#i had seven SEVEN different ideas for your prompt

[this-is-krikkit]

I love your Drabble challenges!! Could I please request number 5 for Miche/reader? Maybe like angry sparring partners to lovers?

thank you for sending a prompt from this prompt list!!

anon, it's been months since i told you i don't do x reader fics and we agreed on erumike instead, and i would like to formally apologize for 1) taking so long to fucking write this thing and 2) going in a completely different direction than the one you suggested. oops!

5. "i'm not here to make friends"

apologies again!! enjoy!

[cursedcola]

Prompt: Couples will evidently begin to mimic their better half after some time. What traits do you steal from him, and vice versa? Fandom: Twisted Wonderland Characters: Everyone - because I want to and I’m amidst fleshing out all my Yuu/Character dynamics + designs Format: Headcannons. Masterlist: LinkedUP Parts: Heartslabyul (Here) | Savanaclaw | Octavinelle | Scarabia | Pomefiore | Ignihyde | Diasomnia A/N: Putting all my brain rot from my notes into something cohesive. Contrary to my love for ripping your hearts out, I've come with some fluff this time around. BTW you may or may not already do things mentioned - I write my works with a specific Yuu in mind for each character so this is based on them. Just a reminder.

Habits you steal:

Plan-Books (Inherited) : Riddle habitually carries a planner with all his tasks. A physical one, not an app in his cell phone like most students choose. You find it easier to manage and swap to paper-and-pen alternatives at his recommendation.

Tidiness (Inherited): Riddle is a nit-pickier when it comes to physical presentation. His habits of pressing his uniform, laying his clothes out every night, and dressing conservatively rub off. He has a point - ironed trousers do make a difference. Every morning he will redo your uniform tie. It's never knotted to his 'standard', and is his preferred excuse to greet you before class.

"Now, isn't that better? Surely you are more comfortable in ironed linens than those rags you'd been wearing as pajamas. You seriously found them lying in Ramshackle? Were you not given an allowance to buy basic needs? Ridiculous! The Headmaster's irresponsibility holds no bounds!" <- Utterly appalled that you've been sleeping in century-old robes. He supplies you with seven sets of pajamas, a spare uniform, and an iron + board for Ramshackle. All after reaming the Headmaster for neglect in the last dorm-head meeting - either Crowley coughed up the marks or Riddle will supply from his own bank. Seven have mercy if he chooses to become a lawyer instead of a doctor.

No Heels (Developed): Riddle has a height complex. He won't make a show of it, but you wearing heels does emasculate him. Especially if you're already taller naturally. For his sake, you choose to slay your outfits in flats.

"Are those new loafers? Oh - no, they're lovely. The embroidery is exquisite and I can see why Pomefiore's Housewarden models for their brand. I merely thought you preferred the heeled saddle-shoes we saw during the past weekend trip. I must have been mistaken. Never mind me. You look wonderful."

Playing Brain Teasers (Inherited): Riddle has this thing with memory - you don't know if he's really into preventing old-age Alzheimer's or what. He carries a book of teaser games like Sudoku, etc. for when he has downtime and you eventually get into them too.

"Oh! My Rose, would you care to join me for lunch? Trey's siblings recently mailed in a large collection of cross-words. You'll find they are both educational and entertaining - hm? I do not seem the 'type' for word-games? I assure you, even I can relax on occasion. There is no need to look so surprised." <- Riddle's been making a grand effort to do things he enjoys and become more personable. Trey's siblings did not send the collection. Riddle went into town and picked it out on his own. He also found a book on organizing excursions since he's big on quality time. He is dead-set on not being a neglectful or 'boring' partner.

Swear Jar (Developed): Tired of Riddle collaring Ace for his vulgar tongue, you suggest a Heartslabyul swear jar. When the jar gets filled, the money can be used to fund things like study materials and renovations for the dorm. Riddle liked this idea, but now implements it on anyone who sets foot in the Heartslabyul. Considering you spend most of your time there, you've had to develop a vast vocabulary beyond swearing. Oh - you also unironically use the word 'fiddlesticks' now.

Habits he steals:

Useless Expenses (Inherited): You are an enabler without a doubt. Riddle has always functioned with the bare bones - with function and efficiency being the number one priority. Ever so slowly - you've spoiled him with aesthetically pleasing stationary. At first all the needless purchases felt redundant - why buy the pillowcases with flowers when plain white is cheaper? You can invest in a higher quality this way. Yet you've ruined him with gifts that he had no choice but to use. Now he needs to buy the pens with little hedgehogs on them because studying doesn't feel the same with a plain ballpoint.

Slang Dictionary (Developed): With each passing day, all the students in Heartslabyul get more creative at bending the rules. That includes you. Riddle takes it upon himself to carry a 'little-black-book' full of all the sang words he is unfamiliar with. He does want to be a bit more 'hip' to understand you more, but at the same time he wants to bust any student being a smart-mouth. It's an ongoing battle *sigh*.

"Apologies, could you repeat that term for me? Surely it must be relevant to my lecture if you and Ace are whispering. 'Let him cook'? Do you think we are in a culinary lecture?! Have you not been listening to - ah. So it's in reference to letting me finish before interrupting...One moment. I need to make a note."

Chewing Gum (Developed): This is an ode to psychology. In short, eating is tied to a person's fight-or-flight. Instincts dictate that our bodies need to be in a calm state to eat comfortably. One day when Riddle was at his wits end, you tossed him a pack of sugarless gum and told him to chew. Disregarding Trey's unholy dental screeching, Riddle develops a gum dependence for when he's stressed out. On the bright side, his jaw has never been so sharp.

“Mimicry? You must be mistaken. Even if my influence has affected their person, surely there are only positive developments” == Riddle denies any changes if confronted. In truth, he’s well aware of how much you’ve helped him grow. It’s the opposite accusation that spikes concern. Riddle does not want others thinking you’re a mini-version of him. Rumors are not kind and neither is his current reputation. Making those amends is his burden to bare. He is flattered to see you paying attention to his mannerisms, and secretly proud that your bond is strong enough to affect the psyche.

Habits you steal:

Whistling (Inherited): Trey whistles while working in the kitchen or doing general chores around the dorm. He's not very loud with it, so not may students are bothered. Since you laze about in his shadow the tunes he goes through do become repetitive. Now you do the same when cleaning up Ramshackle. Grim wants to knock you both out because he can't take it anymore.

"Ah -- How'd you know it was me in here? Just because I bake for the un-birthday parties doesn't mean I live in the kitchen, you know. My whistling? Huh. Never thought that would be my calling card but there are worse things, haha"

Head-Scratching (Inherited): Trey's got a habit of scratching the back of his head when he's uncomfortable or nervous. That, or rubbing at the nape of his neck while adverting eye contact. You start doing this too whenever you're being scolded or put in a tough situation.

Dental Hygiene (Inherited): By far the most obvious shared trait. Trey enforces his dental habits onto everyone- you are no exception. You now own four different kinds of floss, two toothbrushes (one being electric), and have a strict hygiene routine. Your pearly whites have never been so clean. Eventually you become somewhat of a secondary enforcer, policing anyone who sleeps over your dorm to take care of themselves before bed. All of Heartslabyul learns that there is no going back when you scold Riddle for not brushing after his teatime tart, and live to tell the tale.

"Hey - uh, weird question? Were you handing out floss to the Spelldrive Team yesterday? Seriously? I though Grim was pulling my leg - oh, no! It's not weird at all! Those guys should have a better routine for all the meat they eat when bulking. I'm just shocked you got through to them." <- Very proud. Mildly cocky. He's been itching to get those negligent jocks to floss after their banquets his entire tenure, but steered away from that conflict like the plague. Thank you for making his dreams come true. Now if you could maybe get them to stop picking their gums with toothpicks?

Habits he steals:

Overbuying Food (Developed): Being a baker's son, Trey's good with finances and money. He's also meticulous with the ingredients he purchases for his bakes. You are not. You go to Sam's shop, buy whatever is on sale, and then bring it back home to improvise. This ends poorly more often than not, and behold! Trey has two Ramshackle sluggers snooping around his kitchen for eats. This is unpredictable and therefore he now never knows what amount to buy. You've ruined him.

Phone Calls (Developed): Texting is easier. Especially since phone calls can be a commitment that Trey dislikes being wrapped up in. Whenever Cater's name pops up as the caller, Trey knows he's getting an ear full. The thing is that you never. answer. your. phone. Either the text gets lumped in with the hundreds of missed messages you have, or Grim stole your cell to play mobile games. So Trey gives up and only ever calls. Either Grim will answer or you'll pick up thinking it's the snooze of your alarm.

"Hello? Prefect, where are you? It's me, Trey. Just calling to see if you're still coming to the Un-Birthday party? Riddle's getting a bit nervous since the schedule's set for the next hour. Grim's already here with Ace and Deuce - uh, want Cater to send a double to pick you up? I have a sinking feeling that you're asleep...Call me? Please?" <- He was correct. You called back not a moment after, half-asleep and hauling ass not to be late.

Speaking in Propositions (Inherited): Trey's normally good at keeping neutrality in a conversation, but getting a clear answer out of Yuu you is like solving a rubix cube. Either it's easy and instant, or a long game. Eventually your habit of indecisiveness rubs off on him and he asks questions more than answers them. Evidently this gets his younger classmen to stop asking for favors unless they really need to.

“Aha - really? I didn’t notice at all. Okay. Okay, I picked up on a few hints. What’s so wrong with them taking after me? It’s cute, right?” == Trey is the observant sort that picks up on his influence quickly. Not just anyone carries floss in their pocket at all times - and the looks from his dorm-mates when you offer some up is enough for the realization to click. Trey’s used to playing the respectable sort, and finds it endearing that you’re taking his good notes to heart. In truth, most of Trey’s mimicry is intentional. He’s a flexible guy who doesn’t mind altering his habits to fit your needs. Easier this way, y’know?

Habits you steal:

Speaking in Acronyms(Inherited): Now this is scary. The first time it happened, you had to take a pause and just re-evaluate your entire life. You don't use them nearly as often as Cater does, but somewhere along the line your brain must have rewired to speak in internet lingo. O-M-G you're TOTALLY twinning with him right now, period :)

Nicknames (Inherited): Again, frightening. You once swore against ever calling him Cay-Cay. It isn't very slay-slay. Yet you can only hear him use nicknames for so long until you're unconsciously calling people by them too. Especially since he's always dishing gossip. It starts in your head, which is fine. It's not like they know. Then you call Lilia 'Lils' and that old fart is just grinning behind his sleeve because ohoho~ young love <3

"Did you just- AHA! OMG DO IT AGAIN?! Wait, gotta get my camera out for this - wha? Oh, that's totes not fair! C'mon. Call me Cay-Cay. Just once! I won't even post it to Magicam, please? Lils won't believe me without proof! Pleasssssseeeee - " <- He actually doesn't want you to call him Cay-Cay all the time. Cater likes you using his given name, since it's more personal. Although the way it obviously slipped out on accident is just too cute to ignore.

Reality TV (Inherited): At first you don't like the gossip. It's cheesy, a bit annoying, and the shaky camera-work for nearly every show is headache inducing. Cater likes his dose of drama in his free-time, and Ramshackle has a tv that no one is using. It starts with him watching while you do other things around the dorm. Yet each time you pass the living area, you take longer to leave. Lingering around like one of the ghosts. Then he pulls you in with snacks and starts giving the low-down of what's going on, pulling out a bottle of tangerine shimmer polish to paint your nails. It's just one episode, watch it for him? Please? Oh no. No. No. Suddenly you're invested in who's the baby-daddy of little Ricky and what Chantel is going to do because her sister just lost the house to foreclosure.

"#KingdomOfDeadbeats - am I right? Ugh. I'm so glad we met if that's the dating scene back home...What?! I know it isn't real! Don't be a dummy, I was just joking! Ah! Stop! Don't hit me!" <- Half-hearted jokes about going on one of those talk-shows one day. You're an alien, after all - imagine the juicy drama and views his account would get from doing an interview? It's all jokes though. Cater likes spilling the tea, but hates being it. Don't ever abandon him and go out for milk though, kay? He doesn't want to pay Grim's child support. Otherwise he might have no choice smh

Habits he steals:

Phone/Web Games (Inherited): Cater's phone is mainly full of social media. He's not too into the gaming scene, it's not his peeps y'know? Alas, you download a few dress-up games and one MMO on his phone. First off - props on getting his phone. That's Cay-Cay's lifeline and not just anyone gets to play with it. Pray tell - what is this Wonderstar Planet (props if you know what is being ref.) and how can he become the most influential digital streamer on it? Congrats. He's addicted.

"Who's this Muscle Red and why's he bombing our raid - AH! He just tea-bagged me! So not cool...Prefect? STOP LAUGHING WE HAVE BETS ON THIS MATCH! There goes my collab opportunity, big fail" <- Muscle Red continues to make an appearance. Eventually he becomes Cater's official rival on stream, and Lils is all to invested in the tea cater drops during club meets. Side note. You're the one who gave 'muscle red' Cater's domain code. The lore thickens.

Internet Caution (Developed): This goes without saying, but Cater's well-known in the Magicam scene. He's very forward and knows his way around using charisma. Since you're not in the scene as much, he becomes more cautious of where and when he does streams. The change is so subtle that only the most observant people will pick up on it - but Cay-Cay doesn't want any creepos popping in if y'know what I'm saying. His sisters were the ones to instigate this change.

“Awe~ SRSLY?! That’s fresh news to my ears but good, right? Ne, are there any clips or pics? I need my evidence, y’see. Especially if my cutie is off taking notes from their one and only. C’mon, spill the tea!” == Cheeky Cater is well aware of what’s happening. He’d humor anyone out for some light teasing - after all, he isn’t by your side at all hours. His walls are probably the second most difficult in all of campus to bypass, so he’s both sweetened and nerved to see you picking up on his mannerisms. That’s proof of a strong attachment, after all.

Habits you steal:

Knuckle Cracking (Inherited): Deuce still does this from his biker days. It could be because joint pain from past fights, or possibly air retention in his knuckles from studying. Regardless, Deuce cracks his knuckles at least once every few hours and you began to mimic him. Some people groan at the popping sounds but it really does feel good to release the tension. Let's just hope neither of you dislocate any fingers on accident.

"Stop that! G-geez, you nearly gave me a heart attack. Thought you broke a finger...your hands are stiff? That just means you're studying a lot! I think...uh, let's break? I think there's some leftovers in the kitchen." <- Deuce 100% gets needing to pop those air bubbles. His hands get stiff from studying all the time, but don't crack them too much or you might dislocate something. Side note - he shows you how to wrap your fingers with a soothing salve. He used to do it after fights, but now it's a great help after class.

Double Notes (Developed): Deuce tries. He really does. Yet the lad just isn't great when it comes to book smarts. Seeing that he is dedicated to turning over a new leaf, you make a habit of copying all your notes. He isn't allowed to share them with Ace or Grim - else all bets are off. Sometimes you leave little 'good job' stickers on the last page for him. Is he a toddler? No. Does he peel the stickers off and save them? Totally. He is a good noodle. Suck it Ace.

Sewing (Developed): He breaks things. Most of the time it's an accident. You've learned to carry a mini-sewing kit for all the rips in Deuce's uniform. Same for mini remedies for stains and other problems. It's not like he's trying to get grass stains all over his under-shirt or to split the seam in his gloves (nearly every week). It just happens, and every time he comes to you with a kicked-puppy look with a promise of it being the last time. It is never the last time.

"Uhm...hun'? It happened again. I'm so sorry for bothering you but Housewarden is going to kill me if he sees the tear in my blazer! Can you fix it?! I can't handle another collar with my exam tomorrow! I need to breathe to focus! - really!? I owe you one! Snacks are on me tonight."

Habits he steals:

Bottomless Stomach (Developed): Have leftovers from dinner? Bring them over. He'll get the tubba-ware back in 1-2 days. Coupon for buy-one-get-one at Sam's? He'll take the extra and polish it off in less than a minute. Deuce becomes a human garbage disposal and is taking the unwanted condiments off your sandwich to eat. Just pick them off and leave 'em on the corner of his lunch plate. Even if he dislikes it, he'll down it so you don't have to.

"Mm. Oh, thanks hun' - its that all you're eatin'? You don't like the steam bun? It is a bit dry, but wasting food is disrespectful to the cooks! I'll finish it for you so have my fruit instead. You still need to eat" <- 10/10 very thoughtful and not picky at all. He is grateful to eat your cooking and will gobble up all leftovers at Ramshackle, but doesn't think twice to sharing meals in the cafeteria. He will notice though if you do not eat enough. Restocks the snack cabinet if he sees it's empty. Is touched if you routinely share things you know he enjoys, like saving half your frittata on purpose.

Early Riser (Inherited): See - even if you hate the mornings, there is no choice at Night Raven College. As Ramshackle Prefect you need to be up to take care of business before class. Deuce becomes your personal alarm clock because he wants some time with you before everyone else joins in. Mind you that he lives with three other dudes who threaten to end him every morning because his alarm wakes them up too. Eventually he can wake up without it, but the time leading is unpleasant.

"W-what? Seriously? I've been trying to be more like them! They're a good person and responsible so I've been trying to follow their example. To think we've been doing the same thing this entire time...." == Why would you ever imitate him? He's been trying his damn best to become an honor student worth respecting, and has a long way to go. To think you're comfortable enough with him to mimic his mannerisms? It's a pipe dream, one he doesn't grasp until it's put right in front of his face. You don't let anyone else pick off your plate other than Grim. The next time his clothes tear, he's already handing off his tie before realizing just what's happening. When you wrap his knuckles after a six-hour lock in at the library? He can't help but feel proud at how neat the bandages are. Suddenly the dark memories of hiding bruised knuckles from his mom are pacified with healing balm. Deuce views this development as a gift, and is grateful. Very, very grateful.

Habits you steal:

‘I owe you’ cards (Inherited): Ace's favorite social invention - the 'solid'. Nothing spells new-low like getting your friends to do stuff in exchange for a favor in the future. Most of the time Ace counts on people forgetting he owes them one, but you're not so gullible. The only difference between you both is that while Ace never fulfills his solid, you have a conscience. Give it a few more years. He'll get ya.

"I know this is the third ticket this week but - Oh! C'mon, cut a guy some slack, would you? I'm sorry for bein' late to our date. Yeah, it was shitty. I'm not trying to fight it, aright? I'm here now so let's have some fun and you can chalk three strikes on my tab. I'll even buy ya some candy - Ah! Okay! Two candies but that's where my charity ends!" <- Evidently, the 'I-owe-you' tabs cancel each other out from how often you both call in favors. It's just an excuse to do acts of service or express apologies without being too mushy. Ace is definitely keeping a track record of them though. Expect an ongoing log that dates back to the week you met, when he showed up homeless, collared, and looking to couch surf.

Profanity (Inherited): Ace swears like a sailor. Maybe not so much in his dorm because *cough* he's being policed. He holds no such reservations when you're both alone at Ramshackle. Unfortunately his potty mouth has a mind of it's own - it taints you, and you are a sham of a prefect. Ace earned a week-long collar for teaching you some Twisted-Wonderland exclusive curses. Riddle is not pleased.

Leaving the Windows Unlocked (Developed): There are only so many times he can sneak in through your window before the adrenaline-induced charm wears off. You have class in the morning, and can't be bothered to deal with him on nights he can't pass out in his dorm. Thank seven you have all of Ramshackle to yourself - because Heartslabyul sounds like a nightmare with the roommate situation. You can't leave the front door open for obvious reasons, but most nights the guest-bedroom window will be left slightly ajar in case he needs a place to crash.

"Pssst! Oi! Prefect! ...ugh, Grim! Wake them up, man! The latch is stuck. Don't go back to bed you furball! HEY! IT'S FREAKIN COLD OUT HERE SO LET ME IN ALREADY" <- Please let him in. If Ace has to spend one more night in that stinky dorm with three dudes, he'll string one of their dirty gym socks over your bed. No mercy.

Sleeping with Earplugs (Developed): Bitch Ace snores.

Habits he steals:

Notes Memo (Developed): Ace is bad with remembering things. Anniversaries? Dates? Allergies? He admits to not putting in a great amount of effort, but you can't say he doesn't try at all. He has a notes block on his phone dedicated to things like your go-to takeout orders and preferences. He even has a few alarms set days before any important events because even if you say no-gifts or plans...yeah, he's not that stupid.

Excessive Yawning (Inherited): You're always tired - it wasn't Ace's problem before but now he does feel a bit guilty. Dragging you into his messes felt different when you were just the prefect, y'know? Regardless, it's human instinct to mimic each other's demeanor so he'll openly yawn all the time - normally in succession of you.

"Hey...you're dozing off again. Am I seriously that boring to hang around? - Nah. Just messin' with you. I'd suggest taking a nap during next period but I doubt a goody-goody like you is gonna take that advice. Let's just ditch juice at lunch and go back to the dorm. Don't get mad if I forget to wake you up though"

Medications (Developed): Ace is the last person to become a human apothecary, but he's always got a pack of pain-reliever meds in his pocket with a few bandages, etc. He also attached one of those tiny capsule bottles to his keyring with some stomach meds inside. You took a spill running laps? Dang man. That sucks. Here's a band-aid for your knee. Curse you for making him the slightly-more responsible one.

"Eh..what, like it's a shock? You saying I'm a bad influence? Cause yeah, that checks. Nothin' I can do if they want to take a card outta my deck though," == Ace is entirely neutral on the topic. He is definitely smug that you're coming over to the dark side, but he doesn't need anyone to point it out. He was your first after all. Maybe the start could have been a bit better - but hey, you came around. It's not like he's hurting anyone by helping build your backbone. Although Ace will instantly deny going soft for you in any way, shape, or form.

[pedgito]

𝐃𝐈𝐑𝐓𝐘 𝐋𝐀𝐔𝐍𝐃𝐑𝐘 | Joel Miller x reader

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summary | you've got an issue and joel's willing to solve it. after all, what are neighbors for?

author's note | this was a prompt from a meet-weird thing i saw ages ago that was originally supposed to be javi, but jo (@undercoverpena) gave me the beautiful idea of making it joel and it spurred this monster.

content warning | established friendship, caught during sex, does the apocalypse having working appliances? probably not, but for the sake of this fic distend belief i beg. oral (eating out from the back), unprotected piv, subtly cocky!joel miller, he's a good ass neighbor, okay?, unbeta'd.

word count — 5.6k

Joel’s fixed this damn machine seven times, convincing himself every time that it was the last time. Shocker, it wasn’t. This time didn’t even last a month. He’s desperate now.

He would usually haul the load all the way to the communal laundry house closer to the group of joined townhomes that housed most of the younger adults—the spry and bright-faced ones who sprung up at the mention of patrol or work, any prospect of toting a gun around with any sense of leadership. They were eager, he couldn’t say the same for himself.

He was old, weathered—years of routine he had created to get the job done and get the hell home.

And truthfully, as he tapped the wrench against the metal machine, chin tucked into his palm as he scratched at his beard, he almost complied with the idea that he would just have to tough it out. Scrounging for parts was nearly impossible—dumb luck, really. In the past several years they’ve picked this town clean, bone-dry.

He’s elbow deep inside the barrel of the dryer when he hears the knock at his door, bumping his head against the rim of it as he exits and cursing under his breath as he pushes to stand, joints creaking and popping in disapproval. 

He can smell you before he sees you, the familiar scent of fresh-baked goods following you everywhere—Joel couldn’t feel guilt for being one of the folks addicted to your cooking. 

Grains had been hard to come by since the epidemic hit, everything was tainted on a global level. It took years and years of Jackson growing its own stock of wheat for things like pie or a nice, gooey cinnamon roll to even be plausible anymore. But, they were managing well so far.

“Saved ‘em for you and Ellie,” You tell him, a small plate of still hot brownies covered with parchment paper, dawning that trademark smile that Joel has come to love, tapping his fingers against the door frame as he passes the plate off to a quickly approaching Ellie.

“Girl’s got the nose of a basset hound,” Joel looks on in amused bewilderment as Ellie throws a mouth-stuffed thanks over her shoulder, “sorry ‘bout her.”

You wave her off whole-heartedly, taking in his sweaty appearance and casual attire. You were used to him in jeans and thick flannels, not a graphic tee and pair of sleep pants. He’s almost always dressed like he had to run at a moment's notice, you weren’t even sure he owned anything different until now.

“Everything good?” You question him, a small laugh escaping your throat.

“Damn washer and dryer is out again,” Joel explains, throwing a hand vaguely over his shoulder.

“Both of them this time?” You ask, “Damn.”

“I can fix ‘em, just a matter of finding the right parts,” Joel tells you, “ looks like I’m gonna have to hand wash again.”

Joel was a friend. You helped friends. It seemed like a no-brainer really, opening your mouth without thinking it through, the kindness tumbling out despite yourself.

“Oh, you’re welcome to load yours up at mine,” You offer and Joel looks immediately apprehensive, the southern charm and well-mannered tone gearing to creep up on you.

“Now, I don’t mean to make you feel like you have to—”

“Joel, I wouldn’t offer it if I didn’t feel comfortable with it,” You remind him, “seriously—anytime, just try and bring your own detergent—and for the love of god, empty your pockets before you put ‘em in.”

Joel chuckles tiredly at that, rolling his eyes as he nods in agreement.

“Got it, of course, sweetheart.”

“I leave an extra key under the rug, so if I’m ever not home just come in,” Given that Joel was Tommy’s brother, you knew he wouldn’t be up to any trouble, “sound good?”

“Yep. Anytime—just make myself at home.” Joel confirms and you nod with an even wider smile, waving a pleasant goodbye as you trailed down the stairs and made your way to the house you inhabited next door.

Right, anytime.

Unfortunately, Joel took that a little too literally.

-

Joel managed to scrounge up the courage a day later, tumbling into his house on tired legs after a lengthy patrol up at the cabin lookout, scooping the basket up in his arms and heading out his front door, taking the short walk to your house.

The lights were off, but that wasn’t unusual. Joel knew you liked to stay late nights in the town’s mess hall, often working on prep for the following morning to make the load a little lighter and sleep in a while longer, so when he fishes under the doormat for the key he thinks nothing of it.

And as the door swings open, it is still fairly quiet. Though, he can hear your own dryer running upstairs. He’s got the layout down too, having shared more than a few nightcaps with you. Friend to friend and nothing more, even if you had always felt a little more strongly toward being affectionate. A hug or a kiss on the cheek from time to time, he never pushed you away. Joel never seemed like the type of man who openly showed affection, even toward a friend. But, he was good, reliable–most of the time.

He reaches the stairs with trepidation as the sounds grow louder and part of him wonders if by some uncanny coincidence your dryer might be growling and rumbling on its own final leg. 

The moment his hand reaches that doorknob and turns he realizes he’s made a mistake.

He’s caught you at a…bad time. Head thrown back with your mouth hung wide, whatever noise you’re making was mostly drowned out by the nagging sound of the dryer as it tore through the spin cycle but he hears the tailend of it, a soft moan of pleasure from the man who’s buried inside of you right now, both of you naked from the waist down but your breasts on full display with your shirt tucked under your neck.

“Benny?” Joel asks, slightly amused.

You lift your head at the sound and spot him, your feet nearly slipping out from under you as you scramble to push Benny away, who perks with an even more perplexed, “Joel?”

“Goddamn it, Joel,” You curse behind gritted teeth, furiously readjusting yourself, pulling your sweats back on and over your ass and your shirt down, “What are you doing here?”

Joel looks down at the basket still clinging to his hip before back up at you, wordlessly.

You sigh through your nose with a tight lipped frown, cheeks puffing out as you brushed your fingers through your hair and down—Benny was still scrambling to redress behind you, unable to pull his gaze away from Joel.

“Benny?” Joel mouths at you quietly, eyebrows raised curiously.

You walk toward the now open door slowly as Benny buttons his pants and you shoot Joel daggers with your stern gaze.

Cut it out.

Joel smirks slightly, cheek dimpling with the action as he side-steps Benny, who leans around you and kisses your cheek—it was a kind gesture but given the situation, in horrible taste. You force a polite smile and once Benny is a far enough distance you hit Joel firmly in the arm as he passes by you and into the laundry room.

You walk Benny to the door with a million thoughts racing through your head, offering a distracted goodbye before you’re locking the door and racing back upstairs with determined footsteps and Joel has already loaded his clothes in the washer, turning the knob to set the load size and time.

“Benny?” He echoes his earlier questions, “Really?”

“What? Are you judging me?”

“No—just, that kid’s had quite an obsession with you for some time now. Just…surprised is all.”

Your lips pull together in a disapproving but nonchalant frown, taking his words for the bullshit they are.

“When I said anytime that did not extend to the middle of the night, Joel.”

“You’re usually still at work,” He supplies—and really, he’s not wrong, “M’sorry. I mean that.”

“Well, now I’ve gotta deal with the fact you’ve seen me naked,” You cross your arms over your chest and lean against the doorframe and Joel’s eyes track you for a moment, smiling with amusement at the thought.

“What? You want a fair trade?” Joel teases, “‘Cause, darlin’. I don’t mind—but it was an accident. Besides, ain’t nothin’ I haven’t seen before.”

He means it in a broader sense, but you can’t help the eye roll it induces. 

“No, no,” You chew at your bottom lip, watching Joel place the empty basket on top of the washer, “I can finish that up if you want to get some sleep. I know you had a long patrol today.”

“Oh, did you?”

He’s teasing you.

“Don’t push it, old man,” Joel shakes his head at that jab and chuckles, “Ellie clued me in when she picked up some sandwiches for her and Dina earlier.

He’s not going to pass on the offer, though. He nods, rubbing a hand over his tired face.

“Jesus—just…Benny?” Joel reiterates again, “Didn’t think the kid had it in ‘em.”

“Out,” You say with an over-pronunciation as you drag his slow and progressive steps further out of your laundry room and into the hall, “or you’re off my dessert list for a month, Miller.”

Joel smiles at you knowingly, “You wouldn’t dare,” He retorts, knowing you too well.

You wouldn’t make him suffer like that. Or Ellie, who wouldn’t hesitate to murder Joel if he robbed her of that pleasure. Not literally…but, she would carry a few choice words for him.

“Seriously, though, thank you,” He nods, leaning down to press a kiss into the crown of your head—an often familiar gesture when you parted after a long night of nonsensical talk and a couple glasses of wine or whiskey, depending on how hard the day had been, “I appreciate it, sweetheart.”

“Yeah, yeah—”

“And I do apologize for…not knocking and showin’ up at such a weird time.”

You shrug, “You’re forgiven. Just…don’t give Benny a hard time. He’s a good guy.”

“You’ve got my word, darlin’.”

Joel was determined to be on his best behavior, clearly.

-

It takes Joel a couple weeks to find the parts he needs and luckily there are no more run-ins on your midnight sex-scapades, still feeling the embarrassment from the first one. Joel doesn’t even seem to remember it after a couple days, thankfully. He was bypassing it for your own benefit, truthfully. And you knew that.

Selfishly, you're glad to have your appliances back to yourself. 

They’re good, solid, reliable—until they aren’t.

Your washer shits itself mid-load and you can hear it from downstairs. A loud screeching noise before an even louder pop that has you groaning loudly because you know. You can feel it.

You can’t even bring yourself to go check, peering through the window of your kitchen and catching a fresh pot of coffee in the house across from yours, a man coming into view and his stark white shirt contrasting the black coffee cup in his hands. He catches you out of the corner of his eye and looks at you with a quizzical amusement, smile tugging at his face.

Joel was always up before the sun rose, so with the sun just creeping into the sky you’re sure that’s his third or fourth cup of coffee. He reaches over his sink and fiddles with the latch on his window before heaving it up, watching as you struggled to do that same but eventually managed.

“You run outta coffee again?” He asks, sipping at the bitter, black coffee in his mug.

“No,” You reply quickly, slightly exasperated as you chew at your bottom lip, debating how to pop the question and feeling nervous under Joel’s intense gaze, curiously wondering if he’s still picturing you naked. He’s never explicitly mentioned it since, but you have caught him in the act.

