#like it feels like people should be bringing food to the house and sending flowers and getting a funeral ready

[indigogirled]

i have such a bad headache from crying all night……i am not gonna be able to sleep

i was trying to take my mind off things and read the wikipedia list for common misconceptions but i just can’t . this is such a monstrous event to happen in my life and i just can’t believe it

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

the girl next door 5

Warnings: this fic will include elements, some dark, such as age gap, manipulation, chronic illness, noncon/dubcon, coercion, and other untagged triggers. Please take this into account before proceeding. It is up to curate your online consumption safely.

Summary: A new neighbour moves in and upends your already disarrayed life.

Author’s Note: Please feel free to leave some feedback, reblog, and jump into my asks. I’m always happy to discuss with you and riff on idea. As always, you are cherished and adored! Stay safe, be kind, and treat yourself.

This lewk but silverfox

As your mother waits in her chair, watching the window, dolled up in her nicest skirt, with her hair pressed and her eyes lined, you follow the directions on the containers of the premade grocer meals. Roast the potatoes, veggies too, and heat up the chicken. It’s very easy, even for you.

You set the table as the oven warms up and put out the nice plates you never touch. You fold napkins under the cutlery like you’ve seen on television and in restaurants, not that you ever go anywhere by the drive thru. It looks nice. Sort of.

You hear the recliner creak and your mother get up. The doorbell rings and you jump. You rush into the entry way as your mother looms in the front archway. You look at her and she sends back and expression with deadly venom. You go to the door and steady yourself, slowly turning the latch.

You pull it open and muster a smile which must appear closer to a cringe, “hello, uh, hi.”

“Hello,” Steve smiles, a bouquet of sunflowers in his hands. “How are you?”

“Mm, good,” you mumble.

“Great, I brought you ladies some flowers,” he looks between you and your mother as she steps into the hallway. “Something to brighten up the place.”

“Oh my, thank you, Steve,” your mother rushes forward, her left foot thumping a bit heavier than the other, “that is so sweet of you.”

As she snatches the bouquet, a petal flies loose from her tremor. She brings them to her nose, nearly crushing them into her face as her cheek quivers. She’s overexcited and her symptoms more obvious. You step aside as she beckons in your guest.

“You two look nice,” Steve comments as she stops to remove his shoes. His hair is combed tidy back and he wears an oceanic button-up with khakis. He is indiscernible from any other suburban dweller.

“Thank you,” your mother preens and you echo her softly. “Please, come in. I think dinner’s almost ready.”

She glances at you and you nod, “yes, uh, I’ll... go do that.”

You feel Steve watching you. You shrink down and cross your arm over your middle and back away. You turn and shuffle down to the kitchen. You feel how the skirt and sweater let in the breeze around your thighs and reach to tug the hem.

“Grab a vase for the flowers too, honey.”

You let her words trail after you. Honey. The epithet isn’t dripping in her usual poison. You go and open the stove, letting out the aroma of seasoning. It should be almost there.

You search under the sink and find an old mint green vase. You wash it out and fill it with cool water. You bring it out to the dining room and set it on the table. You can hear your mother and Steve in the next room.

She shoves the flowers at you before you can say a word. You take them as she keeps her attention on your guest.

“How’s the house coming along?” She asks in a singsong, “you’ve been doing so much work, I’m surprised you could make the time for us.”

“Of course. Nice to have a few friendly faces around. Not gonna lie though, I do have fridge full of casseroles already.”

You go back to place the stems in the vase. You linger there, safely away from their conversation. You have nothing to add anyway. You’re best to keep an eye on the food.

“Ugh, really? Let me warn you about this place, those bleach blondes aren’t as chipper as they put on,” your mother sneers as you wait for the gravy to simmer.

You don’t think the people around the neighbourhood are bad. They’re just different. Besides, you can’t blame them for their judgment. You might feel the same if you were like them. If you were pretty and perfect and rich.

You hover by the stove and stop the timer before it can buzz. You take out each pan and transfer the contents to thick porcelain serving dishes. You bring them to the table, one at a time.

“Mom, er, Steve?” You peer into the front room, “dinner is ready.”

“Oh, finally, I’m starving,” your mom sighs.

“Smells good. What are we having?” Steve gestures your mom ahead of him, waiting patiently as she moves stiffly. You can see the struggle in the stitch between the brows as how she stops herself from bracing her hip. She’s embarrassed.

“Roast chicken, potatoes, and grilled broccoli,” you explain, watching awkwardly as he pulls out the chair for your mom.

Your mom sits and Steve tucks the chair in. He surprises you as he rounds the table towards you and slides out another chair. You stare at him and your lips part.

“The gravy,” you squeak.

You quickly retreat to the kitchen. You pour the gravy into the spouted dish and balance it by the handle. You carry it carefully through the door and trip on the slightly crooked divider on the floor. The contents slosh and a splatter lands on your white sweater.

You frown and put the grave dish on the table. Steve lingers as he was. You look down at your sweater and he reaches for one of the spare napkins, holding it out to you. You thank him and sit, letting him push the chair in under you. You dab at your sweater but the brown stains remain.

As he sits, just by your mother, she was sure to sit where she would be next to him, you put the crumpled napkin by your plate. Your mother arches her brow at the front of your sweater. You raise your shoulders and give an apologetic look as you slip the cardigan off. You untangle your arms from the fabric and let it droop to the seat.

Steve smiles at you again. Your face is on fire, your chest too. The dress really doesn’t fit right.

“You made all this?” He asks.

“Heh, she bought it and put it in the oven,” your mom tuts. “She’s not the most gifted cook and... and my hands aren’t steady enough for that anymore.”

“Ah, well, food is food,” he shrugs, “regardless, it looks delicious.” He reaches for the plates of chicken and catches the tongs before the can fall, “may I?”

Your mother’s lips curl and she nods, “by all means.”

He puts a piece on her plate, then his own. He sets it back before he grabs the bowl of potatoes and scoops up a heap besides the marinated breast. Finally, he shovels on the broccoli.

You meekly fill your own plate, though you leave it sparse. Just a piece of chicken, a tiny bit of potatoes, and some broccoli. Your stomach is uneasy. You’re not used to company. You poke around with your fork.

“You know, Holly, I finally got all the furniture where I want it but I don’t know,” Steve begins, cutting into his chicken, “I think it needs something... a woman’s touch, maybe?”

“Mmm,” your mother nods and squints.

“I wouldn’t mind picking your brain. Maybe you have some suggestions. I got all these paintings but not really sure where to put them, you know?”

“Right,” she put a sliced potato in her mouth and chews thoughtfully. She swallows and takes her napkin, shakingly blotting around her coloured lips, “well, suppose I could give you a few tips.”

“Really?” He asks, “that would be amazing.”

“Not a problem at all,” she grins, “I could drop by tomorrow.”

“Yeah, that will be nice,” he agrees.

