of natural light. 

“You must never have fun then.” Seungcheol doesn’t waste a beat as he locks the club door before shrugging his coat off and making his way to the staircase.

“I have plenty of fun, thank you very much.” You cross your arms and watch the way his pants accentuate his ass. 

“Do you now?” He stops in front of his office door to look back at you. “Hard to believe for a pretty face like yours.”

“You think I’m pretty?” 

“Doll… I’d be dumb to not think it.” You can’t help the little happy wiggle you do as Seungcheol turns back around to walk into his office. 

The bar doesn’t stay quiet for long as Mingyu hauls a bunch of boxes from the backrooms that are filled with supplies. 

“We had a busy week.” He drops the last box on the counter in front of you. “Had to call in this month’s shipment early.” 

Your eyebrows rose in curiosity as you peek into the box to view its contents. Packs of little drink umbrellas filled half the box, and with even more curiosity, you pull one of them out. 

“You mind pullin' those all out for me?” Mingyu sets an almost empty container on the counter next to the box that had a couple little umbrellas left. “Just put 'em in there and Chan will unwrap them later.”

A nice silence fell between the two of you as he replaced missing alcohol bottles on the shelves and put more cups under the counter. Mingyu even gave you a box full of straws and told you to wash your hands so you could fill all the straw dispensers with what was left in the box. 

“Are you makin' her work before she’s even hired, Gyu?” Seungcheol walks down the stairs to smile at the sight of you stocking straws and Mingyu stacking more receipt books under the register. 

“Hey, she wanted to help.” Mingyu shrugs as he goes about his business unbothered. 

“It’s fun stocking things.” You shrug in a similar manner as Mingyu without even looking up from the dispenser you're trying to symmetrically stuff straws into. 

“You two are strange.” He shakes his head before sitting at the bar to admire the way you floated behind the counter, moving around Mingyu's clumsy figure like he didn’t even exist. 

“Strange how?” Mingyu scoffs as he finishes his task before turning to stuff the last straw dispenser despite your whining that you were just about to do that one. “There was time to kill before her performance.” 

“There was only time to kill cause someone here is an early bird.” He smiles at the way you cross your arms. “Which is nice… It’s refreshing to see someone here before me.”

“Hey, I was here before you.” Mingyu butts in. 

“It’s a miracle.” Seungcheol raises his eyebrow at the tall male in a manner that challenged him to keep arguing. 

“Fuck face.” Mingyu mumbles under his breath in a playful manner before he starts gathering all the empty boxes to break down and toss out. 

“So.” Once Mingyu took all the trash to the backrooms Seungcheol put all his attention back on you. “Any reason why your early?”

“Gonna complain already?” You lean against the counter so you were closer to his vicinity. Mimicking you, Seungcheol leans forward too – you're so close your breath mingles together. 

“Who said I was complainin'?”

“Well you don’t seem too happy I’m here.”

“Oh darlin’, I’m over the moon.” He smirks at the way you bite your lip, your red lipstick unwavering. 

“Maybe I just wanted some alone time with your little guard back there without any distractions, like you.” You hum playfully. 

“Ouch, you’re hurtin' me doll.” He runs his tongue over his teeth.

“Aw.” You fake pout before you're grinning. “You could hurt me.”

“The only thing I’d hurt on you, doll, are your hips.” 

“Is that a promise?” You lean over the counter, a little more in excitement. Flirting came naturally to you, it was a great way to get what you wanted but you’ve never felt more genuinely attracted to someone like you are to Seungcheol. Before he could respond, Mingyu comes sauntering through the backdoors with his arms full of cleaning supplies. 

‘Great timing, Gyu” Seungcheol pulled away at the same time as you jumped back from leaning on the counter. 

“Sorry,” He looked at you, then his boss before he was dropping the supplies on the counter. “Did I interrupt somethin'?” Neither of you answered, which was enough of an answer for Mingyu as he starts to clean the bar, mumbling another apology to you as you scurried from behind the counter to stand a little awkwardly off to the side of where Seungcheol was sitting. 

“It’s almost time for you to sing for us, need me to set anything up for you?” You shake your head no, you were more than familiar with the systems that were used in clubs like this. “Everything you’ll need is either behind the stage or off to the side, yell if you need me.” 

While you were turning the system and speakers on, you realized you forgot your vinyl record that had the song on it at home. Cursing quietly under your breath you pray that they somehow have the record as you start to flip through the hundreds of vinyl records they had in the back. 

“How the hell are you not gonna have Abba in here?” You whine quietly as you made your way through the last couple of vinyls. “Mr. Choi!” You yell loud enough for him to hear you from behind the stage. You could hear what sounded like the chair hitting the counter (or floor) and Mingyu cursing as Seungcheol’s quick footsteps approach from behind you. 

“Are you okay?” His voice was filled with worry.

“I forgot my record at home and you don’t have it here for me to use in the background.” You huff quietly, a small pout on your lips. 

“Aw darlin'; you gave me a heart attack, I thought you hurt yourself.” Seungcheol sighs in relief. “Just sing without it, wow us even more without the sound.” 

“I haven’t performed for people without the music before.” You mumble, a little self conscious of your raw voice.  

“It’ll just be me and Gyu, you got nothin' to worry about.” He reassures you with a smile. “I’m gonna sit down, come out when you’re ready.” 

When Seungncheol went back out to the front room, you started to pace back and forth. You focused on the melody of the song in your head – you’ve sang this song a million times, both with and without the track, so it shouldn’t be too hard. 

After a couple minutes pass by, you finally take a deep breath and push your nerves down. Without much of a second thought, you walked out onto the stage and up to the mic that was already setup. Seungcheol was sitting at the bar with a glass of what looked like orange juice while Mingyu leaned against the counter to watch you intensely. 

“This song is supposed to be upbea.t so it might not sound as good without the music but,” you took a deep breath. “I’ll be singing Dancing Queen by Abba for you.” 

“You’ve got this!” Mingyu cheered quietly as he smiled encouragingly, while Seungcheol offered a soft smile that calmed you down instantly. 

You did a count in your head before you closed your eyes so you could feel the song deeper before you started to sing. Even without the music playing, you managed to stay on beat almost perfectly and as far as either male knew, the way you were singing the song was exactly how the song was supposed to sound. 

“That was…” Mingyu broke the silence right after you had finished singing before he started to clap and cheer loudly for you. “You’re amazing!” He flicks Seungcheol’s ear to snap him out of whatever trance he was in to give you his thoughts.

“I told you you didn’t need the music playing.”

“Wow you start off with ‘I told you so,’.” Mingyu mocks him playfully which earned him a rather harsh smack and a giggle from you. 

“Well I’m glad you both liked it since I was up here shakin' like a leaf in the wind.”

“Couldn’t even tell.” Mingyu calls after you as you go to shut the system off before joining the two in the front room again. 

“I don’t know what I was expectin' when you said you were a singer.” Seungcheol watches you take a seat. 

“Yeah he’s picky with his women, I mean singers.” Mingyu quickly excuses himself when Seungcheol glares at him hard. 

“Don’t listen to that idiot.” He sighs quietly. 

“It’s ok, I’m picky with my men.” You shrug and smile playfully at Seungcheol as you hop up onto the bar stool that was one away from where he was sitting. 

“Do you wanna sing here Friday nights?”

“Are you serious?”

“It’s just to start off with, if the people like you I’ll book you for more nights.” He takes a sip of his juice to hide his smile as he watches you practically jump in your seat out of excitement.

“I’d love to!” You bite your tongue to keep from squealing too loud. “I’ll remember my record this time.”

“You’ll have to show it to me so I can buy it for here.” You nod your head quickly.

“I can’t believe it,” You smile brightly again, your excitement hard to contain. “Thank you so so much.”

“Of course, don’t disappoint me now, okay?” His voice was playful.

“Never.” You sounded one hundred percent serious.

“Good girl.” He mumbles under his breath before he’s taking another sip of his juice. 

“I should get going now, I still have that date with the eiffel tower and a cafe to get breakfast.”

“Right.” He stands up from his chair so he can walk you out. “The view from the tower is beautiful.”

“So I’ve heard.” 

“You hear a lot of things don’t you, doll?”

“Only good things I fear.” You give him a cheeky smile as you sigh quietly at the feeling of the warm sun hitting your face as you step outside. 

“Well, have fun. I’ll see you Friday?”

“Maybe sooner if you’re lucky.” You can’t will yourself to step away yet. 

“Well I hope I’m lucky then.” He leans against the doorframe, unable to move himself. 

“We’ll see if you are.” A car horn in the distance finally broke you from whatever was keeping you glued there as you stepped backwards down the sidewalk like you did when saying bye to Mingyu the first day you were at the club. “Bye Mr. Choi, See you soon!”

“I hope.” He mumbles to himself as he waves back at you, yelling to be careful as you almost run into a lamp post.

“Bye Darlin’!” Mingyu pushes Seungcheol out the way so he can yell down the road before you were too far out of earshot. 

“Bye Mingyu!” You turn back around to yell. “By the way, my name is Y/N!” Your laugh could be heard even from that distance as you make your way towards the Eiffel tower, flipping off a man who cat-called you from his car. 

For some reason you found it hard to sleep, the birds were extra loud outside your window and the sun had barely breeched the horizon. Groaning for the umpteenth time that morning, you sit up abruptly, your hair a wild mess from all the tossing and turning you’ve been doing. 

“This is stupid.” You mumble before tossing your blankets off your body so you could go to the bathroom to take a shower, hoping it’ll wake you up more.

The market down the street was going to open soon and you were in desperate need of more milk and coffee for your apartment. So when you got out of your shower you didn’t waste too much time in doing your hair, choosing to put it up in a messy ponytail with a red ribbon you recycled from an old christmas present. You didn’t bother with makeup before walking out of the house in a skirt that you cut to sit in the middle of your thighs along with a tank top. 

Strolling down the street slowly, you reminisced a little with what’s happened the last couple of weeks, from you leaving New York and being stuck on a ship for weeks only to land in France where your dreams came true quicker then they ever would in America, the so called place where dreams come true. In the middle of your thoughts, an obnoxious whistle broke you from your trance and an even more obnoxious voice followed. 

“Hi there, sweets.” The thick French -ccented English was slurred by alcohol and you weren’t surprised as you gave him the fakest and sweetest smile you could muster. 

“Don’t fall on your way home.” You wiggled your fingers as you waved him goodbye. Sometimes it was better to hold your tongue and be nice, especially in a foreign setting that you weren’t too familiar with. 

Luckily that was the only thing you had to deal with before making it to your destination. The market was just barely opened, the cashiers and a couple other customers joined you in the rather spacious store for it being so close to downtown. 

“Well hey there, darlin'.’” The grin in the voice made you know instantly who it was. 

“Hi Mingyu.” You put a jar of strawberry preserves into your little wicker basket that you brought with you as a bag. 

“How’dja know it was me?” You looked up at the six-foot-something male with a raised eyebrow. 

“Kiddin' me? I could hear the shameless grin in your voice from a mile away.”

“Touched you can recognize me without even lookin', I must be that good lookin'.” 

“Hardly.” You grin playfully as you move on to look at the selection of bread they had on display today. 

“Ouch, you hurt me darlin’.” He whines and it reminds you of Seungcheol, and a chill ran up your spine at the mere thought of said male. 

“What brings you to the store so early? Thought you weren’t a mornin' person.” You put a loaf of sourdough bread in your basket and look back to see Mingyu's brown mop of hair peeking over the top of the shelf as he moved to the aisle over. Either he’s tall as fuck or the shelves are short, both could be true. 

“Cheol’s been cooped up in his office all mornin stressin', an' being his right hand, it’s my job to stress with him I guess.” He sighs quietly but you still heard it as you moved further away from him to grab some bagels. 

“Stressed?”

“Yeah, immigration is on his ass 'bout papers for all the workers, himself included, so he’s tryin to get his shit straight before someone gets in trouble.” Mingyu pops up next to you to grab himself some bagels. “So bring your papers with you on Friday, darlin’.” 

“I will.” You hum quietly before looking down at the weird assortment of things in his store basket. “Whatcha makin’?” 

“Whatever Cheol is in the mood for later, I love cookin' and it helps him get the stick out his ass.” He shrugs as he moves towards the refrigerated section. 

“You cook?”

“And clean so if yer lookin’ for a husband I’m takin' applications.” He looks at you over his shoulder. “But only for you, darlin’.”

“In your dreams lover boy.”

“I could always dream ‘bout you.” He laughs quietly when you scoff. “Guessin' I’m not your type?” All you can do is shrug.

“Don’t gotta type.”

“Oh?” 

“All they gotta be able to do is make me orgasm I guess.”

“Scandalous.” He checks through a couple packs of eggs before finding one he’s content with. “You and Cheol are similar in that way - as long as they’re kind he doesn’t care much who or what they are.”

“Do you care?” 

“All I care is that they like my cookin’.” You knew you had found your people as you continue to shop with Mingyu trailing behind, picking up items he wasn’t even planning on until he saw you shopping in the section. 

“Are you going back to the club now?” You walk out the store after you argued with Mingyu over him paying for your groceries, him arguing that it was a “welcome to the neighborhood” gift. 