Wandering eyes, gazes catching when your back is turned for half a second as you bend down or move in a way that exposes too much skin.

“My washer broke,” You cut to the chase and Joel chuckles at how comical it is, in hindsight.

Was this karma? It was definitely karma. 

You’ve never asked Joel for anything—despite your often bouts of kindness toward him you never expected anything in return, not even a favor.

“Doors open,” Joel nods toward his front door out of view, an invitation like you offered him.

You didn’t even hesitate, pushing the window close and bounding up the stairs.

-

You’re already loading your things into his washer before he appears around the corner, peeking his head in, coffee cup still in hand as he takes a few more steps and leans against the wall beside the washing machine and your eyes glance at him briefly before you continue moving the clothes, watching him watch you from behind the rim of his mug.

“I can start them and come back,” You tell him, “so I won’t be lingering around here all day.”

“No Benny?”

You stand up as you close the washer, deadpan stare pointed in his direction.

“You can be such a nosy neighbor, you know that?”

Joel shrugs, a smug smile covered behind his sip of coffee.

“It was just a few times. Besides he’s…too much for me.”

You turn the dial to start the load and it rumbles to life with a simple press of a button.

“You wanna talk about it?”

It wasn’t completely unnatural for you two—you knew quite a bit about Joel now: his life before, his work, his daughter…all things that come with trust and time. He’s waited patiently for you and you’ve given him peeks into your life, but nothing like this.

“It’s a long story, Joel.”

“Got time,” He smiles slightly, “I’ll go grab you a cup of coffee—sit down.”

You look around briefly, not a chair in sight. So, you raise yourself up just enough that you can slide your ass over the top of the washer, bare feet dangling off the floor and you wait, the subtle and quiet shake from the beginning of the load process keeping the awkward silence at bay.

Joel turns the corner a few minutes later with your cup, made up just to your liking and you nod with a gentle smile, taking the cup from his hand and allowing yourself a few generous sips.

“So—that night, you caught us,” You can laugh at the instances now, so you do in a soft, clipped manner, “it wasn’t the first—it had been a month by that point and he just caught me by surprise, showed up that night and things just got a little out of hand.”

Joel’s eyebrows raise in interest but he urges you to continue, leaning against the wall in front of you now, resting his mug on the shelf just above his head as he crosses his arms over his chest.

“He’s a good guy, don’t get me wrong—but I don’t do serious…I can’t, now with how things are. And I know a lot of people think the opposite, seize the moment and all that shit,” You sigh, a deep and heavy sound that expands and releases from your chest, “he was already talking about moving in, the idea of us having kids—so that night I just tried to distract him.”

“With sex? Seems a little…counter-productive, don’t you think?”

“Don’t judge me, Joel,” You warn him but it’s edged with a playfulness that Joel recognizes. You didn’t have a mean, deceptive bone in your body and Joel knew that from the first conversation he had with you.

“I needed him to shut up,” You groan at the thought of the conversation as it replays in your mind, “I’m trying to wash my clothes, he’s talking to me about babies. I do not want kids, Joel. Ever. At least none that are biologically mine. Who would want to bring a kid into this world?”

Well…Tommy. The thought comes to you after the words have already left your mouth and your heart sinks into your stomach, looking at Joel apologetically.

“Sweetheart, don’t even try to apologize. Ain’t nothing wrong with it.”

“It makes me sound horrible, I know but—”

“I’ve done my time—it’s none of my business how others choose to live. Besides, I’m pushing sixty, I don’t have to worry about all that…sorry, I’m not trying to be crude here.”

You nod knowingly with a smirk tugging at your lips, taking another sip of coffee before handing the mug off for him to place it next to his own, ready to slide off of the washer before Joel interjects with another question that catches you off guard.

“He treat you right, at least?”

You tilt your head with that same knowing smirk, pushing Joel away at his hip with your foot as he leans up from his position against the wall—Joel’s never flirted, always promptly skirted around the issue and went about it more gentlemanly. He’s not abrasive and straightforward like most of the men in Jackson, but damn did he know how to make you feel special.

Undivided attention, constant subtle compliments, giving up some much-needed sleep for a simple late night drink with you—part of you was too terrified to make your own move and make it clear just how badly you wanted just a small taste of him.

You’ve heard whispering, minimal talk from a few of the women in town. Joel didn’t often make his rounds but when he did, he left an impression. And you had every right to be jealous, because with him standing in front of you now—you knew it would be easy to say no and he would fix you right up, finally crossing that line that he’s been carefully dancing around for a few years.

“He’s a bit…timid,” You shrug, “and he doesn’t really…”

The air lingers and the side of Joel’s mouth pulls up—you don’t have to say it.

“Joel, don’t do that,” You shove at his shoulder as he approaches you, his hands pressing into the contraption you’re on, curled around the metal, “—he’s just…eager, but not in a good way.”

There’s a glint in Joel’s eye that leads you to believe he’s not thinking about Benny’s less than experienced sex life, feeling the sudden jitteriness from the coffee as your chest rises with a deep, shaky breath and Joel eyes the time over your shoulder.

Forty-five minutes and some change, plus the time to dry because Joel already knows you aren’t going to trouble yourself with walking the damp laundry through this cold, muggy weather.

“So, no then?” Joel asks.

He could have treated you better, sure. But, he wasn’t the worst.

But, the way Joel is staring at you knows makes everything and everyone dull in comparison.

You shake your head in agreement, chewing at the inside of your bottom lip as your hands fall to your lap, his hands ncreasingly closer to the tights covering your legs, suddenly feeling his thumb graze your hip. You both glance down at the action and your breathing halts, watching as his right hand slowly engulfs your thigh, fingers digging into the soft material and dimpling your skin underneath, his thumb only a few centimeters from dipping into the inside of your thigh.

They part on their own, welcoming Joel in wordlessly and his left hand echoes the other. His face is level with your own, staring down at your lips briefly before meeting your eyes and you’ve seen that look before—the adoration when he thought you weren’t watching, secretly you had become good at catching those glances, but Joel wasn’t trying to hide it now.

And it quickly dawns on you in the moment—he was jealous. Of Benny. Or really, any man that had come before him. But, he was using him as the scapegoat.

Honestly, you couldn’t even care.

“You want someone to treat you right?” He speaks softly and if you weren’t so close you wouldn’t have heard him, “I got you, sweetheart. I swear.”

He’s not looking at you anymore, eyes dragging down the bridge of your nose to your lips again. But, you are looking at him, flooded with that tricky feeling that creeps up on you when you want things you know you shouldn’t.

“Joel, I told you—I don’t do serious,” And you hold your breath for the response, wondering if that would send this moment crumbling to dust, but Joel doesn’t miss a step.

“Good for you,” Joel dotes, “neither do I.”

Then he’s on you, the press of his lips in a heated kiss sends you tumbling back, caught by the warm slide of his palm over your back to pull you in, throwing your arms over his shoulders as he pulls back briefly, just enough for you to open your mouth to speak, but his tongue finds its way inside and the words fade away.

Just friendly, my ass—you think.

If you had known he kissed like this—you would’ve jumped at the opportunity months ago; a night spent drinking too many glasses of wine and laughing over some movie far before your time, but not his. 

He was so entranced, giving you all the details, but you couldn’t help giggling over it, too touchy to be considered friendly.

You’d both cut it short quickly when Ellie popped in halfway through the movie, and beyond that, it never grew.

Until now.

“Sweet,” Joel notes with a subtle smile, his hand dwarfing the size of your neck as his fingers wrapped around the column of your throat, holding you firmly in place as he maneuvered you toward and away from the kiss as he pleased, swallowing every tiny moan that escaped your lips when his other hand squeezed at your thigh just a little too hard.

“All that sugar,” In your coffee, the taste lingering on your lips and he licks around them teasingly, pulling away briefly to look at you, your eyebrows raising in question as the gears turn in his head, “—you still with me?”

“I’m just wonderin’ if you’re okay with this,” Joel speaks candidly, his eyes trained on his thumb as it rubs against the middle of your throat, traveling up under your chin and tipping your head up slightly, watching as you swallowed, “before I take this further, jus’ need to know.”

You nod jerkily, not even a second of hesitation. 

“You would have known the moment you kissed me, Joel.”

In turn, Joel nods slowly before he speaks, stealing the air from your chest.

“Alright then, pull these down for me,” He tugs gently at the material clinging to your thighs before both of his hands find the spot behind your knees and tug until your feet hit the floor, “and push that pretty little ass out for me.”

The absurdity of this language on his tongue makes you giggle but abide in an instant, struggling slightly as the material bunches at your ankles and Joel helps you the rest of the way, tossing your pants aside before he’s kneeling despite how his body protests, too eager to give you a taste of the pleasure you deserve and he’s grabbing the cheeks of your ass and squeezing them between his hands before he’s leaning up to bite playful at the soft flesh.

He groans quietly against your skin, the press of his aquiline nose against your ass as his fingers fold around the string of your underwear and pull, dropping them down to your ankles and off and then his tongue is flat against the seam of your cunt, gasping as you fall forward and your own fingers clawing against nothing.

“Joel!” You squeak out as his fingers dig hard into your ass, forcing you up on your tiptoes as devours, licking into your cunt as it quivers around his tongue. 

Your hand pressed against the wall in front of you to keep your chest from hitting the washer, feeling your pussy tighten around the finger that enters alongside his expert tongue, a soft groan erupting out of him from behind you. That smug motherfucker was attempting a teasing huh under his breath as he busied himself with the task of eating you out from the back and you couldn’t even think straight. 

‘C’mon, baby,” He coos between his alternating licks and slurps of the heady slick that dripped from your cunt, “come all over my mouth, let me taste that sugar.”

It’s absurd, the way he’s speaking to you now. Your eyes squeeze shut as his thumb finds your clit amongst the chaos of his tongue and fingers, face heating up at how noisy your cunt sounded over the dull shake of the washer and Joel’s satisfied moans, occasionally massaging at the back of your thigh when your legs shake with the creeping feeling of your impending orgasm.

“Oh,” You squeal, reaching behind you to dig your fingers into his hair, panting out in desperation, “—fuck, don’t stop! Joel, right—right there,” and then glance you take back at him, his eyes peeking open from his position below, on his knees and dutiful to you and you alone, well…

It sends you tumbling over the edge as his thumb rubs over your clit quickly, soothing you through the aftermath as he laps up the mess you’ve made all over yourself, dragging his tongue along the inside of your thigh because if you knew anything about Joel, he didn’t waste a meal. 

And you were just about the finest he’s tasted.

You clear your throat as you rest your feet flat on the floor, feeling the faint quake in your legs as Joel rises slowly, forcing you to swallow down a giggle as he winces and he can see it on your face.

“Worth it,” He excuses himself, “don’t look at me like that.”

“No old man jokes?” You sound sad and Joel can’t believe it.

He shakes his head.

But, the smile that breaks out on your face quickly diminishes any comeback he has.

You begin to push him away with a hand gripped in his shirt, carefully avoiding the obvious bulge in his sweats as you reach for your tights, ready to redress and drop to your own knees as a favor but his fingers are wrapping around your wrist, pulling your attention back to him.

“I meant it,” Joel tells you, tilting his head to catch your gaze.

You smile wide and tilt your head to mirror him, “I think you proved your point—Benny is a pathetic man who doesn’t know how to make me come, blah blah…”

“My job ain’t done if you’re still thinkin’ about him, darlin’.”

His eyebrows raise in challenge.

Okay, you’re game.

Wordlessly you allow the hands at your hip that guide you toward the front of the joined appliances, his fingers sliding under your top until you get the hint to pull it off, your breasts bouncing free from the shirt—the few bras you had were already in the wash, big deal.

Joel chuckles and stops for a moment, admiring the sight of your breasts for the second time that month, albeit more openly this time. He reaches forward and rubs his thumb along your nipple, watching the nub harden under his touch and you bite at your bottom lip, eye fluttering closed at how sensitive they were to touch, something other men never took the time to notice.

“You like that?” Joel asks with a creeping grin.

You nod, watching as he squeezed your tits in his hands, showing your nipples ample attention as he circled them with his thumb before leaning down slightly and swiping his tongue over the hardened nubs, sucking your breast into his mouth and his eyes peer up, gauging your reaction which quickly developed from a soft giggle to a loud moan.

“Clothes,” You breath out, “off—if you still have a point to prove.”

A point that you wanted proven. Hard.

Joel pulls away and yanks his shirt over his head, allowing you an unobscured view of the mix of muscled shoulders and his softened stomach, running your hand over the patch of hair at the center of his chest and down, right along his hips until his own fingers hook around the fabric and pull his sweats and boxers down in one motion, his cock catching against the edge of his waistband before it bobs back up toward his stomach.

You find yourself smiling despite yourself, forgetting for a moment that Joel was standing there and watching you, feeling your mouth water at the sight of him hard and leaking at how just getting a small taste of you had turned him on that much, precum leaking slowly from the tip and he wraps his hand around himself, other hand tapping at your chin to drag your attention back up to his face, reminding you he was still there.

“Got somethin’ on your mind, sweetheart?”

You shake your head furiously, “No, no—no, nothing. Just, uh—”

“I’ll start slow,” He tells you and with the size of him, thick and girthy in ways you’ve only imagined or pictured in your head, it’s daunting, “are you still alright with all of this?”

Your face softens and you nod, appreciating the repeated check-ins, the need for confirmation, but it pulls at your heart as you wonder why he feels the need to ask so much. As if he was fearful you would change your mind on a dime—Joel was fine with that, but he was more worried about the change in dynamic. Thankfully, you were determined for that not to be the case.

“I’m pretty tough,” You shrug, a playful smile gracing your face.

Joel nods absently as his fingers drag along your waist before catching behind your knee and pulling it up over his hip, both of your eyes dragging down to his cock as he tugged at himself a few times, his brow furrowed as he spread your lips apart with the head, dipping his hips down slightly to catch against your hole before he pushes in slow, one solid stroke that steals the sound from your throat and transfers to his own. Joel groans out softly as he pushes into you, his hands gravitating toward your face and wrapping around the sides of your neck, tilting your head back to mouth at your skin, his tongue dragging along your collarbone before sucking and nipping gently at your skin.

“Don’t I know it,” Joel responds after a while, “find something to hold onto.”

Your soft giggle of excitement shoots down to your core and your fingers wrap around the edges of the washer and Joel pulls back swiftly before he’s snapping his hips back into you before repeating the process several times, the jolt of the machine hitting the concrete wall behind you drowned out by your loud moans, quickly swallowed up by Joel’s lips as he pulls your mouth to his, breathing into it with every sharp snap of his hips.

“Harder,” You beg, biting at his bottom lip as he groans, using his fingers intertwined into the hair at the nape of your neck now to pull your head back and he pulls his hips back quick, bottoming himself out inside of you so forcefully you feel like your legs might give out, his cock rubbing against your already too sensitive g-spot and continuously finding a way to bring you closer and closer to the edge, “fuck—yes, yes. Joel, oh my god—”

“Yeah,” Joel goads you, his eyes drawn closed as he tries to keep his own orgasm at bay, “give it to me, baby—wanna watch you make a mess on my cock, alright?”

Easy, you laugh airily and feel the instinctive squeeze of your walls around Joel’s cock as he pulls your face to his, foreheads pressed against each other as he angles his hips back and slams into you one last time before you come undone, head falling back in a similar position to how he caught you a few weeks ago, this time for him. 

Your grab for his shoulders suddenly, blunt fingernails digging into his skin and he takes a few harsh breaths through his nose before he’s pulling out, hand grasping his cock as he jerked himself a few seconds before he comes in thick, short spurts against your stomach, squeezing at the head of his cock as he drags it through the mess he’s made.

His expression is nothing short of mesmerizing, mouth hung open just enough that his tongue can drag over his bottom lip before his teeth are taking its place, eyes drawn to your skin.

Wordlessly, he pulls away on his own pair of shaky legs as he reaches for his wrinkled, worn shirt and brings it to your stomach, cleaning up the mess with a faint smile on his face.

“You know, I think it might take me a bit to fix my washer,” You tease, “so—I might be over here bothering you for a while.”

Joel peers up at you, his head still tucked down as he wiped at your stomach.

“Fine with me.”

Then he’s peering over your shoulder, watching as the washer time inched toward zero, dinging behind you. You turn around, letting your leg fall from his hip finally, ass brush against him in the process and Joel can’t help the way his eyes refuse to leave the sight of it.

Only feeling slightly guilty when you catch him this time, not giving him the pass you usually do.

“We’ve still got about an hour left if I dry them here,” You tell him, “anything else you wanna prove?”

Joel’s tongue pokes at the inside of his cheek, eyes dragging up toward the upper level of his house before flicking back toward you, a smile plastered on your face.

“I can think of a few things.”

divider creds: @/cafekitsune

[the-offside-rule]

Patricio O'Ward (Arrow McLaren) - Taste Of Home

Requested: yes

Prompt: Y/n is the youngest Leclerc and is missing home so Pato brings home to her

Warnings: tooth rotting fluff

Y/n sighed as she leaned back on the couch in the house she now shared with her boyfriend, Pato. It had been an exciting move, leaving behind her life in Monaco to support Pato in his IndyCar career, but tonight, the homesickness gnawed at her more than usual. The city was bustling, yet felt so different from the cozy streets of Monte Carlo, and she missed the warmth of home, the chatter of her brothers, and the comfort of her mother’s cooking. Pato turned his attention away from the TV as he heard his girlfriend moving beside him, noticing the way she was staring blankly at her laptop, her mind far away.

“You okay, mi amor?” Pato asked, his hand strokingher knee. His dark eyes were full of concern. “Yeah, I’m fine." Y/n smiled softly, though her tone betrayed her. "Just missing home tonight, I guess." Pato shifted, wrapping an arm around her shoulders and pulling her close. "What do you miss most? Besides Charles making fun of you?" Y/n chuckled at that, leaning her head on Pato's shoulder. “Everything, really. Charles, Lorenzo, Arthur. My mom's carbonara, and just being surrounded by family. It was weird being the youngest sometimes, but they always made me feel you know, like I belonged.” Pato's soft smile turned to a flat line, thinking of what he could do.

“Tell me a story,” Pato suggested, wanting to cheer her up. “About you and your brothers.” She thought for a moment, her face softening as memories surfaced. “Okay, I’ve got one. So, when I was about seven, Charles and Arthur thought it’d be funny to teach me how to ride a bike. But they didn’t tell me how to brake properly." Pato laughed. "That sounds like a disaster waiting to happen."

“Oh, it was." Y/n nodded with a smile. "I rode straight into our neighbor’s garden and crashed into her rose bushes. I was crying, covered in thorns, and instead of comforting me, Charles was laughing so hard he was practically rolling on the floor. Arthur was trying to hide so he wouldn’t get in trouble. But Lorenzo, being the responsible big brother, came and pulled me out of the bushes, all while giving Charles and Arthur a lecture.” Pato shook his head with a grin. “So Charles was always a troublemaker?”

“Always.” Y/n confirmed with a fond laugh. “But he had his moments where he was sweet too. He’s protective, you know? When I went to my first school dance, he grilled the poor boy who asked me to be his date. Charles practically had the poor guy sweating.” Pato laughed louder this time. "Yeah, that sounds like him. Protective older brother mode.” Y/n had loosened up a bit, reminiscing on the past she had in Monaco. “Yep. And Arthur’s no better. Honestly, they all think I need constant watching.” Y/n yawned softly, her tiredness creeping in after a long day at university. “I miss them, though.”

“I know you do.” Pato said, kissing her temple softly. "You should get some rest. It's been a long day, amor." Y/n looked at the time on her laptop. "Yeah, I think I will.” Y/n stood up, stretching. “I’ll head to bed. I’ve got an early class tomorrow.” Pato smiled as she leaned down and placed a delicate kiss onto his lips. “Goodnight, mi amor. I love you.”

“Love you too, Pato.” Y/n smiled before turning and heading for the stairs. As soon as the door closed, Pato pulled out his phone, an idea sparking in his mind. He scrolled through his contacts until he found Charles’ number and sent a message.

Pato Hey man, quick question. Y/n’s feeling really homesick tonight and I was thinking… can you send me your family’s carbonara recipe? I want to surprise her tomorrow.

Pato stared at his phone, unsure if Charles would respond quickly. But within moments, his screen lit up with a reply.

Charles Hey, mate. Of course, I’ll send it over. You trying to impress my sister with your cooking? 😂

Pato Haha, yeah, something like that. She told me she misses your mom’s carbonara, so I thought it might help.

Charles Give me a second, I’ll write it down for you.

A minute later, Charles sent over a series of detailed instructions, with a few extra tips for making sure the dish turned out just right. Pato read through the messages carefully, determined to get it perfect.

Charles And don’t overcook the pasta! I swear, if you serve it mushy, Y/n will never let you live it down.

Pato Haha, I’ll do my best. Thanks, man.

With the recipe in hand, Pato felt a surge of excitement. He could picture Y/n’s face lighting up when she came home to find a taste of Monaco waiting for her.

The next day, after Y/n left for her morning classes, Pato got to work. He drove to the store, carefully selecting only the best ingredients for the pasta dish. He came home, cleaned up a bit and set to work cooking. No one said it would be easy and it certainly wasn't for such a simple dish. He followed Charles’ recipe to the letter, carefully whisking the eggs and cheese together, cooking the pancetta until it was crisp, and boiling the pasta to al dente perfection. His kitchen was soon filled with the comforting smell of home-cooked food, and he couldn’t help but feel proud of himself for pulling it off. Pato had managed to spill sowm egg here and there, a bit of sliced guanciale on the floor (nothing Norbi couldn't help with), but he got there. He had done it. He had to admit, he ate a bowl or two whilst waiting for Y/n to get back.

Just as he was plating the carbonara, he heard the front door open. Y/n walked in, looking exhausted but surprised when she caught the scent wafting through the apartment. “Oh that smells delicious! Pato, what are you cooking?” She asked, setting her bag down. Pato turned to her with a grin, holding up two plates of the golden, creamy pasta. “Surprise! I made your family’s carbonara.” Her eyes widened, and her heart melted instantly. “You what?”

“I called Charles and got the recipe,” Pato explained, walking over to hand her a plate. “I know you’ve been homesick, and I wanted to bring a little bit of home here for you.” Y/n stared at him, her eyes soft with emotion. “Pato this is amazing. You didn’t have to do all this.” She smiled, her hand caressing his cheek. “I wanted to,” Pato said, his voice gentle. “You mean the world to me, Y/n. I want you to feel at home, even here.” She smiled, her eyes glistening with unshed tears, and took a bite. “This is perfect,” she said, her voice thick with emotion. “It tastes just like home.” Pato sat down beside her, watching as she ate with a soft smile. “I’m glad you like it.” Y/n leaned over and kissed his cheek. “I love it. And I love you.”

“I love you too,” Pato whispered, feeling a wave of warmth and contentment wash over him. He’d brought a piece of Monaco to Miami, and in that moment, it felt like home; because Y/n was with him.

[zephyrchama]

Listening to Magic Moment on a non-stop loop has forced me to write this.

Writing Prompt: MC giving "free massage" tickets to the brothers.

Under the cut. Gender neutral MC, second person, one section for each of the 7 brothers.

Warnings: Nothing hardcore but there is suggestive content (every person has different boundaries so I don't know whether to classify it as some or a lot?). One section almost has a violent outburst (guess who lol it's satan's part), that might be unsettling to some.

The Seven Rulers of the Devildom had expensive taste. Must be a side effect from being some of the most powerful and influential millennia-old entities around.

The student council gave you a regular allowance and there was some side change from various part time jobs, but no way could you afford a custom designer brand gift for each of your housemates. When probed for details about what they’d like, they always say they’d gladly accept anything from you. That’s surely true, but you wanted to gift something they’d actually use and appreciate.

So after weeks of thinking, you got a bag of nice craft paper and some cute stickers that reminded you of the brothers. You holed up for an evening with a Do Not Disturb sign on the bedroom door. Late at night a couple days before Christmas, you snuck into the festively decorated living room and dropped your gifts into the brother’s stockings. Those were also your idea, and technically a gift with some little snacks inside, but now they also contained an extra surprise.

On Christmas morning everyone would wake up and discover your “Free Massage” tickets. One use per ticket. Valid forever.

Lucifer ---

You assumed Lucifer would use his ticket quickly, given how exhausted he often was. Despite being as busy as ever, he showed no intention of using it. Perhaps he thought the gift was beneath him and forgot about it entirely. Perhaps he needed hints to remind him.

For days you would check in on him more and more frequently. Send him a text, inform him that you were around if anything was needed. “Don’t forget to take breaks, ok? I’m here if you need me!”

One evening you boldly slipped into his room on the pretenses of returning a book. The timing couldn’t be more perfect. A sleepy Lucifer was towel-drying his hair after a shower. He sat on the corner of the bed, clean pajama shirt folded neatly beside him.

You took a seat on his other side. The book was large enough to occupy a third space. “Thanks for lending this to me. It was a surprisingly helpful reference.”

“I told you it was, didn’t I?”

He sounded amicable to conversation. Time to go on the offensive. “Do you need any help with that? I have a nice hair dryer from Asmo.”

“No,” he stated matter-of-factly. “I have the same one. I just prefer simple routines like this before bed.”

One rejection wasn't enough to deter you. “How was your day? Did anyone cause you trouble?”

You would have known if one of his brothers had acted up, but maybe something else was on his mind you could take advantage of.

“It was particularly uneventful. Quiet, for once. I’m glad to have this evening off, I have to be up early tomorrow.”

Shot down again. Now Lucifer was reaching for his shirt. Before he put it on, you grabbed his shoulder and weaseled your arm under his armpit and around his back. Not the smoothest move, but he stopped to humor you.

“Is anything on your mind?” he asked.

“It’s just that you’ve been so busy lately, I’m worried about your health. You’ve got to take it easy from time to time.” You rubbed your palm over his back. “I’m sure you get sore when you’re overworked.”

“Indeed. However, it’s something I’m used to.”

He re-folded the shirt and got up to put it away. “Would you like to stay the night? You must miss me, seeing as I’m so busy.”

“Absolutely!”

In the spare moments it took for Lucifer to hang up his shirt, place the returned book on its shelf, and walk back to the bed, you already made yourself at home in the sheets. He chuckled, “someone’s eager.”

The lights turned off and he slid into bed by your side. After only a couple of minutes, Lucifer shifted to face the wall. He already appeared asleep. He must really have been tired after all. Under the warm blanket, you reached to stroke his back again.

A novel idea formed in your mind. If all your attempts failed while he was awake, maybe subliminal messaging while asleep would be effective. You snuggled up close and whispered into his ear, “massage ticket… Use… the massage ticket…”

You weren’t expecting a reply, but Lucifer’s deep voice whispered back at you, “why would I waste such a valuable gift?"

"You're awake?" you gasped. Lucifer's prank had been unexpected. You began softly punching his back. "I thought you fell asleep."

"I'm awake, and I wasn't planning on using that ticket. Especially when you go through the trouble to do interesting things like this.”

Mammon ---

Mammon’s ticket had been confiscated. He no longer had it because he got up early, the most excited out of everyone to receive his shiny new presents, and once he saw what was in his stocking he knew that each of his brothers had one too.

Beelzebub walked in on him rooting around in everyone’s stockings to snag their massage tickets for himself and tackled him, as he thought Mammon was stealing Christmas chocolates. The commotion attracted everyone else and Mammon’s ticket was vetoed in a unanimous vote. But he still deserved a gift from you.

Instead of letting him choose a day and time like the others, you visited Mammon’s room when you felt like it. He was still pouting.

“You know I’ve been on my best behavior all year. S’not fair!” He punched the couch in frustration. He really had been getting into less trouble lately. It felt bad seeing him so down.

“Do you want one now? A massage, I mean. Don’t tell your brothers. It’s a limited time offer since you don’t have a ticket.”

“Ya mean it?”

You nodded, and his misery turned into excitement. He literally jumped up. “Well, do I get a little somethin’ extra too? Since I don’t have my ticket, ya know. Somethin’ to make up for that. I’ve got this nice little outfit you could wear that’s-”

You quickly cut him off before the Avatar of Greed gave too many demands. “Limited time offer with terms and conditions. Take the massage right now as-is or leave it. Up to you.”

“Aaarghh alright, alright. I’ll take it. Feel honored! I’ll humor your little massage for a while!”

Mammon dramatically pulled his shirt off but kept wearing the silliest, smuggest smile. He really was cute when trying and utterly failing to act tough. He sprawled himself out on the couch, “let’s see what you’ve got!”

Since the greedy demon hogged all of the couch space, there was nowhere to sit next to him within arm’s reach. With a “don’t mind if I do,” you decided to crawl over Mammon’s legs and sit on his butt.

In a moment of shock he wiggled out from under you. You would have toppled over the side of the sofa had Mammon’s famously fast reflexes not scooped you up, now placing you atop his chest. “Whaddya think you’re doin’, huh? Who said you could do that?”

“You did! How else was I supposed to… Look, do you want this or not?”

His scowl, no matter how big, couldn’t hide the blush on his face. “Yeah, ok, but just… warn me this time… Ok?”

Leviathan ---

It had been nearly a week since you last heard from Leviathan. After Christmas, you thought you might not see him at all until the new year. There were so many holiday game events happening, after all.

“Think I’m stuck,” read the message that popped up on your DDD late one night.

“Can’t move. Requesting reinforcements. And food.”

Concerned, you popped into the kitchen for whatever palatable finger foods you could assemble on a plate and began making your way to the third born’s room. You knocked, but there was no answer. It had been a while since he gave you a password, but it didn’t seem to matter now. You just walked in.

Leviathan was slumped over in his gaming chair, surrounded by roughly ten different screens. Each had a different game and one was streaming some idol talk show. His trash can, while still relatively contained, was almost overflowing with energy drink cans and snack packages. Levi didn’t seem to notice you walk in. He had been gaming for days. You set the plate at the edge of his PC desk.

“Dang. You live like this?”

Bleary-eyed and vitamin D deficient, he still shrieked. “Whuh? Don’t scare me like that!!”

“I came to answer your distress call. You’re stuck?”

“Oh, right. I did send that, didn’t I.” He turned back to the monitors briefly to pause a few things and save a few others. It was impressive how much he could multitask.

“My back’s turned into a pretzel. I thought I’d finally take a break, but when I went to stand up I couldn’t. I think I’m stuck to the chair, lol. If I, uh, use the massage ticket, could you help me?”

“’course I will. Here, drink something.” You slid him a juice. The gamer chair was pretty tall, blocking all access to Leviathan’s back, so you started tapping away at his shoulders. He scrambled to take his headphones off, which helped.

“Sorry to call you in for such a stupid reason. I know this is a disgusting sight..”

You shook your head, though he couldn’t see it. “How’s your game progress?””Oh, about 80% done everything? 85? But it’s mostly the daily quests now, I’ve maxed out on all the top prizes from the main event stories. Look, I even got this Christmas bow set. It has trash stats but looks like a tree and fires little candy canes.”

A big burly warrior with a Christmas hat on one of the screens demonstrated the weapon.

“Uwaah, you know that really helped. I think I can try to stand now.” Leviathan made a made show of setting his legs on the ground and leaning forward, only to magnificently slide back into the chair. “Ow. Ok. That, uh, wasn’t what I planned.” He turned away. “Don’t look at me.”

“No! Don’t give up!” You spun the seat around and he squeaked In astonishment. “We’re gonna make this happen. Levi! Do you trust me?” It was all or nothing. You dramatically reached out your hands. You knew you could do it. You were going to pull this demon out of the gamer chair.

Steeling his resolve, Leviathan nodded and grabbed your hands. You asked, “ready?”

He confirmed, “Ok… Ok lets go! One!”

“Two!”

As you shouted “three!” in unison, you tugged back with all your strength. Maybe you could have pulled a little less, as the two of you went flying backwards. There would have been some real damage if Levi didn’t cushion your head from the tiled floor with his arm.