You sit quietly, keeping your face blank. You won’t mention how your mother complained when you tried to hang some of your drawings just in your same room. She always said art was a waste of time. No, you’ll say nothing. You’re better off that way.

“And uh, you’re welcome too,” Steve offers across the table and your eyes flick up to meet his, “if you want. Don’t want to leave you out.”

You glance at your mother. Her eyes narrow and you gulp, nearly choking on the potatoes. You take a breath and push your shoulders up, “actually, I was planning on... uh, I’m busy.”

You can’t even come up with a lie. Not a solid one. Just busy. Busy being alone. Busy hiding.

“Ah, that’s too bad. Well, how about once I get the barbecue fired up, you both come over for a cookout?”

“Lovely,” your mother chimes. “But tomorrow, I’ll swing by,” she squeezes her fork as it tings against the plate. Her tremor is getting bad. “Be nice to get out.”

[ovaryacted]

Well let me send some soft!Leon.

Leon is the type of guy to be like “I may have gotten bitten by zombies and thrown against walls but like. That’s still better than period cramps.”

If he’s not away on a mission, I imagine he’d want to just lay in bed with you all day. He gives good snuggles. Gets tea and the heating pad.

But also, I had the hilarious imagine of Leon being real fucking clueless with the emotions of it. You know the meme of the girl over the toilet being pat on the back by a broom? That’s Leon. He’s like “there there” while keeping 10ft away from you.

Unironically if you run out of pads/tampons he probably texts you “what size coochie you wear?” Or whatever. But! If you tell him, that’s the only time you need to because he remembers.

Also, not embarrassed about getting period products. I mean, this guy is built like a house, and attractive as fuck everyone knows he’s picking stuff up for his lady. Probably getting head too let’s be honest.

He also picks up your face snack.

-angsty anon (I guess not angsty this time lol)

EEEEEEK thank you for sending this angsty (not so angsty) anon cause I actually feel like shit at work but this was so cute. Also I know the memes you’re talking about they’re deep in my gallery I can’t find them right now lmao. But yeah let me cook and self indulge cause I can. (And cause the cramps are starting to ramp up).

Disclaimer: I know everyone’s period cycle is different, this is not a one size fits all. I’m speaking generally, mostly about myself but yeah if it doesn’t apply let it fly and that’s okay! Leon would still be a good partner and meet your needs either way. 🫶

Leon to me is the type of guy that would provide comfort and humor whenever you need it and without you having to ask for it. He just cares, that’s all he does really. But of course, he’s aware that when your cycle hits, he has to be more aware of your emotions and what you need. He’s very in tune when it comes to tending to you, but he isn’t afraid to ask so he can give you exactly what you want.

If he isn’t at home, he’d probably have your cycle tracked on his phone so he knows when to send you a gift package or flowers just so you know he’s around. If he’s going on mission, he’d send those things in advance, and when he comes back home he’d bring your favorite food and snacks as a welcome present.

But when he is home and he knows your period is about to kickstart, he instantly goes into house husband mode. He knows the first few days are the toughest and it gets easier over time, but sometimes all you want to do is just stay curled up in bed and sleep the pain off. He’d be right there beside you, giving you tea and pain medication if you ask for it, making sure you have water nearby and a heating pad to help with your comfort. Clothing wise, he gives you his clothes, ones you already stole from him anyway, finding his boxers much more comfortable than the panties you have, and a baggy t-shirt that smells like him to ease your nerves.

He handles the chores in your living space, cleans the place up and does the laundry, plus he gets groceries and cooks if that’s what you request. When he does go out to do the shopping, he asks you what snacks you want, already having some in mind but double checks if you want something specific. It doesn’t matter how ridiculous your cravings are, he’ll give them to you without judgement. You can eat all the junk and sugar you want, so long as it helps with your mood he’ll get it. Or if you want fruits and things that are a bit easier to eat considering your nausea, he’ll get that too.

He buys your feminine products without shame, gets irritated about how expensive they are “because they should be free” according to him, and gets you an extra box for you to have in advance. There may be other people in the section watching him as he finds the exact brand and size you use, not that he cares if he’s being watched, and he can hear your voice in his head talking about it.

Get the all cotton ones with wings, medium-sized. The thicker ones are for overnight, so get me a pack too. Do not get the ones that say light flow or small, those don’t do shit!

Your emotions are all over the place, more sensitive and easily irritable by anything and everything. At times it scares him how fast your mood can change, but he doesn’t judge you for it, you can’t help the way your body behaves. He doesn’t hover over you, comes by to check in, see if you feel any better. If you ask him to cuddle with you, he’ll do that no questions asked, but if you don’t want to be touched, he’ll leave you alone and let you rest. It’s not personal to him, he gets it, somewhat at least. He’ll send you cute text messages with those silly emoticons from the living room, or send you a funny video he saw on social media (it didn’t make you laugh but it’s the thought that counts).

The mental aspects of your cycle can be debilitating at times, and it’ll make you second guess things that shouldn’t be in your head. Leon knows what that’s like, and he’s there for you to talk to if you need it. He’s ready with affirmations, soft words, and constantly tells you that he adores you and loves you. Shit that makes your heart warm and your mind shut up, he just supports you in whatever you need.

Now as for the secret period horniness that sometimes likes to sneak up on you, he’s also willing to provide. It doesn’t happen often, but he knows when it does. When you’re snuggled up into him and start shifting your hips against him, or when your breathing gets a bit shaky the moment his hands come up towards your thighs. He’s on your time, whatever you say goes, and he only does things if you ask for them. So if you say you want to be touched he’ll do it, he’ll caress you and massage your chest to ease the soreness you feel there. If you want to suck him off to appease to your oral fixation, he’ll let you, and happily keep your hair up and praise you along the way. And if you tell him you want to have sex with him, he’ll bring out the towels or propose a shower, whatever you decide he’s fine with. It doesn’t bother him, he’s seen so much blood and gore that this is the last of his concerns. Plus, orgasms help with period cramps so whatever helps you, he’ll do it.

Whatever you need, he’s willing to provide. Thats just the type of man and partner he is.

I need him. Im fucking sad.

[minzis]

Because It Was You

Art Credits: Victoria by Fritz Schaper

•┈୨A Simon Riley One-Shot୧┈•

✦❘༻Summary: Stuck in a sense of saudade Simon finds himself unable to come to terms with the reality of you slowly falling out of love with him.

✦❘༻Tags: Pure angst <3 2.3k words.

✦❘༻Author’s Note: I listened to “Waiting Room” by Phoebe Bridgers while writing if you’d like to listen as well! I just aim to hurt people as much as possible because what is life without deliciously hurtful angst :3

•┈୨♡୧┈•

Ghost knew he wasn’t that good of a man, he always felt like you were just to good for him. A pretty face and a pretty voice, everything about you was beauty in its purest form for him. How he managed to have you in the first place alone was astounding, a miracle in his eyes. You were everything he was not, a sweetness so sweet it was like a daily sugar rush. Him not deserving you was the only thing that ever plagued his mind. How could a woman like you love a man like him?