“Only to drop this stuff off.” He holds up his bag of groceries. “Then I gotta go pick up Cheol’s suit from the tailor and pick up some more food that I can’t get at a regular market.”’

“Imports?”

“Fresh fish straight from the ports of Japan and I’m picking up an order I had put in a while back for fresh Gochugaru.” 

“Chili flakes?” You looked at him curiously.

“Yeah... You know Korean?”

“A little, my neighbor was a little old Korean lady and her kids moved across country and didn’t visit anymore, so I’d hang out with her often and she’d teach me Korean.”

“Cute,” Mingyu smiles gently, a huge contrast from the grin he always had. “Me and Cheol were forced to learn English when we had moved here because it was either that or French and one was significantly easier than the other for us.” 

“You speak really well.” 

“Thank you, I try.” You couldn’t help but giggle at the way he puffed his chest out. 

A comforting silence fell over the two of you as you continued to walk down the street in the general direction of where you lived. Reaching a certain intersection you two stop - one way led you the rest of the way to your apartment and the other way led in the direction of the club. 

“Need me to walk you the rest of the way home?” 

“I got it from here Gyu.” You start to walk again in the direction of home, leaving Mingyu to stand there on his own. 

“Gyu...” He smiled happily at you using his nickname. “Be safe! And I’ll be out of the club for at least an hour if you wanted to go visit the stress ball in his office, he could use the distraction!” 

“I’ll consider gracing him!” You call back over your shoulder before waving goodbye to the golden retriever of a man who all but scurried across the street, narrowly missing a car who he quickly cursed at loud enough for you to hear him from down the road. 

It didn’t take you long to get all your groceries put away, the thought of going to see Seungcheol had you moving on auto pilot. Taking a second to freshen up your appearance, you make sure your hair isn’t frizzy before you make your way out of your apartment to walk to the club. 

The streets were unnaturally quiet as you walked in the direction that has become all too familiar to you in the short amount of time you’ve been here. Finally seeing the doors come into view, you realize that Mingyu said he was going to be out, so you had no idea on how you were going to get in. 

“Oh!” Mingyu jumps a little as he opens the door to leave to see you standing there with a look of contemplation on your face. “You came darlin’. ”

“I hope I will be later,” The look of confused curiosity Mingyu gave you made you shake your head with a fond smile, opting to not explain your innuendo. “You said I’d be a good distraction for Mr. Choi so of course I came.”

“Well he’s up in his office, like he has been for hours.” Mingyu sighs quietly as he looks up at Seungcheol’s office in worry before he’s turning to give you a smile. “Like I said, I’ll be out for a couple hours so whole place is to yourselves.”

“Thank you.” You wave him goodbye, wishing him to be safe. 

“Mr. Choi?” You mumble quietly as you knock on his door. It takes a long few seconds for you to get any acknowledgement that he heard you. “I’m comin’ in.” You didn’t give him the option to let you in or not as you open the door slowly to see tired eyes framed by fluffy and tousled hair looking at you. 

“Whatcha doin’ here, honey?” The new nickname sent butterflies a flight in your tummy as you close the door behind you and make your way to stand in front of his desk. 

“Gyu said you were stressin’,” you mumble as you look at all the paperwork spread across his desk. “Maybe you need a break from all this.” 

“I can’t just ignore this all…” He sighs quietly as he runs his hand through his hair for what looks like the millionth time that morning. 

“I’m not saying to forget ‘bout it, just saying you need to relax.” You start to gently and carefully stack the papers into a neat pile before setting it on the corner of his desk. Seungcheol just watches your hands move, even as you slowly move around his desk to stand behind him. “Let me help you, Mr. Choi.”

You hum quietly as you rest your hands on his shoulders and gently pull him to sit back in his chair. Sighing again, Seungcheol lets you do whatever you want as you start to massage at his shoulders - something you picked up from the men that you’d visit that worked on Wall Street. 

“That feels nice.” He mumbles, his eyes fluttering closed as he relaxes into the back of his chair more. 

“Yeah?” You mumble with a smile, a little sultry tone to your voice as you knead a little harder, the knot under your fingertips melting away. Seungcheol groans, satisfied at the tension leaving his body as he curses quietly in Korean causing you to giggle quietly. The words were familiar, your old neighbor having said them a time or two but in an angrier tone. 

“What’s so funny doll?” He opens his mouth, his eyebrow raised in curiosity as he looked up at you. 

“Nothin’ Mr. Choi.” You move your thumbs to rub as the back of his neck, gentler than you treated his shoulders. 

“Y’know, if you keep callin' me Mr. Choi, I might just have to marry you.” He grins a little at the way you squeak in shock. 

“You haven’t even taken me out to dinner yet and yer already proposin’?” You watch as Seungcheol sits up straight and rolls his head and shoulders, sighing in content at the relief he feels. 

“My mother calls my father Mr. Choi, they’ve been married forty years now.” You couldn’t tell if he was joking anymore about the marriage thing as he spun around in his office chair to look up at you. 

“What?” You look down at your outfit to see if there was anything he was staring at as a minute of silence passed by with him just looking at you. 

“You should be on the cover of Vogue instead of in some place like this.” His fingers twitch on his lap as he finally lets his eyes wander farther than your face, but not for long as he’s looking back up into your eyes. Something about the way he held eye contact had your knees feeling weak.  He didn’t look at you like you were a piece of meat but rather that you were the finest chocolates from À la Mère de Famille. 

“I’m not a model sir.” You shrug as you begin to feel shy, something you haven’t felt around a man in a long time. “Besides, I like it here. The workers are hot and the atmosphere is calmin’.”

“The workers?” He raises his eyebrow in a pouting manner. “What ‘bout the owner?”

“Oh, he’s more than hot but you didn’t hear that from me.” You wink, giggling quietly at the way his pout turns to a smirk. 

“Is that so? 'Nother rumor, I suppose.”

“Starting to think it’s not a rumor.” You hum quietly, rocking on your heels a little. 

“Are there any other rumors you wanna prove to be true, darlin’?” He leans back in his chair and manspreads as he props his chin on his hand that’s resting on the armrest. 

“Mm, not rumors per say.” You take an experimental step forward. “More of personal speculation.” 

“Speculation?” He watches you like a hawk, his eyes darkening the closer you get. 

“Can I touch you?” You whisper when you finally stand between his open knees. 

“Fuck…” He groans quietly at the idea. “Thought you’d never ask, darlin’.” He nods his head, giving you approval to touch him. 

Seungcheols adam’s apple bobs a little as he swallows, your fingers lighting a fire under his skin everywhere they ghost. You trailed your fingers up his knees and over his thighs before your palms begin to lay flat against his stomach. When you dig your fingers into the fabric of his dress shirt, Seungcheol flexed, the feeling of you tugging on it gently causes his resolve to crumble. 

“Can I touch you?” It’s his turn to ask as his hands moved to grip at his armrests tightly. 

“‘Course sir,” you whisper as you lean in closer, the scent of your soap filling his senses as his hands move to grab the back of your thighs so he can yank you to sit in his lap in one solid movement. 

“Tell me to stop.” He mumbles as his hands travel up your back so he can pull you closer to his body. 

“Don’t want you to stop.” You mumble as you lean closer to him, your hands leaving his stomach so you can drape your arms over his shoulders. 

“Tell me when then.” He lets you lean in first to kiss and once your lips are on his, he’s spinning his chair around so he can press you against the edge of his desk. Smiling into the kiss you begin to rock and roll your hips in a way that has him hissing and groaning as he pulls away from the kiss.

“You got the hips of a dancer.” He groans at how expertly you moved your lower body against his as he kisses down your cheek and to your neck, something no one has really done before. The time he took kissing and mapping out every inch of your neck until he found your sweet spot had you whining. 

“Told Gyu I was one,” You moan for the first time and it takes everything in Seungcheol to not slam you down on his desk to hear more of your pretty sounds. “Could show you what I got.”

“'Nother day.” He groans as he nips at the sensitive skin behind your ear before pulling away to look you in the eyes. Again the eye contact had your stomach flipping as you swallow the moan in your throat. “God…” He groans, his eyes closing as his hands on your back grip your shirt tightly. 

“Am I a god now  baby?”

“I’ll fuckin' worship you like one.” He growls when you push your hips down harder, the desire growing in every inch of your body as you bite your lip and watch him through hooded eyes. 

“Mmm~” You lean your head back and close your eyes in pleasure when Seungcheol finally grips your hips and grinds up into you. “Fuck daddy.” The name slips off your tongue like the old habit it was, men in America would fall to their knees when the word left your plush lips. 

In the blink of an eye, Seungcheol hoists you up to lay you flat on top of his desk so he can stand between your legs. His pupils were completely blown now, but you were sure yours were too as your thighs squeeze around his hips and he loosens the tie he had on and unbuttons the top buttons of his dress shirt. 

“I’m gonna fuck you till you can’t walk outta here, darlin’.”

“You did say you could bruise my hips daddy, hope you weren’t lyin’.” He haphazardly rolls his sleeves up past his elbows before he’s diving down to kiss you again, this time a lot harsher than the first. 

Moaning into his mouth, you tangle your fingers in his dark hair and tug it when he nips your tongue. All he does is smirk into the kiss and without letting up for much air ,he makes work on undoing his pants in the little room that’s between your bodies. 

You tug his hair hard enough for him to pull away, his eyes half open as he groans at the delicious sting on his scalp. When you let go of his dark locks he stands up straight again so he can push his dress pants down his thighs and make work on tugging your panties off from under the skirt you had on. 

“Tell me where you want me to finish.” He mumbles as he lets his hands travel up your thighs to slowly push your skirt up until it was resting on your stomach. His eyes stared you down like you were an art piece in the Louvre as his hands continued up your body till they were squeezing your boobs through the tanktop you were wearing. 

“Inside.” You could see his cock twitch behind his boxer briefs as his eyes snap up to look at you. 

“You sure darlin’? What ‘bout a kid?” He didn’t seem too nervous about having a kid with you but he was nervous that you might regret it. 

“I’m on the pill.”

“The pill?”

“Yeah, it’s what some of the girls back home would call their birth control.” Your hands reach out to grab the ends of Sungcheol’s dress shirt to try and tug him towards you again, the cold air hitting your exposed pussy making the desire grow even more in you. “Not too sure ‘bout it yet though, haven't had unprotected sex since startin' it but I guess we’ll see if ya knock me up tonight.” 

Seungcheol just smirks at your words and he opens his mouth to make some cheeky little comment but you sit up enough to grab his hair and yank him down to kiss him - shutting him up effectively and kickstarting his gears again as he pushes his hips against yours. The heat of your bare cunt makes his cock twitch more as he groans into the kiss that’s turned a little sloppy but that's just the way you like it as you grind your hips up against his, urging him to finally fuck you. 

“You’re so warm.” He almost whines when he pulls away from the kiss to breathe as he pushes his boxers down enough for his cock to smack up against his stomach. Your mouth waters at the sight and your core pulses at the thought of being filled up more than you’ve ever been. 

“'Nd your big.” You breathe out as he runs the tip of his cock through your folds, letting it nudge against your clit a couple times as he gets all nice and coated in your juices before he’s slipping further down where your entrance greedily sucks him in without much work from him. 

“Fuck.” His hands grip the edge of the desk by your head as his eyes roll a little at how you squeeze around him. It was a familiar feeling but one he hasn’t felt in a long time and he can say with ease that it’s never felt this good before and he’s barely bottomed out. 

“Move please.” You beg, the feeling of being split open made your brain go fuzzy and your mouth fill with drool as you choke on a moan when he slowly slides out till just the tip sits in your entrance. Just when you went to complain about him leaving you empty, he’s slamming back into you, jostling his desk and knocking the papers down that you had stacked up. “Fuck!” Your voice was high pitched and whiny as he definitely set a bruising pace early on. 

“That’s it, take it doll,” He groans into your ear as he kisses and nips at your cheek and ear. “So good.” He moves one of his hands to trail down your side where it rests on your hip. 

Your voice got lost in your throat as all you could do was moan and whimper a pathetic “Yes daddy,” every few seconds and every time you said it Seungcheol would find a new angle to make you say it louder and he’d accompany it with a smack to the side of your ass cheek - and when he felt like that side had enough attention hed switch to the other side. 

“You’re getting tighter baby.” He moans instead of groans this time which causes you to squeeze around his cock tighter, the sound sending shockwaves through your body. 

“So good~” You moan as you claw at his shoulders and scalp which draws more moans from him as he feels his orgasm approaching like a freight train. 

“Oh fuck.” His hips stutter a little as he digs his nails into your hip to keep a grip on you as he quite literally fucks you into his desk. 

“Right there daddy, fuck.” You gasp and lean your head back and bite your lip, your orgasm right there. “Daddy!” You squeal when he angles his hips up a little and hits your g-spot with precision, which finally draws you over the edge. 

The force of your orgasm pulls Seungcheol over the edge with you as he groans your name lowly into your ear followed by gentle kisses to the side of your head as he continues to fuck his cum into you until both of your orgasms have been ridden out. Slowly he manages to pull himself from your grasp as he hisses at the loss of your warmth wrapping around him. 