“Woaaah it woooorked! We did--”

Mid-celebration, he seemed to notice he was in a compromising position on top of you. After barrel rolling off to the side, his voice got noticeably quieter. “We did it… yeah, uh… Sorry about--”

Leaving no room for negativity, you reached around his back and hugged him before he could finish the sentence. “I really missed you, y’know? Come out of your room more often, Levi.”

His face wasn’t visible, but you’re sure it was bright red as he stammered a soft “alright.”

Satan ---

Satan texted, asking if he could redeem his massage ticket after a long and tiring day. Said it was urgent. His presence was always in demand at social events, galleries, and book shop unveilings. After five busy events in one day he just wanted to return

home to relax with a book, but some idiots were running around the library playing war with rubber band shooters. His fuse that day was incredibly short. So he retreated to the comfort of his room, but each thudding footstep down the hall sounded irksome and brought Satan one step closer to snapping.

When you knocked at his door, wrath was seeping out the cracks into the hallway. He practically screamed at you to get inside. Satan was shaking on the edge of his bed, crushing an unrecognizable object in his hand. The room was dreadfully cold. You rushed to his side, practically jumping into the empty space next to him.

He barely acknowledged you. Rubbing slow, small circles on his back had a quick effect though. Upon hitting between his shoulder blades, his tense muscles loosened and he leaned against your side. You could hear him grinding his teeth. After a long minute passed he exhaled in relief.

You scooted back a bit and guided his head to your lap. Stroking continuous circles, one hand was in his rich blonde hair, the other against his shirt fabric. “Thank you for coming,” he muttered, rubbing a cheek against your thigh.“You really saved me there.”

“Any time. Do you want to talk about your day?” Your voice was low and soft.

“No. Just keep going.”

Gently pulling at his shirt collar, you loosened it to caress the back of his neck. He was still in his outdoor attire. He’d tell you about it in time, once fully calmed down. He tried to apologize for the outburst, though it wasn’t your fault and he didn’t quite know what to say. You brushed his hair back, combing it away from his forehead to let him know things were okay. It became your personal mission lessen the stiffness in his back. You’d work your way down his spine until he relaxed.

“Maybe I could read you a book, too?” You suggested, squeezing his shoulder. Satan shifted his hand to rub your knee in appreciation.

Asmodeus ---

Asmodeus set aside a whole spa evening to use your massage ticket. It was special. He filled his bath with high-end fragrances so his skin would be extra silky. He extended an offer for you to join him in the water, heated with magic to be the perfect temperature, but you said you’d wait in his room. Those baths can take hours. You’d be too pruny to feel, let alone massage anything. He had plenty of interesting magazines to flip through in the meantime, and you got to enjoy the plush sheets on his bed.

He waltzed out of the bathroom in a magnificently fluffy robe, another Christmas gift he’d received from somebody. “Thanks for waiting! Were you lonely? I’m allll ready!”

A brand new skincare set waited on the vanity, stocked with creams and masks for you to try together. Asmo plopped into a seat while you pulled up a spare chair behind him. “What are we starting with first?”

He rifled through the packages. “This!” A matte purple, gooey liquid. “I tried samples of this before, it smells divine. Come here!”

You let him plop a dab of the gloop on your nose and rub it into your cheeks. “There! Give it a few minutes and then wash it off. In the meantime, shall we begin? Hm?”

He turned to face the mirror and wiggled impatiently for his massage, cheekily sliding the robe off his shoulder. “I know you probably can’t wait much longer.” You both laughed. With the robe around his waist, you got to work redeeming the ticket. Pounding against his back didn’t seem to phase him at all, and Asmo hardly moved from the strength of your fists as he rubbed another cream under his eyes. He launched into a story about some fan who sent him a thirty page letter the other day.

“They described my beautiful eyes really well. It was even scented, and each page was another scent. Isn’t that wild? Do you think they did that themselves, or are the pages sold like that?” His eyes peered at you in the vanity mirror. “Hey, can you rub a little harder?”

“Oh, sure!” Knowing it would be hard for you to physically hurt him, you put a bit more force into each tap. “What scent was your favorite? Like, could you distinguish them?”

“Actually, yeah! There were lots of fruits like cherries, strawberries, one was pine scented, and a rose one of course.” Asmo glanced away from his own reflection once again and he shifted his weight back towards you. “Hey, hon? Harder?”

You obliged, squeezing his back muscles with as much strength as you could muster. “Is that… Was it the longest fan letter you’ve gotten?”Asmo let out a barely distinguishable moan. You almost thought you imagined it.

”Hm… Not by far…” He started, but trailed off. With a big breath, he moaned louder and leaned back further. “Oh, come on, harder… ” He wrapped his arms around his chest and wiggled.

“Asmo!? What the-- are you…? Gross!” You lifted your hands in shock and he burst out laughing. Without anything supporting him up, he fell into your lap in a fit of giggles. “Did you think I was serious? Ahaha! You’re so cute when you’re flustered!”

Beelzebub ---

“I ate something that didn’t agree with my stomach, can I redeem that gift for a massage? It might make me feel better.” That’s what Beelzebub asked one afternoon, stopping by your room after noticing the door open. It’s rare for something to upset Beel’s stomach. It must have been really rancid.

“Yeah, of course! You wanna do it here or your room?”

“We’re already here. If you don’t mind.” Beel walked in and made himself at home, smoothing out the covers on your bed.

You got up to shut the door, but wondered if a run to the kitchen would be useful.

“Will ice help? Or any kind of medicine?” Maybe even normal food would cancel out the bad stuff and make Beel feel better, but he declined. Beel already propped his head up on your pillow and laid down.

“You’re gonna lay face up? How am I supposed to rub your back?””My stomach hurts. I thought you could rub that, and I would feel better.””Oh.” Nobody else had been able to look at you directly while giving massages. This was more embarrassing.

Beelzebub realized he hadn’t taken his shirt off, but didn’t want to stand and repeat the process again, so he just pulled it up to his chest. His breathing did seem more labored than usual. Out of pity, you didn’t roll him over. “I haven’t done this way before, so tell me if it’s uncomfortable.”

The demon was so much bigger than you, it was hard to find a good starting spot. “You can sit here,” he said, patting his waist. “Only if you want to. I don’t mind.” So you scooted on up, placing your legs to the left and right of him. Beel is so muscled it was like sitting on a warm rock.

“Where does it feel uncomfortable? Here?” You prodded a bit around his stomach, careful not to make him sick.

“Pff, haha, yeah. That’s it.”

“That tickles?”

“Yeah.”

While Beel softly giggled, you worked your hands along the soft spots between his ab muscles. “What did you even eat?”

“A bath bomb.”You couldn’t help laugh along with him. Beel continued, “I didn’t know that’s what it was until Solomon told me though. I thought I maybe I accidentally had his cooking. It looked delicious. But I think it started expanding, and caused an ache.”

“I can’t blame you there. I almost ate soap once.”

“Really? You?” You were always the more level one when it came to food. “Did it look good?”

You nodded. “Boy, did it. And it smelled amazing, I could smell it from across the room. You probably smelled the bath bomb the moment you walked in that building, right?”

He vigorously nodded. “So you do get it!”

Beel reached up and pulled you into a big hug, catching you off guard so you practically fell on top of him. “Thanks for making me feel better.”

Escaping from one of Beel’s hugs was no easy feat, so you happily went along with it. “Any time. If you ever see one of those fake cupcakes again, maybe we can put it in the bath water and see what it does together.”

Belphegor ---

“I’ve got a fun idea. Meet me in the observatory?

When you showed up to Belphegor’s summons he was counting stars. The observatory was dark but the stars were bright enough to illuminate his silhouette standing in front of the window. He greeted you with a warm smile.

“I brought my ticket. I have a special request though.” Waving the massage ticket in

his hand, he came to meet you in the middle of the room. As your eyes adjusted you could make out that an old telescope was set up next to the fountain.

“ A special request? I guess I could hear you out since I came all this way.”

The two of you took a seat on the floor. For several moments, the only sounds were your own breathing and the soothing flow of water. When he didn’t start explaining, you were afraid Belphie might fall asleep in the peaceful silence. “Are you really gonna wait for me to ask what it is?”

“Yeah. If you wanna know, you should hurry up.” You could hear the smile in his voice.

“What did you want to do?”

He reached to adjust the telescope in front of you at your eye level while explaining. “I thought we could stargaze together, but instead of just talking about what we see, we could draw them on each other’s backs. If you draw the constellations I can tell you what they are. When it’s my turn, I can show you what they look like and tell you stuff about it. What do you think?”

If your eyes could have stars in them, at this moment they would. “That sounds like a really fun idea.”

“Hehe, right? I told you. So take a look, what do you see?”

Belphegor turned his back towards you while you excitedly peered through the telecope. It was easy to focus and you quickly found a target to study.

“Two there, and then… Ok, I think I’ve got it. What’s this?”

You started to replicate what you saw with little knocks for stars, and connected them by slowly drawing arcs between the points. Belphegor’s jacket would slide over his shirt though, messing up the curves.

“Hm…” He sighed. “I thought I would be pretty good at this, but it’s hard to tell what you’re drawing.”

“This might be easier without the jacket,” you admitted.

“Really? I’m too tired to take it off though. Take it off for me?”

His brothers spoiled him too much, just like you did, so Belphegor didn’t move a muscle when you tried to peel off the warm jacket. You had to get in his personal space and lift his arms up for him. You told yourself the struggle would be worth it when you finally wrestled it off of him and could wear it yourself. He was being too uncooperative though, and eventually suggested “how about we switch? I don’t want to take this off, I’m comfortable now.”

Dejected without your warm prize, you agreed. The telescope stand rattled against the ground as he readjusted it and you turned away from him. “Do you still really want to use your massage ticket if I’m not the one doing it?” you inquired.

He hummed and hawed, mulling it over while gazing up at the sky. “Yeah, I do, if it lets me do fun stuff like this with you. I got one, let me know if you have this star sign in the human world.”

The first couple pokes sent tingles through your skin. The stars were really far away from each other, drawn on opposite sides of your lower back, but you weren’t prepared for such a delicate touch and had been distracted. “I don’t… think so? Hold on, draw it again.”

“Don’t you know? It goes like this.” He poked again, a little lower. You let out an

“eep!” and subconsciously scooted forward.

“Wait, I’m not done.” He was clearly holding back laughter. “I haven’t shown you this other one yet.”

The next constellation felt less like the trace of a star, and a lot more like Belphegor just wanted to tickle your sides. “Do you know what this is called?”

“Khh hahaha, no, I don’t.” The laugh-riddled admission further encouraged him. He wiggled lines all over your sides and crept his way to your stomach.

“I guess we have a lot of constellations to talk about then. Good thing the sky is so clear tonight.”

[centoru]

Currently thinking about college heartthrob Gojo Satoru who’s actually a loser, a geek, and an inexperienced guy who just happened to be popular...

The thing is, you didn't know how you ended up in this situation. It was common for you and your group of friends go out to unwind, but it was rare to go out during midterm week — most especially to a party.

You were practically dragged into this mess, and got dragged into a bigger mess when you were put in a pit for gossip. You were stuck in a storage room, a little roomy for an empty dorm storage, nonetheless, still a storage room.

Satoru, the most popular guy at university was on the other side. His face was buried on the wall, his arms tangled into each other as if he was keeping an obvious distance. You, on the other hand, was confused, but also thankful that he wasn't initiating anything considering how bad your night was going.

The silence was overwhelming, almost defeaning at that point. If it weren't for the faint vibrations and sounds of the house music, you would have clogged ears by now. Suddenly, Satoru looks at you, the dim lights of the storage room illuminating his face, his eyelashes creating shadows on his pinkish cheeks.

"So.." He tries to say and even tries to face you, but he doesn't do it completely. You prayed that society will eventually move on from this seven minutes in heaven bullshit and do things that were actually fun. The two of you were now staring at each other, awkward, you raise your brows at his first word to you. Satoru gulps.

"Are you okay?" Seeing how Satoru was acting different to what he had been showing — and what you expected him to act — those were the first few words you decided to go with in your exchange.

"Yeah.." Satoru replied. Awkward.

He tried looking at you, but he just couldn't without a little blush appearing on his face. Was he embarrassed? Regardless of what he felt or what he thought of, it was odd that Satoru was not his usual teasing, cocky, and arrogant self.

"What happened to you?" You ask, making him shoot a slight glimpse of you. "You're so awkward, that's so unlike you." You say. Well, you don't truly know him to a personal extent, but you've paired with him in one of your classes. The way he acted then was far different to what you're seeing.

"Hah, I am?" Satoru began to gain his composure and act similar to what he's shown, but still, his awkwardness and nervousness seem to slip way too evidently.

"Yes, you are." It was starting to get entertaining how nervous he was getting. The way he avoided eye contact was amusing, he tried to do it calmly and coolly. This gave you the upper hand, and you had the sudden idea to tease him back.

You take a few steps forward, your face lining up to his chest-level as you looked up at him. This prompted him to look down at you, then flick his head elsewhere while trying to keep a nonchalant expression.

"Are you nervous?" You ask him with your voice going a little low, almost like a whisper. You don't receive anything on his end but a sigh and a shake of his head to deny. His growing blush and inability to keep eye contact says otherwise.

"Do I make you nervous?" At this point, you were practically purring, and he could feel you by his neck.

With no response but obvious struggle, you laugh and retreat, creating a breathable distance for him. "You've never really had experiences with women, have you?" You tease him. It wasn't necessarily bad, but the rumors about him having a lot of sex on the daily was untrue, solidified by the moment you both shared.

"Yeah.." Satoru rubbed his nape. This made you raise your brows from surprise. You didn't really expect him to admit it. Satoru looked at you, your surprise never leaving your face as he chuckled awkwardly.

"Yeah, no, just rumors." Satoru followed again, his gaze lowered to his feet. "I.. I'm scared, honestly."

"Of women?"

"I don't know.. Partners? Romance? I've never really... tried."

"With that face? Why not?"

"I just.. really didn't know how or had the courage and enough interest to try. I'm just an annoying guy, that's all."

Satoru now looked at you, you looked at him, both of you fell silent at the news. It was a shock factor, yes, but it's really not that big of a deal. If anyone else found out, he'd probably be called out for lying about his experiences when all of it were just rumors he was too passive about.

You shrugged it off, chuckling a bit, making Satoru at ease. His muscles were evidently less tense, making him relax around you.

"So.." You began. "Not even a kiss?"

"I did, yeah. Just a peck. And that was back in high school. Oh, one during freshmen year, I think. I don't remember much of it."

"No way. Are you serious? Your reputation is mostly you being a playboy, but like, I knew you because you were annoying."

Satoru laughed at that, his whole self being more and more comfortable in your presence.

"You have more experiences in kissing, right?" Satoru asked, his gaze fixated on you. Weirdly enough, this was the only time he had kept eye contact. It wasn't intense, but it was enough to make you think.

"I guess, yeah. Why?"

"I don't know," Satoru's eyes dropped again, his ears obviously painting a deeper shade of red. He put his hand to his mouth, whispering, "Maybe you could add my experiences."

This shy, tall, loser, unlocked something in you. Like an unknown interest and fire for something like this. The way he was hovering above you, his muscular physique creating shadows on you, yet is ultimately powerless. And now, he's asking for a kiss?

"You.. want me to kiss you?"

Satoru nodded slowly, awkwardly, almost non-existent, but couldn't, yet again, face you. He harshly heaves a breath, "That was stupid. Please forget I said anything."

"No," You say, catching him off-guard. "I haven't heard a response. Was it a yes or no?"

At this point, Satoru had caught on to you, the tension in the storage room was beginning to build up quite intensely. It was beginning to be hotter, and hotter, the distance closing, your tones were hushed, whispering against each other's lips and skin grazing ever-so-gently.

"Is it okay..?" He grips onto your waist with so much desperation, his eyes only reflecting you. "Do you want it?" You ask.

"But is it—"

"Do you want it, Satoru?"

Satoru fell silent, his Adam's apple bobbing up and down for a gulp to treat his scorched throat.

"Do you want me to kiss you, Satoru?"

"I want you."

With that, he closed the distance. His lips were latched onto yours, a heated make-out session was something you weren't expecting for tonight, most especially, from a very desperate, inexperienced Gojo Satoru.

His kisses were sloppy, yet he began picking himself up from his desperation. He drank you in like this wasn't his first time making out with someone, tasting him and his soft whimpers everytime you grazed onto the bulge on his pants. Your hand couldn't stay still and began travelling down to his crotch, palming him. You could feel him grow harder and harder, his hips rocking forward to pleasure himself more.

Satoru moaned loudly into your mouth, causing you to part momentarily, "Is this okay?" His eyes still closed, bottom lip grazing on your top lip with his mouth slightly agape.

"F-feels good.." Satoru moaned, he groaned everytime your hand went up and down, circling on his tip. "Shit, a-ah.."

You two began to kiss again, mouths with mutual fires and equal desperation, tongues dancing and battling against each other, teeth clashing — nothing in the space but the dirty echoes of your lips against each other.

Satoru took you by your wrist, placing it on the waistband of his pants. The way he reached for your wrist was practically him begging to be touched more, to be touched bare, and you wanted to. Desperately so.

You began to play with it, pressing a finger onto his waist, drawing and tracing sloppy lines, then suddenly..

"Time's up, guys!" A loud voice came from outside, causing you both to hastily peel yourselves off each other. Both your hairs were all ruffled, lips swollen, your wrist, arms, and waist had red marks from the way Satoru held you close to him. You didn't even notice how tight he held you throughout it.

The door opened, the lights from outside practically burning both your eyes. Your friends and his friends began snickering, smirking, you then faced Satoru, he was like in a daze. His lips were decorated with the smudges of your lipstick and he didn't even dare wipe it off, little bits of it were glossed from your saliva. He wore it like a medal, like pride.

"Wow, looks like you two had the best time." Suguru chuckled, teasing Satoru who seemed to be blinking, then slowly gaining composure, eyes adjusting to the sudden light.

Your friends looked at you, laughing, but also felt proud with the way you had Satoru acting like that. As the group bursted into a fit of laughter, you looked at Satoru with dissatisfaction. Satoru stole a kiss on your lips when the group began walking forward, leaving you two at the door of the storage room to sit by the patio and socialize with other people at the party.

You looked at him surprised, "Round two later?" He whispered before pointing at his crotch with his eyes. He chuckled a little when you spotted his bulge that didn't disappear, he didn't even have the shame to hide it, at least to you. "You still have something to finish after all."

[cherriegyuu]

midnight rain | lsm

pairing: seokmin x f!reader genre: angst, smut, a little bit of fluff word count: 17k summary: after seven years away, you finally return home. meeting seokmin again wasn't in your plans, but life wasn't willing to let you have it your way. warnings: minors do not interact, kissing, oral, swearing, penetrative sex, unprotected sex (don't do this) a/n: this is part of 1k event, it was requested the dearest @ressonancee. but also, it's part of svt ans songs from midnights. i just wrote two in one and something that was supposed to be short became this monster. i hope i wrote seokmin in a way you'll like it. prompt: “I don’t want anyone else. No one else can make me feel like you do." Seokmin ➝ Midnight Rain He was sunshine, I was midnight rain ↳ it was the oldest story in the world, the bright boy fell for the grumpy girl.

Letter #1

Seokmin,

You know, I've always been very proud of not being a very attached person. I've always been proud that I can put myself first and second, because I know I need to do it, because I know that no one else will do it for me. So, when I came here and dropped everything I had, I thought it would be a lot easier than it actually is.

When I turn around in bed at night, after days of trying to get used to the time zone and weeks to the weather and the people here — which are both bad and for completely different reasons, nothing is like in the movies — I always hope to find you there by my side and being able to snuggle up to you like I always did. I wake up in the morning and make enough coffee for two people and take two mugs out of the cupboard, and only then do I realize I'm alone here. I don't need two mugs and I made too much coffee. Sometimes, in the middle of the day, I find myself typing your number, which I have memorized despite the fact that no one remembers phone numbers, because phones exist for a reason.

You have no idea how much I miss you and what I would do to be able to hear your voice again. I would do anything, I swear I could. But I know I no longer have that right. I know that what I did is unforgivable and although I want your forgiveness, I hope you never forget what I did to you.

You were still good to me on the last day. You took me to the airport, you said goodbye to me, you hugged me tight like you know I like it and you did your best not to shed a tear in front of me.

Every now and then I catch myself thinking that I messed up. I could have done my master's where we graduated, I didn't need to move to the other side of the world and leave the life I knew behind. But at the same time, I accept it. Coming here was my dream, it was always what I dreamed of even when you were by my side as well. And maybe that's why I never told you about the application, about being approved. Maybe I waited until the end, until the very last second to tell you because I knew you were the only one capable of changing my mind.

When I was by your side, I started to dream of a different life, a life that had you at all times and in all aspects. But, as you may have already noticed, I chose my first dream.

I know I won't regret it. I can't afford to regret it. You’ll become who you always wanted to be and I’ll be there to give you a standing ovation. Not there, next to you, but from afar.

yn 

“That was Sunday Morning, by Hong Joshua. Ah, whenever I hear this song I remember my college days. I've said this here a few times, and I think I sound like a broken record by this point, but Joshua and I went to the same college and he was always singing this song in the hallways. Any small gathering between friends he would pull out the guitar and sing. So I'm sorry, but you're going to have to listen to this song at least once a week for the next year. Or until he releases the next one.”

Seokmin looked at the monitor to his right as a pre-recorded commercial for the next show started. The comments were going up too quickly, which made reading them an almost impossible mission.

On the other side of the glass, Chan made a sign indicating that the commercial was over. Seokmin looked at his friend as he lowered one finger after another and finally pointed at him. Chan placed a sheet of paper, which was always used, against the glass, which said “last, chat”. Indicating that he still had one more question to answer.

“We have time for one more question” Seokmin said, opening the internal chat he used with the other radio employees and read the question that Chan had sent “I ended a relationship of almost four years a few months ago, but I still can't understand what happened. I haven't even returned his things yet. How do I get in touch saying I want to return it?”

Seokmin swallowed. He knew that Chan hadn't done it on purpose, that he had no way of knowing everything that had happened between him and you, but he hated how much the question resonated in his head. It was a feeling he shared and for him it had been a little worse because you lived together during your last year of college. So when he entered the house and saw all the furniture, the decorations, your clothes still in the closet, it was like entering a time machine. In that 30 square meter space, for a few minutes, you still hadn't left.

He took a deep breath, away from the microphone so the sound wouldn't be picked, and leaned forward.

“It's a difficult question, really. If it's been a few months and he still hasn't picked his things up, it's because he doesn't need them, so I don't think you should bother contacting him. Hmmm”

He bit his lip and rested his elbows on the table, thinking if he should continue talking or if it would be better to stop there. Seokmin always thought it was better not to let personal feelings show on the radio, but he had moments when he couldn't follow his own rules.

“I can tell you from experience that sometimes silence is better. Because if you know the truth, it could hurt you even more. When I was in a similar situation, after a while I simply discarded the person's belongings. At first, it will be difficult, because you’ll see that shirt you gave as a gift, that letter you wrote and remember what it meant, the moment you gave those things to him. But little by little you will achieve it. Don't feel obligated to just move on when you're not ready. People will always tell you that it's about time, that it's been so many weeks or months. You’re the one who knows about your feelings.”

Chan knocked on the glass again, almost desperate because Seokmin's answer had been too long. It wasn't the first time he had gotten lost in what he was saying and maybe had been talking in circles. It always happened that he remembered you when he answered a question.

And in that specific question he was being a hypocrite because he knew that if he opened his closet, deep inside it, he would find at least two boxes full of your things hidden. He rarely went near those boxes, he liked to pretend they didn't exist and most days he managed to achieve that thought. But there were other days…

“So we come to the end of another Cupid's Corner with Minnie. See you again next week. Cupid’s Corner with Minnie: Unveiling Love’s Melody, One Relationship at a Time!”

Seokmin removed his headphones, stood up, and waved at the cameras he knew were pointed at him. He grabbed his phone and the bottle of water he always carried with him. The red light above the door finally went out and Seokmin left the studio.

Immediately, Chan appeared beside him. He had just gone blond, and it strangely suited him.

He knew the youngest was desperate, not that he was doing a good job of hiding it. The disheveled hair, pointing in all directions, also helped a lot.

“You’re going to have a heart attack if you continue like this” Seokmin said laughing.

Chan was the newest employee, handpicked by Seokmin a few months before. Seokmin needed someone to help him organize the broadcasts after his previous assistant quit because she had gotten a job in the field she had studied. Seokmin even talked to her and offered a higher salary that would come out of his own pocket, but nothing seemed to help. Not that he blamed her, in her place he would have done the same thing. But in the position he was in, changes made him uncomfortable so he did what he could to make sure everything stayed the same.

Maybe it was trauma.

“It’s because they yell at me, not you.”

One of the reasons Seokmin chose Chan as his new assistant was his sincerity. In the middle of the interview he “I think there are things in your program that need to change” and started listing things that he thought were dated or ideas that had been used too much and therefore didn't have the same effect on listeners. The others had found him presumptuous as if he wanted to know more than those who worked at the radio. Seokmin disagreed and that's how Chan got the job.

“They yell at you because you’re the new guy, no one yelled at Jiah”

Chan made a sound in the back of his throat, like a scoff.

“That's because everyone was afraid of her” Seokmin rolled his eyes and reached for the folder Chan was carrying “Oh, right. Tomorrow is your lecture for the communication classes, but they said it is possible that students from other courses will also be there, because it’llll be in the auditorium”

Seokmin nodded, reading the guidelines Chan had made. He needed to admit that he was organized and had absolute control over everything he did. He was sure that if he asked about Wonwoo's program, Chan would know how to answer as if he worked directly with him.

“You know how it is, I have fans” Chan pretended to vomit “If you go tomorrow, we’ll go out to dinner later, I’ll pay”

"Deal"

Seokmin always found it strange to be called to give lectures at the college where he studied. He wasn't a teacher and he didn't think he had done enough to be someone who could give advice to someone. In fact, Seokmin was sure he hadn't done anything big. His life, to put it very simply, was flat. At least, almost all of his life.

Seokmin has always been the type of guy who makes plans and follows through on those plans. When he was sixteen he got it into his head that he wanted to work in radio. It wasn't without reasons, of course. He joined the school radio and despite doing very little, because the school director had to know everything that would be done, even the nouns he would use in the sentence, he fell in love with the idea. That's why he decided he should study journalism in college, that way even if his radio career didn't work out, he would still have a profession.

But his dream was to work on a radio, to have his own program. So that's what he did.

He entered college as planned, sunk into student debt, and graduated exactly as he had planned. In his last semester, he got an internship at the biggest radio station in the country. He was on cloud nine. It was as if he had received the green light in life and everything was on the right track.

At least that's what he thought. At least that was what he had forced himself to believe. The internship became a permanent position and one day he just happened to be in the right place at the right time. That's why he never felt prepared to give anyone advice. Despite having decided on the career he wanted to pursue, he knew that he also needed to count on a little luck and help. The only words he could offer were “you work hard, study, make contacts, and throw the rest into luck’s hands”. It wasn't the kind of thing he wanted to hear when he was a student looking forward to the future, so he certainly wouldn't say it to anyone.

However, Chan convinced him that it would be a good idea to give the talk.

“You’re going to tell me how you got here, that’s all. An unknown face who quickly went on air to cover someone for one of the most beloved radio broadcasters in the country. I'm sure if you say that shit fell on your head, they'll like it” Chan had said laughing.

Overall the lecture went very well. Better than expected. He answered the questions as honestly as possible and used his best smile to get rid of the more awkward questions.

Despite the good day, he knew he didn't want to repeat the dose anytime soon.

“They want to know if you would be willing to do one of these a semester” Chan whispered because he knew the answer Seokmin would give, so it was better for the students not to hear.

“No” was all Seokmin said “But I’ll still buy you dinner”

Chan punched the air in celebration, catching the eyes of those around him, but he seemed to care very little.

"I just…"

What Seokmin was about to say, an announcement that he needed to go to the bathroom, died in his throat as he looked straight ahead.

Letter #2

Seokmin,

I thought I would be able to adapt faster here. It was very hard in the beginning with transport, getting around in general was very difficult. So I chose a weekend and went walking around the neighborhood where I live. I don't know how long I'll stay here, but I thought I should check it out. Besides, I can wake up in the middle of the night and decide that I want to eat something that I don't have at home, so it's good to know if there are any stores or markets that open in the middle of the night (in this neighborhood there aren't any, maybe that's why I won’t stay here).

I discovered that going out there, although productive, wasn't such a good idea. Nothing wrong happened, I didn't get hit on or someone was rude to me. Quite the contrary, most people pretended they weren't even seeing me. The problem was that everything made me think about you.

I walked by the store that sold a lot of random old things and decided to go in. You know I love filling the house with trinkets. I didn't find anything there that I liked, but I saw that they were selling camera films. For a moment I forgot everything that had happened and all I could think was, I think Seokmin is running out of film, I need to buy more because he will only realize when he doesn't have any left.

I bought it and brought it to the apartment. I opened the door and called your name. It was only later, when I noticed where I was, that it wasn't our apartment, that I realized what I had done.

Even without meaning to, even when I try not to, I find myself looking for you. Everywhere. I go to a restaurant and think about what you would like to eat, I see a dog on the street and I imagine you bending down to pet it. It's not on purpose, I just can't help it. I try, but it's in vain.

I wonder if it will pass. Will this feeling that I succeeded in my career but ruined my personal life disappear or will I feel like this forever — or at least for a good few years?

yn.

It was as if all the air had been ripped from your lungs and there was no way in the world to get you to breathe.

Somehow, some way, Seokmin was standing in front of you, in the middle of the college hallway.

For a moment it was as if you had been transported back in time, to when you were still 22 years old. In another moment you would have simply run up to him and thrown yourself into his arms as if you hadn't spent the whole night clinging to him, as if you hadn't seen each other before classes, as if you hadn't shared the smallest space in the world on the subway for 20 minutes. And your body seemed to remember all of this, like some kind of muscle memory, because you felt like you were being projected forward. Towards him.

You thought Seokmin would talk to you, you were sure he would. But you saw the way his gaze changed, the way it went from complete surprise to a hard look, completely different from anything you had ever seen from him.

In your memory, Seokmin was always brilliant and was always willing to welcome everyone with open arms, even when he felt more shy. You didn’t understand, that look he gave you was completely different from what you imagined could happen.

When you made the decision to return, you knew that there was a possibility of meeting Seokmin, no matter how small it was. You didn't know if he was still friends with the same people, if he still kept in touch with them. You certainly hadn't kept in touch with anyone - except for the two times you talked to Joshua. The possibility existed, but being realistic you knew it was as big as winning the lottery.

Of all the places you thought you could find Seokmin, college was the last one and maybe that was even why you accepted the job. When you were taking the last tests, the ones that would say whether you would graduate at the end of the semester or not, Seokmin was categorical in saying that he would never set foot inside college again. So you thought it was a place he would never go, but there he was. And in your first week, when you needed everything to go well. Not to show that you were ready and that you could do the job, but to reassure yourself that you had made the right choice in accepting the job.

You didn't have time to decide whether to talk to him or not. Seokmin made the decision for both of you. He continued walking as if you weren't there, talking to the boy next to him, laughing. The only indication that he knew who you were was silent once and one that only you could distinguish.

He turned around and left as if nothing had happened.

Was it possible that only you had felt that way? That just your heart had decided it didn't know how to beat, as if a storm was raging inside your body?

You didn't have time to analyze what had just happened. You just forced yourself to take a deep breath and also keep walking as if those brief seconds weren't enough to make your entire world turn completely upside down.

Seokmin dragged his feet into the room, tripping over the rug at the foot of the bed. A curse came out of his mouth, followed by a burp. When he invited Chan to dinner he had no intention of ending the night drunk, being carried home like someone who had just had his first drink.