The type of woman they put on the cover of vogue, the type to have poems written about and for them. So for a beauty to haven falling for the beast he did everything he could to make you happy. No matter what you asked he’d have it done because if it made you happy then it made him happy.

You called him having a bad day at work? That’s okay he’ll just bring you a handwritten card and the food you talked about craving last week! Your sick he’ll bring every medicine there possibly is excluding the one you said you didn’t like cause it made your head hurt. Even if it was late at night he’d make the drive because it was you.

You felt lonely while he was away, that’s fine he got you two little puppies. You named one Grim after the first time you met joking he looked like a Grim Reaper. He laughed over the phone when you rambled about names he said he didn’t like it but truly he liked whatever you did. If you liked blue he loved blue and if you hated red then he despised red. His world moved just to circle around you every day and night felt like it was for you.

He never bought you flowers he always got you plants because you said they lasted a lifetime like the one you planned to spend with him. Apartment cluttered to the point you might as well call it a Garden House. His shelf littered with little things you had given him. “It reminded me of you,” you’d say with the cutest smile he’d swear he had ever seen, it was humbling.

Picking you up from work in the rain or snow since the day you said you were often scared to drive in it yourself, if he couldn’t pick you up himself he’d send a driver. There were many times where he couldn’t always be there so he tried what he could do to make it feel less empty. Outings with friends using his card insisting it was nothing compared to the millions of things he’d do for you. Gentle messages awkwardly formed but enough to show he still cared despite being thousands of miles away.

He liked to think he noticed fairly early at least subconsciously but maybe he ignored it cause it might hurt less then. The look in your eyes faltering ever so slightly as you looked at him. Maybe he knew before you did in many ways more then one. What could he do? What had he done that was so wrong? Should he have looked at you more? Hadn’t he loved you enough?

If you still came home every night to him it was enough, it should’ve been enough but he couldn’t help but want more, crave more. He knew how selfish it was but he didn’t care because it was you. It always was you and always would be you. It killed him, truly killed him in ways he didn’t even realize. How could he ever love if it wasn’t you? He didn’t know how, you taught him how beautiful love could be and how destroying it could be.

You’d come home with a bright smile hug at him the same as you always did but it never felt the same. Not once he knew but maybe it was some childish fairy-tail his love was enough for both of you. They always warn you not to trust strangers or watch for cars before crossing the road. But they don’t teach you about the pretty girls with soft voices from the heavens as if to answer the prayers he made. They don’t teach you how to let them go and to stop loving.

He felt stupid for beating at what would be considered a dead horse, he couldn’t help but try though couldn’t he? He knew you’d never cheat that just not who you are. But he also knew you cared too much for him even if it meant sticking around when you didn’t want too. He knew you were just too good of a person to break his heart like that and he took advantage of it even though it felt horrible it didn’t feel as horrible as losing you.

But seeing the sullen look on you face everyday pained him more then he thought it would. He felt foolish and stupid like the times Johnny would rant about love and how he knew Simon would eventually find someone. He told him he never would, because who could ever love someone like him? He didn’t tell him the other half though seemed deeper then he wanted to go with him.

He tried to do more no matter what it costed him, if he could give you everything he would’ve without hesitation or a single doubt. More calls, more gifts, more affection words he had to choke up because he knew it was only to tape up his tattered heart. He knew every stitch in the book but how was he supposed to stitch up a breaking heart?

He’d take you on dates the day after he’d return from deployment almost like insurance it’d make you stay longer, love him longer. But it never seemed to do what it did before, yeah you laughed and smiled but did you mean it? Did you mean it when you said you loved him? He wasn’t sure anymore, he had always been good at reading people from a glance but he lost that power at times when he had to look at you. Then again he probably chose to unsee what he seen every time he dared to stare long enough in your eyes to realize he was losing you.

It wasn’t a future he had foreseen coming one, one he hadn’t planned an outcome for. He never wanted kids before but with you he felt like he could try, it felt like a life he could have. A version of life in where he was happy with what he had. He never truly had a plan for the chance you would leave him one day, under the belief his love could be enough. You had been together for over a year or two now so he let his guard down, he let himself be vulnerable for the first time in a very long time. It was very apparent the life he planned with you wasn’t going to happen since the first day you leaned back from his kiss.

Restless nights he spent out on deployment in fear when he came home you weren’t going to be there. A feeling that resonated deep in his bones that you were going to up and leave. He hated it all every second he felt helpless like the same child who was still scared of ghosts. It all caught up fairly quickly with his work, he was either ferociously vicious or barely stumbling through the day. It almost got him killed on more then one occasion.

He couldn’t ever bring himself to tell you whenever he got injured cause deep down he knew you’d just feel even more guilty then you already did. Sure you hadn’t done anything but you had done more by doing nothing. He was either getting more injuries or racking up an inhumane amount of kills. Kills that were unnecessary and downright cruel but he hadn’t cared when it was the only outlet he could find. He felt sick with himself spending hours at the sink scrubbing his hands before he dared to ever touch you with hands like his. The blood never came off though.

He sighed shaky hands wrapped around the edges of some shitty sink in another safe house he couldn’t remember the name of. Fingers clung at the edges of his mask tugging it off. He stared in the mirror for what felt like hours at a face he couldn’t recognize anymore. He was almost glad you fell for this face and not the horrid mask. The thin layer between who Simon and Ghost was, he already knew Ghost was unlovable but he had hopes for Simon.

He tried to be a better man with substance one deserving of your time and love. But you didn’t do that, you had loved both parts of him he tried so hard to separate. He began to hold the belief that every part of him he wrote off could possible be loved. Parts of him you called imperfectly beautiful because even if he had come home deeply stained in blood he was still good. And you made him feel that way for a longtime so the thoughts of losing that were never going to go over well.

Reckless and dangerous was what he had become while away. It scared the team the little regard he had show on multiple occasions after endangering his life like it meant nothing. Simon had always been careful purposely with each step he took so for him to make a mistake at all seemed alien almost. Despite his protest Price decided to dismiss him for a few months in hopes it would clear whatever he had going on.

He started at the door what felt like hours but before he could open the door himself the door swung open. “You’re home early,” your tone was angry causing him to stiffen under your sharpened gaze. He expected more but you just turned back further into the house leaving the door open for him. “Price called,” you stated eyeing him as he inched his way into the kitchen. His eyes softened seeing you turning back to the stove stirring the pan, his favorite meal. Despite your anger you still made him his favorite damn meal.

He really wanted you to stay.

“He said you almost died Simon,” you spoke softly and he hated how disappointed you sounded. He couldn’t bring himself to speak unable to find the words that would carry enough apologies. A loud silence filled the room as he remained still staring at your back. This was fine it was going to be fine.