Pride swelled in Seungcheol’s chest as he looked down at your worn out state, your hair was a mess and little love bites adorn your neck like a necklace. The cherry on top of everything though was the way his cum seeped out of your weeping cunt and it has his cock twitching again. 

“Still think I belong on Vogue?”  You mumble a little shyly as you looked at the way he was just staring at you as you slowly sit up. When you hissed quietly he was quick to jump forward and help you. 

“I’ll always think that,” He smiles as he picks your panties up from where he dropped them and helped you slip them on while you were still sitting on his desk. “You’re gorgeous, doll.”

“Well I feel like I belong on Playboy,” You roll your eyes playfully at your own little joke towards yourself before you're smiling up at Seungcheol as you reach forward to fix his shirt as he tucks himself back into his boxers and pants. “And thank you, you're not too bad yourself sir.” He makes a little noise at the title. 

“What’s Playboy?” He mumbles as he rubs soothingly at your hips while slowly helping you off his desk where you stand on wobbly legs. 

“I’ll explain it later.” You giggle quietly before your stomach interrupts by rumbling. “I’m hungry now.” 

“Sure it’s not a baby in there?” You laugh at him while smacking his side. 

“Don’t jinx it or I’ll never get to have that threesome you promised me.” You joked playfully. 

“Oh we’ll still have that threesome, darlin’.” He grabs his coat to drape it over your shoulders as he helps you walk to the door of his office. “But I don’t take too kind to sharin’ what’s mine.”

“Does that mean I’m yours?” He shrugs as he looks down at you. 

“Are ya?” You try to hide your smile by biting your lip as you walk ahead of him down the stairs. 

“Maybe I am.” You finally hum as you turn to look at him once you made it to the bottom of the stairs. “Does that mean you’re mine?”

“Maybe it does.” He smiles at you as he stops directly in front of you and grabs your hips to pull you against his body. “Never felt like this for someone so quick, like hell I’d let you go.” He mumbles before he’s kissing you gently, one of his hands moving up to cup the side of your face as your hands cup the sides of his neck gently. 

“Well,” Mingyu’s voice was laced in a pout as he opened the door of the club, his arms full of bags. “Havin’ fun without me? I’m hurt.”

“Great timing, Gyu.” Seungcheol mumbles against your lips with a huff. You giggle quietly and pull away from Seungcheol completely to go and try and help Mingyu with what he was carrying. If it wasn’t for the look Seungcheol gave him he would’ve fought you harder to do it all himself. 

“Did you get all your ingredients for lunch?” You hum as you follow the tall male into the kitchen, where he directs where to put the stuff you were holding. 

“Yeah, the market wasn’t that packed yet thankfully, but it also meant I wasn’t as gone as long as I thought.” He turns his head to look at you over his shoulder with a sheepish grin. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be, we had plenty of time.” You snort at the way he almost fell when he whipped around to face you fully. “I’m hungry though so I’ll tell you the details later.”

“Deal, guess I gotta make a heavier lunch to make up for all the energy you two burnt.” He goes back to putting the groceries away, leaving you to wander back into the main room of the club where you expected Seungcheol to be but it was empty. Huffing quietly you sit at the bar and squeak a little at the feeling of your thighs becoming wet from the mess Seunghceol left in your panties. 

“Sorry, I had to go grab somethin' from my office.” Seungcheol joins you in sitting down not even a minute after you had sat down. 

“What is it?” You question curiously as he sets a small box in front of you. 

“A welcome gift, was gonna give it to you Friday, but guess you were right about seein' you sooner.” He smiles as you happily open the box only to close the lid quickly and slid it back towards him.

“No.”

“No?” He tried to not sound hurt.

“That looks too expensive.” He seemed to be a little relieved at this answer. 

“Don’t worry 'bout my money doll, besides you’re worth it.” He opens the box himself and pulls the little bottle of Chanel N°5 perfume. He opens the cap and gently grabs your wrist so he can spray a little bit onto it. 

“I’ve never heard of Chanel.” You mumble as you bring your wrist up to smell the perfume and you almost sigh at how good it smells. 

“Everyone is gonna know Chanel after they meet you.” He mumbles as he carefully puts the cap back on and puts it back in the box for you. 

“Thank you, Sir.”

“Cheol.” You look at him with raised eyebrows.

“You can call me Cheol when it’s just us and Gyu, and maybe Chan but he might tease me for it so try to refrain if you can.” He sighs quietly at the younger male’s antics. 

“Ok Cheol.” You smile, loving the taste of his nickname on your tongue and Seungcheol seemed to like it just as much as his adam’s apple bobs. 

“Ok love birds, try to not fuck on the bar please, don’t have time to disinfect it all.” Mingyu barges through the back door just as Seungcheol had leaned in to kiss you. 

“It’s my bar, Gyu.” Seungcheol glares at him as he sits up straight. 

“Not while I’m here, friend.” He laughs as he grabs three glasses so he could pour you all drinks. 

“Was thinking of making gochujang garlic noodles with some bulgogi and kimchi on the side.” Mingyu hands you your glass.

“That sounds amazing, I haven’t had kimchi and bulgogi since the night before I left.” You take a small sip of your whiskey, the warmth filling your body.

“You’ve had those things before?” Seunghceol looks at you curiously while he takes a sip of his alcohol. 

“Yeah, my neighbor was Korean and she’d cook all the time for me.” You give him a smile as you take another sip. 

“She even knows a little Korean!” Mingyu chirps up as he goes back to the kitchen with his glass of plain cranberry juice. 

“You do!?” He looks ecstatic as he jumps in to quizzing you on all the words you know while also teaching you a couple of his own favorite words while you two wait for Mingyu to finish cooking you lunch.

feedback + reblogs greatly appreciated, especially if you enjoyed the fic!

[starryevermore]

the house of snow (15) ✧ coriolanus snow

the house of snow ✧ a royal coryo au | pinterest board| ao3

pairing: king!coriolanus snow x fem!reader

series summary: the king of panem is in search of a bride. and, for reasons you can never understand, coriolanus snow has set his sights on you. it would never be a happy marriage, you’re sure of that. but none of that matters, because when snow decides he wants something, he will do everything in his power to ensure it is his. 

chapter summary: you cannot seem to stay away. 

word count: 1,443

series warnings?: 18+ MINORS DNI, royal au, regency au, arranged marriage, rivals to lovers, obsessive!coryo, jealous!coryo, protective!coryo, eventual smut, eventual pregnancy, more tags to be added later

chapter warnings?: another shorter chapter im so sorry, pet name (petal), not proofread

The Snow family cottage was beautiful. It looked like it had been plucked straight out of a storybook. The cobblestone walls, the window boxes overflowing with flowers, the ivy growing up the side of the house—all of it was gorgeous. Though you loved your life in the Capitol, a part of you would be content to live here forever and you hadn’t even seen the inside yet. 

“It was a wedding gift from my father to my mother,” Coriolanus said as he walked you up the stone path. “She always preferred the quiet. She would often come here just to escape the noise of the Capitol.”

“Your father must have loved your mother very much,” you said. To build an entire cottage as a wedding gift? You wondered how long it took. Buildings could be erected quite quickly in the Capitol due to all of the resources being sent straight there. But even then, there could be delays when things were not so readily available. How long had it taken to bring everything out to the countryside? 

“They had a long courtship, so he could have the cottage ready by the time they wed,” Coriolanus continued. “In the end, it was worth it to him if only because it was where she chose to have her children.”

Your breath caught in your throat. “She…” you tried to ask, but the words didn’t sound right. It sounded too insensitive to even try. 

“It was the one place that reminded her of my father that had been left untainted by the war,” he said. “I hated this place for so long because it felt like it took her from me. As I grew older, I began to appreciate that at least, through the pain, she felt some amount of peace.” He glanced at you as if to see your reaction. “I hope to make some better memories here with you. If that is alright.”

You swallowed. Oh, why did he have to be so sweet? To share his pain with you, to be so vulnerable…Fuck. Did he do this just so he could confuse your thoughts even more? Or was he being genuine? “I can try,” you offered. 

The corner of Snow’s mouth quirked up. You wanted to kiss it. “Thank you, petal. That is all that I ask.”

But is it all that you will ever ask? you wanted to say. What if you disappointed him? What if you could not provide him with the love he wanted from you? What happens then? 

Instead, you offered a small smile. “Can we go inside? I’m quite hungry after our journey.”

Coriolanus smiled, too, and led you in. It almost felt like you were being taken straight into the lion’s den. You pushed the thought from your mind. You told him you would try. Maybe you couldn’t make better memories for him here, but maybe you could try to understand him. Maybe, away from the Capitol, you could look between Coriolanus from the Academy and the Coryo you’ve come to know and find the true man laying inside. 

You reached for his hand, and gave it a squeeze. 

After lunch, Coriolanus allowed you your space. He gave you leave to pick which room you would like to stay in over the course of the your honeymoon, showed you where he would stay, and other points of interest in the cottage. Then he disappeared into his study, leaving you to do as you pleased. 

A part of you ached as he left. It had been what you wanted—distance to figure things out on your own. To determine how much you cared about Coriolanus without his presence influencing your thoughts. But you had so much time with him in recent weeks, had gotten to experience him so intimately, that for him to leave you be…It felt wrong. It felt like he took a part of you with him. You swallowed your self-inflicted hurt, though, took a book from the library, and retreated into the gardens. 

Still, as you sat among the grand rose bushes that seemed to follow the Snows wherever they go, you couldn’t focus on the pages. The words blurred together until they were unrecognizable. You found yourself glancing to the window to Coriolanus’s study, silently urging him to walk to it, to look out at you. He never came. 

What was wrong with you? 

You closed the book, not bothering to mark the page you were on. You hadn’t processed a single thing on the pages you flipped through. Hell, you weren’t even sure what it was you were trying to read. This was just a cheap attempt to push away your feelings, to not have to bother sorting through them. 

You retreated back into the cottage, setting the book aside on a table, before marching up to Coriolanus’s study. The door was open. Coriolanus’s back was to you as he gazed out the window. You raised your hand, rapping your knuckles on the doorframe. He turned, his pale blue eyes wild with worry.

“Is everything alright?” he asked. 

“You drive me mad. You make me ill every time I see you. I cannot tell if it’s because of the butterflies girls talk about or because you scare me. You do. Scare me, I mean.”

Coriolanus took a step toward you. “I scare you?” he repeated.

“Your anger terrifies me. I don’t think…I don’t think you would ever hurt me. But the idea of what you might do to someone who does…Coryo, I have never been more terrified than when you thought I was going to run away with Sejanus. I was sure you would have killed him where he stood.”

A frown settled on his face. He took another step. “I should have. You are everything to me. I won’t let anyone try to poison you against me.”

“I cannot for the life of me understand why. You could have anyone, Coryo. You could have someone who knows that they love you, who can say those words.”

“I don’t want anyone but you, petal.” He stepped closer. One more step, and he would be in front of you. Part of you wanted to shy away, to put distance between the two of you. Your feet remained firmly planted. 

“Why?” you begged. 

“Because I burn for you. You have burrowed yourself into my soul, if I should have one. Since we were fourteen, all I have wanted was you. All I have ever wanted was to be good enough for you. I made a name for myself for you, I became king for you. I will be any man you want me to be. Just give me the word.”

Your brows pinched together. “We only met when we were fourteen.”

Coriolanus closed the distance. “I fell in love with a girl who could look me right in the face and say I was wrong for thinking the opera useless, a gratuitous performance than something contributory to society. I did not come to love the opera that day, but rather the girl whose face lit up at every note. Who nearly rose out of her seat as if she might be sing too. I have loved you for a long time, petal. I fear I always will.”

He reached up, his hands cupping your face. You leaned into his palm, your eyes fluttering shut. “I will go to as many performances as you wish, petal. I will pretend I love every one. I will build you a thousand libraries. I will adopt a million cats. If you…If you tell me to beg for your love, I will get on my knees without a second thought. I will do anything, I will be anything, for you.”

“What if you tire of me?”

“I could never. The months I spent with the Peacekeepers, the years I spent climbing the social ladder, all I could think of was you and all of it would be worth it if I could hold you just once.”

“And when you learn that I am a far cry from the woman you think me to be?”

“Then I would love her, too. You are it for me, petal.”

You opened your eyes. Your gaze fell to his lips—how plush they were, how his tongue darted out to wet them, how they parted, ready to say more. Words never fell past them, though, for you stopped them right in their tracks. You kissed your Coryo until you were breathless. 

When you finally parted for air, you whispered, “I…think this is better than a love match.”

[shewrites02]

Forgive Me if I break You | Zoro x Reader | Part II

Part I Part III Part IIII

Trigger warnings: Domestic assault, Alcohol, verbal abuse , physical abuse, graphic depictions of violence. THIS FIC CONTAINS DARK CONTENT ! MINORS DNI !