It had been years since he had gotten that bad and it was comical that the previous occasion was also connected to you.

The memory of leaving you at the airport, on a flight in the middle of the night, was still vivid in Seokmin's mind. Worse than that memory, was the one of you telling him that you had gotten a place in a master's degree on the other side of the world, 18 hours before leaving the country.

“I need to tell you something” you said as he pulled his coat over his head and patted his pockets, making sure he had grabbed his keys, wallet, and phone. He needed to leave as quickly as possible, he was already late.

Seokmin had plans to ask you to marry him. He had rented a house where you could spend the weekend, where it would be possible to see the stars. He had prepared himself, but he needed to leave right that second so he would have enough time to go to the house, get everything ready and come back to get you. The owner of the house would help him, since Seokmin decided that he wouldn't tell any of his friends because they might just ruin the surprise.

“I'm already late” he said, quickly looking at his watch. "Did something happen?"

He asked, noticing your already somewhat desperate look. He knew that whatever had happened couldn't be good.

To be honest, he had noticed that something was wrong a few weeks before, and for a while, he decided it would be better not to get into it too much. He knew you well enough to know that you would offer the information when you felt ready to do so. But thinking back on everything, he wished he had asked before, he wished he hadn't given you space, he wished he had forced you to talk to him sooner.

“I passed my master’s degree abroad”

Seokmin’s first reaction was to be happy for you. He knew how much you wanted that, that it was your dream. So he did what any boyfriend would do, he hugged you and congratulated you, told you that you had tried so hard and that they would be idiots not to accept you. The feeling was true and his smile was genuine. He was happy for you.

Knowing what he knew, every now and then Seokmin wondered if he would have done anything differently if he knew what the next words would be out of your mouth. He could have made a fuss, he could have begged you to stay, he could have offered to go with you. But at the time he didn't do any of that.

“I’m leaving today, I need to be at the airport at 11 pm”

Seokmin's ears rang deafeningly. It was as if he had been punched and needed to brace himself against something. The sofa was the closest piece of furniture.

He thought he heard it wrong, he wished he was dreaming, but all he had to do was look at you. It was true. It was as if a puzzle was being completed in Seokmin's mind. The way you had suddenly become distant, how every time he entered the room you hurried to change or close whatever you were looking at on the computer. He didn't even know you signed up. He imagined that you must have done some kind of test, some interview and he didn't even know anything about it.

He had no idea.

Had he been a bad boyfriend, someone who was so focused on making the long-awaited proposal that he had ignored everything else? Or had you hidden it so well that he hadn't noticed?

"What? You’re leaving today?"

It was like the world was spinning too fast and he was trying to keep up with what was happening. It was like being on a roller coaster that kept on falling. He remembered well how the little box with the ring he had carefully chosen weighed in his pocket.

“I didn’t even know you had applied for a position” he whispered, almost just to himself “You didn’t tell me”

And it was at that exact moment, when he looked at you, that Seokmin realized that your relationship was over. You avoided looking at him, your hands were buried deep in the pockets of your coat, which was his. He saw your eyes fill with tears, you swallow hard, and remain silent.

It was unlike you, to stay quiet when you had too many things going through your head. He desperately wanted you to talk to him, to tell him what had been going through your head. He just wanted to understand. Did you believe he would somehow stop you from going? If there was one thing he knew about you, it was the fact that you always put your education first. It wasn't a secret and you didn't want it to be. He just didn't expect things to happen that way.

Seokmin sat in front of the closet, on the floor, and with difficulty opened the doors. Deep in the back, behind several shoe boxes, were two old boxes that he hadn't moved in years. Part of him wished the things inside the boxes were ruined, that they had mold and anything else that could ruin its content. But he had been careful, kept everything in order, taken all necessary precautions, and cleaned the closet periodically.

He ignored the first box and pulled the smaller one towards him, placing it on his bent legs. Seokmin wasn't one to revisit those memories, he liked to keep them as far away from him as possible, but on nights like those, it was impossible.

Seokmin knew what he would find and was sure how he would feel, but he still took the lid off the box, but he didn't dare take out any of the items inside it.

He knew he had reached his lowest point when he was holding on to memories he had of you and not focusing on what was actually happening in his life.

Letter #3

Seokmin,

I talked to Joshua today. Talk is a bit too strong of a word. We exchanged a few words on Instagram. He posted a photo and I liked it, he sent me a DM asking if I was ok and how things were going. I lied, of course. He said everything was fine and he was happy. He didn't talk about you and I didn't ask.

It was very hard to contain myself. I want to know how you are. The more selfish part of my brain wants you to be just as bad as I feel. You know that little demon that sits on our shoulder? He assures me you're even worse. And I hate to think that's the case, but at the same time, I'm sure you're not okay. I know you, we dated for four years, we lived together for almost two years

You were always the more emotional one of the two of us. You were never afraid to show your feelings, not for me or anyone else. You always loved so openly, without any fear. I admit that at first, it scared me a little.

I was an 18-year-old girl who came from a family that had no idea how to show affection, so I was always more reserved in that aspect. And there you were with your beautiful, bright smile, with open arms, affectionate with anyone who came along. I thought you were a crazy person who didn't have the slightest notion of the world. It took a while for me to realize that your world was brighter than mine in ways I couldn't understand.

You were always so untethered, free, showing yourself to anyone who had eyes. When I was closed and more reclusive, you were open and expansive. When I was very shy or reserved, you were more charming and brighter than usual. Not even my worst mood, which seemed endless at times, was a problem for you.

One day you just showed up and decided that you would stay by my side, no matter what. Believe me when I say, I tried to push you away. But with each passing day you were further under my skin.

A kiss at a random party turned into a date at every party, parties became meetings at the college library, which led to coffee dates. One day you decided at the end of each date you had to take me back to the dorms and you kissed me for a long time on the side of the building where no one could see — or at least I made myself believe no one did. Then that alone wasn't enough and you were always with your fingers intertwined with mine, or your arm around my waist. And kisses were no longer reserved for empty streets, of course not. You kissed me anywhere, anytime, no matter who was watching.

You were sneaky, Seokmin.

When I realized it, I was in love with you. Your arms were my refuge. You were my safe space. My home.

yn.

You hated that Seokmin’s reaction, or lack thereof, had gotten to you so much. It was like being punched, and then one more, soon the punch became a beating and to finish with a flourish, it was as if a truck had run over you.

You had plans to go out at the weekend, though alone. Everything was so different, the places you knew no longer existed and friends from the past no longer spoke to you. You would have to rediscover the city without anyone's help. Despite your plans, you couldn't bring yourself to leave the house.

When you decided to return, you knew there would be no way to escape Seokmin. He had become successful not only in his career as a broadcaster but also as a celebrity of sorts. You never imagined you would see his face in magazines or on billboards selling fried chicken. You didn't expect that when you turned on the TV you would see his face in different programs.

In fact, you knew all of that was happening, but somehow you managed to convince yourself that you wouldn't have to see any of it. You managed to make yourself believe that you would not be haunted by his images and voice.

When you were away, you always listened to his programs, more than once each one, but it was almost like a relationship between fan and celebrity. You could separate very well what was him and what was you. But being there, in the same country, in the same city, it was much more difficult to make that separation.

Because once you were back, Seokmin was no longer just the radio host with a show about relationships. Far from it. Seokmin was your college sweetheart, the guy whose heart you broke but who, even after seven years, was still in love with.

That was the reality. you were still in love with him. There was no relationship in the world, no man in the world, that would have made you forget about Seokmin. Sometimes it worked, sometimes you managed to forget about him for a few months and that feeling of loss, of emptiness, that had settled deep inside your heart became smaller and smaller. And then it would come back full on as if it had never left.

Maybe that was your curse, your punishment for leaving behind someone you could have spent the rest of your life with. And somehow you knew you would have been happy. Or at least a different kind of happiness.

After spending the weekend holed up inside your apartment, after convincing yourself that you needed to prepare for teaching classes and unpacking the move, she decided that on Tuesday night she would explore the city.

Exploring wasn't the right word. You had discovered that one of your favorite restaurants still existed, it had just changed location. And, despite being on the other side of the city and being completely aware that you would have to pay a fortune for a taxi or risk taking the subway alone almost at closing time, you decided to go anyway.

You needed to feel like one thing hadn't changed, or at least still be recognizable.

You heard your name being called a few minutes after sitting down. You raised your head, recognizing the voice, but couldn't tell who it belonged to. Directly in front of you was a woman, with short hair, in her fifties.

“It’s really you!”

You stood up and a second later you were being hugged. Maybe you had gone there for that reason, knowing that there would be someone there who would recognize you. Or at least you hoped there was. And when you were welcomed with open arms by her owner, Niah, you wanted to cry for the first time in a long time.

“Hi” was all you could offer, your voice weak.

You quickly turned your face away, trying to be discreet as you wiped away your tears. The last thing you wanted was to cry in front of someone else. Tears were reserved for dark moments in the silence of your apartment, they weren't meant to be seen by people you didn't even know in a crowded restaurant.

“Look how beautiful you look. You haven't been around for so long. Seokmin told us that you had gone abroad to study, but I thought you would come back sooner.”

You just managed to smile, even though it was embarrassing. It was strange to hear his name coming out of someone else's mouth so easily. For years, his name was just an echo in your own mind, almost as if it were a fantasy of yours.

There were days when you managed to convince yourself of this, that Seokmin was nothing more than a dream.

“Are you just visiting or are you back to stay?”

“I'm staying” you said after a second, when you managed to find your voice again “I got a job here, I have nowhere to run”

Niah laughed and hugged you once again, tighter this time.

"Great, that makes me happy. We always miss you” Niah smiled and ran her fingers down your cheeks, brushing away some tears that were stubborn to fall “What do you want to eat? Today it's on the house. Consider it a welcome gift.”

You took a deep breath, swallowing the lump in your throat and the remaining tears.

"What do you recommend?"

The amazing thing about meeting Niah again was that she still acted exactly the same way. She didn't see you as someone who had simply packed a suitcase of clothes and left the country overnight. To Niah you were still that same person from 7 years ago who ate whatever she put in front of. You and Seokmin were always guinea pigs for all the new recipes.

The food was still wonderful, if anything it had just gotten better.

You had a fork halfway to your mouth when you heard the door open, the sound of the bell indicating the entry of a new customer. You almost instinctively turned to look. You choked on your own saliva when your eyes met Seokmin's.

It was as if you were back in the hallway that day. Your heart simply stopped, and the world fell into suspension. For a moment, it was as if you had been transported to the past. You were almost certain that if you looked at the table you would see books open next to the cutlery; you knew that if you looked at Seokmin for another second or two his face would break into the most beautiful smile, he would wave and call your name.

But your illusion shattered into small pieces as his neutral expression contorted into a frown. With the same foot he entered he turned to leave.

“Seokmin!” you called him, getting up from your chair.

Part of you thought he was going to continue out the door, but he stopped. Half of his body was outside the restaurant, the other inside.

“Hurry up and close that door!” Niah said leaving the kitchen “You’re letting out all the heat”

Even with Niah's voice calling him, Seokmin remained standing at the door. You sat back down, but without taking your eyes off him. He didn't know what he expected of him, but he felt an indescribable relief when Niah pulled him by the sleeve of his coat and forced him to sit in front of you.

“The restaurant is packed, so you will have to share a table” she said as she turned her back.

Seokmin shook his head, clearly against sitting there, staying in the restaurant, but he still took off his coat and hung it on the chair before leaning back and crossing his arms over his chest.

It was clear he was working out, his shoulders had gotten broader and his arms bigger since you last saw each other. You almost laughed at the pose, remembering all the times you had seen him in a similar situation. But this wasn't the time to laugh when everything else was screaming that he was uncomfortable with the situation, that he didn't want to be there.

It didn't take a genius to know that Seokmin wanted nothing to do with you. His reaction to seeing you in the hallway the week before and the way he was looking at you in that moment were enough answers.

You felt like the walls were closing in around you and there wasn't enough air in the room.

What were you thinking when you called his name? What were you thinking when you silently watched Niah pull him inside? Why were you still sitting there?

A waiter who worked with Niah passed by your table and you called him discreetly, not wanting to attract the attention of the restaurant owner.

“Can you wrap everything to go, please?” you turned to Seokmin “You can have the table. I was already leaving”

It was a lie, but he didn't need to know that.

Seokmin laughed lowly, scornfully, his sideways smile making the hair on your arms stand on end. In general, Seokmin has always been the type of guy who didn’t lose his cool easily, who would always rather let things go than have any kind of confrontation. But when he really got stressed out or nervous, it took a while for him to calm down again.

You had seen that storm in his eyes very few times in the years you spent together. The last one was when he went to the airport to say goodbye to you. That day the storm was just confusion and pain, you knew you had done that to him. But he sat there in the restaurant, in front of you, in silence while the people around him chatted animatedly, completely oblivious to what was happening between the two of you.

"What it was?" you rolled your eyes.

“Ah, nothing” he said, waving his hand in a dismissive gesture “It’s just like you to do that”

You narrowed your eyes at the same time you felt your cheeks get hot.

"Do what?"

"Runaway"

Letter #4

Seokmin, 

It took me almost a year to convince myself that it was okay for me to look at social media. I convinced myself that every woman does this, that every now and then we look at our ex-boyfriend's Instagram, just to find out if his new girlfriend is ugly. I've told you this several times, but every female experience is universal.

I wish you were one of those low profile people, who post a picture every 6 months and it's a cut mango on a pretty plate. I wish you hadn't posted so many pictures. But more than anything, I wish I hadn't spent hours and hours looking at the photos. I wish I hadn't been analyzing every photo of you, I wish I hadn't thought “that's a new mole” and wondered which others had appeared since the last time we saw each other.

I had memorized every mole of yours. On your face, on your arms, on your back. On the worst days, when I missed you in a way that almost made me give up everything and go home, I kept remembering each one of them. I tried to remember the sound of your laugh, your voice, how you stroked my hair until I fell asleep when it wasn't a good day.

I keep wondering if one day this feeling will just go away.

It's been a year since I left. I went out with other guys, and I almost dated one of them, but you're always there in the back of my mind, almost comically because even against my will I can't help but compare them to you. I can't help but think that only you know how I like my coffee, how only you know that if I'm in my worst mood, there's no joke in the world that can make me laugh.

I know it's not fair to them. I gave you the chance to get to know me, I allowed you to get closer. I wanted you to come closer to me. Now I wonder if you're doing this for someone other than me.

I like to imagine that you also compare other women to me, that even now that you're dating I stay there, in the back of your mind, making fun of you.

Unfortunately, she's not ugly, but your smile was brighter when I was next to you.

yn.

To say that Seokmin had spent the rest of the week in an envious mood was an understatement. He was stressed and everyone around him soon noticed the change. He really tried not to let his personal life get in the way of his work. It was something he never struggled with. Work was work, what happened when the lights went out and he left the radio should never cross paths with each other. That week, however, it was impossible.

Meeting you at the restaurant caught him off guard. That day in the college hallway had been difficult, but he managed to just keep walking as if nothing had happened. He liked to pretend like he hadn't gone out with Chan right after and drank like there was no tomorrow, like he hadn't opened the boxes he had kept for years and cried while looking at the photos of the two of you together.

He had gone to the restaurant that day because he needed some form of comfort and didn't want to call any of his friends because he knew he would end up telling them everything that happened and would receive advice and words he would rather not hear. The restaurant was the best idea he had. Or maybe the worst possible one.

Maybe he had done it consciously, because he wanted to see you one more time, and wanted to make sure he hadn't imagined you. It wouldn't have been the first time.

In the first few months after you left, Seokmin got into the habit of visiting places he went with you, or places you liked to go alone. It was probably a form of torture, but he liked to imagine it was a way to forget and overcome the breakup. On several of those days, he believed he saw you. He realistically knew it wasn't you, he clearly remembered seeing you get on the plane and waited until it took off to leave the airport.

The worst thing that could have happened to him was you calling for him. Seokmin couldn't help but wonder if he had always reacted that way to you, if your presence was always so great that before he even saw you he knew you were nearby. That day, as soon as he opened the door, before he even saw you sitting there with your eyes wide open, he knew. He knew you were there.

The last thing he expected from you was you saying his name, as if asking him to sit with you, that Niah, knowing how the relationship had ended, would have made him sit in front of you.

Seokmin noticed your discomfort, the way your spine had become a little straighter, the way your eyes were hard and cautious at the same time. Your reaction made him angry. What right did you have to behave that way, as if you were hurt when all the decisions regarding a relationship both of you were in had been made by you?

You were the one who signed up for a master's degree abroad. It was you who never told him about your decision. It was you who kept everything secret, making him believe that the two of you were on the same page and that despite your different goals, you would be able to pursue them together.

Turns out he was wrong, those dreams were just his and didn't include him.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Chan asked for the thousandth time.

For the first time in a long time, Seokmin was having a hard time hiding how he really felt. That polished, carefully carved mask had fallen. It was a completely atypical day and everyone was able to notice his sudden change in mood. Even Chan, who normally did a great job of ignoring all the problems around him and focusing solely on his work, seemed to be walking on eggshells around him.

“It’s really obvious, isn’t it?” Seokmin asked in a low voice and Chan just nodded "And if I pretend it's because of the new segment, will anyone believe it?"

Again, Chan nodded. Since he had started the program, 3 years before, Seokmin would receive calls and speak directly to listeners. Although there were always interactions, those were always done through live chat and email when he received questions or stories from people who were not listening to the program when it was airing.

Seokmin wasn't nervous about the idea, he was actually excited. Chan knew this and knew that whatever the problem was, it was still the same as the day of the lecture. He didn't want to ask, and he didn't want to seem invasive, but he still wanted to make sure Seokmin was okay — or at least, well enough to do the program.

“I think everyone is already thinking that” was a lie and even Seokmin knew it, but he was grateful.

“You may already know this, but today we will start a new segment. We'll call it the heart to heart helpline, at least until we find a better name at least” Seokmin's voice and laugh resonated through the taxi “We'll take your calls and some of you will be able to talk to me and ask your questions live, instead of by chat. Each person will have a maximum of 2 minutes and we will answer 6 calls today”

You had left the house completely willing to avoid anything related to Seokmin. Realistically, you knew you couldn't do anything about the billboards and his face at bus stops, but you could very well avoid his radio show. And for a few weeks you had managed to do just that.

That day at the restaurant had almost been a cathartic moment. Somehow, it was as if something had clicked and fallen into place. The Seokmin you left behind no longer existed. It had been a naive thought to think so. You didn't expect that he would still be exactly the same person, of course not. Seven years had passed and Seokmin, like you, was approaching his thirties. Obviously, many things had changed, but you still expected to see traces of that 22-year-old boy you had known and loved.

You didn't spend more than five minutes with him at that table. And it was much more than enough. He had accused you of running away, of continuing to do this for years. Of course, that could be his view on everything, but it was never your intention. The only problem was that you hadn't been able to tell him those things. You had been so lost and so completely helpless in front of him that you had forgotten that you knew how to speak and form sentences.

You had spent years of your life writing letters to him, letters that he would never read, but that was beside the point. You wrote letters as a way to appease the emptiness you felt in your heart. You never, not for a second, thought you were running away. You never wanted to run away, but Seokmin seemed to believe you did.

In a sudden burst of anger, you took your phone out of your bag and dialed the number Seokmin spoke on the radio. You didn't expect your call to go through. In fact, you didn't even know what you expected.

“Please wait a minute, we will connect your call” a non-robotic voice said as you paid for the taxi.

Seokmin was still chatting animatedly with a listener who didn't have a real question, but who “just wanted to say that I really liked your show and that I’m a fan.” It was impossible not to roll your eyes. If she, and everyone else, knew how much of a complete asshole he could be just because he had the opportunity, they would never want to see his face again.

Or maybe they would team up against you in favor of the immaculate Seokmin. God knew how easily a man could turn public opinion in his favor with a beautiful smile. And God was also a witness that Seokmin's smile was simply wonderful, one that took your breath away, one that made you smile along because it was contagious.

“Welcome to the heart to heart helpline” Seokmin’s voice sounded in your ear “What’s your question?”

You didn't really think that your call would get through to Seokmin, you didn't think the signal would be good enough inside the elevator, but none of that seemed to be a problem.

“Hello, can you hear me?” he asked.

You took a deep breath and closed your eyes. You knew you were going really crazy, but you decided to throw caution out the window and be the crazy person everyone used to believe you were.

“Yes, I’m here” you could have sworn, that even over the phone, you felt Seokmin tense up “It’s a question about an old relationship, we broke up years ago, if that’s okay”

You struggled with your keys, trying to unlock the door as quickly as possible. You needed to get to your computer or tablet, whichever was closer. It was almost a physical necessity to see Seokmin's reaction to your voice, your question.

You always knew how to tell if he was truly calm or if he was masking what he was feeling. You wanted to know if you still had any other sort of effect on him. Whatever it was, it was better than angry disdain.

“Old relationships should stay in the past, don’t you think?” he finally said.

You nodded as you ran into your room. You knew you would find the tablet under your pillow — you were sure that if your mother saw it she would say that your brain would explode due to the radiation from the device. With a few taps, you opened the stream of Seokmin's program.

“I think so. But the problem is that we keep seeing each other. I don’t think it’s something either of us want, but it seems inevitable.”

You turned the sound off, you just wanted to focus on his reactions. Seokmin swallowed hard, his eyebrows furrowed and his eyes fixed on the microphone in front of him. To anyone, it just seemed like he was concentrating on the call, on what the person on the other end of the line had to say, but you knew very well that it was to hide his reactions.

"Your question?"

“Well, he called me selfish and said I ran away when we broke up, but that's not exactly what happened. I wanted to talk to him, but I don’t think he wants to listen to me.”

Seokmin took a deep breath and seemed to think about what to say next, his eyes no longer on the microphone, but on the ceiling.

“And why does he think that about you? You probably gave him reasons, don't you think? I don’t think anyone would think that about someone without anything having happened.”

“I always dreamed of studying abroad, so when the opportunity came, I went. I…"

“Did you tell him you were going?” Seokmin clenched his fists on the desk, his fingers gripped the pen in his hand tightly until his knuckles were white. “Did you give him a chance to say something or did you just walk away?”

You were speechless, eyes focused only on Seokmin. The way his hair perfectly framed his face, his sculpted thin nose. He was still exactly like he was seven years ago, just somehow different. He was the same, but he also wasn't.

You hadn't given him the chance to say anything, you had just walked away, but because you believed it was the best thing to do. You would have stayed if he had asked, I would have aborted all of your plans for him,

“Long distance relationships don’t work” you said finally, your voice lower “especially when there’s an ocean separating people”

“I'm going to guess and say that you were together for a while because I don't think anyone would care that much about a quick relationship” his voice became more sober, completely in control of his emotions, the opposite of what you felt,  like you were enclosed every second that passed “I agree with you, long-distance relationships don’t work. Different cities are already complicated, I can't imagine what it would be like to be with someone who lives in another country. You didn't give many details, but I believe he had reasons to feel that way, just as you had your reasons for leaving without warning. I think the best thing for both of you is to let it fall into oblivion. It makes no sense for either of you to dwell on these feelings. Maybe your desire to talk exists because you think you've left things open with him, but he may think that what's in the past shouldn't be remembered. Maybe you're just a bad relationship he wants to forget.”

Letter #5

Seokmin

I found out by chance that you now have your own radio show. One day it was an empty slot in the schedule and the next it was your voice. To my joy and delight, it was one of those programs that also had video streaming. I say joy and delight in a very ironic way.

But I'm not lying when I say I'm happy for you. You always said it was your dream and in a way, here we are, achieving our dreams. It would have been better if we could have lived through this together, I think. Maybe if that were the case I wouldn't have this empty feeling inside my chest.

But I discovered a long time ago that I can't keep crying over spilled milk. I left and you moved on with your life. They were conscious choices, I knew what I was doing. I knew that making this choice would have hurt both of us, but I also knew that we could overcome it. It's just taking longer than expected. I honestly thought that by this point, so many years later, we would have been able to live as if the past were just that, the past.

But it's not like that for me or for you.

I may be completely crazy, but your show is about love advice and how to deal with heartbreak. Sometimes, when I hear you talk, I'm sure you've already dealt with all your feelings, after all, you've had other girlfriends. But there are other moments, when you answer a question or when you read one of the pre-written texts when I'm sure that what you said applies directly to what we both had.

I'm going crazy, aren't I?

It's been four years since I left. I already finished my master's degree and started my PhD, exactly as planned. I have a date tonight with a guy who seems genuinely nice, but here I am, writing yet another letter that will never be sent to the guy I was in love with.

What am I still doing?

yn

Seokmin had always believed that for a relationship to truly end there must be no trace of it anywhere. When he told his listeners that they should get rid of items, it was not a lie. He was just terrible at following his own advice. The old story of do as I say, not as I do.

Finally, he decided it was time to take his own advice. With a little pain and resentment added to the mix, of course. At this point, he wondered if he could already be considered a masochist or if he still had a few boxes to tick to get the title.

Getting your address had been easier than expected. All he had to do was ask Niah, who offered the information without any resistance.

“Being thirty didn't make either of you any smarter,” she said as she leaned across the table and wrote the address on the napkin.

“Almost thirty” he felt the need to correct her, but decided he would ignore the hidden message in her words.

Seokmin never stopped going to Niah's restaurant. It was there that he had cried his sorrows over the cheapest drinks possible, he didn't have the money to pay for the good ones, while Joshua tried to console him. He had never seen Niah so stressed and angry. She hadn't said anything, but you could clearly hear the sound of her cutting the vegetables more aggressively than necessary.

Little by little she became calmer about the situation and started talking about you with the same affection as before. Seokmin always thought she had somehow kept in touch with you, or at least found a way to get your number or a way to contact you. At first, he had been angry, but somehow he believed he didn't have that right. It was only after a year that Seokmin decided to ask and the answer he received was “if I still had contact with her, I would have already screamed at her about disappearing without telling anyone”.

Asking Niah for your address was the only option he had. He refused to go to college, where you worked. He didn't know what would happen, whether you would be friendly with each other or the conversation would end in a shouting match just because. Because after years of no contact and considering the way things ended, it was pretty obvious that resentment could resurface — at least Seokmin had resentment up to his neck and knew that not releasing them all at once required almost inhuman self-control. 

He looked at the building one more time before getting out of the car. It was one of those without a doorman. Seokmin knew that if he rang and asked to be let in, the probability of being sent to hell was very high. So he pulled up his cap down and covered as much of his face as he could while he balanced the boxes on his arms.

He stood there like a madman for almost twenty minutes until someone finally left the building. Seokmin felt like he was committing a crime when he slipped through the door before it closed. Even though the feeling was strange he made himself believe it was the only option he had and he really didn't have any bad intentions. He just wanted to return your things and, hopefully, arrange that if you ever met again, you’d simply pretend you don't know each other, instead of talking nonsense to each other.

Seokmin took a deep breath once before knocking on the door. He heard footsteps and a second later the door opened.

When you imagined what your Wednesday night would be like, the only option that crossed your mind was to order a pizza and watch a movie — the random option of Netflix seemed like your best friend and the only possible option because you weren't even able to choose what to watch by yourself.

Not even in your wildest daydreams could you have imagined that Seokmin would show up at your door with two boxes in his hand.

You were partially tempted to close the door on his face, but you knew that doing so would only make the whole situation worse. If Seokmin, who clearly didn't have any good feelings about you, was standing there at your door it was because he had something to say. Or more precisely to hand it over to you, considering the boxes in his arms.

Silently you stepped aside so he had enough room to enter. You wanted to slap yourself for the complete war zone that your living room was in. You were still unpacking the moving boxes, not that you had taken much with you. It was too expensive to send things from one country to another, especially furniture. You had only focused on your clothes and books and a few things you wanted to keep, and that alone was more than you were willing to spend. In addition to the boxes, you had all the things you still had to buy, but you still didn't have the mind to do it.

You had so much going through your head that cleaning the apartment was just another task you wanted to avoid. But it was one that could be left for later. In the few minutes that Seokmin spent there, you wished you had tidied it up, that he hadn't seen how that room represented your life at that moment: a complete mess.

"What are you doing here?" you finally asked when you managed to get your vocal cords to work properly.

Seokmin didn't seem to care about the mess but paid attention to everything else around him.

He placed the boxes on the counter and took off his cap, pressing the brims with his fingertips looking for what to say next. He had rehearsed an almost poetic speech in the car, something about being adults and how your relationship had ended a long time ago, so neither of you should have any regrets left. But the moment you opened the door and looked at him it was as if all the words had simply evaporated from his mind, as if he had never learned to speak in the first place.

It had always been that way with you. Sometimes when he looked at you, even when you were still together, he got lost. He was like a man adrift who had finally found solid land. It was as if he heard a click and the world started to move once again.

One of his favorite things, when you were dating and living together, was being able to come home after an exhausting day and see you sitting on the sofa in the living room, your computer on your lap, while you studied, occasionally shouting profanities at the computer. On those days, Seokmin would simply push the computer away and lay his head on your lap.

“Just five minutes” he used to say with his eyes closed.

You’d laugh, fingers immediately running through his hair, as if it was the most natural movement in the world.

“Who do you want me to insult today? You know my vocabulary is very colorful.”

How many times had he slept in that position, without meaning to, and you had to drag him to bed because “it's comfortable for you, but my legs are numb and you have to take a shower, you won't sleep dirty next to me, sir”.

It was impossible not to wonder where it all went wrong.

“I came to return your things” he pointed at the boxes.

You suppressed the urge to bend down and rummage through the boxes. You wanted to know what he had kept, what he considered important enough to keep for so many years. You knew he no longer lived in the apartment you shared. When you were looking for apartments you saw that that one was up for rent. It was necessary to restrain yourself from choosing it. It wasn't a good apartment, at least not at the time — the photos on the website said the property had undergone renovations two years earlier and had no tenants since. It wasn't big, it barely fit one person, but it was what your extremely limited budget could afford at the time. Somehow you and Seokmin turned that small space into a home full of life. Of love.

In the places where you lived, you bought all kinds of trinkets to fill the space, furniture you didn't need and never used, hoping to imitate, for even a second, the feeling you had in that little 35 square meter apartment.

You never quite managed to do that.

“Thank you” you said sincerely “I thought all my things had gone in the trash”

You laughed and Seokmin squeezed the back of his head and pointed at the boxes.

“I sold what I could, I didn't want to put it in storage because I really thought we would never see each other again. The money is in an envelope”

“Why did you keep all this?” the words came out of your mouth before you could stop yourself “You should have thrown it away or, since you sold it, you should have spent the money”

Seokmin had asked himself that question several times before, sober or not, and he never had an answer. After a while, he simply stopped questioning and accepted it as something he had to do, to have some kind of sanity. It didn’t. Knowing that those boxes were inside his wardrobe, having to go through them the two times he moved, only brought back memories that he would like to forget.

Ever since you had seen each other again for the first time, memories that Seokmin had struggled to bury came to the surface as if they had just happened. He started to dream about you, dreams that range from memories to things that never actually happened, he started to wonder if it would be okay to talk with someone. His brain always screamed NO, so he was stuck just dreaming.

“I don’t have a good enough reason. It is what it is, I guess,” he said.

The last time Seokmin felt so embarrassed around you was right when you met and even then it only lasted a few minutes. The 18 year old Seokmin was much braver than the 29 year old man in front of him.

That boy, without any guilt or remorse, would have asked every question that could cross his mind. You’d say “your mind is beautiful, it even echoes sometimes”. Seokmin wanted to still have some of that boy's strength. Maybe that was the only way to know what he wanted. He wouldn't ask and he knew you wouldn't offer the information to him without being pressured.

“I think in the end, we both got what we wanted.”

You realized you said the wrong thing when you looked at Seokmin’s hands. A second before he was clutching his cap until his knuckles turned white, the next his long fingers were still. You didn't want to see the expression on his face. You knew what you’d find. You messed up, but couldn’t take back what you said.

“You got what you wanted” Seokmin corrected you, his voice firm, his tone hard.