“Simon baby I can’t keep doing this,” you spoke breaking the silence.

“I know love, I’m sorry,” his breathing hitched in between his words.

“You can’t keep saying sorry and still going out there recklessly,” you rebutted curtly. “I don’t know what I was thinking, hell I don’t even know if I was,” he answered with a softness.

“I love you I really do but I can’t keep living out of fear everyday because of your stupid decisions,” he nodded his head understandably but for some reason it only seemed to upset you more. “I know-” you cut him off angrily. “No you don’t know cause if you did you wouldn’t keep doing this,” you motioned with your hands.

“For fuck sakes Simon how am I supposed to live worried everyday cause you run out there like you’re invincible, how am I supposed to live knowing that?” you called out desperately to him for some explanation in words but all you were met with was silence.

“Forget it let’s just eat,” you grabbed at the two plates placing them on the dinner table one in-front of the other before half-hazardously sitting down. His eyes followed your movements silently coming to terms. He wasn’t sure what to say or do when nothing was going to fix what was only going to further worsen things.

He didn’t know what to do when everything he knew about love was from what you taught him. You hadn’t taught him how to stop loving you though. He wondered if he could love anyone else like he did with you. Didn’t know if he had it in him to love that strongly again. He was grieving a loss that had long been coming. From the look on your face, fork dancing around the food, he could tell you no longer wanted to be here.

He prayed every night with tears in his eyes that this day wouldn’t come. He asked the gods for forgiveness in all the things he had done wrong. For them to just let him have you and he’d never ask for anything again. He’d live in a hellish purgatory for an eternity if he just got to be happy in this lifetime it would have been worth it.

Maybe in the next lifetime you’d choose to love him again.

He knew it was for the better, he couldn’t keep you chained like this when you can’t help your heart, just like how he couldn’t help his. It’s funny how cold the air had felt before but it managed to be so warm around you. His shaken hand gripped at the ring box in his pocket he long should’ve returned and like the calm before the storm he finally spoke,

“I want to break up.”

[the-red-thread-that-strangles]

Operation Campfire

Part I

"We need to leave."

Quiet and unobtrusive, Akai has slipped up to Rei through the sea of people around them. He really needs to stop doing that; the warm, low voice, barely a whisper in Rei's ear, makes the hairs on the back of his neck stand up.

It's not even been twenty minutes. This is going to be a long, long night.

He's lucky the attention of the guests is on the stage; otherwise, someone might notice the flush creeping up his cheeks at Akai's too-close proximity. It's nice, in a way, to know he'll come this close; gods know Akai's not particularly comfortable with most people, prefers to keep his distance. The fact he doesn't, with Rei, in a public space no less, is an admission of their mutual trust.

It's also highly inconvenient, right now, because it sends a shiver down Rei's spine.

He manages to supress the movement, barely, and focuses on the issue at hand. Leaning back against Akai would be very lovely and all, but this is hardly the time nor place for it. He already has a reputation of cozying up to the FBI too much - and that's with his colleagues barely knowing half the things he and Akai have been up to. He can't afford to give them more ammunition.

In fact, he's here tonight for precisely the opposite purpose. He has an image to improve.

It is a little annoying, though. Because it should be their night. Theoretically. The celebration of five long years of undercover work, coming to a successful conclusion. Food and drinks on the house, how lovely.

As it stands, however, being himself would probably be a disaster. He's going to be Amuro, tonight, and he's going to do a lot of networking and very little else.

(They've got their own celebration planned in a couple of days, anyways. Just Hiro, Akai, and himself, on vacation for the first time in years.)

Between an hour of speeches, another hour of rewards for key figures, food and drink and dance, Rei's not particularly looking forward to the night. But he's got superiors to bedazzle, and he's not going to let this opportunity slip through his fingers - especially not for an idiot that hasn't managed to apologize, properly, for trampling all over Rei's feelings.

Akai has certainly tried; has even had flowers delivered to him.

(At least Rei presumes it was him; there's very few people that know his new address, even fewer with reason to apologize, and then there's the fact his mysterious gift giver forgot to sign their name on the accompanying card. Even detective Mouri Kogoro - also present, tonight - could crack this case.

That reminds him- he should toss the dried-up hydrangea into the trash already.)

But at the end of the day, Rei doesn't care for flowers or chocolates or cards. What he really wants is for Akai to suck it up and say the words himself. He knows it's a tall order; after all, it's not like he's apologized for any of the privacy violations - and other assorted crimes - he committed while hunting for Akai.

That was different, though.

Akai setting him up with Hiro was entirely pointless, utterly avoidable. If Akai is worth Rei's time, he'll acknowledge that and apologize properly.

At least, Rei would like to pretend his affections hinge on Akai's words.

Unfortunately, that isn't quite the truth any longer, probably hasn't been in a good long while. Because Akai, stupid, reckless idiot that he is, has wormed his way into Rei's heart. Even if he desperately wishes it weren't so.

He's tried, of course, to exorcise Shuuichi from it, several times in fact. But Akai is burrowed in too deep, nestled into Rei's weak spot; unless he wants to rip himself apart in the process, there's no getting rid of him that easily. And that's if Rei could even bring himself to want to do that. Which he doesn't.

They've grown too close, entwined with one another. Relying on each other.

And were it a matter of life and death, he'd go with Akai in a heartbeat.

(Considering its rabbit-quick palpitations in the FBI agent's proximity, that would be rather fast, these days.)

Right now, however, Akai's still projecting calm.

Not that he ever shows many signs of distress, generally too in control of himself. A useful trait, in their line of work - but somewhat inconvenient if one cares about this idiot. It's for the best, then, that Rei has become quite adept at reading even the smallest cues Akai lets slip through the crack. He's not impossible to read, especially up close.

(Close enough that his concealed gun presses into Rei's flank. His breath hitches at the realization.)

He takes a moment to fiddle with the folds of his suit jacket, to make sure it hides his own shoulder holster adequately. A feeble attempt to calm himself.

Akai's presence demands too much of his attention.

He's barely moving at all, even his breathing tightly controlled. Rei's sure if he looked back, he'd see the muscles of Akai's lovely neck pulled taut, his eyes sharp and unyielding. But given that he's chosen to stand in a way that would make it hard for him to draw his weapon, there's nothing to worry about - not yet, at least.

Knowing Akai, it's very possible he just doesn't like how many people have gathered here, tonight.

(A sentiment Rei shares, after too much time spent in the shadows.)

In the end, however, it's just a party. And one with such a high percentage of law enforcement attendants that it would be utterly stupid to try any funny business tonight.

(Rei tries to ignore that this would also make it an appealing target for anyone with a grudge against the police.)

He's not about to let Akai (or a hypothetical terrorist) ruin his career opportunities.