*THERE IS A GRAPHIC DEPECTION OF DOMESTIC VIOLENCE IN THE FIRST FLASHBACK, IF NOT COMFORTABLE PLEASE SKIP. (the last line is the most important anyway)*

A/N: Thank you for all the support I've gotten at the start of this series, I was so nervous no one would be interested lol. I hope this part lives up to your expectations.

Request: Open

Word count: 5K

Leave a comment if you enjoy :)

The cold of the ice pack stings against your cheek, almost as much as the insults lodged in your throat with nowhere to go. Harshly, you swallow them down, having to reacclimate to the taste of stifled feelings. Almost completely forgotten in those two months.

You're in your shared bedroom, sitting in Lee's lap. Your head lays against his chest. With how tenderly he stroked your hair, you're almost able to imagine care in his touch. Pretend it is the swordsman who caresses you so tenderly. Lee places a soft kiss to your cheek, laying his head against yours.

"I'm sorry, y/n ... I didn't mean to lose my temper." He coos. In the past six months he never came up with any other excuse. Always an apology then an explanation of why it was your fault.

"It's jus’- you embarrassed me in front of our guests, interrupting me like that. You know I hate when you do that- and that fucking swordsman clearly has feelings for you."

Lee is almost completely lost in his rambling, and you think for a moment you will get relief from this puppet show he has forced you into. But the mention of Zoro has you going stiff.

"It's disgusting. a lowlife pirate thinking he can have what is mine. I forbid you from seeing him, do you understand?"

"Yes dear." you respond.

As if the swordsman wanted anything to do with you now. Not after what you've done to him- not after he has seen how pathetic you are. The future world's best swordsman deserves more than someone like you.

"I'm so glad you're home." Lee pivots. "I can't believe I thought you left me-"

Lee lets out a chuckle as though the thought is inconceivable. In spite of your rigidness, the chief takes a deep breath to relax into the headboard. Each chuckle that leaves his mouth tightens your shackles. Reaffirming what you already know- you aren't going anywhere.

"Is that what happened to the countryside?"  You ask meekly. Fearful of the answer, but so desperate for the truth.  "Did you burn the lemon grove to punish me?"

"... Yes."

Tears swell in your eyes as you pull away to look at the merciless man in front of you. A man who would bathe in your blood with no remorse. So desperate for your obedience he is willing to strip the last memories of your mother away from you as punishment . Did not need proof of your transgressions, his outrage evidence enough to justify his actions.

The chief uses the edge of his thumb to swipe the shallow tears brimming in your eyes.

"We can replant all of them my love, even more, now that you are home. "He lets his thumb sweep over your cheek and lips before he draws away.

Still he wears no semblance of remorse. No guilt or shame for what he's done. For the villagers - his people- homes destroyed in the crossfire of his rage. Couldn't care less about the massive amounts of  nature he burned to ash in the name of revenge. Their  forfeiture was a consequence of your decision to act so selfishly.  It was all your fault-

Why should the chief feel apologetic?

"And the villagers?"

Lee leans in to gently place another kiss to your cheek. As though his kisses can ease the pain of his strikes. Something in you wants to believe he is trying to soothe the pain he inflicted on you. The more nihilistic part of you knows you are only searching for the swordsman's affection in Lee 's actions.  Actions that only encompass power and control, that force obedience. Lee rests his forehead head against your head so that his lips are centimeters away from your ear.

"I told you, what I would do if you left- I thought you called my bluff, honey …" 

Your mouth went dry at the sight. How- You thought- there was no time to waste musing through all the precautions you  thought you followed. Not when your husband stood in front of you disproving their effectiveness.

"What is this?" He asked, pointing over to the bed.

There is an empty duffle bag clutched tight in his left hand- your duffle bag. Its contents scattered on the bed sporadically. A couple thousand berry, a map, exactly two changes of clothes, and a log pose. Everything you needed for a seamless departure.

"I- don't know how it- I-" You were too caught off guard to lie, too unprepared to conjure up an excuse on the fly. Instead you stood fumbling like an idiot trying to figure out how Lee could have possibly just stumbled upon your stash.

"What is it?!" The chief shouted, this time throwing the duffle bag so that it landed at your feet. Before you could answer, he was already stalking toward you. Soon his hands were wrapped around your jaw, squeezing your cheeks. You'd wince in pain if the man had allowed you any wiggle room. 

"Were you trying to leave me?" he growls.

"No-" you tried to muffle through your clenched jaw. the word only coming out as a strained cry.

He looked unconvinced. That darkness you're too familiar with started to fill his eyes. It made you begin to question what in you was so naïve enough to think you could escape. Lee moves his hand from your cheek to wrap his arm firmly around your waist. His opposite arm wrapped around your shoulders.

"You want to leave me?" He snarled.

Your head shook ‘no’ so vigorously you almost forgot it was a lie. Just trying to appease the chief,  to be spared from his wrath. It did not work. Lee was already starting to walk backward , dragging your body along easily despite your protests. This time you were sure.

He was going to kill you.

Lee easily kicked open the French doors leading to the balcony. Your kicking and screaming, posing as no defense against your husband. He drags you, until your torso is pressed against the balcony railing and he is forcing your head over to look at the drop.

"This is your only way out. If you want to leave me tell me now and I'll throw you over myself.... Say it!"

"I don't want to leave. I don't want to leave." The words repeated from your mouth like an incantation. Barely made out through your cries.

It was enough to make the chief release you, letting your limp body fall to the concrete. He stared down at you with a satisfactory smile before bending at the knees. The gentleness in his touch as he swept the hair out your face is always a precursor to his cruel threats.

"I'll burn this whole village to the  ground if you try to leave again. Do you understand me?" He snarls. "Slowly, one by one I will burn every region until you return to me. I will force you to watch everyone, everything , burn because you decided to be fucking selfish." 

Another kiss is planted to your cheek  before the whisper of Lee's voice commands your attention back to him. A shiver of a sigh escaping your lips at the painful memory.

"I can rebuild their homes... would you like that?"

You nod, letting the tears stream your face. You can feel Lee's smirk against your skin when he kisses the streaks. As though he is giving his approval of your reaction, your emotion.  The whites of his fingers dig into your waist to hold you close.  His grip does not lessen when you start to sob.

This is how he loved you. Broken. Tattered. Hopeless. An ode to his power, to how much he controlled you.

"Okay, Honey, first thing in the morning."

-

Water trickles down your chin and onto the sink. You had washed your face six times trying to get the feeling of Lee's hands off you. A futile attempt. His touch would be seared onto you forever.

You trace your cheek while staring into the vanity. There's some relief in not seeing a mark. Probably have your hiatus to thank for Lee's sudden mercy on you. At least you won't be subjected to questions. Trying to conjure up on the spot cover ups come morning, as to not incriminate your husband.

A shaky breath leaves your mouth. You would sob if you weren't so convinced you deserved this. The stinging of your face, the burning of your throat, the stabbing feeling in your chest. This must all be just a fraction of what you imposed on Zoro. The guilt in you leaves little room for other emotions, especially self pity.

How dare you believe a life waited for you beyond these cities' walls. Stupid, stupid, stupid- Foolishly thinking you could escape the future both your father and husband have mapped for you.

You curse the two month departure for giving you a glimpse of how good freedom could feel. For bringing the swordsman into your life when he is so undeserving of the burden you pose. For finally giving you hope just to later rub it in your  face.

"Lady Misatori." A small voice quips from the other side of the bathroom door. A knock follows to further force your attention.

A housekeeper stands on the other side. She can barely meet your eyes. A piece of notebook paper is folded into a tight square in her fingers , she is extending it out for you to grab. It trembles in her hands, giving way to the anxiety she is failing to hide.

"Thank you." You mutter. The maid looks relieved to hear her question-free dismissal.

When you open up the note you immediately recognize the handwriting. Had seen scribbled recipes written on loose leaf paper, and napkins enough to note it as Sanji's.

'Mosshead wants to talk- garden 10 minutes .'

The woman's trembling is finally put into perspective. Fearful of what her role in sneaking around the chief could mean for her. Briefly you wonder what the cook could've said to convince the woman to do this. Had his charm really been strong enough to get the woman to forgo all her senses? Part of you wishes to relish seeing Sanji's flirting finally meet with intrigue, but the insistent need to lay eyes on Zoro replaces the thought.

It has you stumbling out of the bathroom as quickly as you could. Forever grateful that in all his control Lee had found it fitting to give you a private bathroom.

-

It is dark, and wet. Leaves crunch and crumble beneath your feet as you walk the maze-like garden. The unpaved path is bordered with mountainous rose bushes that block your view of any direction, but front and back. The red flowers bloom so fruitfully they encroach your space on the pathway. The weather has gotten considerably cooler in the night, forcing you to pull your cardigan tighter around your shoulders. Regretting that the rush had made you grab the first thing with sleeves you saw.

A sigh leaves your lips exhaustedly. Surely the cook was mistaken. There was no sign of the swordsman anywhere. Maybe he had changed his mind about wanting to talk. Decided the risk isn't worth the reward. That you aren't worth the breath-

You hit an intersection on the path, and before you have the opportunity to turn left, there is a tight grasp around your arm. The force pulls you back, nestling you into the bushes behind you as you still. Once you gain your composure and are able to open your eyes, you’re met with the swordsman.

His left hand is wrapped firmly around your right arm, his other rest in the bush beside your head. Zoro has you caged. Trapped with nowhere to run. No place to hide. No escape.

"Husband?" He fumed. "Have you just been fucking around with me?"

"Zoro..." You plead, reaching out to grasp his cheek. He does not let you. Releases his hold on you to take a step back before your fingers land on him. The look on his face seethes of betrayal.

"Answer me!" The pirate barks. You flinch at the tone of his words, your eyes shutting closed. It takes a minute to gather yourself. You have never heard Zoro's voice void of any affection.

You swallow your own tears . Shove down your discomfort to accept accountability for your actions. Even if all you want to do is hold the swordsman once more. Hear his heart thump in his chest. Hear him say he loves you.

"I should have told you. I am so sorry I hurt you Zoro. "

The pirate scoffs, clearly not satisfied with your answer. He is shaking his head in disbelief, eyes burrowing into yours.

"You lied to me. You told me you loved m-"

"I Promise Zoro, I love you. I love you so much. so much." You beseech. 

The swordsman seems even more tortured by your testament. His hands find his skull to dig his fingers into his scalp. As if trying to ground himself for only a moment at the reeling thoughts.

"Does he know that? That you love me, that you're mine?"

When you don't answer the frustration builds in the swordsman. He lets out a pained laugh that morphs into more of a choke. His expression is filled with disbelief. 

"You're not mine." He speaks as if he is speaking to himself. "You're his."

"That is who you want to spend the rest of your life with? He talks to you like shit- the dirt beneath his shoes and you smile through the whole thing. The man who thinks you're his accessory- That is the man you love?"

Zoro badgers you. Moving his tongue as piercingly swift as you're sure, he can wield his swords. 

"I do not love that man." You choke.

"Then why?" The swordsman shouts. His exclamation wakes the small birds that have chosen the garden as their resting place. The sounds of their wings flapping away from the conflict fills the air. "Y/n ... why are you doing this to me?"

There is a frailness to his voice you don't recognize. Something so breakable about the way he utters your name. In the two months you had spent with Zoro you had never seen him show this much emotion.

"Zoro, if I could stay on the beach with you forever... I would. But I can't. I have people who need me-"

"I need you!" He professes, throwing his arms in the air. 

The way that Zoro bares his scars to you , when you could not do the same in return physically pains you. You force down the tears that dare to surface at his confession. Who were you to be hurt in a situation you hand crafted? To cry in the presence of a man who held his broken heart in his hands with hopes, you would fix it.

There's an immense sadness in your restraint, how you're able to still your body though every bone in you wants to wrap around him.  Reciprocate all the comfort Zoro so willingly gives to you. But this is not the beach-

"I'm so sorry Zoro. I'm so sorry." Your eyes shift to the ground. The tears are so much harder to fight off when you can see the confusion under his saddened expression.

Zoro cups your cheeks in his hands and for a fleeting moment there is no anger. There are only kisses shared under the stars, gasps fallen onto the sand, words of endearment lost to the wind. Love. For a second Zoro stares at you and there is only love.

"I don't want apologizes- " There's a shake in his breath. " I want you to tell me why I have to watch another man touch you.  Why he gets to hold you tonight instead of me. Tell me why you keep saying you love me, but you're going home to another man. Tell me the fucking truth!"

Even in his anger you can hear the worry in the pirate's voice. It takes you by surprise. Maybe malice hasn't taken up the space of affection in Zoro's heart after all. Maybe in all his poking and prodding Lee had only brought concern out of the first mate. The sweet sentiment physically aches. You turn your head, breaking free from his grasp.

"Leave Zoro- take your crewmates and go. I'm only going to hurt you if you stay, so please- go."

"... Is he why you need the sun to feel free?"

You're caught off guard by the swordsman's questions. Don't expect to hear your words echoed from his mouth. "Free". You could almost laugh hearing the word now. Freedom? What did you know about freedom? Always a pawn for someone else's will, your own desires to be placed on a shelf and expectantly forgotten.  This castle has always been your prison.