“You always wanted to have a radio show”

“No, I wanted you. I could adapt to everything else if it meant I would have you.”

You shook your head. You knew it wasn't true. Hell, even Seokmin knew it wasn’t true. The first time you talked, Seokmin mentioned how much he wanted to be a radio host and have his own show, of any kind. I don't have a preference, I know I can give anything my own colors. You felt envious of his certainty, of the way he knew he could do it.

“The show has always been your dream” you tried again, despite knowing it was in vain to argue with him.

“My dream was to have a life by your side. You never, not once, told me that you signed up to study abroad, you never even mentioned it. When it was time to go you just got on a plane and disappeared. You never even gave me the chance to follow you. I could have been a journalist anywhere in the world”

Seokmin hated the direction of that conversation, hated being so exposed in front of you after so many years. In the past, it wasn't a problem. Before he wanted to be exposed in front of you, he wanted to share everything he was, every aspect of himself with you. No more. The problem was that he couldn't just stop. A gate was opened and there was no way to close it.

“So, what? Would we both be living based on our dreams? Because this is a dream, and you know it very well.”

You clung to the top rail of the chair, your head lolling forward in an almost futile attempt to stop him from seeing the tears forming in your eyes. You knew you couldn't hold them.

You weren't the type of person who cried often, you did what you could to avoid it, but when the tears came it was impossible to simply stop them from falling.

“Yeah, maybe I was really dreaming, because I believed that you loved me in the same proportion, but it’s quite obvious that you didn’t”

Seven years of pent-up frustration couldn't just disappear, he should have known. He should have imagined that going there would be a problem, that being in the same space as you without any kind of interference was a mistake. But he was still there and there was no way to escape. It was better to end everything quickly than to keep those feelings for another seven years in the hopes of one day being able to say something.

Seokmin watched as you went to one of the boxes in the corner of the room and opened it forcefully, tearing the cardboard, and causing some of the contents to slide across the floor. He felt his body freeze as a roll of film stopped at his feet.

“So explain to me, why do I buy a roll of film every time I pass by a store?” you put both hands inside the box and took out several rolls of film, of different brands and models. “Explain to me, why have I followed your career all this time and never missed a damn show in the last 3 years? Why would I wake up in the middle of the night to watch the broadcast and then listen to the show again while going to work because I just wanted to hear your voice?”

You walked to another box, but you opened this one a little more carefully as if wanting to protect the contents.

“Why did I spend 7 years writing letters that would never be read to a guy I never loved?”

You threw several envelopes at Seokmin’s chest. Your face and body shook out of anger or another feeling he couldn't quite tell.

Seokmin bent down to pick up one of the envelopes from the floor. His name was written in your careful handwriting. He didn't need to look at all the other ones to know that they were also addressed to him. He didn't know how many letters were scattered on the floor, or if there were any left in the box. The only thing he was sure of was that he had no idea how to proceed.

“If that doesn’t say I loved you, if that doesn’t say I still love you, I don’t know what the fuck does.”

Seokmin saw the first tear run down your face and fell silent. He knew he should turn his back, he knew he should walk away, just like you did seven years before. Instead, he took four steps in your direction, his eyes never left your heaving chest and the tears that ran freely over your cheeks. 

At that moment he knew that he only had two options: he could turn around and leave, he gave you back your things that alone made his plan a success; or he could kiss you like he had been wanting to since the moment he saw you again.

To hell with his plan.

Seokmin held your face in his hands and pulled you to him, crashing his lips on yours. It was an all too new feeling but also familiar, almost like coming to a remodeled home. It was him and it was you, if only it was just that simple. 

You sighed into him, your arms wrapping around his slim waist while your hand balled a fist full of his shirt. There were so many moments where you wished you could be right in that spot, again in his arms. Dreams and daydreams, wishful thinking, whatever you could call it. Thoughts of Seokmin had always been a constant in your mind. It was impossible not to compare other people you went out with to him. 

Your longest relationship had been one of almost a full year. Although the beginning had been good and easy, with you somehow managing to avoid any and all Seokmin related dreams and thoughts, it turned sour the second he crossed your mind.

“Seokmin, I…”

He shook his head and pressed his forehead to yours, eyes so intense that it was difficult to keep looking at him. 

“Let’s not overthink it, okay?” was all he said. 

You held his face for a couple, searching for something in his features, anything at all, that could indicate that the moment wasn’t for that. But all you saw in him was the same emotions you felt, the same need and desire. 

You pulled Seokmin to you again, this time hungrier, your chest pressed to his. Your mind was loud telling you all the reasons why you shouldn’t be doing that, why having him so close to you was truly the most dangerous situation you could possibly put yourself in. But all of those voices, all of those words and thoughts were silenced the moment he kissed you again. 

His lips were hungry, demanding all of you. And it was so easy to just give in to him, to his hands roaming on your body, down your back until he reached your ass. He gave it a light squeeze and ran his hand back up again, this time under your shirt. You moaned softly at the contact of his skin on yours, as he kissed your neck, bitting on the exact same spot he found years before. 

He smiled over your skin. 

“At least this hasn’t changed”

It was all too much but not nearly enough. Just having him that close to you was dizzying enough but him touching you and enjoying the fact that you were just as weak for him at twenty nine made you never want to let go of him again.

“Where’s your room?”

You took Seokmin by the hand, guiding him through the narrow corridor. 

Your room was barely a room to begin with. You had no furniture except for the mattress lying on the floor, your clothes were either on the suitcase or on the chair on the side. 

“This is unlike you” Seokmin said, his chest pressed to your back while he nibbled on the skin of your neck. 

“I… hm… I” you sturred a little when he bit into a particularly sensitive spot, making him chuckle “I’m waiting on delivery”

Seokmin turned you around in his arms while lightly pushing you down on the mattress. His eyes never left yours as he ran his hand under your shirt, moving the fabric up until your chest was exposed. 

It had been so long since you had been with anyone, it was almost like a reflex to want to pull your shirt back down. Since him, it had been hard to just let yourself be exposed to someone like that. You had become awfully aware of your body and things you never cared for or paid attention to before suddenly became worries. You didn't like that insecure version of yourself but when Seokmin cupped your breast in his hand his touch was almost solemn. 

It was probably the worst timing in the world when you felt tears burn on the back of your eyes. You pulled his face to yours again, trying to hide your tears from him once again. 

Suddenly, his touch was tender when he pushed a few strands of hair away from your face, his fingers careful. 

Seokmin moved down on your body. When you saw his fingers on the waistband of shorts you lifted your hips off of the mattress to help him move the fabric down quicker. 

He kissed your hips and inner thigh. You moaned in anticipation, your hand taking a fist full of his soft hair. When his lips finally found your clit it was like fireworks erupted behind your closed eyelids.

Seokmin was impossibly hard in his pants, embarrassingly so like he was a teenager having his first time. 

He never thought that he would have you in his arms again and yet there you were in front of him, no reservations. Just for him. And for a moment it was like his brain was in short circuit, the small electric waves running all over his body, down to his toes. 

He licked a path from your cunt to your clit. He went down on you almost in desperation, his nose brushing on your clit every now and then. 

"Seokmin..." his name was barely a whisper in your lips, but it was also a chant. 

Your orgasm hits you quickly, leaving you short of air and with shaky legs. You were spiraling in the most enticing way possible. It didn't stop Seokmin though as he kept sucking you frantically. 

You tugged on his hair, pulling him up and to you again. 

I love you,  the words almost fell out of your lips. It would have been so easy to just say them, to be open about your feelings just this once. 

Deep down you knew that that moment would be a one time kind of thing. It was just the kind of moment people sometimes needed to just completely let go of everything. Or in this case, nothing. It was to let go of seven years of complete nothingness and silence.

You opened the button of his jeans and pushed it down, his boxers following along. You wrapped your hand around his cock, pumping him a couple of times. Realization suddenly came over you. You never expected Seokmin to show up to your place, much less that it would lead to that moment, and there wasn't anyone else in your life, so you weren't ready for it. 

"I don't have a condom" you said breathlessly.

Seokmin looked lost for a second, his brain going to his wallet, questioning whether or not he had one in him. 

"I can pull out," he said "if that's okay"

All you did was nod and Seokmin aligned himself with your hole. He pushed in slowly, savoring each moment when your pussy pulled him in until there was no space between the two of you. 

Seokmin kissed you again to give himself time to adjust to you squeezing him. You held his face close to yours, in your eyes a mix of emotions he didn't want to understand. Not in that moment at least.

"I don't want anyone else," you said looking into his eyes, your thumb running over his bottom lip "No one else can make me feel the way you do"

To hell with care and self-preservation. You let go of those the moment you opened the door for him, the moment you let him into your home, the moment you didn't push him away when he kissed you. 

Seokmin fucks you slowly, his pace torturous as you beg and beg for more. He intertwined his fingers with yours and held one of your hands above your head while the other one held your hips in place. 

"Seokmin... harder"

And it's like a switch has gone off inside his brain. His once slow pace becomes shallow. The sound of your breaths and his skin slapping against yours were the only ones heard, echoing through the empty room. 

Your orgasm sneaks up on you, catching you so off guard you scream because it's too much. 

You pushed Seokmin away and watched in ecstasy as he wrapped his hand around his cock, his hand working fast as your name left his lips when his release fell on the sheet by your side. 

Seokmin dropped his body over yours again, his forehead on your shoulder. You closed your eyes and ran your hand over his hair. 

"I love you" you allowed yourself to say, even if it meant nothing to him. 

Letter #6

Seokmin,

I never thought I'd say this, but I'm coming home. Or the closest thing I still have to a home. Needless to say, my mother is happy with the news. She's been tormenting me for years, asking me to come back, but since I set foot here I decided I wasn't going back.

I wanted to, but I wouldn't go back.

Every time I thought about going back, the first thing that came into my head was the last image I had of you. Your teary eyes wishing me a safe flight, saying I love you and hope you accomplish everything you want. I regretted it the moment I gave my things away and handed my passport into the hand of the airline girl. I should have come back, I should have given up, but I couldn't. That old story of putting myself first and second, you know how it goes. In this case, my entire top 10 was just different versions of me.

I think I actually felt scared because as time went by, little by little without me realizing it right away, you became a very big part of my life. A part that could change everything. I felt like I depended on you too much. It wasn't fair to you or me.

We were only 22, Seokmin. When we were so young, we thought that life was conquered and today I know that is not the case. Far from it. At 22 I had a degree and worked part-time at a cafe to pay the bills, just like you.

You might think I'm selfish, I'm sure you do based on the things you say on your show. I was selfish and on some level, I don't regret it. I did what I always planned to do, what I always wanted to do. And now I'm coming home.

Part of me wants to run and find you, explain why I made the decisions I did, why I never told you. But I know you won't want to listen to me. I wouldn't want to listen to me either. Why would I listen to someone who left just like that? It really wouldn't make sense.

But another part, this one a little more rational, says that I shouldn't throw salt into the wound after so many years have gone by. I have the scar here, hidden enough for no one to see, but prominent enough for me to remember what I did every single day.

I think that's what I'm going to do. I think that's what I have to do. It wouldn't be fair to just show up in front of you and say “hi, I'm back” after seven years.

You have become a big “what if” for me. What if I had stayed? Would we have stayed together or would our relationship have ended years ago? What if I had told you what I was doing while I was doing it? Would you have asked me to stay? What if I had given the possibility of a long-distance relationship? Would we have worked out or would you start to resent me for leaving and end up hurting each other anyway?

The most absurd thing is that I still like you, I'm still in love with you. I've always heard that distance makes love end or something like that. I haven't seen you in seven years, I don't know what's going on in your life — you're really good at hiding everything being a celebrity now — so it doesn't make any sense that my feelings haven't changed even after all this time. This guy I see online might not be the Seokmin I fell in love with, just like I'm not the same person you remember.

Every time I hear your voice I still feel butterflies in my stomach. I sleep and dream about you. When I wake up I think about you and I wonder if you think about me too. It is not normal. It's not healthy. Life went on and I think it is our obligation to move forward together. We are not a museum to only feed on the past.

Let's continue as we are now, what do you think? We will once again be in the same country, in the same city, but I think it's best for both of us to pretend that nothing will change. It's a huge city, what are the chances of us meeting?

yn

Before you even opened your eyes, you already knew what you would find. Or who you wouldn't find. You knew the space next to you on the mattress would be empty. You had noticed the exact moment Seokmin had gotten up, but you forced yourself to believe that he had just gone to the bathroom. You had kept your eyes closed and had somehow gone back to sleep.

You had been naive to think that the night had changed something, that the way everything seemed like it would be fine was an indication that things had finally gotten back on track. If any, the train simply ended up derailing.

When Seokmin kissed you it was magical, no matter how cliché and teenage it may sound. It was as if the world had fallen into place again, as if you had finally returned home after being away for so long. You couldn't help but wonder if that was why you'd taken the job, in the foolish, unconscious hope that there might be a chance, however slight, of being with him again.

You forced yourself to sit up and pulled the sheet up to cover your naked body. The shirt and shorts you wore the night before were next to you on the floor, but you refused to wear those clothes, opting to rummage through the boxes in the corner of the room looking for clean ones.

You didn't want to go to the living room, didn't want to be mocked by the two boxes that Seokmin had left on the counter, but you couldn't help it. It was as if your feet had a life of their own. When you realized it, you were already sitting on the living room floor with the two boxes in front of you.

You momentarily decided to ignore the smaller black box and pulled the large one closer. The first thing you saw was the envelope Seokmin mentioned the night before. Money, especially the one in the envelope, wasn't something you were going to worry about. You didn't care about it, you didn't lie when you told him that he should have spent it. That money would remain untouched.

There were also a few books you read and made annotations on, two stuffed animals, and all the picture frames you had left behind.

One of the things you regretted the most was not taking with you when you left were photos of you and Seokmin. You had only taken one, which was folded inside your wallet. It was already so old and worn out that it had almost turned to dust, but you would never get it out. It was you and Seokmin at Niah's old restaurant, he was smiling at the camera while you looked at him. It was your favorite picture.

At the bottom of the box was the camera you had given Seokmin as a birthday present a few months before you left. You had saved whatever money you could for months to buy him the camera he wanted, one that he always talked about and whenever you passed by a store you stood outside looking at it, almost as if it would magically appear in his hands.

You understood his reasons for leaving the camera there — or, at least, the reasons you could imagine—but you wished he had kept using it. Not because it was a gift from you, but because it was something he wanted. His smile was so big when you gave it to him, the tip of his nose slightly pointed down because of it.

Carefully you put everything back inside and put it aside.

The smaller box, for some reason, was scary. It was light and black, and you could hear its contents moving as you held it in your hands. You took one last deep breath and removed the lid.

Inside were photos you had never seen before. Photos of you alone, Seokmin wasn't in any of them. In none of them were you posing or smiling directly at the camera.

Most of them had been taken from a distance, without you noticing. In some you were inside the cafe where you worked, smiling at customers and serving tables, in others you were simply walking down the street, looking through window shops and pointing at something. Seokmin had taken countless photos of you without you even realizing it.

It was strange to see yourself through his eyes, even if it was a version of you that no longer existed. A much younger and more optimistic version. Did I smile that much? you couldn't help but ask. You never saw yourself as particularly optimistic or constantly smiling. You were happy, that's undeniable, but you didn't know that's how people saw you.

There were so many photos, from completely different moments, both from the beginning of your relationship with Seokmin, and from all the phases you went through together.

Behind the pictures were the post-its that you left around the apartment, reminding Seokmin of somewhere you had together or simply saying that you loved him. So many had a simple “I love you” written on them, others said “have a good day today!”.

You had no idea he had kept them. You always thought that once read, they were discarded, but there they were, intact as if you had just written them.

The very first one you had ever written, when you had just started dating, was also there. At the time, unlike Seokmin who never had a hard time expressing how he felt, it was almost impossible for you to be openly honest. So you wrote it on a post-it and stuck it inside one of his notebooks. He had shown up at the dorm a few hours after you left the library.

“Say it again, but this time looking at me”

You frowned, pretending you didn't understand.

“Your nose is beautiful”

You laughed when Seokmin wrapped his arms around you, squeezing a little, trapping your arms close to your body. His face was very close to yours.

“What you wrote in the note” he said softly, his cheek pressed against yours “Say it again, please”

The truth was that you had loved Seokmin, in a way you didn't believe was possible and maybe that was why you spent the last seven years writing letters to him.

Seokmin never left your mind, not truly. There was always a desire, even if veiled, to return home, to find out how he was, to just say “I know I messed up, I’m sorry”.

It was that desire that made your entire body go cold as you took one last item out of the box. A smaller box that fit in the palm of your hand. You knew what it was before you even opened it and opening it was the worst choice at that moment. Your heart, which was already broken, somehow managed to break even more, into a billion, shiny, new pieces.

Seokmin would have proposed if you hadn't left.

When the first sob echoed through the living room, you didn't try to hold it back, you just accepted the feeling of being absolutely lost and heartbroken.

The weather outside the building seemed to mimic the way you had felt in the last few weeks, torrential rain that had no end in sight. You watched the news hoping for an improvement, hoping that the rain would stop for at least a few hours, but it seemed like a distant dream.

All your students were already gone and there was nothing left for you to do. The handed in assignments were graded and the tests were ready to be applied the following week. You had never hated yourself so much for simply doing your job. You wanted to be, at least for that day, like other teachers who left corrections until the last possible second and left students desperate for their grades.

The hallway was in complete silence, a clear sign that everyone had left already. And you had already waited hours for the rain to stop, until the sky was completely dark, and if anything the rain had only gotten worse.

You sighed and picked up your bag from the chair. You wouldn't risk taking any books, papers, or documents home, the possibility of everything getting ruined was too big. Besides, you needed a rest, at that point it was well deserved.

Ever since you had opened the boxes Seokmin left behind, you had immersed yourself in work in every way possible. You had accepted all of the dean's requests and even offered to teach extra classes whenever there was a missing professor.

And even so, even though you had more work than you wanted, you still found time to look at all of his social media. You still listened to all his programs, even listened to the old ones before going to sleep.

It was almost like a form of elaborate torture done solely and exclusively with you in mind. And worst of all, it was self-inflicted. It was as if your brain liked it, begged for it.

The box with the engagement ring was next to your pseudo bed. It was the last thing you saw before going to sleep and the first thing you saw when you woke up. Instead of spending hours on your phone, you sat there, staring at the small box.

You hadn't dared to open it again. You had never felt so lost as you did that day, looking at that ring.

You wouldn't be a hypocrite to say that you had never imagined your life if you had married Seokmin, but before it was nothing more than a daydream. The ring made that dream an attainable reality. It had been in your hands and you just walked away.

A curse left your lips when you noticed that the umbrella you had used that morning was missing from the umbrella holder next to the door.

“Great, that’s exactly what I needed” you muttered, slamming the door shut behind you.

You were tired, exhausted to tell the truth. All you wanted was to get home, take a shower, and watch some relationship reality show, to escape the tragedy that was your own love life.

You closed your eyes and sighed as you reached the entrance. The next bus stop or subway station was at least a 15 minute walk away. That was a problem that existed when you went to school there, everything was far away. One would think that they would do something to improve that, but one would be wrong.

You thought about taking shelter in the nearest coffee shop, but you knew it was almost closing time. You wouldn't be the person who forces employees to stay late, not when you had worked at that exact coffee shop years ago.

Even with your heavy coat covering most of your body, the rain was cold on your back and it was hard to see anything ahead, even if it was just a few steps away. Even the sound of cars was muffled by the rain.

“yn?” a car was on your left, and it was moving at the same speed as you. The face of whoever was behind the wheel was blurred by the rain, but you would have recognized that voice anywhere in the world.

“Let me give you a ride”

You shook your head. The last thing you should do was get in the car with him. It was too dangerous, you were sure that if you looked at him for more than a second you’d start crying. Just by hearing his voice your eyes were burning and a lump was forming in your throat.

“It’s fine, the bus stop is right there”

“There was an accident back there, the bus won’t be here anytime soon”

You grumbled. Of course, there was an accident, of course, there wouldn't be a bus and with your luck, the subway would probably be closed too.

"If your car went through the accident, a taxi will too”

You quickened your pace, not because of the rain, but because you wanted to get away from him. You needed to get away from him.

“Jesus, yn, just get in the car. You’re going to get sick”

You pretended you didn't hear what he said and kept walking, face down – trying to escape both the rain and him. The first tear fell from your eyes. For the first time in days, you were grateful for the rain, because you could pretend it was just water and not a visual representation of your broken heart on your cheeks.

Seokmin stopped the car right there, in the middle of the street. He didn't care if someone was standing behind him honking like crazy — something that was bound to happen.

When he left your apartment that day he felt like he was 22 again, but this time he was the one leaving.

Hearing that you loved him was everything he had wanted, but the timing was strangely right and wrong, both at the same time.

Both of you screamed, shouted, and said what you wanted to say — or at least part of what you wanted to say. A weight had been lifted from his shoulders, at the same time a new one was placed on it.

After you fell asleep in his arms, the only thing Seokmin could think about were the letters scattered across the living room floor. There were so many. He couldn't believe you had spent all those years writing letters to him.

He needed to read them all. He would have done it in the living room, but he didn't know what awaited him, so he collected them all from the floor and a few more that had been left in the box and left.

He read the first one in the car, he couldn't wait until he got home. 

Seokmin cried right there, the same way he cried when you left. Inconsolable. His heart broke and healed in equal measure with every word of yours he read.

Seokmin always believed that you left like that, without a single word, because you didn't like him that much, because you didn’t want to be with him anymore. Not that he thought the entire relationship had been a lie, but he thought that somehow the love had ended. It happened to everyone, the probability of it happening to him was also high.

The truth could not be different. There wasn't a letter in which you didn't say you loved him, not always in those words, but he knew you well enough to know that was what you said.

After reading all the letters, Seokmin called Joshua. He cried on the phone with his friend and then once again when he showed up at his place with bad beer and takeout food. “Since we’re going to talk about our college days, I think we should do the same thing we did back then” was all he said.

Seokmin was on his way to you when he saw you walking without an umbrella. He wanted to talk to you, to know if even after so long you still wanted to try with him one more time. It was better to try than to always wonder what could have been.

“I read your letters!” he shouted louder than the rain.

His words were enough to make you stop walking, but you still didn't turn to face him. It was too hard to breathe. Your chest rose and fell irregularly each time you tried to pull the air in.

You knew Seokmin had taken the letters. Part of you knew he would read them, but the last thing you expected was for him to want to talk about them.

“I know” you said when he approached “I saw they were gone, and you were the only person who came by”

“Do you know why I accepted to host a love advice show? Besides it being something I've always wanted, of course” he didn't give you time to answer “Because a part of me wanted you to listen, to know that I was okay, even if it was a lie. I thought that if I talked about it on a show that had used the nickname you gave me, you’d regret it. I thought that I should make you regret it because it was the only way I could still think about you without looking like a fool after so long. I thought you didn’t care, that you had left because you didn’t like me anymore, so making you regret your decision was the only option I had”

You shook your head. It wasn't true, not by a long shot.

“I'm sorry” you said softly “I should have told you what I was doing, that I had applied for the and got in. I thought it was my only option. It was so stupid. I was so stupid”

Seokmin laughed a little, fingers running under your eyes. A second later he pressed his lips over yours.

“I know, I read your letters”

Seokmin,

It's been a good few years since I wrote you a letter. After a while, I didn't think I needed it anymore because I started saying everything I wanted, everything I felt, looking at you. Of course, this new arrangement has its demerits, as the paper and pen don't look at me like a lost puppy. But paper and pen don't kiss me either, so it has its bonus.

I thought when I came home four years ago, I would never see you again. I thought you would just be the guy who has a radio show that I would listen to every now and then. I didn't expect to see you my first week back and again and, well,  again.

As you probably know, I've never been a big fan of rainy days. I always preferred sunny days because those were the days I woke up ready to face the world. I felt better overall. But also because they reminded me of you. You know, when the sun appears after gray days? For me, you were always like that. Grand and brilliant.

But after that day, I started to like rainy days too because they started to be full of the two of us. Rain was no longer synonymous of an unproductive day, but rather of the memory of our fresh start.

You know this, we've talked about it a few times, but I spent a few months waiting for it to sink in. Sort of expecting that one day I would wake up and it would all be a dream. It was hard for both of us, I know. It was seven years of hurt and resentment and we had to navigate this uncertain sea without a map. Nobody teaches you how to do this, believe me, I looked. I found countless books on how to start dating, how to save a relationship, and how to get over a relationship. The problem is that none of them teach you how to rekindle a relationship after seven years apart, but during those seven years one of the parties wrote letters and the other had a program just to mourn the sorrows of the relationship.

I've read several, so you can trust what I say on this.

It really wasn't easy, but I think we came out better, stronger, in some way.

I love you and I’ll tell you that every day for the rest of our lives. Our forever begins today, in a little while. So stop crying, put ice on your eyes to help the swelling go down, and go to the aisle because I miss you already.

I love you.

yn

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Meant to Be

Someone liked this old post I reblogged from @writingforatwistedworld today and it brought this writing prompt back to my attention.  This was such a cool idea, and since Veil has chosen not to write it, I thought I’d visit the idea with my own spin.

Confusion was the only thought you were able to summon in your head.  You remembered lights and sounds.  Honking maybe?  And now you were just barely conscious of lying on the ground with your head spinning.  What exactly happened?

Your head feels like it is splitting but somehow voices are beginning to come though.  “Coach, I think they are waking up!” a black-haired boy says as he kneels beside you, hovering over you protectively.  Were you at school?  You can’t remember.  Nor can you immediately place the boy who is so concerned about you.  He is speaking to you but it’s too hard to focus.  All you can do is notice the guilty look in his eyes and wonder what he did.  Suddenly, he stops speaking and looks across your body towards the field beside you.  You turn your head curiously and follow his gaze to see a red-haired boy running towards you at top speed.  Something about this tickles your memory.  You look again at the black-haired boy and notice a strange marking you hadn’t been able to bring into focus before.  It looked like a spade from a playing card.  Then you looked back at the boy coming closer and closer to your location.  Suddenly, you had it.  It was impossible, yet you couldn’t shake the feeling that you’d miraculously transported yourself into one of your favorite phone games; Twisted Wonderland. 

As sort of a test, you hesitantly spoke, “Deuce?”  The black-haired boy, Deuce, looks at you and you think him on the edge of tears.  “Thank Sevens!” he whispers as rubs your arm comfortingly.  The red-haired boy slides the last distance to reach your side in an anxious kneel.  “Ace?” you confirm groggily.  Ace looks at you with what you feel is fear in his eyes, and when he speaks, it is towards Deuce.  “Just what were you thinking?  You know the Prefect doesn’t have magic!”  Deuce looks away, it is certainly guilt on his face.  “I didn’t mean to throw it that hard.”  Ace scowls at Deuce and shouts, “Well you did and see what a mess you’ve made!”  You force yourself to a sitting position and wave Ace down.  “I’m fine, I’m fine.”  Then, still feeling a bit woozy, you amend, “Well, I think I’m GOING to be fine.”

Ace looks at you with concern and says, “I’m taking you to the nurse’s office.  Right now.”  Deuce intervenes, “I’ll do it.  It was my fault for throwing that disk so hard.”  Ace appears ready to retort angrily, so you wave them both away.  “I’ll go myself.  Or you can both come with.  We’re all buddies here, right?”  You watch them cautiously to confirm that this is the case.  After all, you weren’t pulled into a game every day.  Who knows what might be different.  Deuce answers you right away in a relieved affirmative while Ace only frowns mildly.  “Ok, but if you feel bad at all, I’m carrying you.  No complaints.”  You give him a shaky smile and let them guide you to the nurse’s office. 

It’s a little embarrassing, but there is so much that you don’t know about Night Raven College, that you end up claiming selective amnesia from the impact.  Your professors appear suspicious, but no one can offer an alternative reason for why you’ve forgotten so many simple things, like the layout of the school, while retaining such vivid memories of other experiences, like Riddle’s overbot incident.  So ultimately, they accept this odd explanation from you and assign your friends Ace and Deuce to once again play your guide at NRC.  The cast slowly re-introduce themselves to you.  Some find it remarkable and others unbelievable.  Idia finds it amusing, “Khee he he.  This is just like the plot of the manga Ramen Shop Summer where the protagonist gets in an accident in gym and forgets their crush!  But then they end up working together over the summer in a ramen shop, and Boom Badda Bing, romance!”  Then he shyly adds, “Maybe you’ll have your own summertime romance.  All the tropes are right for it.”  You chuckle with him but privately think, ‘If only you knew.’

A few days later at lunch, you were sitting at a table and rubbing your bandaged head softly while eating the sad sandwich you’d been able to cobble together with the junk in the fridge back at Ramshackle when your friends slam a plate down on either side of you, “Here Prefect, eat this,” and “I got something special for you,” come out of their mouths at the same time.  You look up at them surprised.  Deuce looks at your hand on your head and adds in a soft voice, “I feel bad for what I did so I thought this would help make up for it.”  Ace scoffs and interjects, “I know what the Prefect likes best.  Don’t worry about it and let them eat mine.”  You look at Ace’s plate and somehow, he is right, he has gathered one of your favorites to eat.  “Actually, this looks pretty good.”  Then you turn and reassure Deuce, “I appreciate the offer too, but you don’t have to feel bad.  I know it was an accident.”  They both seem happy at the outcome, and you enjoy a nice lunch.

As you are leaving the lunchroom, you pass a floating tablet (Idia you know), and it surprisingly speaks to you. “It’s just like my manga,” Idia comments.  You turn and look at the tablet quizzically and it prompts him to continue, “If this was a story, that would be a flag event between the Male Lead and Second Male Lead for your affection.”  You stumble over your reply, “But..but it isn’t a manga.”  The unsettling, “Kwee he he,” that emerges follows you all the way to your next special lesson. 

You were used to thinking of special lessons as when Crowley randomly shows up to class and everyone suddenly finds the motivation to pay attention, but apparently, this was a Very Special Lesson that they wouldn’t give the students any prior details on.  The older students seemed to know what it was about as the first year’s had gotten several secretive smiles and leading comments.  Rook passes you right before you enter and remarks with an expression both sly and amused, “It is a fine day for fate, is it not Prefect?”  You look at him puzzled as he continues past you to class, and you shrug as you enter the room and sit beside your friends.  Ace scowls and remarks, “They’ve been doing that all day and it’s getting on my nerves.”  Deuce is fidgeting more than usual, and you raise an eyebrow as thought to ask what’s up.  “What if it’s a test?” he asks nervously before flipping open a notebook.  “A little late to study then,” Ace scoffs before looking at you out of the corner of his eye.  “Don’t worry, you’ll be fine.  I’m sure it won’t be a test.”  You smile at his gesture.  Tests haven’t been easy for you these past weeks as you’ve not actually studied any of the curriculum for the classes. 

When Crewel stomps into class and sets a crate of potions on the desk, it startles you out of your thoughts.  You hear gasps from around the class and realize that most students seem to understand what is happening.  It is only you in the dark.  Then the Professor smiles slyly and declares, “It’s Matching Day.”  An eruption of conversation spreads across the room and Professor Crewel, appearing as excited as the students, surprisingly allows it.  ‘I can’t believe its today!’ and ‘I wonder if I’ll meet my pair!’ reach your ears.  You turn to Ace and find him looking at you with an expression you just can’t place.  You nod towards the Professor and ask, “You know what this is about?”  He looks at you startled, “You don’t know?  Its Matching day?”  When you shrug and continue to look at him with questions in your eyes he goes on.  “You know, the day you can take the potion to manifest your red string and try to find your Soulmate.  Matching Day!” 