His answer, thus, remains firm.

"No."

Still, he can't help wondering what has Akai so wired. If there's something to worry about, he probably needs to know.

"What's wrong?" Rei mouths, barely a sound passing from his lips. He stares ahead to the podium, pretending to listen to the speech Kuroda's giving at the moment.

"Several people have been staring at you and me - including your subordinate, for the last twenty minutes. And I'm not supposed to cause trouble, tonight", Akai mumbles, too soft and too close.

If he keeps speaking like that, it's going to be trouble, alright.

Rei grits his teeth. Resists the urge to draw him in close. Akai can damn well protect himself, if need be.

"At least half the people in this room have read your dossier. I would be more surprised if they didn't stare at you, Silver Bullet."

He tries for dismissive, but the nickname flows from his lips too easily, too affectionately. Rei can't help it. His feelings bleed out of him, whenever he's not careful enough - a circumstance with historical prevalence, in Akai's presence.

Still, he'll humour Akai and assess the situation. Looks around, pretending to look for a waiter, a guise to survey the room.

He doesn't get far.

His gaze gets caught on Shuuichi, for what must be seconds at most, though they feel like an eternity. On the smile, soft and private and barely noticeable, the warmth mirrored in the creases around his eyes. He should be doing something else, but it's hard to look away, when Rei knows he caused this look, that the fondness is meant for him.

(It's the look usually reserved for Akai's family. The thought makes Rei nauseous.)

He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath, before he does something very, very stupid.

Because Akai doesn't look like his dossier's picture, tonight. He looks even better.

Akai must have slept more, recently, to reduce the bags under his eyes. Someone, presumably Kudo Yukiko - because Rei refuses to believe Akai's managed it himself - has dressed him up appropriately for the gala, too - he's wearing a navy-blue suit over a cream turtleneck sweater. His hair has been slicked back; his curls forced into a short ponytail by a silver ribbon. And if Rei's not mistaken, Akai's even wearing a bit of eyeliner that defines his already sharp eyes in even starker lines.

He's stunning, like this. Anyone with a pair of working eyes would be drawn to him.

Like hell Rei's going to tell him that, though.

Instead, he will use a different outlet for the emotions that are threatening to boil over within - Kazami.

He finds his associate in the crowd easily enough, staring intently at the pair of them, just as Akai had described. Rei's learned from the best; despite the brilliant smile, the glare he gives his subordinate is positively murderous.

Kazami flushes, coughs into his fist, and finally has the decency to look away. Rei will need to ask later why his subordinate thought it a good idea to leave his manners at home when attending such a prestigious gathering.

By his side, he can feel Akai relax a bit, a warm breath released past his ear. It's all the thanks Rei knows he'll get for the sniper to squeeze his arm, once, before he disappears back into the crowd.

(Where Akai touched him, the warmth lingers.)

Rei goes to find himself that waiter. He needs a drink, or maybe two.

.

While he's sipping his champagne - one of the few drinks left without that certain bad aftertaste - several people are called to the stage to receive their accolades.

It stings to know neither himself nor Akai will be called there tonight, despite their contributions.

It makes sense; what they did does not belong into the light. If their deeds were exposed, the public would see just how ugly and dirty and bloodstained public safety's hands really are. Better to keep it hidden.

Because even their peers, so many of which are here tonight, those that should understand, often don't. Rei has seen the looks people give him. Some of his superiors have been away from field duty for too long.

(Have forgotten when the ends justify the means.)

He's made sure to document every crime he committed, to send the reports to the higher-ups on a regular basis. And yet they left him to his own devices, offered no support or advice when he reported extortion and murder, torture and theft and arson.

(Before Kazami became his contact, communications had been so spotty he'd laid awake some nights, wondering whether they'd just leave him to die alone if he needed extraction. Wash their hands off him.)

Now, for the first time in years, he'd been face to face with his superiors during the post-takedown interviews - though they would be better described as interrogations, really, questioning his motives and loyalties.

In their quest to understand what happened, they'd pried apart every last reason, every justification he gave for his actions, the legitimacy of every injury he'd sustained. After lying for his survival for so long, he'd been afraid, for a moment, to be truthful with them - but there could never be absolution for his crimes, if he kept them locked up in his mind. So he'd laid it all out for them.

Had watched them pale as he described cutting off a young woman's fingers to send them to her husband. Had heard them swallow at the illegal pornographic materials he'd found on the laptop of a prestigious prosecutor, used for blackmail.

(Had seen the fear in their eyes, quite clearly. They must have thought he was a monster.

And some days, Rei's sure that they are onto something. He wouldn't change a thing, but still his deeds keep him up at night.)

In the end, they found nothing to fault him for. Pardoned his crimes, even if they weren't pleased about it. Awarded him with the honours he was due - the medal he's wearing pinned to his chest today a symbol of his service to the country he loves so much.

(Part of him wonders, can't help it, really, whether they'd ripped him apart just as much if he didn't look like he was a foreigner in his own country.

The rejection burns, bile rising in his throat.)

Maybe Akai was right. They should've just left right at the start. Then he wouldn't have to listen to those who fought and lived, nor the remnants of those who fought and lost.

Why is he doing this to himself? It's only dredging up bad memories he's trying to leave behind.

For a moment, he considers finding Akai and ditching the gala right there and then. But wherever he ran off to, Rei can't find him while his resolve wavers.

With a sigh, he resigns himself to the long night ahead.

He empties his glass in time for Hiro to be summoned to the stage.

.

It's not a surprise to hear his best friend's name be called, they knew ahead of time, but it still drives home just how different their lives turned out, in the end.

Hiro is a killer just the same, after all, but by being removed from active duty for a few years that somehow become palatable. They've made him out to be a survivor, a hero - the poster child for the kind of brave young officers the PSB needs to take on the difficult missions.

(Young and enthusiastic, because without their fervour, the work would break them.)

Even though Rei tries, he can't help but envy Hiro's moment in the spotlight.

(They should stand up there, together. Them, and three others that lost their lives in the line of duty already. It was always supposed to be the five of them.)

Rei hates himself for it.

It's not like Hiro's basking in the limelight. His smile is strained, his words curt, as he's thanked for his service. Somehow his attitude is understood as professional, instead of rude - the benefits of his cool smile, Rei supposes. But even if his best friend can fool the audience, Rei knows Scotch when he sees him.

(It's a small consolation to see that Hiro, too, has been changed by what they've been through. Rei clings to the connection, painful as it is.)

It's over fairly quickly, thankfully.

Hiro brushes past his proud older brother's congratulations, and instead finds Rei, wordlessly grabs the drink saved for him.

.

Time crawls and drags. More people go up, give a little speech of their own, step back down again. Their faces blur together.

"Zero."

Hiro bumps his shoulder, gently reminding him of the present, his presence.