"I'll make sure you'd feel the sun everyday. I will drag it out the sky and place it in your hands if it will make you smile. I'll never trap you. I love you. Please- don't leave me." He begs.

Your body is moving on its own again, this time manipulated by the voice of the swordsman. Unsure of what has come over you, you're reaching out for Zoro, pulling him in closer. You know that you shouldn't. Especially not here and not now. But it does not stop you from standing on your tiptoes to press your lips into his.

The intention was for a quick kiss, just one last time to feel Zoro's lips on yours, but it's difficult not to savor the moment. To not search for another life, one where you could be together, in his mouth. The same desperation is displayed in the way Zoro grasps you. Tight. One hand tangled in your hair while the other on your waist. As if he could hold you tight enough to stay. He groans in displeasure why you finally pull away from him.

"Go Zoro. I'm only going to break you."

-

The sun has risen just enough to illuminate the desolate field. The early morning is still shying away from pushing out the darkness of night completely. You woke early enough to see Lee still had not returned home. Off doing something you are sure, is none of your business. 

You took the opportunity to sneak out to what used to be the lemon grove. Tears stream your face while you wonder what pushed you out here. What exactly it is that you're hoping to find amongst the ash.

The memories of your mother you can't get back? Pieces of the wooden swing you used to sit on in the summer? Evidence it was truly necessary to leave the swordsman in your past?

It's hard to focus on all you've lost when staring at the pile of rubble that is the villagers' homes. Their whole lives destroyed at a whim. You did this to them. Had you stayed home and behaved no one, not even the swordsman, would be in this situation.

"Wanna tell me what you're looking for?"

The whisper behind you sounds so familiar. There is a part of you that does not want to turn around, thinks it's better off not knowing who the voice belongs to. A bigger part of you itches with a need to know.

"Zoro."

"Maybe I can help you find it." There's a crooked smirk on his lips.

It's involuntary, the way your heart is instantly soothed at his arrival. Something it must have learned on its own while on the beach. You have to fight not to jump into his arms. Draw him into you with the wish to feel his lips again. 

" I thought I told you to leave..." you mutter.

"You did." The pirate agrees. Zoro moves from behind you, so you no longer have to crane your neck to look at him. He reaches to take your hand in his. His thumb traces the back of your hand, his touch so soft you almost don't feel it.  

"You're still here."

"You may have authority in this village, but the only person I take orders from is Luffy." He lets out a laugh.

The sound forces your brows to furrow to the center of your face. Where was his anger? His disappointment? Why wasn't he yelling at you? The last conversation you had with the swordsman had not gone the best. This warm welcome is the farthest reception you expected to receive.

"What?" He asks, reaching out to smooth the wrinkles your frown causes. You're surprised at the way you flinch when his fingertips touch your forehead, a reaction you hadn't had in at least a month.

Had it really only taken one night with Lee to erase all your expectations of being lovingly touched?

You can see Zoro's happy exterior waiver for just a moment at your knee jerk reaction. Still he does not draw away his fingers. Just trails them down so he can stroke your cheek. Still offering you a kind smile.

"Stop Zo..."  You're taking a step away before you can give into him. Pulling your hand away to further the distance.  "What are you doing here?"

"I wanted to see the lemon grove..." He uses the tip of his boot to kick at a burned shingle on the ground. "So much for that."

"Oh? You made it here all on your own?" In spite of your sorrows you laugh. "You didn't get lost?"

Zoro glares at you, his eyebrows raised to his temples. You suspect he hadn't expected you to join in on his light heartedness.

"I had to ask someone in the town square..." He sheepishly admits drawing an even more obnoxious laugh for your throat.

"Why were you looking for the lemon grove?"

"You don't remember?" He asks.

Even in your best memories of the beach, you never liked sand. The way it intrusively stuck to you, creeping its way into every nook and cranny made your skin crawl, but this beach was the expectation. You loved everything about this beach.

"Tell me something else." Zoro requests. His voice was softer than before- meeker after your supposed rejection.

You were still wrapped firmly in the swordsman arms, your head on his chest. Zoro's head had returned to rest on top of yours. A brisk breeze forced you closer to Zoro in search of warmth, the thin blanket almost whisked away at the gust. The sight drew a laugh from the pirate.

"Where would you be right now if you were home?"

The only location you could definitely think of was underneath the chief's thumb, but that surely couldn't be the answer the swordsman was looking for. It was hard to think of places in your village that still brought you joy. Places that hadn't been corrupted in the transition of power from your father to Lee.

"The lemon grove." You blurted out the second it came to you. There was a cheesy grin on your face while you reminisced. A grin that is met with a full blown smile from Zoro once he sees your joy. He leaned down to plant  a kiss to your cheek, then your jaw.

"Yeah? Why is that your favorite place?" His breath brushed against your neck.

"My mom used to take me there, and we would have picnics in the summer. There's this huge swing we'd sit on. It's my favorite place in the whole world."

"All that you've seen of it?" Zoro jokes. He caught your wrist when you went to slap his chest. Bringing your hands to his lips to kiss your knuckles. He rubbed his finger back and forth over yours after planting one last kiss to your cheek.

"Maybe you can show it to me? When we get you home?"

Lee had never in the six months you'd been married bothered to visit the lemon grove. Just knew it was a sacred space for you , a memento to your mother. This was the first time you're grateful for that. That in the chief's vast kingdom there could still be a place that could be just Zoro and yours.

"I would love that Zo."

You smiled before craning your neck to plant a kiss on his lips.

"I wanted to see your favorite place." Zoro admits once he sees you remember. "I thought it might give me some insight." 

"Insight?" You parrot in confusion. 

"You're hiding something from me." Zoro states plainly, drawing your eyes to him.

"You found out I'm married, what else can I be hiding Zoro?" Your voice trembles with exhaustion.

The swordsman narrows his eyes as he looks you over. That fury, and fire previously seen in the garden is long gone . All that remains is this inquisitive stare.

"I don't know, but you are... I wish you would let me help you."

"Help me-" There is a feigned smile painted on your lips. How could a pirate of the new world be so... heartening. Surely the horrors he has seen, far exceed the small misfortunes of your life.

"Zoro. I already told you to go. "

"If you looked at me and told me you didn't mean any of it I would've left. Sailed away and tried for the rest of my life never to think of you again, but you didn't. You told me you love me-"

"I do."

Zoro plops down onto the ash filled ground. He crosses his arms against his chest, and stares out at the rubble.

"Then I'm not leaving. Until you tell me what's going on, what's actually happening, I'm not going anywhere."

The way your heart swells at his proclamation is treacherous. Allowing yourself to be swooned by actions that could very well get the both of you executed. You almost think it's sweet, if it wasn't so stupid.

"Why do you care? Zoro I hurt you, why are you still chasing me?"

"... because I meant it when I said I love you. And I know you meant it too."

"You deserve someone better than me Zoro. Someone who won't hold you back, someone who won't hurt you, someone worthy of standing next to the world's strongest swordsman."

"I don't care what you think I deserve. That's not a decision for you to make." Zoro snaps.

"Zoro... " You sigh exasperatedly at his rebuttal. "Do you really think I won't hold you back? That you will still become the world's strongest swordsman if I'm standing next to you?"

"I don't think I will become the world's strongest swordsman if you aren't standing next to me." 

There's a sharp breath forced into your lungs at his confession. How could he say that with such certainty. It has only been two months. The two of you should be able to forget each other. Move on as if none of this happened- but Zoro stands before you stating he doesn't know if his dream will come true without you. A dream he has been chasing his entire life. A dream you've only come privy to in the last 60 days. 

"Tell me you don't love me- I'll go. If you look me in my eyes right now and say it, I'll leave." He challenges.

You search for the words on your tongue, though you cannot find them. No parts of you willing, or wanting to lie to the swordsman.

"I can't."

-

Zoro has kept his promise. The strawhat crew joining you and your husband for breakfast, lunch, and now dinner going on the third day in a row. You wonder what the pirate is waiting for? A confession? An outcry for help? Don't know what actions would be satisfactory enough to get him to sail away.

In all of those days Zoro has sat in that same seat, to the right of you at every meal. Some meals he would lightly brush his knees back and forth against yours. At others he would 'accidentally' knock his napkin off the table so he could pinch your thighs. In spite of your best efforts to forget the swordsman exists, he seems all too insistent on making his presence known.

"So Luffy, when do you think you and your crew will be leaving?" Lee asks. His voice does well to mask the irritation you can pin in the twitch of his eye. "We'd love to send you all off with a ball."

You suspect Lee's urging of the Strawhats' departure correlates to his growing  suspicion of the swordsman. The chief may be many things, but naïve has never been one of them. He takes note of the way Zoro's eye never leaves you, regardless of whoever is speaking. How the swordsman just couldn't be bothered to feign interest whenever the chief commands the room. You had spent every one of these past nights disavowing your feelings for the swordsman.

"We're thinking soon- Wednesday at the latest." Nami answers before her captain has the opportunity to. He seems to wear a confused look that is soon dissipated by her scowl. 

Two days.

Although you had trained yourself not to go looking for the swordsman, your eyes immediately fall onto him at the navigator's words. Your concern is met with raised bows, almost a silent challenge from the pirate.

Did he expect you to profess your love there at the dinner table? To look at your husband and gloat in the love you've been able to find? Neither are options being the choice was not yours. Lee has done a great job in ensuring you did not have any choices.

"Oh, I'll get the staff on preparations immediately. We will hold the ball tomorrow." Lee's smile is filled with pleasure.

His wife had returned home, and soon the guests he had been performing for would be on their way. Everything is on the road to being back to normal. Exactly how you remembered it. The thought sends a shiver down your body.

"Maybe y/n can take us to the shop to find a dress?" Robin suggests.

Lee is apprehensive about letting you go. Obvious from the way his smile falters at the archeologists suggestion. But he never could deny a pretty woman. Begrudgingly he agrees.

Part III

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

A/N: Part three is in the works , I'm hoping to not go more than a week between chapters, but please don't hold me to that. The ADHD will make me a liar. Thank you to all the beautiful people who care about my work, and have so many kind words.

Tag List: @turtletaubwrites @jinjen @sanzu-clinic @heyauntieeee @honeybuzzzzzz @nothing-but-brass

[evilminji]

*Distant sound of frantic running growing closer*

*I throw open the door with manic eyes, breathing heavily*

Hatsume Mei! The Fenton's! Oh DEAR LORD. The Couple, the Doctors Fenton... would think she's A Lovely Young Lady ™! Normal even! Charming! I bet the Hatsume Adults would find to be a Charming And Upstanding Young Lad!

JAPAN ISNT READY.

If the GIW got out of hand? And Amity, as a town? Said "fuck ya'll we taken our ball and going home"? All they'd NEED to do? Is shut down the portal, get the skilled portal makers stationed at side A of town to open it up, rip the whole thing up, have the mover ghosts push it IN, aaaaaand? Everyone in? Good! We close it from the inside!

Fuck those guys.

Okay, so, I'm Jerry. You're real estate officer, we got some GREAT options for you this season! How do feel about ninjas? No? Pirates? Not feeling it? Superheroes? Seeing some interest! We got a- *continues their pitch as Amity is moved*

Amity get phased into the Japanese countryside.

What do you MEAN "there wasn't a town here?" Of course there way! We have roads and everything! Why are we all Americans? What're you a cop? Mind your business, spandex man.

.....yeah, they're gonna call this one a "Quirk accident".

Pay your taxes, folks, and we promise not to care!

Fenton's? Back in business, baby! Well, never STOPPED being in business. But details! They're now a "support company"! And yes! The quotation marks ARE on all their documents AND signs! They think it's stupid!

But you want lazers?

Oh ho hoooo~ DO WE HAVE LAZERS!!!

Maddie n Jack start hitting the scene. Conventions. Conferences. Fancy parties. Weirdly? They "unnerve" people. Cowards.

Until? Gasp? They meet just the LOVELIEST couple! Who are so FUN! Who ALSO has a daughter? Danny's age no less! Oh she is just PRECIOUS? Is that her first bomb? Aaaaaw~♡.

Danny feels a disturbance in the force.

Like... like his folks are... are about to try and introduce him to a Nice Young Girl again. The last time this happened was at mom's fighting competitions. She ended up being some sort of assassin royalty. Thankfully, she accepted he could commit to a life of murder, since he wanted to be an astronaut, but it was like this whole THING and- you know what? Not important!

Where are his parents!?

(Planning his wedding! Gotta incorporate BOTH the family's completely batshit Family Traditions!)

[darth-mortem]

This masterpiece made me want to write a mini fanfic. Fluff and hurt/comfort, 760 words.

Ghost heard a soft moan through his sleep and opened his eyes. He and Soap slept together in the narrow standard bed on their base, and Johnny always clung tightly to Simon, but his grip was particularly strong now, almost convulsive. His whole body was tense, and Ghost could feel Soap shuddering and sobbing softly in his sleep, under the sway of the nightmare.