It hits you suddenly like a blow.  ‘My god,’ you think, ‘This isn’t TWST at all.  Idia was right, there are too many tropes in this story.  I’m in someone’s Fanfic!  This is a damn Soulmate AU story!’  You weren’t sure what to say, but luckily, Professor Crewel had decided he’s allowed the pups to misbehave enough and cracked his whip over his gloved hand, “Settle down you mutts.  Good pups need to know how to behave properly if they are going to impress their mate!”  Silence is quickly restored as the excited students obediently wait for the Professor to continue.  “Come up when I call your name.  I don’t think I should have to explain, but just in case, let me remind you what you can expect.  When you drink the potion, you’ll feel a tug on your heart as your soul manifests your bond to your Soulmate.  After that, you’ll be able to see your red string in the general area of your pinky finger.”  A groan comes from an over-excited student, “We know, we know.” 

Crewel doesn’t take the interruption well this time and cracks his whip again, “STAY!  Pups need to learn to take instruction before receiving a treat!”  The student bashfully looks away and Crewel continues, “Remember to not get your hopes up.  It is very rare to find your Soulmate the first day you take your potion.”  This sobering comment seems to bring down the mood of the students.  Crewel smiles more gently at the students he’s fondly guided, “But be happy you are proud students of Night Raven College.  Many mages find they have Soulmates who are also proficient in magic, so your chances of meeting your Soulmate while in school here are raised.”  You turn to see how your friends are taking this news.  Deuce is looking intently at his hands, as though he will find his courage in the focus.  Ace is only looking at you, again with a look you just can’t read.

“Now, come to the front of the room as I call your name,” Crewel instructs.  It appears the students are being called alphabetically.  You wonder when you might be called as you don’t recall “Yuu” having a last name.  You focus a long time, making sure you don’t miss it but before your turn, your friend gets called.  “Deuce Spade!” Crewel summons loudly.  Deuce gulps beside you and stands suddenly.  Then he holds his hand up as though trying to fire himself up and marches determinedly to claim his potion.  He drinks it down and you wait with interest to see how Deuce would react.  You’d seen several others take the potion at this point, but this wasn’t just some NPC, it was your friend.  He concentrates nervously for several seconds before gasping and grabbing his chest.  Then he looks down at his hand and makes a sound between a sigh and a laugh.  “There it is!” he says and looks out the door where the string must lead.  Then he laughs again and looks toward where you and Ace sit with a smile and makes his ‘honor student’ pose.  You give him a thumbs up and pat his back as he rejoins you.

You want to ask him what it was like but the next name, “Ace Trappola!” breaks your concentration.  You hadn’t realized your other friend would get his turn so soon after.  You turn to Ace and give him an encouraging smile.  Ace looks deep into your eyes for a long moment before giving you a mischievous grin, “Wish me luck, Prefect!”  You give him an excited smile and some jazz hands to cheer him on and he goes happily to the front of the class.  You watch as he takes the potion and waits in a quiet meditation before he makes a gasp and grasps at something that only he can see.  Then he looks up and smiles over in your direction happily, “I knew it!” he laughs happily.  He returns to his seat with a bounce in his step and you look at him eagerly.  “Was it cool?” you ask.  He smiles at you, “It was the coolest thing ever.”  You have a million questions that come to mind, but you ask none of them as Deuce taps you on the shoulder.  You turn to look at him and he nervously tells you, “Prefect, it’s your turn.”

You look up at Professor Crewel who seems none too pleased to have you ignore his summons.  Great.  Somehow, you’d missed your turn being called and garnered his ire.  You gulp and stand to answer his summons.  When you grasp the potion, a question occurs to you and you ask, “Will this work for me?”  Professor Crewel smiles at your worry, “Not to worry, Prefect, even people without magic have Soulmates.”  It was more that you wondered if people from other worlds had Soulmates but you figured that wasn’t a conversation to have right now.  So, you smile at him as though satisfied with his response and drink the potion down.

At first it was nothing but bubbly in your stomach and then you felt giddy.  Like a drunkenness that had nothing to do with alcohol which rose from your stomach to take hold of your whole body.  Your heart beat faster and faster until you feel as alert as though you were running for your life.  Then, it was gone.  Mostly gone.  A tiny tingle remained, and you followed the sensation down to see the bright red string wound around your pinky.  It really worked. 

You looked toward your friends, wanting to share the moment with them and felt the weight of Ace’s gaze.  He was looking at you so intently it was startling.  You couldn’t break eye contact for a moment.  Then you felt a small tug and looked down at your finger.  The red string was tugging slightly, as though wanting you to follow it.  You didn’t have far to go.  You raised your eyes and found Ace holding his red string in his hand and you knew it connected to your own.  Well, that did make sense in a way.  If this was a TWST fanfic, your Soulmate had to be a member of the main case.  And now you knew, it was Ace.  You looked at Ace clutching the red string and thought that he held it like it was a lifeline, something he couldn’t live with if he let go.  Well, that was silly.  You were right here.  Perhaps it was due to the plot of the story, but you suddenly felt like you couldn’t bear to see him worried like that.

You went to him and stood in front of him, “So, you and me, huh?”  He looked up at you and said in a chocked voice, “Yeah, you and me.”  A clapping sound comes from behind you and then all around.  You are embarrassed to find that all your classmates are celebrating your union with Ace.  “What a fine surprise,” Professor Crewel says with a smile.  You don’t know what to do but Ace has no such qualms.  He grabs onto you and pulls you into a side hug with one arm will giving a V with his other hand.  You bashfully wind your arm around him and repeat the gesture yourself.  It seems like you’ve really fallen into the perfect romance fantasy.

The transition from friend to significant other was jarring but anytime you felt unsure about your new ties to Ace, you had only to look at him to feel reassured.  He was always holding the red string.  It was cute in a way, as though he thought about you so often, he had to hold onto the string to remind himself you were there with him in spirit.  You still felt safe seeing the string in his hand back then.

Why is Crowley always at the start of all your problems?  On a late spring day, the headmaster summoned you to his office.  You found it was never good news when he did this, and this time would prove no exception.  “Ah Prefect, how lovely to see you today,” he began carefully, as though sizing up how big a fuss you would kick up this time.  You hummed at him in a noncommittal way.  “Indeed,” he acknowledges your evasion and gets right into his secret business.  “I was wondering what you planned to do over Summer Break.”  You look at him deadpan, “Not do chores for you.”  He huffs at you in pretend amusement, “Ah HA ha.  Uh-hem.  That is to say, where do you plan to go while the campus is closed?”  Now this was actually news to you.  “What do you mean closed?  I’ll just stay here like I did over Winter Break.”  Crowley turns, unable to meet your eye, “Ah-HA hem, its just that we do the annual fumigation over summer so we need all living residents to be off-campus.”  Then much quieter, “The insurance wouldn’t allow it…I checked.”

You left the office not certain which was worse, that the headmaster actually considered leaving you in a poisoned campus over break or the fact that you suddenly had no where to go.  You walked lost in thought, mechanically headed to lunch when you hit something solid, and a hush fell over the room.  You felt a moment of worry until you looked up and into the quizzical face of Malleus and smiled.  This might seem like a dangerous occurrence to the random students around you, but it was nothing alarming to you.  “Hi there Hornton,” you warmly greet your fae friend.  He puts a finger to his chin and ponders to himself, “You seem quite distracted today, Prefect.  Is anything the matter?”  Happy to have someone to discuss it with, you give him a run-down on your situation.  “And so, I just have no idea where I’m going to go!” you finish in a flurry.  “Hmm,” Malleus hums in consideration, “That is a quandary.  I’d invite you to join me in Briar Valley but unfortunately Lilia has decided we are to take a, how do you call it, road trip this break.”  You can practically hear the air quotes in his voice as he says, ‘road trip.’

You give your friend a small understanding smile, “I get it.  I’m fine.  I just need to figure this out.  I’ll find what I’m looking for, I’m sure.”  This seems to perk your friend up, “Why yes, that might work.”  Then he saunters to a nearby table and picks up a vile of liquid.  You weren’t sure if this was part of someone’s lunch or classwork.  Sometimes it was like that at magic school.  As Malleus holds the vile, a green magic seeps from his fingers to engulf it and the liquid inside boils ominously.  Then the magic fades and the boiling stops.  He hands you the vile and instructs, “I will bestow a boon upon you.  Pour this tincture upon a mirror and the knowledge you need will be summoned forth.”  Great.  This was even better than posting an ad online.  You thank Malleus and give him a grateful smile. 

That is when you feel an arm slip over your shoulder and Ace appears at your side, “Say Prefect, what is going on here?”  You merely gesture as thought to say, ‘I’m talking to Malleus.’  Ace gives your friend a look that is downright insolent and you mentally scoff that only your Ace would be so bold as to have such an attitude with Malleus Draconia.  “Thanks for your help,” you offer your friend to give him an easy way to end the conversation.  Regardless of Malleus’s wishes, Ace jumps in and distracts you easily, “Hey Prefect, I heard you can’t stay over break this year.”  It’s a relief to talk it out with another person and you turn to tell your beau all about the chat in Crowley’s office.  By the time you pause to take a breath, Malleus has departed unnoticed.  You grip the flask, resolving to thank him more earnestly later, and slip it in your pocket.  Then you let Ace lead you away to your next class.  He obliges you by listening to all your complaints and agreeing in all the right places.  Not that it solved the issue at all, but it did make you feel better to have someone fully on your side to complain to.

After class, you automatically hold out your hand to walk with Ace to the alchemy lab, but he asks you to go on ahead instead.  It’s an unusual request but the mystery is cleared up before Professor Crewel arrives to begin your lesson.  “Hey Prefect, great news!” Ace shouts as he slips into the seat next to you, “I called my mom, and she says I can bring you home with me over break!”  At first, all you feel is the pressure being lifted.  Then comes the guilt.  “Are you sure I wouldn’t be intruding?” you ask nervously.  “Nah,” Ace assures you, “Mom already knows about this.”  Then he holds up his hand where he is gripping the red string, “So it was easy to convince her.”  Then he gives you a mischievous smile, “Plus my bro has been away since he graduated, and I think Mom is getting lonely.  Won’t you come cheer up a poor lonely old woman, Prefect?” Ace says in mock sadness.  You swat him, smiling and chide, “Don’t talk about my future mother-in-law that way.”  Then you both laugh. 

Things seemed to finally be going smoothly, but of course, that couldn’t last.  The alchemy lesson had barely started when Headmaster Crowley arrives by bursting in through the skylight.  He was just as extra in-person as he was in game.  You chuckle to yourself as the rest of the class appears to become hyper-focused on the lesson.  Then, right before leaving, Crowley stops in front of your caldron and remarks, “Ah Prefect, will you stop by my office after your lesson?”  Ace leans in as Crowley retreats and whispers, “What is that about?”  You can only shake your head, “I have no idea.  Want to come with and find out?”  Ace gives the thread a stroke with his thumb, “Of course.  I can’t let a troublemaker like you out of my sight.”  You laugh at his joke and pat his arm, thankful for his backup.  You are sure you will need it.

When you and Ace arrive in the headmaster’s office, he looks up from his desk and lets out a squawk of surprise, “Ah!  Trappola, uh, I was not expecting you to be here as well.”  You feel like you’ve made the right choice in bringing him along.  “So, Headmaster, what’s this business you have with me?”  He looks away, avoiding your eye.  “Well, that.  So, you see…it turns out that our contract for the fumigation this summer does not include covering important school property with protective sheets.  Can you believe that!  Ah-hem, anyway, I’m going to have to ask you to stay until after the rest of the students have departed and cover the furniture in the classrooms before you go.”  The response from your boyfriend is immediate, “No.”  You pull back a smile you feel forming on your lips, “Well, there you have it.  I also have made plans for break, since you have so cruelly abandoned me.”  You can see the gears in his head turning as he thinks over the situation.

“Well,” you comment over your shoulder as you shake out a sheet over a cauldron, “At least he is paying us both to do this.  Thanks for keeping me company.”  Ace grins at you, “I can’t abandon my darling Prefect to be all by their lonesome right before a family trip!”  Then he sheepishly adds, “Plus I can use some extra pocket money to buy you a treat when we are back home.”  A family trip.  It had a nice sound to it.  You hum as you continue covering cauldrons with the large tablecloths Crowely had supplied.  “There,” you say and clap your hands once for emphasis, “That is the last one.  And…I think that is all the alchemy rooms.”  Ace gets a thinking expression, “Ah…so that leaves the elective rooms in the Senior’s tower and the botanical gardens.”  You shrug, “Wanna split them?”  Ace nods and you agree to cover the worktables in the botanical gardens while Ace climbs the tower to handle the senior’s classrooms. 

There are far fewer tables in the botanical gardens, so while it was a hike to get there, you finished fairly quickly.  When you add that to the fact that the mirror chamber was nearby, it didn’t surprise you that you arrived ahead of Ace.  Your small bag of clothes sat in the corner, ready to be taken through the mirror to the Queendom of Roses with Ace.  Until then, you had nothing to do here.  You circle the room, looking into the various mysterious mirrors.  Make a few faces and poses to pass time.  It was so boring.  You turn out your pockets, just looking for something to occupy your time and find two items inside.  One is the vial Malleus had given you to help you find a place for Summer Break.  The other was a candy wrapper.  You frown as you look at it.  This wrapper was left over from a candy you had on you when you arrived in Twisted Wonderland; one of the last ties to your old world that remained.  You haven’t thought about the old world for a while now.  Not since before you’d found your Soulmate.  Now, a feeling of melancholy washes over you.  Why had you stopped looking for a way home?  You didn’t even remember consciously giving up on that dream.

You hold the vial and consider it carefully.  What exactly had Malleus said this did?  Something about helping you find what you needed when you poured it on a mirror?  Well, there were plenty of mirrors available and you had time to kill.  Maybe, if you poured the potion, it would give you a clue on how you could return home someday.  You walked to the nearest mirror and uncorked the bottle.  The liquid flowed slowly out of the container as though it was molasses.  When it touched the mirror, it seemed to slip inside until a glossy shimmer coated the surface.  It rippled and you were aware that there were words to be seen inside.  You leaned closer and read the message.  Then you read it again.  And again.  By the fourth time, you were shaking so badly you could no longer read it.  It wasn’t a way to get home.  It was the summary of the fanfiction you were in. 

---

The Chain That Binds

When the Prefect of Ramshackle dorm is invited home with their Soulmate to visit the family, they never suspect the plan Ace has in store for them.  Sometimes the chain that binds you to a partner also binds you to a darker fate. 

TW Yandere, TW Imprisonment, TW Kidnapping

---

Just what kind of sick story was this? 

A click sounds behind you as the door closes.  Never had you heard a sound so ominous.  “Something wrong, Prefect?” Ace says carefully.  You notice he is gripping the string of fate tightly.  It no longer felt comforting but more like the hold a master would have on a dog’s leash.  “You seem kind of agitated.”  You try to downplay it, “Oh no, its nothing.”  He tilts his head, attempting to see past you and into the mirror.  You sidestep to make sure the view was blocked.  He gives you a cold smile, “Are you sure because I can feel your fear through the bond.”  You meet his eye for a moment and then bolt.  Ace is so much faster than you that you never had a real chance.  You scream out for help and Ace laughs and shouts with you, “Help! Help!”  You look at him in horror.  “Who do you think is left here to hear you, Prefect?  Its only us now.”  Then he pulls out his magic pen and casts a binding spell on you. 

You can only lay limply as Ace steps over to the mirror and reads what is inside.  “Hmm,” He finally says, “I don’t know where you get these ideas from, but I don’t think they are healthy for you.  You should stop consorting with people who put these things into your mind.  I’ll talk to my mom when we get home.  I’m sure she wouldn’t mind if you stayed there instead of coming back to school.  That will take care of all these intrusive thoughts you have.”  His grip on the red string was so tight that you were beginning to feel it like a phantom pain in your heart.  “Don’t worry about a thing, Prefect.  I’m going to take care of you.  I know what you need,” then he turns and looks coldly into your eyes, “you were made just for me after all.  You’re supposed to be mine alone.”

Then as you struggle against your bonds, he lifts you up over his shoulder and drags you and your belongings to the central mirror.  He gives the mirror the destination as you take one final look at the place you’d considered your second home.  Then Ace carries you over the threshold of the mirror into the beyond. Unfortunately for you, this wasn’t the ending.  Your story was just beginning. 

[joelalorian]

Masterlist

Series

Tides of Desire

Complete: TLOU no outbreak AU. Joel Miller is a luxury yacht captain running charters in the Caribbean. You join the crew as a deckhand and unexpectedly complicate Joel's peaceful existence. Basically the TLOU bunch on a Below Deck yacht.

Chapter One - A Prelude to the Open Sea

Chapter Two - The Adventure Begins

Chapter Three - The Cut of One's Jib

Chapter Four - Cut and Run

Chapter Five - Red Sky in Morning

Chapter Six - Edging Forward

Chapter Seven - From Stem to Stern

Chapter Eight - As the Crow Flies

Chapter Nine - Close Quarters

Chapter Ten - On Your Beam Ends

Chapter Eleven - All at Sea

Chapter Twelve - Turn the Corner

Epilogue

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Fall Into Me

dbf!Joel x f!reader, ongoing

Summary: Joel is hanging on by a thread as a single father to a tenacious 10-year-old Sarah. Feeling like he's drowning, like the world is about to spit him out, he needs some help before he breaks in half. At your dad's insistence, you show up in his life and change everything.

Story is inspired by the song Fall Into Me by Forest Blakk. Chapter titles will be lyrics from the song.

Chapter One: The Day That I Met You

Chapter Two: It All Turned Around

Chapter Three: No Mirror for Monsters

Chapter Four: Until I had met you there was no sun in my sky

Chapter Five: My whole world came alive

Chapter Six: And I knew my heart wasn't mine

Chapter Seven: I'll Catch You Darlin'

Chapter Eight: We'll Dance in the Street like Nobody's Watching

Chapter Nine: I'd Fall for You Twice if That's What You Wanted

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Petals of Affection

Complete. A floral mystery in three parts featuring Jackson!Joel x f!reader

Summary: A secret admirer gifts you a different flower and a riddle ten times before you put the clues together and discover that he's been right in front of your face the whole time.

Written for @morallyinept's Flora & Fauna challenge. Please check out all the wonderful works created in Jett's honor!

Part I

Part II

Part III

One-shots

Lost Cause

Summary: Joel thinks you shouldn’t waste your time on him. You disagree. Oneshot.

Warnings: Explicit MDNI; Jackson-era Joel; canon-ish but also not; drinking; mentions of cigarettes, drugs, dark thoughts, and death; unprotected p in v; oral (m and f receiving); interesting use of red wine; unspecified age gap; despair and hope.