The doom and gloom permeating the room is poisonous. Here Rei is, being envious of his best friend, when it's a miracle he's standing there at all. How stupid. Things could've gone bad so easily, but they made it through alive, and that's worth something.

He leans back against Hiro's shoulder, focuses on his best friend's breathing.

.

When the ceremony is finished, it's time to do what Rei's come for - socialize, improve his standing. He's doing what he can in the office, but to limited effect, since he still spends a lot of time on field investigations. His identity might no longer be a national secret, but he's missed afterwork beers a few times too many. His colleagues treat him as other, despite his best efforts.

He'll just need to show them that he's human, too.

(Even if he can't show his true self.)

Rei could probably go at it alone, but he's used to two-person jobs - briefly, he wonders which tropical island Vermouth is enjoying her pardon on, is glad she hasn't sent a postcard - and Hiro's agreed to be his back-up. Probably for the best, considering how the night went, thus far.

If he wasn't a decently capable sniper, Hiro would have made a good intelligence officer for the organisation as well.

The amount of intel they gathered because calm and collected Scotch didn't take sides, knew to listen and offer insightful advice, was a little insane. The organisation never expected his betrayal, until it was too late (and even then, Rei vividly recalls Chianti pissing off Gin when she insisted that surely Scotch wasn't a rat - one of the few sources of amusement, in those trying times). Charismatic enough to get even the ice-cold grim reaper to thaw - that's his best friend.

And some of the familiarity they're trying to reclaim is still there, because they slip into their masks effortlessly, side by side. Fall into their old patterns.

Between Scotch's dry wit, and Amuro's dazzling charm, very few people manage to avoid the conversational vortex that sucks them in, spits them out with an improved opinion of agents Furuya and Morofushi.

A compliment about an officer's subtle earrings here, 'heartfelt' congratulations for the graduation of a colleague's daughter from a prestigious university there - after years of depending on highly sensitive intel, it's laughable how easily these people can be won over with the information they volunteer on their social media profiles.

In the ebb and flow of conversations, Rei makes sure they don't stay past the small talk, lest they reach actually interesting or even controversial topics. Usually, this is fine - people are looking to celebrate, not form meaningful connections. But every single one of them wants to toast with him, and there's too many detectives around, so Rei actually takes a sip when they ask him to.

It's been a while since he drank that much, and he probably shouldn't have.

.

It starts out innocently enough. The young woman talking to their latest mark seems vaguely familiar, though Rei can't quite place her.

They chat, for a while, about nothing of importance, when finally, they reach the dreaded stage of meaningful conversation. They should dip, but her enthusiasm is helplessly charming, provide an easy in with their target. Rei can't help but want to indulge her, nudging Hiro to stay a little longer. It's nice when others do his job for them.

"It makes me so happy, to see the case that took my partner finally laid to rest. Were you part of the final operation?"

Of course, the question isn't unexpected. Rei's prepared a variety of different answers for why he's here, depending on who's asking. Unfortunately, he makes the mistake of really, truly, looking at the woman.

He freezes, his mind caught on all the things he can't ever tell her.

Because Rei's never seen her in person before, but he knows her. Showed shots of her picking up their kids to her husband, in a last-ditch effort to finally get him to break. The man hadn't.

Instead, he had quietly and resolutely told Rei he'd rather die, now, than drag his family into it.

Bourbon had given him what he'd asked for.

All he sees is the concrete cellar, monochrome but for the blood splattering on the floor and Bourbon's gloves, white fabric stained crimson. The smell of iron and gunpowder rises from the cold, hard, gun in his hand.

He blinks.

Thankfully, Hiro notices his stupor and steals the woman's attention away to cover for him, but they cut the conversation short after that, regardless.

Rei hurriedly removes his gloves, tosses them into the trash on their way out.

.

"What was that?" Hiro asks, when they're out of earshot of the woman, heading to one of the lesser-used employee bathrooms. His best friend is projecting calm, but the last syllable came out too sharp - he's clearly concerned.

"It's nothing to worry about."

Hiro, unfortunately, has never been particularly inclined to believe Rei when he lies straight to his face.

"You blanked out for half a minute and started shaking."

Okay, so, Rei doesn't remember that part, but he was a little preoccupied at the time.

"She caught me unaware. It won't happen again."

His best friend checks the bathroom stalls to make sure they're empty, puts a 'cleaning in progress' from the supply cabinet on the door. Pats the spot next to himself on the counter, and gives Rei a long look.

"Zero..."

Urgh.

Hiro's voice is soft and gentle, as if speaking to a spooked animal, and that really is the worst. Rei could resist anger and accusations, but genuine concern? Not a chance.

"Sometimes I get flashbacks. Short ones, but vivid. Started when you were gone. They haven't happened in a while, so I thought it was over."

It's an uncomfortable relief to finally tell someone, like removing a splinter from a wound - it still bleeds, but unless it's done, he can't ever heal. Rei would much rather not have divulged it, at least not right here and now, but his best friend is persistent - it's easier to just tell him what he wants to know, before he launches a full-on cross-examination. Besides, Rei's known for a while it needed to be addressed; he's lucky the episodes haven't happened in a situation that cost him dearly, thus far.

(And that Hiro was there to bail him out, tonight.)

"What kind of flashbacks?"

Rei winces and rubs his temple. Tries to shake off the memory.

"Usually harmless. Sometimes traumatic."

Hiro has entered the stage of damage assessment, and it's unlikely he'll stop before he's satisfied.

"Visual? Auditory?"

"All senses."

Hiro pinches the bridge of his nose.

"And this has been going on for years now?"

It's a rhetorical question, but at this point Rei might as well indulge him.

"Yes."

Hiro sighs.

Rei's just glad the dissection has stopped, momentarily.

"You should really talk about this with someone. A professional, preferably." That much is expected. Rei knows he should, hasn't done so for a very simple reason - it might get him disqualified from field duty. If he was ever constrained to a desk job, he would simply shrivel up and die.

He's sure the aversion is clearly visible on his face.

"I'll take that as a no. Have you tried talking to Akai?" That suggestion, at least, is novel, albeit utterly stupid.

"He has the emotional intelligence of a starfish, why should I bother?"

Rei knows that assessment is a little unfair, but even if Akai's not utterly hopeless, his inability to communicate what he actually means results in just about the same outcome.

(Not that Rei's any better, most days.)

Hiro smiles at him, too knowing. 'Because you like him, and there's a very short list of people that applies to', Rei can almost hear him say.

There would be no arguing with that, even if Rei sure as hell would try. Instead, Hiro finds a different way to casually knock the breath from his lungs.

"Give him a chance. He might understand."

.

They rest up for a couple minutes, grab a breath of fresh air, and then return into the fray.

It's probably no use to try and bedazzle more people; Rei's tired, woozy, and he's all but exhausted the list of officers that are likely to influence the office climate. Still, there's one last thing he should be doing tonight, to improve his image.