More often, it was the other way around. It was Simon who was tormented by the demons of his past, forcing his sleeping consciousness to plunge into the abyss of fear and pain over and over again. He saw his dead relatives again, found himself in a cramped coffin next to a half-decomposed corpse, experienced terrible torture, and recently the horrors of the possible future were added to the terrible images of the past. At the time, Ghost dreamed that he was losing Soap, that he was dying in his arms, or that he did not have time to save him. MacTavish always rescued him, woke him up, and reassured him, never once reproaching him for not getting enough sleep because of his lieutenant's nightmares. Tonight, however, the demons visited Johnny, and Simon slowly raised his hand and ran his fingers through his tousled hair.

“Hey, wake up.” He said softly, stroking Soap's head. “Wake up, Johnny.”

The sergeant jerked and opened his eyes sharply. In the first seconds, not realizing where he was, he tried to push Simon away and to get out of his arms, but Riley continued to hold him.

“Calm down, Johnny, calm down.” He spoke in a soft and gentle voice. “You had a bad dream. It was only a dream; do you hear me?”

“It was so real...” Finally, Soap answered in a weak voice, tears rolling down his cheeks, and he clung to Ghost, burying his face in his chest.

“I know, sunshine.” Simon smiled back bitterly and stroked his head again. “But it's over now. It's all right now.”

“No!” Soap cried out and sobbed again. “I dreamt I lost ye! Ye were KIA, and we were taking your body back to the base, and then there was a bloody funeral, and it was so scary and so fucking real!”

“I'm here.” Simon reminded him, kissed Johnny on the temple, and tenderly ran his fingers over his face, wiping away his tears. “I'm here, and I'm not going anywhere. We have plans for retirement; how can I die and let you down?”

Soap sobbed for a few minutes, but then began to calm down and soon became quiet, only occasionally shuddering from the nightmare he had experienced in his sleep. Ghost hugged him, running his fingers through his funny mohawk and touching his lips to Soap's face, which was wet with sweat and tears. He didn't know how to comfort and soothe, but he spoke, reminding Johnny of the plans he had mentioned.

“You and I will have a beautiful house somewhere in the countryside. Maybe on the coast, or in the woods, away from people.” Ghost said in an uncharacteristically dreamy tone. “We'll make sure to remove our names from all documents and hide, so that enemies can't find us.”

“But we'll leave our contacts for Price and Kyle, right?” Johnny unwittingly joined the conversation, running his fingers over the scars on Simon's back.

“Of course.” Ghost smiled. “And they'll visit us for Christmas, our birthdays, and maybe even our wedding anniversaries.”

“Wedding anniversaries?” Soap asked again and finally smiled back. “I like the sound of that. Will we have a dog?”

“Yes, we will.” Simon nodded. “We'll get an old retired military dog and a big fluffy cat, or maybe two.”

“But ye'll have to clean up after them!” Johnny said quickly.

“Okay, but then you'll have to walk the dog.” Ghost replied, and they both laughed softly.

For a few minutes they were silent, immersed in these dreams, and then Johnny reached for Simon's lips and kissed him passionately. Ghost kept up, trying to convey all the love and tenderness he felt for Johnny that he couldn't put into words. Then Soap fumbled around and settled his head comfortably on his lieutenant's shoulder.

"Promise me that everything will be exactly as ye said." He demanded in a sleepy voice.

"I promise." Simon answered seriously. "And you promise too."

"I promise." Johnny spoke too, yawned, and added, quite sleepily. "I love you, mo ghaol*."

"I love you, too, my sunshine." Ghost replied and put his hand on Soap's chest, feeling his heart beat calmly and evenly.

_______

*Mo ghaol (Gaelic) – my love

[scarlet-bitch]

Sunday Mornings

2k Steve X fem!reader, Angst/Fluff, 90's AU, no y/n

A/N: a different take on that s4 scene with Steve and Nance. Songs I loosely pulled inspo from: 'Never My Love' - The Association, the first verse of 'Sunday Morning' - The Velvet Underground, & the epilogue lyrics are 'Our House' - Crosby, Stills, Nash & Young *EDIT: my music was on shuffle and Make It With You - Bread came on and idk how I missed that for the epilogue lyrics!!! So I updated that. Feedback/likes/reblogs are greatly appreciated! Thanks for reading & as always, I hope you enjoy! XO, Scarlet 💋

Your favorite way to spend Sunday was a lazy morning in bed—preferably in Steve's—with your limbs intertwined and your head on his chest. Content in the silence, you'd often daydream about your future together. But today, instead of your own dreams, your mind replayed what you’d overheard Steve share with your friends—a life you couldn’t envision for yourself. One that's had you riddled with anxiety ever since.

“Y’know,” Steve said, pulling you from your spiraling thoughts, “when I was shopping with Robin yesterday, something caught my eye.”

You looked up at him. “Oh yeah? What was it?”

“A ring,” he replied, brushing his thumb over your left ring finger. “I couldn’t help but imagine it here.”

Your heart raced at the implication. This should have been a sweet moment—the first real conversation where the man you loved expressed his intentions to marry you. Instead, it felt like a nightmare. You had been meaning to bring up what you overheard, but it never seemed like the right time. Now, you realized you had no choice.

"I'm sorry” he said, his brow furrowing with concern as he noticed the look of panic on your face. "Was that too much?"

“No,” you whispered, as the nausea rose within you. “Not at all. Truly, there's nothing more I want than to be your wife."

“That’s all I want too, pretty girl. So sure of it, almost bought the ring.” He leaned in, his lips brushing against yours. You felt him smile into the kiss, and you wanted to revel in the moment, kiss him back with the same ferocity but your guilt was eating you from the inside.

Pulling away, you saw Steve lean in again, only to pause as his eyes flickered open taking in the sight of you. “Aww honey, you're crying?" He chuckled softly, moving his hand to caress your cheek.

Fuck. He'd mistaken them for tears of joy, rather than anguish they were born from—the words you'd struggled to voice.

You took his wrist, gently removing his hand from your face as you repositioned yourself to sit up in bed. Your fingers gripping the comforter for some sense of control.

“Hey, what's wrong?” he asked, his voice laced with concern.

“I need to talk to you about something important.”

“Okay.” He sat up now, confusion washing over him as his eyes searched yours for any indication of what you were about to say. You could almost see him rifling through possible scenarios in his mind.

“I’ve been selfish,” you admitted, tears stinging your eyes. “I thought there was time. We've only been together for two years, I thought things could change. I'd feel different-”

“Hey, slow down. I need you to take a deep breath."

He was right. You were nearly hyperventilating, words jumbling together. You shook your head, trying to calm yourself, but the pit in your stomach taunted you. You couldn't help but think this was beginning of the end.

“A few weeks ago, that night Robin, Vickie and I were over, when I passed out on the couch during the movie. I kept going in and out of sleep when you were all chatting, and I overheard you talking about your dream life. Something like six kids, summer trips in a Winnebago across the countryside. Right?”

Steve looked perplexed, as if trying to connect the dots. “Yeah, that’s a dream I have, but it’s a long way off. Did that scare you? There are a lot of steps still-"

“Steve, it didn’t scare me. It’s just… I don’t,” your voice quivered, the trail of hot tears now streaming down your cheeks. “I’ve been meaning to bring it up, but I didn’t want to ruin everything. I thought if anyone could change my mind, it would be you. But-”

“About what?" He cut you off. "Honey, what are you talking about?”

“I don’t think I want kids, Steve,” you blurted out.

His face fell, and his eyes widened. It looked as if all the air had been expelled from his lungs. His mouth opened slightly, but no words came out.

Your words began to tumble out of your mouth faster than you could think them through. "We’ve never really talked about it. If I’d known how much you wanted kids, I wouldn’t have waited so long to tell you." You paused, your heart pounding. “Hearing you talk about a big family has pained me for weeks. I know, without a doubt, you’d be an amazing father. I just don’t think it will be to my children.”

“But you’d be a great mom,” he said, desperation clear in his voice. You weren't sure if he was trying to convince you or if it was just a fact he believed.

“Maybe, but that doesn’t change the fact that I don’t want to be... I've tried to will the desire into existence, but I just don’t have it.”

Steve’s eyes glistened as he processed your words. You noticed his tongue pushing against the inside of his cheek—a gesture he always made when he was getting emotional. You wanted to take everything back, wished you could turn back time and not say a fucking word. But he deserved to know, even if it meant you'd lose him.

The silence was deafening—the only sound in your ears was the thump of your heart, racing so rapidly you thought it might burst through your chest. A few minutes passed, but it felt like hours. You weren’t sure how much more of the quiet you could take.

"Say something, please," you urged.

Steve focused his eyes back on you. "Sorry, I never imagined us not having kids together, y'know? So I'm processing."

"I'm so sorry, Steve. One day it may change, but I'm not hopeful." A sob caught in your throat. "And it's not fair to either of us to prolong the inevitable on the hope that I’ll change my mind.”

"W-wait, what? Are you saying you want to end this?” He ran a hand through his hair, a deep sigh escaping him. He shrugged his shoulders, raising a brow as he added, "I'm confused how this conversation went from talking about marriage to breaking up?"

“Isn’t that where this is headed?"

“That's what you think?"

"Isn't that our only option, Steve? Kids are something you want out of life, and I’m fairly certain I don’t—how can there be a future for us?”

"We both want each other! We’ll figure the rest out eventually.”

“And when ‘eventually’ comes, and I still feel the same, what then? When years from now you realize something is missing in your life, and I'm be the reason for it—you'll resent me."

“No, I won't. How can you say that?” He leaned in closer. “Maybe it won't be exactly what I pictured, but this doesn't change anything for me."

“You say that now, but you don't know how you'll feel down the line!" You raised your hands, in an effort to emphasize your point.

“If I don't know how I'll feel, how can you be so certain I'll resent you then?"

“I could hear it in your voice, Steve. You sounded so happy describing that life. A life I can't guarantee. So it doesn’t matter how much I want this or how much I love you. You deserve someone who you can share those dreams with!"

Steve moved his hands to cradle your face, hazel orbs piercing yours. "Oh honey... don't you realize, in every scenario of my dream life, you’re there. Fuck... you're the most important part.”

You swallowed thickly, your heart fluttering at the sentiment, tears still trickling down your cheeks. You wanted to accept what he was saying, but fear gripped you. The thought of losing him, of him one day loathing you, was unbearable to fathom. "What if you change your mind?"

"Never, my love." He gently brushed away your tears with his thumbs, shaking his head softly. "Listen, we can talk about this as long as we need to. Come back to it as much as you'd like. But please hear me when I say, if kids aren’t in your future, they’re not in mine. You're my future—you always have been.”

"Baby, you know that dreams, they're for those who sleep / Life, it's for us to keep / And if I chose the one I'd like to help me through / I'd like to make it with you... I really think that we could make it, girl."

Despite your affinity for lazy Sundays in bed, this particular morning found you in the kitchen, flipping pancakes while laughter echoed from the dining room.

"I hope you boys are ready to eat!" you called as you plated the pancakes.

"You hungry, bud?" You heard Steve ask.

"Mhmm!"

"Alright, then let's put the crayons away."

After a few minutes, Steve waltzed into the kitchen, grabbing the plate of pancakes from you. "Smells amazing, baby." He pressed a kiss to your cheek before heading back to the dining room.

A few minutes later, you joined Steve and the doe eyed little boy at the table, enjoying breakfast together.

As you finished up, Steve was prompting a burst of giggles from the child, as he made Mrs. Butterworth talk.

"You're so silly, Uncle Steve!"

"He really is, isn't he, Jamie?" you said, a smile tugging at your lips at the sight.

Just then, the doorbell rang.

"I think Mom's here!" Steve said, standing up to answer the door.

As Chrissy stepped inside, Steve pulled her into a hug. "Oh my, it smells incredible in here!”

“Had to feed my handsome little man,” you replied, nodding toward Jamie, who was bouncing eagerly in his seat.

Chrissy approached the table, ruffling Jamie’s hair. “Did you have a fun at your sleepover?”

“Yeah!”

“Did you thank your aunt and uncle?” she prompted.

“Sank you!” he beamed.

"Seriously, you guys, Eddie and I owe you one."

"Anytime," you said, handing her the Tupperware you'd prepared in the kitchen. "I packed some breakfast for you and Eddie too."

"You’re the absolute best," she replied, pulling you into a warm hug as Jamie and Steve exchanged their goodbyes.

Jamie then came barreling towards you, as you knelt down for a hug. "See you, bud!"

"Ready to go see Daddy?" Chrissy said as she ushered Jamie toward the door. "Thank you both so much."

"You'll always have a sitter with us, never hesitate to ask," Steve said.

"Love you both!" Chrissy called back, you and Steve echoing her words, before closing the door behind them.

As you turned toward Steve, he had a wide grin on his face. "Well, that was... a lot." He laughed.

"A lot of fun, though," you added.

"Sure was." He wrapped his arms around you, pulling you close. "Bit of an odd start, but I think we can still manage a lazy Sunday. What'dya say?"

"Always."

Steve placed a kiss on your forehead, lacing his hand with yours, as you followed him through the hall of your shared home. The story of your love adorned the walls—from your first date to your wedding photos to your trips across the countryside. Today, you paid extra attention to them all, playing back all the memories in your mind.