Inspired by the song Save Me by Jelly Roll. Some of the lyrics have been woven into the story.

~~~~~~~~~

Fevered Flame (Marcus Pike x f!reader)

Summary: When Marcus Pike lost himself in work after that debacle with Theresa, he didn’t expect to take on a sizzling new case in the quirky town of Truth or Consequences, New Mexico. Nor did he expect to meet you, an up-and-coming agent also looking for a fresh start. An unprecedented heatwave, mind-boggling art thefts, ancient Aztec legends, this case had the works. How would he ever solve the case with the temperature rising between you both?

This fic is my contribution to @iamasaddie's Little Lady Kinky May writing challenge. Prompts were Marcus Pike and Temperature.

WC: 10.4k – I’m sorry, I have no idea where all these words came from

[boundbyeclipse]

hiii can you write smut number 5 with current James????

black velvet

genre : smut

word count : 1227

tags : current!james, female!reader, age difference (not specified how much), reader is a tattoo artist, a little rough james, semi-public sex (i think?), that’s about it

from the prompt list : 5. “don’t cover your mouth. i wanna hear you”

a/n : sooo i saw a photo of James getting a tattoo done and i thought hey, that’s a perfect idea for one of my requests! it really stuck to me and i had to write it. i really hope you enjoy this one x

‘Poison’ by Alice Cooper played in the background after you returned from your dinner break at work. You hummed along to the lyrics while lightly bopping your head to the beat. You absolutely loved rock and metal, so the playlist used at work always consisted of bands who did exactly those genres. It always gave you motivation and boosts for some energy, no matter if you were sad, angry or irritated.

While preparing for your next client, the sound of the entrance door opening and closing reached your ears. Technically, it was just a bit too early to show up, but hey, this one’s a regular and you didn’t mind at all.

“Hey there” you greeted him while putting some black gloves on your hands.

“Hey. Mind me showing up before I should?”

You gave him a warm smile, shaking your head left to right.

“Nope. You can come take a seat actually, I’ll go print out the tattoo and get more ink”

“Alright” James smiled back, hanging his jacket on the rack and making his way to the big, comfortable leather chair. He watched you walking around and you didn’t quite pay any attention to him, at least at first. Or, you just didn’t want to.

No matter how many times you’ve done tattoos on this man in the past few years, there has always been some sort of a tension between you both. It wasn’t anything like what you’ve had before with other men. They might have complimented you, made you smile, even blush, but none of them put you in such a vulnerable position with their presence alone. And there have been many times where his eyes would pierce right through you in the middle of getting his skin drawn on, creating the impression of him wanting to do some things to you. The lust was purely emitting from him the whole time. And you cannot forget about those moments when his fingertips would brush against your skin, making you shiver and think of scenarios in your head that were not so innocent. Sure, he was much older than you, but that didn’t stop either of you from craving each other every time.

Not too long after, you were already seated next to James, with his hand extended out as you were drawing lines on his skin.

My, oh my, did those large hands of his drove you insane.

“You got any more people coming after me?” he suddenly asked, his blue eyes hinting at something.

“Nope, you are the last one today. Puts my mind at ease knowing my last client is a regular. No need to overthink”

One side of his mouth curved up into a small smirk.

“Are you sure your mind is at ease? Because I can feel you’re all tensed up”

You swallowed and bit your lower lip hard after he said that. Trying to hide your growing frustration, you giggled.

“Maybe I am, I’ve been here since seven in the morning, you know”

He cocked an eyebrow up, not quite believing what you were saying. James could clearly see how you bit your lip, adjusted in your seat and giggled due to getting thrown back by his comment.

“It’s kind of easy to tell that it’s not because of the work. You don’t need to hide it”

Your breath hitched in your throat, and your body froze for a moment before you looked up at him and asked.

“What do you mean?”

“I know you secretly think about all the possible ways I could use my hands on you,” you could not believe what he just said, but it was totally true, “it’s written all over your face. Even your body language gives it away with how you shake, squirm in your seat, how you breathe heavier when I’m around. I know you think of me”

“James, don’t-“

“Just finish the tattoo first, then you can explain yourself”

Not even ten minutes later, you had your body pinned against the door of your break room, with no way to escape the tall man who hovered over you. His hands roamed your body while he kissed your neck, sucking on the sensitive spots to make you even weaker. The way he held you by your hip against the door made you so vulnerable and so turned on, that you could not help but moan into the heated kiss.

With one swift move, James opened the door behind you and the both of you walked backwards, still all over each other until the back of your calves hit the lounge couch that was in the room. James helped you with taking your shirt off, leaving you in a black lace bra. You sat down and watched James from below, eyes full of desperation and need, looking right into his own. He removed his shirt and tossed it away, unbuckling his jeans and unzipping them, then hovering above you as he laid you down slowly, but with rough kisses and a tight grip on your waist.

Your hand reached into his jeans and you cupped him through the fabric of his underwear, giving it a couple squeezes as James groaned in response. He was big, thick and hard, and you could feel yourself getting so wet that it started to hurt. You really needed him.

With no clothes left on your bodies, he was now inside you, moving his hips as he watched your face, loving the way your eyes rolled back with each thrust. The way your back arched, your naked bodies touching against each other, it put you in such a trance. Every second of it - you just loved.

With your moans becoming louder, you felt a little embarrassed, and your hand found its way to your mouth to silence yourself. But James wasn’t going to let you hide.

“Don’t cover your mouth. I wanna hear you”

Carefully, he took your hand and now had both of your hands pinned above your head. Your moans filled the room as you wrapped your legs around his waist, wanting to feel every single inch of his length in you. Almost to the point where you could barely take it.

“I can’t- I can’t take it”

“Yes, you can. Just hang on for a little bit more for me, okay?”

You gave him a nod in response, eyes watery and lips parted as you breathed heavily, your high hitting you right then and there. It happened so quickly, that you could not even tell James that you were close.

Another moan slipped out of his mouth as you coated him in your juices, your walls pulsing whilst he was still inside you, able to feel everything.

“Almost there” he told you as he gave you his final thrusts before pulling out and cumming on your stomach. Both of you were panting, with small beads of sweat on your foreheads and hair all messed up. But as soon as you got your breathing back to normal, it was time to clean up and go home. Though, James just wasn’t quite keen on leaving you so soon.

“I’ll give you a ride back home, so don’t worry about taking a bus in this weather” he gave you a warm smile as he put his jacket on and waited for you at the entrance door.

[oneforthemunny]

funny bunny |older!dilf!eddie munson x reader|

prompt: a halloween couples costume that's inspired by yours and eddie's relationship, and his special nickname for you.

@eddiemunsons-missingnipple big creds for the older!eddie pic used in the header!!!!

contains: age gap relationship. eddie is 43, reader is 26. everything is consensual. language, drinking, filthy filth ahead MINORS DNI 18+, oral fem receiving v and a, ass play, plugs, fingering v and a, praise kink, p in v sex, creampie. role-play-ish. not really rough mainly just kinky freaky but some aftercare after.

"You look so good!"

You squealed from your place at your vanity, pulling the hot rollers out of your hair.

Eddie pouted slightly, brows creased in a deep furrow on his forehead. Looking down at the Burgundy, velvet robe with black trim, he let out a small huff. "I look ridiculous." He muttered.

"No, you don't." You giggled, running your hands over the silk trim, fixing the collar. "This looks so good. I can't believe how close it looks to the real thing." You grinned, eyes gleaming when you looked up at him. "You look just like Hefner."

Eddie scoffed, shaking his head slowly so his curls bobbed, inked hand rubbing across his beard. "I think that might be more insulting than you mean it to be, bunny." He grumbled, plopping on the edge of the bed. "I'm not that old."

You laughed, sitting in his lap, arms around his neck with a wide smile. Eddie couldn't help but smile back. How could he not? With how your warmth just radiated out of you and into him. Infectious happiness.

"I meant the robe." You reassured, running a hand down his chest. "We're going to look so good tonight. Steve and Nancy aren't gonna know what hit them!" You squealed, smacking your lips to his cheek in a quick, loud kiss before scampering back over to the vanity.

Eddie groaned. It had taken you weeks of convincing for him to agree to this costume. Hugh Hefner and a Playboy Bunny; a classic- well, maybe more for frat boys, but when the idea came to you, you just had to do it. A light jest to the clear age difference in your relationship, a way to poke fun at the obvious, but also a nod towards your beloved nickname Eddie had given you: bunny.

A sweet, innocent little nickname, that had been given to you at a completely un-innocent moment, and it had stuck. You were Eddie's little bunny, his golden girl. His.

"Will you promise you won't post any pictures tonight?" Eddie asked for the tenth time that night. "I don't need Brielle seeing that shit or- fuck- or Gina. She'll probably take me back to court."

You nodded. "Eddie, I promise, baby, I won't post anything. I don't need to get fired over a Halloween costume. You know how those parents are." You teased, looking at him through the mirror. "And I highly doubt you'll be deemed an unfit parent for a Hefner costume."

Eddie nodded, looking down at his watch. "You almost ready? We're supposed to be there at seven."

You sprayed the final spritz of hairspray around yourself, smoothing and setting your styled hair. "I just gotta get dressed." You grinned, slipping towards the bathroom, throwing him a playful wink. "I'll be right back, Mr. Hefner." You dropped your voice to a sultry, low voice, batting your eyes before shutting the door.

Keeping your costume a secret for as long as you did was the hardest part. Eddie had agreed, eventually, but only with some persuasion, bribery. He had been dying to see your costume since you first announced it had come in. While his costume was nice, very close to the replica robe that the Playboy founder always wore with a matching pipe, it was nothing compared to yours.

Black nylon tights that were just sheer enough. Black pumps that Eddie loved on you anyways, he loved how they made your legs look- long and endless, his hands always trailing up your calf, squeezing your ankle. The corset, body suit was risqué. High cut and covering just enough of your ass that it could pass as barely not lingerie. Strapless and low in the front, tight enough to hold your breasts up in just the right way. You'd ordered white cuffs and a bowtie cuff choker to really complete the look, the authentic Playboy Bunny look.

Then of course, what kind of bunny would you be without ears and a tail? Black, silk ears that stood tall and slightly crooked on the headband, adjusted so it bent just barely. The tail, a black, faux-fur attachment you pinned just on your tailbone.

Your heart thumped rapidly in your chest, smoothing your clammy hands over your bodice. You had been so excited to show Eddie just moments ago, but now... you wondered if it was too much. If he'd like it. If he'd yell at you, accuse you of wanting unwarranted attention that wasn't his, demand for you to change, tell you that you're embarrassing him like your boyfriends in the past did. 

"You need any help in there?" Eddie's voice called from outside the door, making you jump slightly, ears falling forward gently.

"No! Just finishing up." You grabbed the hair pin, securing the ears back into place.

You checked your reflection one last time. Hands smoothing down the corset, turning in the mirror to make sure your attached tail was in the right place. Your heels clicked across the tile floors of the bathroom.

"Close your eyes." You called, barely cracking the door before you walked out. Eddie chuckled lightly and you could hear the bed creak, shifting his weight on the mattress. "Are they closed?" You asked, squinting out the small sliver through the door.

"They're closed, baby." Eddie reassured, his voice low and gravely. It made your stomach flip. "C'mon, show me Playmate."

Pulling the door open slowly, the hinges creaking ever so lightly, you stepped on to the shag carpet, steps muted by the material. You walked slowly, hands twisting and wringing in front of you before stopping in front of Eddie. You knew by the way his smile grew, dimples deep in his scruff and lines by his eyes crinkling, that he could feel your presence.

"Ok, open them." You smiled, placing your hands on your hips playfully.

Eddie's eyes opened, brows raising in amusement. "Oh-oh-oh, bunny." He laughed, moving closer, his hands reaching out for yours. You blushed under his gaze, how he roamed over your legs, tongue poking his cheek in a sideways smirk. Eddie looked at the cuffs, took extra time looking at your bodice and collar, calloused hands gliding over you.

"You've outdone yourself." Eddie smirked, looking up at you from his place on the edge of the bed. "Definitely getting the front page."

"You didn't even see my tail." You grinned, spinning and shaking your hips towards him, the attached tail bouncing with the movement.

Eddie groaned, low and deep, but playful. "Jesus, baby bunny, you're killing me. You know that?" He smacked your ass playfully, right beneath the tail, making you squeal. "I don't know if I'm gonna make it to the party with you looking like this."

"We have to go, Eddie." You pouted. "Or else no one will see our costumes, and I worked so hard on them." 

Eddie rolled his eyes, but stood, his hands still not leaving your waist. "I'd be alright with that." He laughed. "You could get me out of this robe and show me why you're called bunny, hm? Ride me all night, how's that sound?" Eddie nipped, tongue tickling the shell of your ear making you squeal and squirm against his hot breath.

You let out a nasally laugh when he squeezed your waist, hands gliding over your hips and tummy on the corset. He kissed right above your collar on your neck. "Eddie," You whined, thighs clamping. "Stop, we've got to go."

Eddie sighed, gently but not angry. He looked at your with soft brown eyes that had you melting. "I promise, when we get back I'll put on my real costume for you." You bit your lips, eyes meeting his, playful and alluring.

Eddie's brow quipped. "This isn't your costume?" He asked, hands trailing down your waist.

You shook your head, ears bouncing. "It's one of them, but I have a special costume just for you, Mr. Hefner." You purred, leaning forward so your lips barely brushed his. Eddie growled, tattooed fingers gripping your hips, digging into the nylons.

"But," You pushed back on his chest lightly. "We have to do this first." You lifted a finger towards him. Eddie groaned, head falling back. "Put your hat on Hef, we're late." You grinned, tossing him the captain's hat and slipping on your coat.

***

"Woah-ho-ho," Steve Harrington cackled, leaning in the doorway of his Hawkins McMansion. His amber eyes were wide, amused. "No fuckin' way. Hef and a Bunny?" He laughed, clapping his hands together.

You grinned proudly, arm lacing with Eddie's as you adjusted his hat, straightening it on top of his curls. "His favorite Playmate." You winked, giggling when Eddie's hand squeezed your ass.

"That's a fuckin' classic, holy shit." Steve laughed, shutting the door as the two of you walked in. "Nance, look at this!" He called into the living room where the party rage- well, as raging as a middle aged Halloween party could be. King Steve still did his best, even without the keg, you'd give him that.

Nancy gasped, Robin trailing behind her. "Oh my God, this is fuckin' amazing!" Robin laughed.

"How did you even think of this?" Nancy laughed, looking at the two of you, touching your cuffs on your arms.

You shrugged, biting back a smile when your eyes met Eddie's. "I dunno, just seemed kind of fitting." You laughed. "Brielle and I were actually watching House Bunny and it hie me, honestly."

Nancy laughed, shaking her curls that were piled high and teased. "That's genius, honestly. Way better than the Top Gun idea." Nancy rolled her eyes, glaring lightly at Steve, or Maverick, as he was supposed to be.

Nancy and Robin pulled you into the living room, offering to get you a drink while you chatted. Steve smirked, clapping Eddie playfully on the back. "Munson," He laughed, shaking his head.

Eddie grinned, shrugging as he watched you walk away, little fur tail bobbing with every swing of your ass. Steve snorted. "Hey, you think you can talk to your girl? See if she could convince Nancy to wear something like that for next year?" Eddie laughed, rolling his eyes, following you into the living room.

***

You were tipsy, but not drunk. You'd controlled yourself, despite the flowing drinks that Nancy kept offering you. You had a promise to keep.

You sat on the bench in Eddie's truck, hands in his, thighs touching, sharing small kisses at red lights. His hand cupped your thigh, thumb rubbing small circles on the nylon.

Every passing red light, his grip got tighter on the wheel as they inched closer and closer back to home. If your current costume was any indicator of what was to come, Eddie couldn't wait. He pressed the gas further, fake pipe lying next to his cigarettes in the cup holder, captain's hat resting on the dash.

Eddie threw the gear into park, the truck stopping with a jostle that had you giggling, his hands rough and pressed against your cheeks, pulling you into a harsh kiss. You could taste the beer he'd drank on his tongue, roaming in your mouth, hands moving down your jaw to your collar.

You giggled when Eddie pulled you inside, pinning you up against the door, hands in a tight grip on your waist, his lips on your jaw, kissing just below your ear.

"Wait, wait, wait!" You squealed, eyes rolling back when he sucked on your neck. "Wait! I have to change, Eddie. I have another costume." You giggled, pulling back, your head resting against the cool wood of the door.

Eddie's shoulders fell slightly. "Bunny, this costume is more than enough." He pouted. "I've been ready to fuck you all night."

You rolled your eyes, stepping out of his grasp. "Just wait right here." You scampered down the hall towards his room. "I promise it'll be worth the wait."

And, oh, was it.

Eddie waited for twenty agonizing minutes, hearing thumps and movement from behind the closed door of his bedroom. His leg bounced, hands pressed together. He'd ditched his clothes, well, except for the robe. It was comfy, and if you were going to stay dressed up, he figured he would too.

You beckoned Eddie in, squirming with excitement, kneeling on the edge of the bed. Eddie laughed when he walked in, eyes lit up and excited. "Shit..." Eddie's eyes roamed over your frame, your sheepish smile.

You knelt, waiting in what Eddie thought was the sexiest thing he'd ever seen. Black lace lingerie that left you exposed, completely see through and vulnerable. He could see your pebbled nipples through the cups, your exposed slit through the cut middle between your legs. The back was low on your spine, but high cup on the side, resting just above your hips. The best part- the slit went all the way up to your tail bone, leaving you completely exposed.

You finished off the look with two accessories just for him. A pair of matching lace ears, flimsier than the ones of the other costume, but complete with a small veil that covered your eyes, hitting the bridge of your nose. You'd tied your hair up, securing the ribbon underneath the ponytail.

Eddie's eyes traveled down next to you, where you giggled in excitement. Laying on the towel beside you, his real treat. A little tube of lee from his bedside drawer, and a fluffy, black tail attached to a plug- your bunny tail to complete the look.

You knew better than to put it in yourself and deprive him of his favorite part.

Eddie's tongue trailed over his bottom lip, picking up the shiny plug, rolling the cool metal around his fingers. You grinned, excitedly. "What do you think, Mr. Hefner?" You teased, cocking your head to the side. "Think I'll make Playmate of the month? Cover?"

Eddie laughed, deep and dark. "Oh, bunny," He brought the fur part to your now exposed neck, ticking over your collarbones so you shivered. "I think you're close, but you gotta show me you really want it." His eyes darkened, making you blush under his gaze.

"You ready to show me?" Eddie asked. Your head bobbed eagerly, obediently.

Eddie smirked. "That's my girl. Roll over for me, baby. All fours. Stick that pretty little ass up for me."

You shifted quickly, arching deep and low, pressing your hips up and your shoulders flat against the mattress. You could hear Eddie behind you, rummaging through his drawer.

"Gotta find my fuckin' camera, holy shit." Eddie muttered, pushing his socks and belts around in the drawer. "Gotta capture this, bunny. Can't believe you did this for me. All for me, huh?"

Your thighs clenched together, throbbing at the praise. Eyes pinched and you were sure he could see your slick already spreading, the cool air making goosebumps trail down your shoulders and spine.

Eddie pressed the film in, the whirl of the Polaroid starting up. He moved to the front, kneeling on the bed, camera pointed at you. "Look at me, bunny." You lifted your eyes, rounded and awaiting for him. The flash of the camera blinded you for a moment, making you blink under the lace mask over your eyes.

Eddie chuckled to himself, shaking the photo a few times before setting the camera back on his nightstand. "'M keepin' that for fuckin' ever." He groaned, hands trailing over your thighs and hips. "Gettin' that shit tattooed on me right now."

You giggled, arching into his touch on your ass. His hand trailed down your thighs and towards your aching center, gasping when he slid his pointer finger through your slick folds. Eddie hummed, pressing his face forward, licking a long stripe from your clit to your ass, collecting every drop of you and his tongue prodding your tightest hole.

You gasped, low and growling, clenching around nothing, head tilting back. You fisted the sheets, pushing your hips back even further when his touch returned to your aching clit, circling it with just the right pressure and speed that had your head spinning.

Eddie toyed with you, kneeling down with a groan, knees cracking so he was eye level with your sopping cunt. He pushed his fingers in, two pumping slowly. His other hand pulled your ass apart, tongue lapping and sucking at your clit.

You whined, legs trembling and clenching as he sucked and curled at just the right pace. He always had you coming undone so easily when he wanted, like he knew exactly what to do to make you wild. He did, clearly, playing your body perfectly like it was his guitar.

Your high pitched whiny cries floated towards the ceiling, head tilted back so far you were sure you'd just bend in half. Eddie's free hand caught your release on his fingers, spreading them over your ass hole, circling it gently before barely pushing the tip of his finger in.

You two had plenty of experience with ass play since the first drunken night, a favorable past time for the tow of you. Eddie had bought you toys, trained you up until you could finally take his cock. You loved how good he was at it, too good. You weren't exactly sure how someone could be so good at everything, and when you told Eddie that he laughed, telling you, "been around the sun a few more times than you, baby, I've got some more experience than others."

Your eyes pinched, falling face first into the duvet. The lace of the mask over your eyes rubbed against your lids and forehead when you pressed yourself against the bed, writhing and crying out when he pushed you over the edge again. The sensation of his fingers and tongue on both your holes mixed with your previous orgasm had you cumming quick, gushing around him.

Eddie grinned, standing with a low huff. Your knees were falling underneath you, leaving you spread, nearly rubbing against the duvet. "You ready for your tail, lil bunny?" Eddie asked, popping the top to the tube open. The plug looked small enough he could probably have you stretched out with just two fingers to the knuckle and the lube.

You sighed, whining slightly as you shifted, wiggling your still shaky legs back up into position, Eddie's hand on your waist guiding you back up gently. He ran a hand down back gently, pressing a kiss to space of your spine where the lace of the lingerie and exposed skin met.

Eddie squirted the cold lube making you clench. He cooed softly, trailing kisses down the dip of your spine over your hips, finger circling your tight hole. "You gotta relax, remember?" Eddie cooed when you clenched, pressing a kiss to your hips, his scruff tickling the delicate skin. "You need me to loosen you up a little more?"

You shook your head, dazed and hazy, pushing up on your forearms gently, looking back at him. "'M ready, I promise. 'M ok." You muttered, giving him a small smile.

Eddie returned it, leaning forward to kiss you, hard and deep, teeth clashing. "Fuck, bunny, you're too good to me." He muttered, lips still brushing yours, rubbing his nose to yours.

You looked at him, glassy eyed and dazed already even through the veil he could tell that, lowering your back so your ass arched farther, pressing your face to the side of the mattress. You watched him through the vanity mirror, the low lights of the room illuminating his figure.

Eddie pushed his first finger in, slow and gentle, circling you just expertly to get you ready. You moaned, clenching your legs when you throbbed. Eddie grinned watching you grind down, slowly wiggling back for more before he added the second, getting you nice and loose.

Eddie leaned forward, muttering in your ear little praises while he pushed in the plug, his lips against your lace covered temple. Eddie looked back when you shifted, the little puff of fur plugged in you making the cutest little tail.

"Look at you," Eddie cooed, laughing to himself, he kissed you deeply, wiping his hand on the towel you laid out. "God, baby, stay right there, ok? Arched just like that."

Eddie grabbed his camera, the flash going off rapidly. Eddie was making sure his spank bank would be full for a long time, drooling over you. He tossed his camera carefully, before climbing on top of you.

You twisted, his lips crashing and needy into you, grinding yourself down on his bare, inked leg when he wedged it between you, hands moving down to his boxers. You could feel his cock straining against his black briefs, hard and begging to be released to you.

Eddie moaned onto your mouth when you squeezed him through his underwear, your tiny hands expertly rolling and working him through the fabric. You could feel his pre-cum seeping through the material, leaving a wet patch.

Eddie's hands moved up to your tits, palming them through the material, squeezing and rolling your nipples. You whined, grinding down further on his leg. "Fuck, bunny, I gotta get this off you." Eddie muttered, pushing the straps down to your waist, leaving your top part exposed.

He kissed, sucked, bit all the way down, leaving trails of little bruises and red marks onto your skin. Your neck, collarbones, chest, breasts, tummy. He wanted to kiss every inch of you after you'd done all of this for him.

You whined when he turned you over, hovering so you were on your back, the tail of the plug shifting and moving with the duvet. Eddie pulled you carefully by your waist, brows furrowed slightly. "Here, let me help you out of this alright? I'll be careful."

And he was. So caring and gentle, pulling the straps of the lace down your body, until it was a puddle on the ground. You told him he didn't have to be so careful, but your heart was swelling at the gesture, how sweet he always was to you.

You went to move the ears off, but Eddie stopped you, running a hand down the nape of your neck. "Leave that on, please." He asked, eyes dark and lust blown. You just nodded, mouth salivating when he pulled his boxers down, throwing them next to your lingerie.

He pumped himself, pushing himself to the headboard, leaning lazily against it, lip tucked beneath his teeth. You blushed, squirming under his hungry gaze, slick and throbbing, nails digging into your palms as you shifted from foot to foot.

Eddie grinned. "You gonna show me why you're my bunny, aren't ya?" He asked, cocking a brow. You nodded. Eddie moved his hands, cock freeing from his grasp and lying against his tummy.

You grinned when you climbed on top of him, straddling him gently. "You wanna see my tail while I ride you?" You asked, loving the way his Adam's apple bobbed when you did.

"Fuck, please," Eddie groaned watching you shift, moving so you wiggled your ass in his face, squealing when he cracked a hand down on your cheeks.

"You better ride me good, lil bunny." Eddie warned, gripping your hips. "You want the front page, you better show me how badly you want it."

You giggled, looking over your shoulder, pumping his cock in your hands. "I will, Hef, I promise." You sunk onto him slowly, squeezing his dick the whole way down.

Eddie groaned loudly, grip on your hips tightening when you ground against the hair on his base. "Fuck, fuck, just like that." Eddie groaned when you started circling slowly. You always started slowly like this, working him up before you really rode him.

Then you lifted slowly as you bent forward, gripping Eddie's knees lightly when you lifted off of him, bringing your hips up and down over and over again.

"Fuck bunny, just like that, bounce on my cock, baby. You're just so good aren't you?" Eddie sucked in a breath, hands pulling your cheeks apart so he could get deeper.

The scene in front of him was too much, he was ready to bust already. Your little plug, bouncing and moving, tickling his pelvis with extra deep strokes. Your creamy spend smearing over his cock already, excess from the lube mixing with your slick pussy making the room fill with the squelching sounds. 

You could feel his hips meeting yours, squeezing your ass, stroking your tail and moving it so you'd moan deep. You dipped lower, nearly lying between his legs, crouching so you lifted quickly and deeply.

"Fuck, look at you go." Eddie laughed in between a low growl. "You are my little bunny. My perfect little bunny. You just love bouncin' all over my cock, don't you? You'd bounce for hours for me, wouldn't you?"

You whined, his words making you clamp and gush, his cock brushing the sensitive spot deep inside you with the position. "Yes." You cried out. "'M your bunny."

Eddie grit his teeth, coil in his belly getting tighter and tighter with every pump of you around him. "Fuck, bunny, wait," He huffed, chest heaving. "Turn around f'me, ok? Let me see your pretty face."

You stuttered in movements, pushing up with shaky arms, squeezing with him still inside you. You pulled off just for a moment, adjusting yourself carefully so your legs were on either side of Eddie's hips. You lined him back up inside you, sinking down much faster than you did last time.

Your nails dug into Eddie's inked chest, clawing into him when he gripped your ass, hips thrusting up to meet yours. Your mask and ears were starting to slip, you were sweaty on your hairline under the band of the material, but you didn't care. Your hips lifted, slamming back down on him, pressing into his chest with a cry.

You kept your pace, fast and quick, Eddie's hips meeting yours. "Y'a little jack rabbit for me, huh? Bounce and bounce and bounce, look at you." Eddie cooed nearly mocking through grit teeth.

You whimpered, eyes pinching together. You were so close, the coil in your belly growing and growing. "My little bunny just loves to bounce all over my cock, doesn't she? Just my cock, right?" Eddie growled. You nodded, whimpering. Your thighs burned, but the burning in your belly was worse, hungrier. You slammed faster, desperate to chase that high that you were so close to.

Eddie was close, teetering on the edge, but he wanted you to finish first, you always finished first with him. "Look at me." Eddie grit, hand finding your jaw, holding it lightly. He moved the veil up when your eyes met his, seeing your rounded, desperate eyes, glazed over and nearly teary.

"Y'gonna cum? Cum all over my cock? Yeah? Go ahead, you earned it, bunny." Eddie grunted, lifting his own hips to meet yours, punishing pace meeting yours.

You cried when his calloused thumb circled your clit, nearly falling on top of him with how your legs shook. Eddie held your hips, fucking up into you. He didn't mind the burn forming in his lower back, especially not when he emptied himself in you, warm, thick ropes spurting deep inside of you.

Your chest heaved together, his breath, your exhale, sharp and desperate. It was like you were sharing breaths with each other, and maybe you were. Sticky, sweaty skin, hot and molted together. You slid further into his lap, the top of his thighs, Eddie's hands moving to cradle you instinctively.

Your ears were around your neck, still tied but fallen to hang off your shoulder. Your plug was sticky with his cum when he pulled out, wetting the bottom of the faux fur. Your face was on his chest, his heartbeat thumping against your ear, his rough hands on your back.

Neither of you spoke for a while. Small shallowed breaths, deep sighs, little groans. You looked up at Eddie, feeling his gaze on the top of your head. His hands untied your ears, unraveling the ribbon so it fell beside you. He grinned down at you.

You blinked up at him, swirling with emotions and warmth. "Did I make the cover, Mr. Hefner?" You grinned.

Eddie snorted a laugh, stretching to grab the developed polaroids on the bed side table. "You sure did, bunny." Eddie smirked, showing a rather vulgar photo of you, arched with the plug in your ass, pussy shining from the flash, and ears high over your ass. "This right here? This one's the cover."

You laughed, pushing up on his chest, moving so you hovered over him. He looked at you, gooey and lovestruck, pushing a hair behind your ear. "Thanks f'dressing up with me." You smiled.

Eddie gawked lightly. "I think I should be thanking you." He chuckled. "Thank you for dressing up for me." You giggled, his lips capturing yours sweetly.

Eddie pulled back, nose to nose with you. You could see his wrinkles, the grey hairs in his temple and in his eyebrows. His skin showing signs of age, freckles from time in the sun. His beard was scruffy, a little longer than usual but trimmed. You ran your hand down it, trailing your thumb over his bottom lip.

"You're my best bunny, you know that?" Eddie whispered.

You pulled back, raising a brow. "Best? I better be your only bunny, Mr. Munson." You looked at him carefully.

Eddie smirked. "So I'm not Mr. Hefner anymore?" He asked playfully. You shook your head. "Good. That motherfucker wasn't nearly as lucky as I am."

You howled in laughter, blushing and rolling your eyes at the cheesy line. Eddie helped remove your plug, cleaning you up gently in the bathroom, soft kisses and little giggles echoed through the space. You pushed the top sheet off, hoisting it to the laundry room to deal with tomorrow, Eddie bringing in two spare blankets from the linen closet.

He smelled like the cigarette he'd been smoking outside, the comforting scent lulling you to sleep, while Eddie snored beside you, arms wrapped around your waist, heavy like weights on you but comforting.

[going-to-ikea-for-the-fries]

Three. Four. Five. || Toxic!Husband!Price

For @glitterypirateduck's “O, Captain!” writing challenge! I used prompts:

30. "I hate you but if anything happened to you I'd burn the world" vibe.;

42. The story spans over a period of 10 or more years;

78. Give us a "That's my Wife!" moment.

Rating: E Words: 3.3K cw: toxic couple, VERY toxic, insults, death wishes, smut fade to black, pregnancy. Tags: f!reader, you/your pronouns but no Y/N, miilitary/court martial inaccuracies, very bad family dynamics?, dark humour??. Summary: John and Reader are in the worst fucking marriage ever. A collection of moments, dialogues and scenes from their terrible relationship. a/n: They are SO fucking toxic and dumb, I cannot- This is also very different from the stuff I usually write. This is ALSO not particularly angsty, more so dark humour.

There was a time when you loved John Price.

With all your heart, all your soul (and all your pussy).

That time was when you were young.

Ages 14 to 21, you loved him. He was your first kiss, your first time. High school sweethearts, you supported him through the academy, he supported you when you went to university. 

You stayed together through his first and second deployments. It was like an old-timey WW2 romance. 

So many letters exchanged back and forth. All lovey-dovey, with faint pen ink and smudged blotches on the pages as you made plans for the future.

Phone calls with spotty service and loads of static, only five minutes per soldier, 5 minutes which he’d spend only ever spend talking to you, asking you to relay any other messages to his mum, dad, siblings so he wouldn’t have to hang up with you. 

Polaroids clipped on the inside of envelopes which he would then slip into the breast pocket of his shirt, keeping you over his heart… one he’d often pull out and look at during transpo, thumbs tracing your eternal smile.

Polaroids of yours, a bit more risqué, which he would keep tucked into a journal under his pillow, for his eyes only.

John would walk around overseas with a smile on his lips after getting a letter or a call from you, brag to his teammates about his “bird back home”, never going out to bars to find one night stands like they did…

But sometime after his second deployment and joining the SAS, the puppy love that had lasted for years started to dwindle. 

Slowly but surely, you found that you were both growing distant.

You assumed you were both growing a bit ‘comfortable’, perhaps complacent… like all relationships tend to get after a while. 

By that time, John and you had already moved in together and you were no longer consistently alone for months at a time waiting for him to return from deployment. You blamed it on that. Plus, you’d been together for years by then!

But it felt different. There was distance, emotional and physical. Whenever he cuddled up to you, you felt cold and so did he. The kisses to your forehead were meaningless, the dinners at home eerily silent.

And between the distance and the inability to make proper plans, proper dates, celebrate milestones together, forgotten anniversaries, overlooked birthdays… It turned into arguments. 

And one argument turned to three, to five, to seven… hundred.

You found yourself growing bitter, angry, hateful.

It wasn’t a sudden shift or anything.

Not like you woke up one day and the one thought in your head was “I hate him”...

But you remember hating him longer than you ever loved him.

You tried breaking up. And failed. 

Some… bastardised feeling of guilt came to the forefront of both your minds at the idea of throwing away 5 6 7 8 9 10 years together, and giving up on your first love… and maybe even fear of having to start anew with someone else.

So, you simply continued going through the motions. You got engaged, big shiny rock on your finger, all big smile, but no tears came when he proposed. Your families were ecstatic, not quite able to see through the thinly veiled deceit.

For the wedding, you pulled out all the stops, stressed yourself out preparing the ceremony and reception with the women in your family (and his! His mother and sister were so happy that John was getting married!), going wedding dress shopping…

You had a beautiful ceremony, John wearing his full dress suit, army green, with the beige SAS beret. You were both 27, and together for 13 years.

Then, came the honeymoon, which was cut short. Not that it was a true honeymoon. Just three days in a coastal town in Northern France, having to be within a day's drive of Hereford lest he get called out for a sudden mission, which he was.

Not that you expected any different from him. So the distance continued growing, as did the arguments.

You hated him. He hated you.

Then came the predictable “So, when can we expect some grandkids?”. You put it off for a couple more years, blaming it on your high-priority careers, the law and the military, so similar and so different; his lack of time at home and how regrettable it’d be for you to be alone through the pregnancy; the want to be ‘more present’ for the future kids, needing to wait for things to settle down a bit more…

You’d been together for so long at that point, 15 years under your belt, starkly aware that neither of you is going anywhere. The world keeps spinning and your relationship hasn't ended. Fuck it, might as well go for it.

And now here you are.

It’s been eighteen years since you met. Aged 32, you no longer have arguments, you have throwdowns. You pull out every weapon in your arsenal. Neither of you plays nice.

Insults are traded often. Death wishes even more so. And, more often than not, they’re delivered with such a deadpan nonchalance that you’re sure people would think you both psychopaths.

“Going on a mission. ‘ll be back in a few days.”

“‘Kay, hope you die.”

“So do I.”

-

“Just had a fender bender with a stupid bloke. The car’s at the shop. Taking an uber to the base to get your car.”

“Okay. Shame you didn’t die a fiery death.”

“Don’t remind me, already cried about it.”

-

"I'm getting discharged."

"Why?"

"Shot."

"And it couldn't have killed you?"

-

“Can you get out of the damn toilet? I’m bleeding.”

“Period, accident, or just part of your satanic rituals?”

“Period.”

“Tough luck. Hope you bleed out.”

It never gets physical, never violent. John would rather die than lay a hand on you and you’d never DARE lay one on him. It’s just a lot of yelling, a lot of insulting, a lot of throwing things around, and, especially, a lot of revenge plans being executed to drive each other crazy.

Like recently. You found out John had gotten a grey-haired wig about the same length and texture as your hair, and has been snipping off a few hairs at a time, planting them around the house to blame you for leaving your hair everywhere, while simultaneously making you feel like you’re going grey. So, you put grey hair box dye in his shampoo and beard oil, to make him think he’s going grey.

Or three months ago, when you replaced all your lightbulbs with dimmer ones and lowered the brightness on all electronics, to make him think his eyesight was starting to go bad. You drove him so mad that he had voluntarily signed up for sniper assessments because he was worried he’d become a liability for the team.

Or eight months ago, when John had to return home in the middle of the day wearing a ruined uniform and just about ready to blow smoke out of his ears, having ripped holes in the uniform midway through a meeting all because 2 or so weeks prior you had painstakingly undone part of the stitching on it after an argument, and that had resulted in him baring his hairy thighs and armpits to a boardroom full of officers.

It’s bad. Very bad. You’ve had your windows and doors insulated to make sure the neighbors don’t hear your screaming matches and call the cops on the “domestic violence” happening next door. 

You probably shouldn’t have kids with this man. And yet-

He drives you insane.

And you’ve TRIED to fix it! You did. Marriage counseling, rage rooms, axe-throwing, paintball matches, yoga, meditation.… Nothing worked! In fact, it only infuriated you more because:

“You’ve got a tactical advantage, you need to play with a handicap!”

“Tough luck, sweetheart. Get good or get shot!”.

-

“You can throw harder than that.”

“Oh, I’ll show ya throwing hard, you gobshite!”

“Okay, when are you planning to start?”

-

“My back hurts-”

“Because you’re getting old.”

“Fuck you.”

“I’m just telling you the truth. Face it, John, if the downward dog hurts your back, then you’re old.”

-

“Can you breathe any louder?”

“Yes, I can. Wanna see?”

“Just shut up. I can’t hear myself think.”

“Not much to hear either way, pretty hollow in there.”

“I hate you.”

“Feeling’s mutual, sweetness.”

There are only three occasions when you’re not actively at each other’s throats. Other, then, of course, when John’s working, especially when he’s overseas. You can’t fight if he’s both a) not home and b) unreachable via calls or texts or e-mails.

When you need a favor from the other, something you can’t quite do, or that falls in the other’s ‘jurisdiction’ in house chores.

“The washing machine’s leaking.”

“Turn off the water main, I’ll go check in a sec.”

“Mkay.”

-

“Here. Popped a button.”

“I don’t have any more army green thread.”

“Then use brown or black or whatever.”

-

“Where are your car keys?”

“What for?”

“Going to get it washed and detailed.”

“My purse.”

-

“You’re not gonna wear that, are you?”

“Why?”

“Besides the fact that it’s wrinkly? That’s a ‘house’ shirt, not a ‘going out’ shirt. Wear this one instead.”

2. When you’re both complaining or dealing with an outside force, a 3rd party, together.

"Excuse me, hi, I'm sending this back it's not cooked the way I asked."

"Ma'am that's exactly what you-"

"Are you calling my wife a liar?"

-

“Oh, fuck no. Why the fuck is he winning the Great British Bake Off?"

"Hm? Oh- oh! Yeah, why the fuck is he winning?"

“Bloody hell, he rolled his pastry too thin and had watery pie filling-”

“Wankers. This is not fair.”

-

“John. John!”

“What?”

“Look-”

“Blood hell, he’s back early-”

“Yeah and her boytoy’s car still there. They’re definitely still going at it.”

“Oh, this is going to be fun.”

-

“Excuse me! Hey, excuse me! Pick up after your bloody dog! NO, don’t you start with me, you keep leaving your dog’s shite right by our garden, don’t you see the sign my husband’s posted up?! Pick it up or I’ll do it and then drop it in your garden.”

3. During sex.

Marching into the bedroom after breakfast, you find John combing through his hair in the bathroom mirror. The room is steamy from the hot shower he just took. 

“Take your trousers off. I’m ovulating.” You warn him as you wave your phone in the air, showing off the period tracking app.

“I literally just showered.” John replies as you’re already shrugging off your robe and pajamas.

“Well, believe or not, I don’t control my ovaries, John.” You reply. “Now take your trousers off.”

“Already on it.” He replies as he already starts taking off his shirt and sweatpants, leaving them on a pile on the floor, before his boxer briefs follow suit.

His hand palms his cock as you’re getting comfortable on the bed, tugging on it lightly as he watches your fingers do the same between your legs. 

“Can we try to enjoy it this time?” He asks you in earnest.

“Sure.” You reply simply. “Been a while since we’ve had proper sex and not…”

“Not a breeding session?” He quips as he kneels on the bed between your parted thighs. His hand replaces yours and he starts rubbing your clit for you.

“Shut it…” You quip, while your own hand wraps around his cock, stroking it slowly. John lowers himself onto you and his lips slowly brush against yours before he kisses you.

No, as it turns out… There are actually four occasions when you’re not actively at each other’s throats:

4. The Kid

In a day like any other, you’re lying in bed, reading a book. It’s a lazy Sunday morning, your big, round belly feeling particularly heavy. You’ve stolen every other pillow in the house to try and find some comfort, which you fail remarkably at.

“I think I’m going grey.” John states to no one in particular.

He’s in the en-suite bathroom, applying beard oil across his mutton chops like he tends to do, about three times a week.

“You are.” You remark in a bored, dismissive tone as you read a book in bed.

“That’s not funny. I’m not that old.”

“You’re getting up there.”

“Look who’s talking, we’re the same age.”

“What’s that supposed to mean, Jonathan?”

“It means you’re there yourself, darling.”

Raising your eyes from the book in your hands, the bottom of which rests atop your pregnant belly, you cock a brow at your ‘beloved’ husband.

“And this is coming from Santa Claus?” You retort swiftly.

John peeks his head out of the bathroom door to look at you. “You think you’ve got a leg to stand on, you crone?”

Grunting under your breath, you glare at him, and he glares at you, complete silence in the bedroom. 

There’s something in that face of his, the look in his eyes, those STUPID fucking mutton chops that you’ve told him to shave and he refuses…

Grabbing your book and rolling it into a cylinder, you hurl it at him, putting as much force behind your arm as you possibly can. It misses the mark, but only because he had the presence of mind to duck. 

“You’re such a fuckin’ knobhead!” You insult him, tongue dripping with bitterness.

“Wel, not like I can be anything else, really, when I’m married to such a raging cunt.” He retorts.

“OH FUCK YOU!” You retort.

“ALREADY AM MORE THAN FUCKED, SPENDING THE REST OF MY LIFE WITH YOU.”

“OH, PLEASE, YOU’RE MORE MARRIED TO YOUR BLOODY GUN THAN YOU ARE TO ME!”

“YEAH CAUSE AT LEAST MY GUN DOESN’T DRIVE ME FUCKING MENTAL!”

“OH PISS OFF!” You shout, your face twisting with a scowl.

“You know, you really shouldn’t be stressing yourself out like this. It’s not good for your blood pressure. Or for John Junior.”

“First of all, it’s not gonna be a boy. Secondly, even if it is a boy, we’re not naming him after you. And thirdly, how about you die, then I won’t get stressed.”

“And why would I do that, when I can stay right here, perfectly alive and healthy, and watch you give birth to John Junior, and have the pleasure of rubbing a ‘I told you so’ right in your face?”

“Oh fuck you. It’s not going to happen.” You sulk and cross your arms over your chest, leaning back against your mountain of pillows.

“Someone doesn’t like the idea of having a son that takes after me, hm??” John teases as he comes up to the bed, a brow cocked.

You trail him with your eyes as he sits next to you on the bed. “Absolutely not. I wanna have a child I actually am able to love, and not one that I have to lie to.”

“A mother’s love knows no bounds, huh? What a load of crap.” John quips.

“Oh, that’s 100% true. I love this baby to bits already, but if it takes after you… I’ll probably die.”

“Good.” John remarks, causing you to roll your eyss. “Much better than if our child takes after you. Spawn of Satan, he would be.” John’s hand slides up your leg and slowly cups your swollen stomach.

“I should probably address the fact you just called our child ‘Satan’s spawn’, but I’m more concerned over the fact you keep calling the baby a ‘son’.” You murmur as you uncross your arms and watch him caress your skin.

“I feel like it’s a boy, I don’t know what to tell you.” He replies as his calloused fingers drag over the stretch marks and linea nigra on your stomach.

“What if it’s a girl?”

“What about it?”

“I’ve seen enough men online getting pissy over havin’ a daughter.” You quip and cock a brow up, looking him in the eyes.

John’s eyes lock onto yours. “Not me.” Then they return to the belly as he continues rubbing you. “Would love a little girl too.”

“Hm.” You remark and slowly, your hand rubs over the belly on the opposite side, where John’s hand isn’t. “We’ve gotta promise not to yell or argue in front of the baby.”

“Kind of hard to do that when I’m married to the Devil.” John quips, causing you to look up at him, eyes narrowed.

“You’ve gotta promise. We’ve gotta promise.” You murmur as you look at him.

For a moment, his usually grumpy face softens and he nods. “I promise.”

Nodding as well, you echo the sentiment. “I promise.”

No, wait, five:

5. When you have his back.

“General, that is not what I asked you. I would ask that you stop beating around the bush, feeding me, the jury, and the people watching at home, fabricated information and embellished words in a sorry attempt to save your credibility. Stick to the questions being asked and stop wasting our times.” You warned the man as you paced the space in front of the stand.

“Me and everyone else in this room are looking for nothing but the truth, or must I remind you that you are under oath and also live on television?” You ask outloud as you turn to look at him.

“No, counselor.” The General, a heavy-set, older, mustachioed man replies, through gritted teeth, his face showing a polite expression while the man himself was seething on the inside.

“Very well, then, I’ll repeat the question. Were you or were you not aware of the aforementioned, unsactioned operations being conducted in the Al-Mazarah and Urzikstan border, involving CIA and MI6 operatives?” You asked, eyes glaring into the man’s eyes as you leaned into the stand near him.

“Well, as with most operations...”

“A yes or no is enough, General.” You told him sternly.

“Yes.” The man grits out.

“And did you, or did you not, give permission for these CIA and MI6 operatives, working under the guise of NATO, and I quote, from the transcript: “Authority to use any means necessary” on the enemy forces?” You confronted him.

“Well-”

“Yes or no?”

“Yes.”

“And did you do that while being aware that the teams involved would interpret such command as permission to execute an operation in which they’d use ‘extreme physical persuasion’ or, in other words, torture to achieve their goals?”

“I-”

“Did you or did you not, General?”

“Yes, but-”

“And did you, or did you not, not only demand the censoring of the clear and transparent reports received in the aftermath of that operation but also sign off on them yourself, to circumvent the proper channels of evaluation, which would force an internal audit to be conducted?”

“Yes-”

“So, in short, you just confirmed that you authorized your troops to, essentially, wipe their asses with the Geneva convention and comit war crimes on the POWs under their care?”

“Counselor-” One of the judges called out.

“Withdrawn. No further questions, Mr. Chairman.” You told the Chairman and the jury panel that sat above you, as you swiftly turned around and marched up to your table, high heels clacking on the polished floors of the court room.

Your eyes locked onto John’s as he sat in the back of the room, wearing his full regalia, his eyes locked onto yours with a strange shine to them… Almost like he’s proud of you.

As soon as you sit on the chair and the Chairman once again takes over, addressing the room, the General, calling other witnesses, your phone’s screen lights up on the chair next to you.

Picking it up quietly, you spot a message of John’s:

John: that’s my girl. knew you could do it. you: you owe me big time. John: i do. saved my arse there. you: of course. it’s what I’m here for.  John: almost making it sound like you love me. you: no but I wouldn’t let anything happen to you. you: no way in hell you’re leaving me alone with 3 children. John: i see. selfish woman. you: shut up.  you: and try not torturing POWs next time. John: yes, ma’am.

Five occasions seem to be enough to keep a 23-year marriage afloat.

a/n: Big thanks to my beloved @crashtestbunny for helping draft/plot all these interactiions and just the general toxicity! And also @mothymunson your beloved Toxic!Price is here!

[ O, Captain! Masterlist ] || [ My Masterlist ]

[jjongslutz]

박제이 JAY 💋 TAKE FIVE! [ MDNI. ]

IN WHICH you've always trusted jay. he's a good director. but you've gotta admit, this gig is... weird

WARNINGS ⨯ fem!reader, pw(out)p, soft dom!jay x sub!reader, director!jay x voice actor!reader, use of pet names (baby, good girl, darling) guided masturbation (f. receiving), recording (audio), fingering (f. receiving), finger sucking, p in v sex, cumming in mouth

WORD COUNT ⨯ 2.4k

AUTHOR’S NOTE . . . i don't even know what prompted this so…. enjoy!

You moan into the mic, marking what feels like the fiftieth time of the day.

This is it, this is the one.

"Hm," you hear the disapproving hum from your headphones, instantly dropping your head in frustration. "I'm sorry Y/N, but I need more emotion."

"Can I have some water?" You ask, instead of returning to the task you just can't quite get.

As long as you've been a voice actor, a good three years, you've never played such a challenging role, which is surprising, considering you once voiced seven different characters in the same show.

Jay, the director, nods at you from behind the glass.

You make your way to his side of the studio in a rush. You truly can't stand another second in that recording booth making such embarrassing sounds into the microphone for a whole group of people to watch and listen.

"What's gotten into you, Y/N?"

This isn't the first time you're working with Jay. He's young, but a very well-known director in the voice acting community under the name Park Jongseong. Though, you know him best as just Jay, one of your old friends from college. Is it nepotism if it's your friend getting you these gigs? But, then again, you're also pretty popular in the community, so... tomato tomato.

You shrug at him, taking a sip out of your water bottle. "I don't know, I guess, it's just—" You raise your shoulders again and take an awkward look around the room. Gesturing with your eyes, you tell him, "There's a lot of people here, it's kinda weird."

The gig in itself is weird, you know this, and you knew this ever since Jay presented it to you.

"You want me to what?"

"It's really simple," he had said. So casually, as if he didn't just drop the bomb that you'll basically be voicing straight up porn. "You make a few... exaggerated sounds, and the jobs done. It pays really well, trust me."

And, since you did need the money, you accepted, expecting it to be the shortest recording session you've ever had.

You were proven wrong already.

Jay lets his forehead fall into his hand, rubbing at his temples as if trying to heal a headache, which he probably actually is. He sighs before letting his arm drop. "Guys, you can go home. I'll take it from here."

They do not have to be told twice because as soon as the words come out of their boss's mouth, they're packing up their bags, putting on their coats and saying their goodbyes. You watch them all file behind each other to exit the studio, and then it's just you and Jay.

"So..." he says, filling the silence. "You ready for another try?"

You're glad he's taken off his director persona. Using it as a pass to strip off some of your own professionalism, you heave a long sigh. "Yeah, sure."

And, so you do.

You moan into the mic, this time making your own face in disgust because even you can hear that it sounded off. But when you turn to Jay, you don't see him mirroring your expression.

Instead, he's watching you intently. His fingers rest on his bottom lip, which is tutting underneath them. He's thinking, thinking, thinking, and you know he's come up with a new idea by the way his lips curl up slowly.

You hear the click of his microphone, and soon his voice fills your headphones. "I have a suggestion." His voice is low, but not hesitant. Jay is anything but hesitant.

"I'll take anything at this point."

"I want you to touch yourself."

His eyes never leave yours despite the window barrier between the two of you. Had you not been wearing your headphones, you would've missed the suggestion entirely, but you cock your head to the side slowly and decide you're fine that you didn't.

He takes your silence as approval. "Pull out the chair and take off your shorts for me," he says quickly. And you do as you're told.

You slowly slide the shorts down your legs, turning your gaze away for a second to recollect yourself.

When you sit down, your eyes meet again. You're sure you've grown a red flush, but he doesn't seem to mind. “Bring the mic down closer to you.” He pulls his bottom lip through his teeth before giving you the next instruction. "Start rubbing your pussy over your panties. Slowly."

Your hand traces its way up your leg, to your thigh, and cunt, both staling and putting on a show. What the fuck am I doing? Using two fingers, you being to draw little circles, then big circles over your clit, starting up a nice rhythm. You hum, pushing your head back against the chair and closing your eyes.

"Good girl," he breathes, and you don't think he even notices he said it.

But you certainly did. It pulls a moan out of you.

Jay hums approvingly from his side. “Slide your fingers underneath your waistband. Touch around your clit, but don't touch it just yet. Can you do that for me?”

You give him a broken hum instead of words, listening to his directions and obeying them simply. Your pussy pulses beneath your touch, begging for your fingers to reach where you want it most. But you listen to Jay obediently, letting your hands draw circles around your cunt, eliciting whimpers from your core.

“You’re doing so good for me,” Jay whispers into your ears. You wish he was in the room with you. You’re not sure what you want him to do, but you want more than just his entrancing voice in the headphones. “Keep reading the script,” he adds.

Right. You almost forgot about it.

Your character is meant to be reading while getting fucked from behind, their words slurred together and interrupted by moans. It’s hot, but the text is less than turning you on.

Starting from the top, you read it out loud, your fingers collecting the juices spilling out from your pleasure.

Without permission, you stick one finger inside of you. You push it in, and out, before retracting it completely and bringing it up to your mouth to suck on it. Once your finger is coated in your saliva, it goes back into your cunt, forgetting all about Jay’s piercing gaze from the other side of the glass.

His voice rings in your ears. “What are you doing, baby? That’s not part of the script,” he teases.

Your finger still in your sopping cunt, you lean forward to start back with the script. At about halfway, Jay’s voice sounds again.

“Play with your clit.” His voice drips with a sense of hunger that turns you on.

Your thumb rolls over your clit, finally, a broken moan escaping your lips. You curl your other fingers inside of you, searching for your G-spot which you just can't quite reach. A whine drawls out of you.

When he’s satisfied with your noises, you hear the click of his mic turning on. “Pinch your nipple.”

Bringing your other arm up, you notice your hardened nipples aching to be played with. You twist and pinch and tug to Jay’s pleasure.

“Good girl,” he groans again. His hand drifts further down his body to where you can't see from where you're sitting, but you watch his arm jerk and match his pace with the fingers in your pussy. “Fuck,” he mutters, taking off his headphones and slamming them on the table before moving for the door into the recording booth.

The sudden slam of the door startles you, making you jump in your seat. You close your legs quickly with your hands still embarrassingly stuck down your panties.

Jay fakes concern. “Aw baby, are you shy?” He kneels down in front of you, holding teasingly sweet eye contact as he gets down. His hands come up to your hips and dig into the waistband. You twitch as he snaps the band against your skin. “How about we take these off so I can see how wet you are?”

They come off within seconds. You’re scrambling to get back into your seat as Jay keeps watching you patiently.

“Perfect.” He runs his thumb against your dripping core, sending shivers down your spine. Your pre-cum leaves his finger shining. He raises his hand up to your mouth and swipes his thumb against your lips. You open them to welcome the taste of your wetness. “Good girl.”

As your tongue laps his thumb, you squeal when you feel an invasion in your cunt. Jay’s stuck two fingers into you, and thrusts them rhythmically to your tongue on his other hand.

You moan at the arousing sensations. Your eyes flutter shut naturally, but they catch on the flickering red light from atop the booth’s door.

It’s still recording. Fuck, you think, unable to form coherent words, bucking your hips as you feel your high coming closer. Your breaths are short and your cries are higher pitched, completely letting yourself get lost in the feeling.

And then it all slips away.

“Why,” you whine, prolonging the syllable in distress.

Jay wears a teasing smile, but his eyes show gentle affection. His hands go down to his waistband, but he interrupts himself in his movement. “Oh, baby, were you gonna cum? I’m sorry, I thought you’d want to do it on my cock instead, but I can finger you some more—”

“No!” You sit up hurriedly, grabbing his waistband weakly to take it off for him.

“Such a good girl,” he says proudly, watching you scramble to take his pants off.

You bite your lip at the wet patch on his boxers, but more at the outline of his hardened arousal underneath them. Jay looks at you intensely, his eyes telling you, “Go on.”

His erection slaps against his clothed torso. His tip shines of precum and it takes everything in you not to lap it all in your tongue.

Jay’s hand harshly grabs your hair, pulling your head to make eye contact with him towering above you. “Darling, don’t forget what we’re here for.”

You’re reminded of the recording mic and the script, crumpled paper, now, sitting on the script-stand. Pathetically, you get up from your knees, placing your hands on the stand and arching your back, giving him clear access to your entrance, which glistens in invitation.

Looking at the microphone sitting atop its stand, bent to where it sits right under your lips, your mind wanders at the thought of the shape and how much you wish it was Jay’s cock. You imagine putting him in your mouth and taking him all the way down your throat, letting him thrust upward, causing you to choke on him and clenching your throat tighter to make sure he spills his seed deep inside you.

The intrusion of him aligning himself to your hole shuts your thoughts up. “Fuck, you’re tight,” he groans as he slides in slowly.

His first thrust pulls out a pornagraphic moan from you. The way he hits right where you need him, balls-deep into your cunt. Your hand drags down to your stomach where you feel the tip of his dick pushing forward with each thrust.

You clench around him, trying to focus on the script through blurry vision. Taking breaks between every few words to moan or suck in a deep breath—more often, both—you manage measly to get through your lines.

“Good girl,” Jay calls you again. His hand reaches down to stroke your hair gently, before he harshly grips the base of it, bundling it in his hands and using it as leverage to slam his hips against yours. “Such a good fucking girl.”

Combining his fast thrusts and his hypnotizing words, you know you’re not going to last long. You feel his cock hit your g-spot and it’s all over. You’re clenching and whining into the microphone, letting out the most pleasurable angelic noises you’ve ever made. Your legs tremble underneath his unstilling movements.

When you’re done shaking in pleasure beneath him, your hips buck forward to avoid overstimulation, his cock slipping out. Jay doesn’t mind, his hand going directly to his aching groin, moving at a fast pace.

“Fuck, I’m close.”

You love the sounds he makes. His low hums, the way he speaks quickly to not interrupt himself by a loud moan.

Steadying yourself on the chair, you kneel in front of him, his cock jerking against your mouth. He groans above you, thrusting his hips into it as he gets close. You open your mouth and welcome his spilling white ropes as he closes his eyes tightly and lets out the most brain-fuzzing sound of the day.

Jay takes his hand and cups your jaw. His thumb swipes over the leftover cum leaking over your lips, pushing it through as to not waste any bit of it. “Perfect,” he whispers at the beautiful sight in front of him.

He pulls out a handkerchief from his pocket, dampens it with water from your bottle and cleans you, then the microphone and script stands.

You thank him as he helps you pull your clothes on over your body, muscles still shaking.

When you’re both on the outside of the booth, nothing is different in the air from when you were out here with him before. You’re not sure if you wish it had changed or if you’re thankful there’s nothing weird that came from what you just did.

“How was that,” you ask, sipping on your bottle. You’re not really serious, you know it was good, but you need the confirmation.

A light dust of pink shades his cheeks as he names the audio file “Y/N as Mina, Ep. 4.” “Yes, you did, uh, very good. Really good.”

A smile creeps upon your lips, but you suppress it by biting your lip. “Thank you.”

With your words, his blush deepens.

But despite his bashful expression, your eyes train on the movement of his mouse on the screen, noting how he duplicates the file and saves it into another folder, labeled: X.

“I’d be happy to work with you again, Jay.”

 JJONGSLUTZ 2023

[sugaryplum]

the tale of sugar cookies

pairing: theodore nott x hufflepuff!reader summary: about how your procrastination got you a first date and a night spent in hogwarts’ kitchen. warnings: language mistakes, lots of cuteness, i made some hogwarts–related stuff up AND I’M SO SORRY TO ALL THE BRITISH PEOPLE. the name “cookies” just fits better. notes: first piece of the autumn(ish) collection, prompt here being baking together. i’m happy with the premise of this fic, i think it’s super cute. i’m a major procrastinator, currently supposed to be studying for the exam i have in a few days so i very much resonate. and i could really eat a sugar cookie right now yum yum

your knee is bouncing. it’s stupid, really. consequences of some of your dumb choices catching up with you. you’re desperately in need of help, but now you try to focus on theo, who’s heading towards your library table.

he says “hi, y/n.” as he sits down next to you and you chuckle faintly. “i get a whole hi? you sound particularly excited to see me.” he rolls his eyes and smiles ever–so–slightly. “don’t acknowledge it or i’ll go back to just nodding.”

you two are in something. you don’t exactly know what it is and can’t pinpoint when it started, but it’s definitely something more than just study buddies, acquaintances or even friends. you’re a people person by nature, you’ve had so many friends over the years, but this, this is different. this is butterflies and hearts all around. this is overhearing his roommates talk about you, calling you “nott’s girl”. you can’t help but blush at even the thought of it.

today however, neither the boy sitting next to you, nor the essay you’re supposed to be finishing with him are the things on your mind.

“alright, you have to stop this.” after fifteen minutes of your mindless writing, theodore’s hand lands on your knee gently. the touch makes your heart go a bit faster. “you will bounce your knee into oblivion.”

“i’m not sure if oblivion takes in bouncing knees.”

he doesn’t acknowledge your poor attempt at a joke and just looks at you. it's the kind of expression that makes you want to tell him everything immediately. so you do.

“you’re gonna think it’s ridiculous.”

“most things you say are a bit ridiculous, didn’t stop you before.”

your problem is fairly simple. you’re supposed to have one hundred sugar cookies in your dorm by halloween. that’s in two days. so far, there are no sugar cookies in your dorm and you want to drown in your sea of procrastination.

theo’s brows furrow. “one hundred?”

“it’s a hufflepuff thing. i’m sure you’ve heard of it.” you sigh, when he looks clueless. “every halloween we give first–years the opportunity to go trick or treating around all the dorms of older students. so the older students such as myself need to have treats prepared for each kid. most of the people just buy some sweets from hogsmeade but i thought it would make an excellent idea to make them myself. i got all the ingredients and stuff but never got around to do it, because the amount is overwhelming. and now halloween is so soon and i have nothing.” you’re almost breathless when you finish your rant, ready to take his scolding. what came upon you when you decided to do this? you had a whole month to go to honeydukes and buy some candies instead.

he’s quiet for a couple of seconds, looking at you the way he always does. a hint of excitement appears in his eyes, as if he got an idea. “i could help you.”

“what?”

“you heard me. tonight you need to finish this essay.” he looks down at your parchment with only the first few sentences and random doodles all around them. “but tomorrow we can do this. bring the ingredients and we’ll meet up in the kitchen. i end practice six thirty, we could start at seven.”

“you think we can make one hundred in one go?”

“nothing i can’t do.”

“that’s not true. but i’ll go with it this time.” you smile. it means a lot to you. not even the act itself, but the fact that he, of all people offered to help you. theo isn’t exactly a person who expresses his feelings easily, he’s not like you. and he definitely is not a person you could imagine in the kitchen, baking cookies for first–years. you thank him and hope he doesn’t notice the red on your cheeks. as expected, he doesn’t answer with anything but his eyes. you go back to the homework, calmer and happier.

time passes and you start feeling sleepy. you tell theo you’re going and you pack up your bag. when you stand up to leave, you hear his voice again.

“so tomorrow? kitchen? seven?”

you smile.

“it’s a date.”

you’re meant to turn around, but once you realize what you said, you freeze and your expression changes. your eyes stare at him for an excruciatingly long second, petrified. but all he does is shrug his shoulders slightly.

“yeah.” not even looking at you. he reacts as if you sky is blue. you can’t help a smile forming on your lips that only turns more beaming when you turn around and he can’t see your face. it’s a date. damn.

being a hufflepuff has it’s perks. one of them is constant access to the kitchen, accessible through the back of the common room. there were so many times throughout the years when you skipped the normal hogwarts’ dinner to cook something homely. or countless moments stumbling there in the middle of the night to make hot chocolate. you thanked helga everytime when you, or your friends got to taste the goodness you prepared.

today you’re also thankful. it’s almost seven in the evening and you’re giggling, seeing as theo is struggling to put on an apron.

“here, i’ll help you.” you tie it and step back, looking proud of your work. “you look like a professional.”

“i am a professional.”

“have you ever actually baked anything?”

“...no. but isn’t it just a couple of–” he moves his wind a few times to demonstrate what he means and you chuckle. he has no idea what he signed up for. “this will be fun.”

you put your arms on the table. “we’re doing this without magic. it’s better like that. tastier.”

he’s not talking for a couple of seconds, opening his mouth as if he’s about to say something. “you’re joking. it’s one hundred cookies. how is a normal, sane person supposed to bake it all in one night, muggle style?”

“that’s exactly what i need your help for.”

“this is a trick, you’re tricking me.”

“not a trick, just my undying charm that caused you to worry about me so much, that you offered me help and now we’re gonna spend the evening baking cookies. you might actually learn something from it, it’ll be good for you.”

“cruel woman.” he shakes his head, but comes up to you anyway, getting a pinch of sugar into his mouth. you give him a scolding look and take away the sugar bowl.

“i’m gonna show you how to make the dough. it’s simple and we need a lot of it, for six whole batches.” his eyes follow you around the kitchen, when you take out ingredients from the shelves. “we need to mix everything together. first, butter and sugar. then flour.” you start mixing things in a big bowl with a spatula, stealing a few glances at the boy in front of you. he’s smiling.

four batches of cookies later, fifth one in the oven, theo really gets into it. at first he seemed skeptical, but now you can see the care in his eyes, when he adds the flour to the bowl, making sure he doesn’t spill anything.

“look at you! doing so well, you might end up as a cookie maker after a–” before you get to finish the sentence, he gets some flour in his hand and throws it all on your face.” when you open your eyes, you see a small grin on his face. “you look like a ghost.”

you talke a big breath and exhale slowly. then you steal the flour from behind his body, ready to fight back. “you are not getting away with this!”

a sweet war starts between you two. each of you fire your shots. all you can do is laugh, there’s powdered sugar on your nose, cheeks and lips. you feel like a small child, so carefree and innocent.

laughter distracts you from the situation you’re in. theo is holding you by the wrists, preventing your hands, armed with a spatula of dough, from rubbing the mass into his face. your eyes open to meet his and in one moment you both turn quiet. you might be delusional, but this seems like perfect time for a kiss.

his lips crash into yours so suddenly, that you barely get the chance to register that it’s actually happening. when he backs away after a second, you pull him in once again, this time him much more confidently.

„you taste like sugar.” you whisper against his lips.

„i wonder why.” he whispers back and kisses you again, and again.

you like the softness on his cheeks when you touch them, and way his hands wrap around your waist. you stay like this for a moment, closer than ever before, until you’re brought back to reality by the oven alarm. sugar cookies. you pat his shoulder and run to get the baking tray.

when you turn back to him, he’s still leaning his lower back on the table, looking at you, smirking. you pretend like you’re not extremely flustered and point to the bowl he never finished mixing. „work, theo! this dough won’t mix itself!”

he quickly grabs the spatula again, saluting to her with it. „yes, chef!”

you giggle. „i don’t think it works like that in cookie shops.”

„yes, chef.” he murmurs quietly, glancing again, as if to see how you react.

you roll your eyes, smile and look away, feeling your cheeks getting hot. your face hurts from all the smiling, but with the smell of sugar cookies and theodore’s eyes on your back, it doesn’t seem like you’re going to stop any time soon.

[updownlately]

i like shiny things (but i'd marry you with paper rings)

randomly thinking about esme morgan and how she made bracelets for the engwnt during their down time and just picturing a reader x alessia where r does origami when they're anxious or in between games. idk if anyone's written this idea before so mb if it's repetitive (i feel like i read an origami-reader fic before but i believe it was with jessie fleming x r) not a fic, not a blurb, just an idea/storyline :) fun fact: an instagram reel prompted this 😅 | alessia russo x reader