Not his favourite part of the night, and he really can't afford to jinx it by asking if things could go any worse.

As it is an international gathering, there's a section of the facility sectioned off with a live band, providing an improvised dance floor. Amuro, a 'proper gentleman', should let himself be seen on it. There's always a surplus of women who wish to dance on these occasions, and indulging a few is an easy way to earn good will.

Still, he'd really rather not.

.

His apprehension isn't for lack of competence.

Years ago, in an unlikely team-up, Rye and Vermouth taught him the basics of ballroom dancing for a mission (the fact the sniper knew how to do that really should've been an indication he wasn't as American as he had claimed). Their lessons had been more enjoyable than Rei had anticipated - mostly because he got to step on Rye's toes whenever he felt like it. It was quite satisfying to feel the sniper tense in his arms, trying not to flinch.

(And more pleasurable than he cared to admit, at the time, to get to hold Rye, pressed close, taut but compliant, moving only at Rei's behest. Their clothes soaked through with sweat-)

Rei slams the lid on that memory before it starts burning. They really like to cling to him today, huh.

In the end, Rei picked up dancing without much issue. Would even say he enjoys it, sometimes.

No, the problem is simply that it feels wrong to let someone into his personal space.

Rei's a very in-your-face kind of fighter, but he likes to controls the ebb and flow of the exchange through aggression. He doesn't stay close to give his opponent an opportunity to get back at him.

Years undercover have taught him that while more than an arm's length of distance doesn't guarantee his safety, at the very least it gives him time to react. To willingly allow someone to be close to him is utter insanity, and uncomfortably intimate in a way he shouldn't ever be, with strangers.

Furthermore, dancing will mean splitting up from Hiro (unless they want to cause a scandal, and that's not the kind of publicity they want to generate tonight). Rei's already slipped up once tonight, would rather like to avoid a repeat performance.

Even if he wanted to, though, Hiro wouldn't be available. Because Akai has noticed them approach the dancefloor.

Rei's caught only glimpses of him throughout the evening, hiding in the shadows and scaring people off with a glare so grim it justified the reaper nickname all on its own.

But that darkness falls from his face as he's making his way over to the pair of them, eyes bright in the dimly lit area. It's like seeing the sun rise from behind the clouds, and Rei's definitely not staring at him, ignoring whatever Hiro just said.

For a moment, Rei gives himself over to the delusion that Akai is coming over, looking all eager like that, to ask him for a dance. Rei would have to decline, of course, because of they aren't alone, but still. It would be nice to be asked, to be wanted, by Akai, for real this time.

(When Akai doesn't bother with any of the women that give him longing looks.)

The closer the FBI agents gets, though, the more Rei feels like an idiot.

Because Akai's grin means trouble, and it's not reassuring in the least that it's directed at Hiro.

(Rei tries to push down the stupid spike of jealousy; he's very much aware, after all, that Akai's not interested in his best friend. He's only partially successful, but Amuro's smile withstands his inner turmoil.)

"Agent Morofushi, would you care to join me for a glass of scotch?"

That can't be good. The bar doesn't serve hard liquor.

By his side, Hiro straightens, picking up the very same threat to public safety. His best friend addresses the arising problem the way he does best, with a smile. Whatever Akai is up to needs to be contained, or at least supervised, as they're both well aware.

"Of course, agent Akai. If you'll excuse me, Furuya, I'll be right back."

.

"Is now a bad time, agent Furuya?"

At this point, he'll take anyone other than the cadet that seems like she's barely more than half his age, fluttering her fake eyelashes coquettishly. Even if he was interested in women - and if there wasn't already someone holding his heart hostage - her high-pitched voice, needily whining for his attention, couldn't be further from his type.

"Pardon me, miss." He doesn't even remember the girl's name, couldn't care less, and turns to look at his saviour. Barely manages to keep his poker face in time to not falter under a steely stare. "I promised officer Satou a dance earlier."

When it rains, it pours.

Still, she extends a hand to him, so, as Rye taught him so graciously several years back, he accepts and leads her to the floor, in time for a slow waltz to begin. Officer Satou may appear brash, but when dancing, her confidence is an asset. She follows his movements without much issue.

"You're a difficult man to get a hold of, agent Furuya."

She just has to rub it in every time she sees him, to show that she had the right hunch all along. Annoying, but respectable. If she wasn't happily engaged to a detective of the homicide unit, he would have tried to recruit her already.

"I'm quite busy, as I'm sure you understand."

She nods, briskly, swaying through the sea of bodies around them. At least with the slow tempo of the dance, they're unlikely to waltz straight into someone - or, more likely, have someone waltz up to them.

"Aren't we always?"

Her rhetorical question doesn't need an answer, but he replies in kind, weaving around a couple to turn a corner.

"You still owe me that talk - don't think I've forgotten your promise."

Rei hasn't. He has, however been conveniently too occupied to think about trying to schedule it. Even if he can bring Hiro for back-up, it's sure to rip open old wounds. He's not looking forward to it.

(But Matsuda's and Date's friends deserve better, from him. He hasn't even asked Hiro, because that would make it official. He should. He will.)

He nods.

"Relax. I know now is neither the time nor the place to discuss it, so don't worry about it, for tonight."

They effortlessly avoid collision with a pair of drunken dancers, swaying out of tune and out of lane. Rei doesn't let go of a relieved breath, but it's a damn near thing.

"If you say so, then I shan't."

She smiles, past him.

"Good. Instead, you will give me your address, so I can send you a wedding invitation. Takagi and myself are getting married in autumn."

Rei stiffens, loses his rhythm. Why would they want him there? It makes no sense. He should decline.

Amuro smiles, because that's the appropriate reaction to such an event, right? "I appreciate the thought-"

She interrupts him, drags him out of the way of a tumbling dancer.

"Don't you dare think for even a second about rejecting this offer. You owe me, and we owe you. You come, and we'll call it even. Don't make me go through your superiors - I will, if I have to."

Her face hardens.

"Besides, the kids will be there. They've been asking about you."

Just because Rei knows she's guilt-tripping him, doesn't mean it's not working.

She doesn't have to specify which kids - there's only one group of elementary school students that runs into the pair of homicide detectives often enough to be invited to their wedding. Really, them being there should be an argument against agreeing to come - the kids only ever knew him as Amuro, and, statistically speaking, people don't tend to like Furuya Rei much when they've met one of his disguises first.

He's intimately familiar with how it feels to lose a friend, though. Elena's disappearance still hurts, some nights, and he wouldn't wish that pain upon anyone else.

And while they are certainly a lot to handle, and a little annoying at times, it was kind of nice to spend time with the detective boys. Unlike his regular life, their cases were mostly harmless and quick to solve, and hey, that one time he even got to punch an ass.

A welcome break.

Rei finds himself smiling without really meaning to. Is horrified and delighted at once to find it's genuine.