When you reached your room, the soft morning sunlight filtered through the curtains, casting a glow on your sheets. Steve bounced onto the bed, and as you stood at the edge, laughing, he pulled you down beside him, peppering your face with kisses and murmurs of "I love you."

As you nuzzled into the warmth of his chest, you noted the rhythm of his heartbeat. It calmed you, as his fingertips danced softly across your skin. His touch was intricate and delicate while he hummed a soft tune. You lay there, basking in the bliss of it all. After a few moments, you couldn’t help but ask, "Steve, what are ya thinkin' about?"

"That I couldn't have dreamt up a better life than this," he said, matter of factly.

And honestly, you couldn't agree more.

[elexaria]

it was hard for simon to grieve when johnny died. price turned an eye when they got back to base and the first thing simon did was go and lay in johnny’s cot, curled up into a ball. they were close, they were best friends.

he feels a pang of guilt at johnny’s funeral, the sound of bagpipes overwhelming his already heightened senses. one of the mactavish sisters stops in her tracks and makes her way over to simon, who’s stood smoking by the floral donations. “i’m sorry for yer loss, ghost.” she whispers out to him, teary eyed and sniffly. he blinks down at her, albeit slightly confused. “pretty sure i’m the one supposed to be sayin’ that to you.” he replies with a dry writ, clearing his throat as he nods down at her. she lets out a quiet laugh, albeit a saddened one. it’s a brief interaction on an unfortunate occasion, but it lets simon come to realise something— johnny loved him.

simon’s not one for wakes, but he’s not one to pass up a good buffet. yet, for some reason, he finds himself awkwardly stood in the corner of the room, his weary eyes watching everyone converse. johnny’s mom, eileen, makes her way over to simon— and it’s crazy how much johnny looked like his mam, same smile, same deep blue eyes that simon became rather fond of.

“my john even got his beard from me,” eileen jokes, laughing her head off as she rubs her peach fuzz. it makes simon’s lips twitch, a chuckle rumbling in his throat. the chuckles dissipate, when ms mactavish reaches out to stroke simon’s cheek. simon riley’s not one for showing his face, but he wanted to do this for him. at first, simon has to fight against every muscle that wants to recoil out of her touch, to scuttle away further into the corner he finds himself stood in. but instead, his nostrils flare as he peers down at the little scottish lady that’s affectionately rubbing his cheek, and it’s almost as if johnny’s still there. “he loved ye, simon. i wish we could’ae met ye when our john was still around.”

simon can’t bear to watch as johnny’s room is packed up, he feels sick to the stomach. it makes everything worse, seeing him being physically scrubbed from base, from the only resemblance of a home simon’s ever had. laswell leaves a small box outside of his quarters, giving him a curt nod as she lets him pick it up and bring it into his room. it brings a smile to his face, just for a moment, as he cradles the cardboard box in his arms— a threadbare scottish flag johnny had pinned up on his wall, some of his old action figures he had kept from childhood, a few sketchbooks. and a note.

his stomach knots up at the sight of the letter, shakily placing it besides him as he flips through the sketchbooks first, the pads of his calloused fingers stroking fondly over every graphite smudge and ink blot on the pages. finding himself laughing hysterically over johnny’s drawing of price’s dick tickler moustache, and he nods in agreement that it should, indeed, be neutralized. the little scribbles of football scores, shitty and dirty limericks and even coffee cup rings on the pages just… it makes simon feel like he’s inside johnny’s mind, and it feels homely.

simon’s heart aches when he comes across the sketches of himself in johnny’s sketchbook, eyes welling up as he fights back the onslaught of tears that threaten to patter down onto the precious pages below. they were so beautiful. they made ghost, a husk of a man, look… alive. and he begins to breathe heavier, seeing small love hearts and silly cartoon drawings of johnny and simon doing stupid shit— like the time johnny and simon came up with a wager that if neither of them settled down come their mid-30s, they’d move to the countryside and get a dog or two.

why the fuck did you have to go and die for, johnny?

the sketchbook tour comes to its conclusion, the final sketchbook only half way through before, well, the artist passed. and so, the letter sits, almost as if there’s a spotlight casting down on it — screaming out to be read. it really gets on simon’s nerves how his hands will not stop shaking, but he pulls through and begins to open up the envelope that reads ‘for ghosty and ghosty only’, the underside of the envelope reading ‘i mean it!!’ with an angry face. it makes simon’s stoic expression crack into a grin, rolling his eyes as he continues to open it up.

the letter reads:

“well pal, if you’re reading this, it means i’m dead as fuuuck. oh well, it’s something we have to accept in our line of work, innit?

maybe i’ll get really lucky, you won’t have to read this letter and we can just laugh about it when we’re retired, living our best lives in the countryside with our wee dugs. cos you know you’ll never settle down, monsi, i’m the only bastard out there who can handle you!!!

but … on the odd chance i’m wrong (which is rarely the case cos i’m handsome and smart), it was great knowing you. you’re the bestest friend a mug like me could ask for, and i’m glad we found each other. gay, i know. whatever. i fucking love ya, pal. always and forever. dickface!!!

in another lifetime, maybe we can find each other again. although, don’t know if i can handle you being a brit again in this alternate universe haha. i don’t love you that much!!!

all my love,

yer johnny xx”

an emotional chuckle escapes from simon’s lips, tear stained cheeks flushing a light crimson colour as he sharply inhales, eyes shutting tightly as he holds the note to his chest. and for the first time, in a very long time, simon allows himself to cry. heaving his chest, snotty nosed as he really sobs it all out.

his entire life, he’s been beaten down, abused, witnessed family (both blood and found) being killed. but losing his best friend no, his soulmate, is the very thing that breaks his heart the most.

maybe, in another universe, johnny missed that bullet. and right now, in that universe, johnny and simon allow themselves a moment to breathe, comfortable in each other’s presence.

in another universe.

[tumblerlove]

Boydad!Simon is something I feel like would be really healing for him to break the generational trauma

When you first told him you were pregnant after being married for a while. He was shocked. You both wanted children and talked about it before... but now it's real, and he's gonna be a father

His first thought that came in his mind was excitement and joy...but then he thought too "What if I fuck this up" but he didn't want you to think that he wasn't excited because he was happy that he would have a child with you.... but he was worried... so he hid his concern for now

He went to all of your appointments with you, he took time off work anytime you had to go so he wouldnt miss them. Simon wanted to see the baby on the ultrasound and see for himself that the baby and you are ok

Simon was there with you throughout the entire delivery holding your hand, encouraging you and cutting the baby boys cord. A boy. Simon had a son... throughout your pregnancy, Simon still didn't mention his fear that he would fail as a father. And now that he has a son, he's even more scared that he'll just be like his dad

As you're recovering the following days from the birth, Simon was super helpful he'd get up during the night and take care of the baby so you could sleep and heal. He was doing everything he could to help you and the baby

He would just stare at his son at nights and look at him and hope that he'll be better then his dad...he needs to talk to you he knows that...but how is he gonna tell you his fears without saying the wrong thing and scaring you into thinking hell be his father and become a failure not just for his son and well a failure for you too

Simon did come to you a few weeks after the birth. He had just laid the baby down while you got ready for bed. "Honey, can you come here?" he calls you softly to the bedroom. "Yeah, what is it, Si?" You ask with concern seeing his face etched in worry

"Im afraid...fuck...I'm afraid that I won't be a good enough father for our son." he spits the words out fast like they burned him. "Oh, Simon... you could have talked to me about this." You crawl up the bed and into his lap, wrapping your arms around his neck. Trying to comfort him the best way you know how

"I haven't wanted to tell you and admit it out loud... and make you think that I couldn't be a good Dad." he looks away from you, ashamed for saying it. "I know that you can be a dad, Simon. I watched you throughout my entire pregnancy already being a dad... being there for our son and for me. " You press your forehead to his. "These past few weeks, all you've done is be a good father...a great father Simon." You say to him softly

"I don't want him to think of me in the future like I think of my father...I don't want that." his face is breaking your heart. He looks so concerned and upset about it. "He won't ever think of you like that because you're not like that at all... if you can't tell already that little boy loves you so much he looks at you and he just sees love" you tell him as you comb your fingers through his hair

"I look at him, and I see that too...I see you and see love too," Simon says softly, his worry slowly going away from talking to you. "You're the best, Dad Simon. He's lucky to have you, and im lucky to have you as my husband. " You say into his chest as he starts falling asleep from calming down after talking, and you easing his worries

*15 years later*

"Dad, can you come outside and help me with this!!" You and Simon hear your oldest son from the backyard while you watch TV together. "I'll be right out!!" He calls back out to him. "Have fun," you say as he walks to the backyard

Simon had found this perfect home in the countryside after you guys had your second son. He wanted to give the boys lots to room to grow and run around and be happy like he didn't get to have. After your third son, Simon was very glad he had found this home. All three boys were just getting taller and bigger, just like their father. The boys also looked just like Simon too but with your eye color

"What do you need help with, Son?" Simon asks his son. "I can't get the ball into the net from this side...I just keeps missing it," he says, frustrated. "Alright, well, I can help with that," Simon says with a smile, earning him a smile from his son too

Anytime any of his boys smiled at him, his heart could've burst. Simon watched him first kick the ball to see how to help him. He went through the moves with him afterward to show just how to do it. Simon couldn't remember ever doing such a thing with his dad... being patient with him and teaching him. But Simon was different from his father. He was patient, caring, attentive, and loved all the boys deeply...and of course you too. The one who proved time and time again that he could do this

"You can do this son give it a go," Simon encourages him. He goes to try again, and sure enough, he made it with Simon's help. "YES FINALLY," your son screams out so loud that you even walk outside to see what happened

"What on earth happened!?" You call out as you see Simon and your son embracing. "He finally got it, didn't you hear?" Simon laughs while you shake your head in laughter. "Boys, put your shoes on. Let's go out back!" You call upstairs to your other two sons who were upstairs

They run right past you, heading straight towards Simon and your oldest. Not slowing down and pile driving them onto the grass. "Christ," you hear Simon say as he takes the weight of all three huge boys. "You guys are gonna squish your father to death one day," you say as you walk up to all of them. Still all on top of each other and poor Simon at the bottom

But it wasn't poor Simon...because he couldn't be happier right now. He couldn't have been any luckier in life. Finding you and your strength that helped him become who he is now. He couldn't be happier with his three boys on top of him, and with you laughing at them

So I did finally write boydad!simon and let me know what yall think...because I do love this 🥹

[mistydeyes]

take a walk in my shoes

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summary: With the 141 boys home and relaxing in your embrace, you decide to show them a day in your life. A sequel to opposite occupations.

pairing: 141 x civvie! fem!Reader (established relationship)

warnings: swearing, mentions of tattooing (tattoo guns and needles), but like before all fluff!

a/n: i love our lil squad of civilian significant others and thought a sequel needed to be made for our faves :)

🏷️ @fan-of-encouragement - thanks for giving me some ideas for price and the florist!

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watching love bloom - price x florist!

Ever since you first met, Price had been a tremendous help with the management of your shop. You had been going steady for a year now, "10 years in military time" Price would say. Although, it was as if you both were practically married. Besides hosting dinners and communicating with the other civilian girlfriends (in a group chat called "almost military wives🪖💍"), you lived like an old, married couple. Together, you and Price owned a small cottage placed in the English countryside. It was idyllic as Price could spend his evenings on the porch with a smoke and you could tend to a growing flower garden. Price requested some design choices but overall you furnished the home with items curated for the two of you. Your house was constantly filled with life, a new bouquet always resting on the table, and many thriving houseplants. Price would always joke that the plants were like your children especially when you went to water some and even sang to them.

Upon Price’s return to your shared home, he could tell something was on your mind. The living room was a mess with written notes and sketches as well as many sample flower bouquets.

“Darling I’m home!” he called setting his things down. He wondered where you could be. Suddenly you came from the backyard with an armful of flowers and your phone balanced between your ear and shoulder. When you saw him, you almost dropped your trimmings but Price moved to you and caught them.

“I’m glad you liked the arrangements, I’ll have them ready tomorrow,” you sighed before the other person on the line hung up.

After bombarding him with many kisses, he reminded you that the flowers were wilting with the lack of hydration.

“Who was that before?” he asked as he filled some buckets with water for you.

“It’s a bride from London, she and her partner are getting married in town. Funny enough, they started dating because of my little flower sign.” you chuckled as you began to prune the leaves and trim the stems from your haul. “Ah sounds like someone I know,” he said, gently kissing your forehead.

“As much as I enjoy the celebration of love and business, it’s been a whirlwind. You wouldn’t imagine how many phone calls and test runs I’ve had.” It was no exaggeration, these last few weeks had been a living hell as you helped the couple make their final preparations.

“Let me help you out tomorrow, got nothing better to do” he offered as he wrapped his strong arms around your waist. “You really don’t have to” you replied but he could see the stress this was putting on you. “Darling, there is nothing more that I would love than spending time with you and seeing you at work.”