~~~

like imagine the first time alessia walks into your shared hotel room to see a handful of paper cranes of different colours laid across the bed, your tongue poking out slightly, eyebrows furrowed as you had a website open on your phone showing you how to make a dragon.

and you're so concentrated you don't hear alessia come in, you just fiddle with the paper and let out a huff when you realize you have to unwind the folds you just did.

it's only when she clears her throat at you, still standing near the door that you snap out of what you're doing, eyes going wide, the dinosaur that looks more like a worm flying out of your hands.

and you'd look at her with an embarrassed look, quickly gathering the seven or so different paper cranes, bringing them towards your lap in a futile attempt to hide em, as alessia would watch you with a fond smile on her face.

or can we talk about how she'd quietly get you more origami paper the next time she goes out with the girls to explore the city, shyly coming back with a fresh pack of origami sheets, this time in pastel colours, shades you absolutely adored.

the way she'd enter the room anxiously, thumb playing with the ring on her finger as she'd hide the package behind her with her other hand, shoulder's curled in, skittish smile on her face.

how you'd wave her in, a huge smile on her face, not suspecting a thing as you chatted with your mother on the phone.

she'd maybe sit on the edge of the bed, a few feet away from you, the papers still hidden as you'd talk animatedly on the phone for a couple more minutes.

it's during that time that alessia would cast her gaze across the room, taking in how many different little paper creations, varying from flowers to cranes to butterflies to shapes like stars and hearts littered the room, smiling tenderly to herself.

and when you'd finish up the call, looking over at the blonde with a large grin on your face you'd already be excited by her mere presence, your golden retriever personality making itself known.

that grin would only grow wider as she would shuffle closer to you, the origami sheets still miraculously hidden (not hard to do really since all your focus was on alessia, your eyes nearly in the shape of a heart) and she'd give you a gentle kiss on your forehead and then lips, before pulling back shyly, the words quiet as they left her.

'i got you a little something...'

you'd tilt your head in question, a singular eyebrow raising as you'd finally notice how her other arm was somewhat awkwardly positioned behind her.

and you'd kind of tense up into a sitting position, concerned at what it could be.

'relax, it's nothing crazy, just a small little item i've been meaning to grab for you'

the words would be gentle, with a slight teasing lilt.

and she'd carefully present you the origami sheets, placing them on the sheet between you two, biting her lip nervously as she'd wait for a reaction.

your eyebrows would scrunch up immediately, hands reaching out to grab the plastic package, examining it as your jaw would drop in a pleasant mix of shock and joy.

and the way your eyes would widen as you'd read the text on around the item, the words 'origami paper' written clear as day, your heart feeling so full, warmth coursing through your veins as you'd realize that alessia had noticed your stack was running out, even going as far as to get them in colours you loved.

the papers would gently be thrown to the side as everything would click, you launching yourself at the blonde, arms coming to immediately wrap around her shoulders and neck as you'd bury your face in her neck.

your excited 'thank you' would be muffled with how tightly you were hugging her, your grin from earlier returning, only now it was nearly twice the size.

the blonde would chuckle gently at your delighted state, hugging you back with just as much enthusiasm, placing a gentle kiss to your temple just before you'd pull back, nearly shaking with elation.

placing a few loving kisses onto her lips you'd mumble another thank you in between them, pulling away once your couldn't contain your excitement.

and you'd rip into the new packaging, old papers be damned because your girlfriend got you these and they were immediately, undoubtedly the better papers now.

and eventually, as it would become time to check out of the hotel a few days later, alessia would find herself once again standing in the middle of the room, this time the whole room nearly taken over by butterflies, dragons (which you now finally mastered), toads, cranes, rabbits, stars, hearts, chains, and like twenty other things, some in various colours of the rainbow, and more than half of them made of the pastel origami sheets. (it was clear to see you had a favourite, evident by the way nearly half the pastel paper had already been used).

and then can we talk about how maybe you both would be coming back from a really tiring game, the whole engwnt sat on the bus, the two of you choosing to sit closer to the middle-front-ish area, alessia knowing you preferred the peace and quiet as you'd fold paper and calm down from the exhilarating events of the game.

so you'd sit there, a pair of wired earbuds shared between you two as the paper pad would be precariously balancing on your thighs, rattling with every bump and uneven surface of the road.

alessia would be sat beside you, watching you with a lovestruck face as you'd continue to do fold after fold, making something new this time, what it was, alessia didn't know, you wanting to surprise her.

what she did notice however was that you had two pieces of paper out, one that was her favourite colour, and one that was your favourite colour- surely that couldn't be a coincidence, right?

and as teammates saw you back at your usual task, very much accustomed to your tendency to relax by creating little items, they let you be, a few gently requesting you for a rabbit or dragon (stanway nearly begging you to make her dinosaur, pestering you until you had finally agreed with a quiet 'later' with a fond eye roll).

you'd been very much focused since though, head nodding along to the music, the familiar 'furrowed eyebrows' look on your face, tip of your tongue peeking out as you did meticulous fold after fold, tilting your body ever so slightly so alessia couldn't make out exactly what you were creating.

it was only when you were done, two small heart rings resting in the palm of your hand, one each in your and alessia's favourite colour, did you turn around, a bashful smile on your face as you hid the two papers in a loosely closed fist.

quickly scanning to make sure no one was watching, your fear of being teased for your sappiness emerging, your leg shook with nervous energy as you realized the coast was clear.

'i made you- us- i made us paper rings in our favourite colours.'

the words would come out slightly rushed, a soft blush coming to coat your cheeks as alessia's eyes widened in joyful shock,

'i'll get you a proper one eventually, this is just a promise of that in the meantime...'

and alessia would shrug at your words, a lovesick smile crossing her face as she'd examine the heart-shaped ring intently, absolutely adoring the way it rested on her hand, loving it more than any other jewellery she owned simply because it was made by you.

and placing the ring-clad hand up to rest on your cheek, the blonde would nudge you to look at her, bringing your faces close as she'd place a gentle but loving kiss on your lips, pulling back only a few centimetres as sky blue eyes would meet yours, her next words a whispered secret between you, eliciting twin smiles, lovestruck looks crossing both of your faces.

'as long as it's you i'm marrying, i'd happily do it with paper rings.'

[destinationtrekk]

Well I've been going a bit... Unhinged lately; and the umbrella reader prompt gave me a few... Ideas

Umbrella reader who fell first for wesker? In the whole yandere-ish way? Like "I have an entire scrapbook dedicated to him" way???

oh man this is a good one. cut added bc it ended up much longer than i expected

you’ve been working at umbrella for a while, you’re no longer just a rookie assistant. You’re in charge of your own lab and techs, and they actually like you, which makes manipulating them a lot easier

everyone knows who Dr. Wesker is. And i mean everyone. There isn’t a soul in the building, in the entire company, who doesn’t either shiver or scowl at his name. He’s umbrella’s golden child, after all, especially since Birkin went and got himself killed.

he is not known for being friendly, but he was never cruel to you, at least. Nowadays he’s out making deals and monsters so his time in the actual labs are rare, so every moment you see him is like a miracle from god.

you notice everything about him in these days. The cut of his trousers, how much gel is in his hair, which pair of sunglasses he’s wearing (no one except you even realizes he has different pairs - seven of them, to be exact). You even count his breaths when you’re both in the same lab and one of the assistants is pissing him off (he actually breathes slower when he’s angry, like it takes every ounce of focus to keep his composure)

this is when you think things might be getting out of hand. You’ve gotten yourself into quite a situation. You’re thinking about him constantly - in traffic on the way to work (he drives an unmarked, pristine black sports car), when you’re hunched over your desk working (he actually wears headphones when he’s using a microscope, you noticed he doesn’t like the sound of the slides clicking), when you’re cooking dinner (he never eats during his shifts, and he scowls at anyone who isn’t using a napkin in the break room) - even when you’re showering, all you can do is remember the smooth scent of his air when he walks past you.

you’re certain you know everything about him now. Even his cologne. A few weeks ago he leaned over your shoulder to correct one of your equations, his voice quiet and void of any emotion, and before he stepped away you got a solid breath of his expensive cologne - subtle, woodsy, deep, intoxicating. You went home and spent half the night looking up the undertones of every single obscure cologne you could find, because no way was it cheap or popular, until you found what you think was the right one

(you order it and a week later, you’re elated to find you were correct. Now your entire bed smells like him)

you make your move on a Tuesday. The entire lab had been whispering about annual reviews, Wesker would be conducting them himself since the other supervisors were busy. A few weeks earlier you had seen his coffee cup in the trash and memorized his order (ew, but you had big plans) and you had left a perfect cup of coffee on his desk before he arrived, conveniently walking past him in the halls just a few minutes later and flashing your most charming smile. He actually smiled back

later that day he leaned over your shoulder again, mouth brushing your ear and hand next to yours on your desk, and his voice was pure sin.

“My office, Doctor, three o’clock. I think we have a few things to discuss.”

needless to say, the two of you are inseparable after that