You and Price woke up bright and early at 5 am. The sun crept on your sleeping face as he gently woke you. After some necessary coffee, you and Price opened your shop. You went to work, grabbing buckets of flowers from the fridge. You loved the brides but this order was shipped to you from a farm, one currently not being met with the cold, autumn temperatures. As you trimmed the summery array of dahlias, hydrangeas, and cosmos, Price helped to move the never-ending buckets and took care of the growing piles of trash. You were in the middle of showing him how to assemble a bridesmaid bouquet when you heard the door open.

"Fuck, can you take care of that?" you asked as you glanced at the clock, the wedding slowly approaching. "Love, what did I tell you when we first met?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.

"I am not a man for flowers" you both said in unison. You continued, "Please John? I have a list underneath the counter detailing the different flowers for occasions. You got this!" you placed a small kiss on his lips, knowing he would do whatever you asked.

He nodded and exited to the front. When he emerged, he could see an elderly woman. "Can you help me pick out flowers? My grandson just got a new job and is moving here tomorrow" she sweetly asked. "Oh and young man, I just need them wrapped. No arranging necessary" she continued and you could hear Price rifling around for your book. Miraculously through your notebook's guidance and some of your aesthetic impressed on him, he was able to help her pick out a colorful array of peonies, tulips, and chrysanthemums - a perfect combination for a congratulations gift. You made sure to shout out from the back that he should include some wisterias and eucalyptus as a nice welcome message. You caught a glance at the bouquet and you were happy to see that the lilac hydrangeas with the orange ballerina tulips were balanced with the magenta chrysanthemums and the bundles of wisteria and eucalyptus. You can safely say, the one thing he was a natural at was tying up the loose stems. You guess his training did come in handy.

As you finished making the final additions to your bouquet, you heard Price making conversation with the older woman. “Young man, I hope you have a sweetheart at home waiting for you,” she said as you peeked and saw him handing her a bouquet. “I do actually, she reminds me that there’s more to life than destruction,” he said and you could’ve married him on the spot. The old woman wished him well as you heard the sound of her exit.

As you exited from the back, you planted a kiss on his cheek. “What’s that for?” he asked. “For being the boyfriend and employee” you smiled back at him, admiring his face that shined in the afternoon light. “Might have to change positions soon,” he joked and while you initially thought he meant employment, you realized it was something else as a more than year later he proposed. Don’t worry, he let you handle the wedding floral arrangements.

two inked hearts - soap x tattoo artist!

Although Soap had his own home, he always managed to end up at yours when he was on leave. This time was no different but unfortunately, the short notice did not allow you to take off of work. You had two customs the next day and four flash works as well.

As you were enjoying your beer, you heard the front door unlock. Knowing who it was, you walked to the entrance and saw your boyfriend standing there. Although he appeared tired and a bit grimy, his face lit up when he saw you. He kicked off his snow covered boots and dropped his duffle. He held his arms out and you immediately embraced him.

After many kisses, you lightly punched his chest. "I didn't know you were coming home so early!" you said, slightly pouting. "Well is that any way to greet a soldier," he replied and you couldn't help but smile as you missed his loving accent. "I would have called off work tomorrow," you began to say before he interrupted. "Work doesn't have to stop because I'm home, lass. I'll just go to work," he said as you pondered this decision. It was clear, he didn’t want your busy schedule to get in his way and would follow you around like a lost puppy. "I mean if the shop and the patrons don't mind, then I guess," you said back, ecstatic he would see you in your element. "Until then, you're all mine, Bonnie" he laughed before picking you up and sat you both back on the couch.

After a rushed morning, trying to get the man to let you out of bed, you showed up to work. It was winter so to Soap's dismay, you were unable to showcase all your amazing tattoos. He did insist on matching outfits. So emerging from the winter cold, you entered both wearing matching beanies and winter coats. Upon your arrival, one of your fellow artists warmly greeted Soap and commented on how cute you both were. After some catching up, you went to set up your station. Soap followed you and watched as you got your tattoo gun and the inks you would be using for the first customer. He held your waist as you sterilized the area. "My beautiful artist," he cheekily said and you rolled your eyes.

Now you were no idiot, there was no way anyone would let him tattoo them. Although his signature mohawk made him fit in with the shop's patrons. Knowing he would eventually become bored after watching you, you left him with a sketch pad and pens in a corner of your room. Your first client of the day was one of your frequent patrons. They had decided on one of your flash pieces, a hand holding a bouquet of rosemary leaves, on their thigh. As you got them comfortable in the chair, you gave Soap a quick peck and began the process. You would occasionally glance over and see him drawing with a concentrated look. “From strong, protective boyfriend to a child in seconds,” you mumbled and earned a hearty laugh from your patron.

And so the day continued, you tattooing away and Soap drawing in the corner. He would occasionally ask you what the different needle gun sizes were for and how you were able to create custom works for clients. He even conversed with another soldier getting a bicep tattoo of a skull with snakes surrounding it. You thought the idea was badass, complimenting his choice. Almost immediately, Soap interjected to say his tattoo was the best compared to the one they were getting. Eventually, once you were done for the day, you walked to Soap to see what he was drawing. You snatched the paper and in return, he pulled you into his lap.

"Well, what do we have here, my tattoo apprentice?" you asked, holding up the paper. As you looked at each drawing, you could see some familiar faces. You couldn't help but laugh when you say "You have to pay the" with Price's face following the words. He even managed to draw what looked like a depiction of Simon underneath his mask as well as Price in a florist's apron in front of his girlfriend's shop.

Your favorite was the bar of soap he had drawn in the corner with a surprising amount of detail. "You know with this work and the fact they call you 'Soap', I would think you wouldn't be as smelly," you joked. "I thought it was cool at first, they all said it was because I'm good at cleaning house but I see what you mean," he said, slightly embarrassed. You kissed him gently before telling him it was time to return to your warm bed.

Weeks later, you texted Soap a picture of your new tattoo. It was the sketch he had drawn of the bar of soap. You had done it yourself, his drawing placed on your forearm. He loved it, proudly showing it off to the other 141 boys and anyone who listened. He even was sure to text Alejandro and Rudy a picture with the caption "mira el nuevo tatuaje de mi novia!". He did ignore the reply from Alejandro that asked, “¿por qué la chica inteligente se tatuaría una barra de jabón?”

translations: mira el nuevo tatuaje de mi novia! - look at my girlfriend's new tattoo!

¿por qué una chica inteligente se tatuaría una barra de jabón? - why would a smart girl get a bar of soap tattooed on her?

being the teacher's pet - gaz x teacher!

"You know the kids always ask about you," you told Gaz as you lay leisurely on his couch. It was a Sunday and you both were enjoying each other's presence before the school week. He came home on Friday and you welcomed him home with a cooked meal and his favorite bottle of wine. The entire weekend was filled with cuddling on the couch and catching up about the last couple of months. You laughed when he told you of Soap's girlfriends tattoo. You joked wishing he had a cooler call sign so you could get it tattooed. Since your first date, you both had established a comfortable long distance relationship but you always loved when he was home.

"I could make an appearance," he joked. As you lay on his chest, you could feel him laughing lightly. He would come to regret that statement as you begged him to visit the class the next day. After some convincing, he obliged unable to deny your sweet face.

The next day, you stopped by Kyle’s flat for some morning coffee. As you opened the door, you could see him standing by the hallway mirror making sure he looked presentable. You smiled, noting he was wearing the beige button-up and navy blue sports coat you had bought him. You suddenly felt underdressed in your green slacks and brown blouse.

“You look great, Kyle, let’s go get something to drink” you spoke and he looked at you with his charming smile that brightened the room. He took your hand gently and you walked to the local coffee shop. It was spring and you couldn't help but admire the new blooms on the trees. Once you both arrived, you enjoyed your morning brew as he sipped his tea. You wished he could stay home forever as he looked so relaxed in the early morning sun. However, you suddenly were reminded of the time and kissed him on the cheek, reiterating that he should be at school for snack time.

Once you arrived at the school, you went about your typical routine and eventually, it was time to begin your lessons. You went through your plan, teaching your students basic arrhythmic in the morning. As snack time approached, you smiled knowing you'd make your students' day.

“Alright, class! I have a surprise for you” you eagerly said. Gaz was on the other side of the classroom door, smiling as he heard your enthusiastic voice. “We have a special guest today who’s going to join us for snack time!”

With that, you whisked open the door and Gaz walked into the cheers of the children. He had two lunchboxes in his hand and your heart melted. The entire class wanted Gaz to sit with them so you decided to form them into a circle so everyone could enjoy his presence. You opened the lunchbox to reveal a variety of strawberries and watermelon, delicately cut into hearts. As everyone ate their snacks, one of your students asked if Gaz would be teaching them today.

"Well I'm sure Mr. Military Man could teach you some things while we eat," you winked looking at Gaz. The children were giddy with excitement and kept begging Gaz to teach them some military things. Not wanting to expose them to the horrors of his job, he simply taught them the military alphabet and assigned them all code names. He carefully assigned one to each kid based on their personalities as well as some stories you had told him. As you watched your boyfriend methodically assign the names, you softly chuckled to yourself. In another life, Gaz would be an amazing teacher as he was great with the kids.

Once snack time was over, you let the children know they would be doing some quiet reading before practicing some of their writing skills. Gaz sat on the edge of your desk as you answered some emails from parents.

You both then heard a child whisper, "Goose, can we swap books? I finished mine." Her friend replied, "Shhh, Maverick I'm almost done." You let out a small laugh, enjoying the subtle nod to the Top Gun movie.

"Goose, you can get another book from the cubby" you said as the other children continued reading. Looking over to Gaz you gave him a smile. “Thanks for doing this, babes,” you said and placed your hand on top of his. The moment was momentarily spoiled when he whispered, “So when are we going to have our army of kids?”

Upon Gaz’s next return from the 141, he found his apartment filled with framed drawings from the children. You had surprised him with it and all of your students were more than happy to participate. Each one of them wrote their names at the bottom along with their call sign. They all had one theme: “Miss Y/N and her husband.”

a purr-fect romance - ghost x veterinarian!

"How's my favorite patient doing?" you ask as you see Ghost with Earl Grey in his arms. Simon had come home just in time to enjoy the beginning of summer and the clear skies. He was dressed in a neutral-colored t-shirt and shorts, enjoying the nice weather you recently had been having. He even had put Earl in a small straw hat you had bought. You loved seeing him look like a little beach-goer.

“I’m doing well, love,” he said and gave you a peck on the cheek. As soon as he got close to you, Earl Grey tried to leap on you. “Well hello to you, Earl” you smiled as Ghost gently handed him to you.

In the last two years, Earl and Simon had become your home. You and Simon owned a flat down the street, a lovely commute for you to the office and a place of solace for him. When you began to furnish your home, you were astonished at how little he had in personal items and how much he had for Earl. Maybe it was due to all this spoiling that Earl had a clear love for Ghost. When he would leave for deployment, Earl would find his way to sneak in between you both in bed. One time Ghost snuck out of bed and was able to capture an image of you sleeping on your stomach with Earl resting on your back. Although you said you looked like a hot mess with your sprawled figure and crazy hair, Ghost treasured the photo and printed out a small copy to keep with him at all times. Despite this domestic life, Ghost would always insist on bringing Earl Grey to your office whenever he was home. It would be easier to just have you bring him in with you for his check-up but you secretly loved seeing your boyfriend in your office.

“Just a check-up and vaccine for us today, Doc” Ghost said as you checked them in. It was later in the afternoon and you had sent your assistants home as the only patient was Earl for the rest of the day. Plus, you knew they would love to enjoy the warm evening around town. “Actually, would you like to see what I do?” you asked. He nodded and you could tell he was curious.

You lead him to one of the rooms as you donned your coat and gloves of your own. You gently placed Earl down and went through the motions, showing Ghost how you typically performed an exam. You let him listen to Earl's heartbeat with your stethoscope and described to him what things to look for when examining his coat, ears, eyes, and mouth.

"Well I'm happy to say, Mr. Riley, that your cat is in perfect health," you smiled at him and you raised your hand in front of Earl to receive a high five. "Now just for that rabies shot," you said and you pulled out the materials from around the office.

As you drew up the vaccine, Ghost entertained Earl with one of the many ribbon teaser toys lying around. You laughed as you saw Earl going crazy for the thing. Finally ready, you let Ghost pet him as you found the best area on Earl's right hind leg to administer. Setting him on his side, your heart warmed hearing him purr gently into Simon's arms.

"Alright, Earl, this will be real quick," you said and you quickly administered the shot. Earl whined and Ghost tried his best, gently saying to him, "It's okay bud, the lovely doc is almost done." With that, you finished and allowed Earl to return to his toys as you cleaned up.

Ghost picked Earl back up and you closed up the office. As you walked home in the balmy night air, Ghost was clearly in a cheery mode. "You're so great with animals, when are we-" he began to joke before you stopped him. "We can think about adopting maybe another kitten. I swear if you make Kyle's joke about having an army of them, then you can live in a house with them while his girlfriend and I live in our clean flat." With that, he laughed and wrapped a free arm around you. You wondered how life could be so perfect. You lived with your soulmate, taking care of an animal who loved you both and got to end the night with long conversations over some tea. You smiled up at him, content with your loving boyfriend and his cat child.