The waltz has ended, and officer Satou looks at him expectantly. It's not like she's given him much of a choice, but he still waits a moment, considers his options.

Does he want to anger Satou Miwako? There's probably smarter uses of his time.

Though he doesn't feel like he owes her, she's raised a good point. Maybe it would even be nice. Weddings are supposed to be joyous occasions, right? He needs more of those in life. Maybe he gets to be selfish for once, accept a good thing.

It breaks something within him, to accept without putting up much of a fight.

(But it's too nice, this feeling of being wanted somewhere.)

"I will let you know where to drop the letter off."

He might have surrendered to her, but he's not giving up his home adress. Doesn't want her to be able to just show up, unannounced.

She smiles at him, like the cat that caught the mouse, even though he's only agreed to receive the invitation, not to show up.

He'll try, though.

"Good. Feel free to bring a plus one."

.

Rei doesn't see Hiro and Akai for about an hour.

The longer they're gone, the more restless he gets - the last time he only heard Akai's grin, and then the guy showed up with a rocket launcher to shoot down a submarine. It's a show of confidence and bad ideas and he's way too tired to deal with the fallout at this hour.

Rei's on his fourth glass of champagne, his feet hurt from running around all evening and then dancing for an hour, he's sweaty, the air's too stale-

Sudden cold drenches him, gives him barely enough time to brace himself before Mouri Kogoro, who just spilled his wine all over his dress shirt, crashes into Rei.

Maybe he's had a few too many of his own; because his first instinct is to reach for his gun and get the guy to back off, then demand damages for Bourbon's ruined suit.

(Bourbon doesn't exist anymore, never existed in the first place.)

A hand wraps around his wrist, presses it down over his heart, stopping Rei from completing the draw just in time. He struggles against it for a moment, then shoots a dirty look over his shoulder. Of course it's Akai who's holding him down, steadfast as ever.

Rei still tries to resist, for the sake of it.

Once, twice.

Nothing.

Akai's not budging an inch.

(A cold shiver runs down Rei's spine, quickly followed by a hot flush of arousal. Damn Akai, and his everything.)

"Causing trouble without me?" Akai's infuriating smirk is way too close, and definitely not helping to calm down the situation.

At least it's distracting.

Rei can think of at least six different methods to wipe that stupid smile off Akai's face, including, but not limited to, breaking his nose. Doesn't need his hands for that - he could just headbutt him, no problem.

Getting his head close to Akai's also appears in some of the other ideas. Most concerningly of which: he would really like to kiss the smile away.

His heart beats quicker, trapped as he is by Akai, is trying to free itself from Rei's chest and reunite with the one who holds it in his grasp.

(Can Akai feel his pulse? Can he tell what it means?)

Shit. Definitely too much alcohol.

People are staring at them - too many officers keenly attuned to the bloodlust that filled the small space between the four of them for a moment. Hiro appears from wherever he was hiding to pry Mouri off Rei, hold him steady.

Akai tugs his wrist down, insistently. Lets go disappointingly quickly, once Rei relaxes the grip on his weapon.

(Instead of disappearing, Akai's warmth seeps into Rei's heart, burns him from within.)

He keeps his mouth shut. There's too many stupid things he could say right now that would ruin all his efforts of the night.

Instead of his gun, Rei draws a handkerchief, uses it to dab at the wine stain rather ineffectively. That shirt is thoroughly ruined. Well. Maybe their cleaner can salvage it.

"Detective Mouri, are you alright?"

The high-pitched voice promises an earlier onset of the headache Rei's sure to receive come tomorrow morning. Great. Who let officer Yamamura attend this gathering?

"I am perfectly fine, thank you very much", is what Rei can make out from Mouri's slurred speech (and even that only because Rei spent way more time than he would have liked around the miserable creature that is the detective).

"I think you've had quite enough, sir. Why don't you head home?" While he says it to Mouri, it's clear from the sharp look Hiro gives Rei that it's mostly addressed to him.

"We'll settle this tomorrow." Rei manages to tone his glare down to frigid instead of murderous, and turns on his heel.

He's not willing to deal with any more of this nonsense, tonight.

.

"Do you need a change of clothes?" Akai asks, keeping pace with Rei without issue. Long-legged bastard.

Rei, of course, has planned for this eventuality, but he really can't be bothered with dressing up again for an encore of that performance. No, it's time to go home and rest. He's earned it. Though...

"Yours?"

Akai looks at him, deadpan. "No. The ones I stole from Kuroda, obviously."

Rei gives him a dirty look. "You think you're so funny, huh?"

They make their way to the garage downstairs, on foot.

"Positively hilarious, I've been assured."

"Whoever told you that, you'll want to get your money back from them."

Akai laughs quietly while he rummages through the trunk of his obnoxious red mustang. It's a lot fuller than Rei remembers, brown boxes of some kind stacked in it that he doesn't remember seeing before.

He'll need to ask Akai about them later, but for now, he has other priorities.

The stain is cold and wet and irritating. He really wants to get out of the soiled clothes. Hm. The trunk lid should offer enough protection from the cameras...

Rei starts stripping.

And if he's taking his sweet time, putting on a little show, well. Akai's the one who ran around all evening looking like he wanted to be eaten alive. It's only fair Rei pay him back in kind.

It's not like they haven't seen each other half-naked a dozen times before.

It's the cold night air that causes goosebumps to form on his skin. Not Akai looking at him more hungrily than that one time they shared Rei's bento.

He expects to have his change of clothes handed to him by the time he's done, but since that's not the case, he extends a hand. As flattering as it is to catch Akai staring, green eyes burning bright in the night, Rei's still freezing.

"I'm cold, Akai."

Taking his cue, Akai hands his clothes over.

"And clearly inebriated."

Rei slips into the too-large tank top, doesn't bother with the shirt. Opts instead for the cozy sweater. Much better. He hugs the fabric to his chest.

"Tipsy, at most."

Akai gives him a long-suffering look. What's with people seeing through him, today?

"Rei. Do you mind if I drive you back?"

Akai's eyes burn with undisclosed emotions. At least Rei hopes he's not looking too deep into it, again. But Shuuichi seems painfully sincere, sombre, asking for permission - when really, it should be Rei asking for a ride, should thank him for offering.

The house of cards stacked against him all evening crumbles under the weight of Akai's look. God. Rei just wants to rest, nestled into the sniper's side, while he looks at Rei like that. Talks, as if he matters. Holds him tight.

Akai gets up, takes a step closer.

"You know the way, don't you?"

It should be casual, carelessly callous, but it comes out too soft, instead. An admission of familiarity. He's given Akai the keys to where he's most vulnerable, because he trusts Akai won't abuse that privilege.

"Yes."

The word is small and breathless between them. So simple, and yet.

Rei lets the shiver run its course through him, this time. It's too late to pretend he isn't affected. Even if he can't bring himself to say the words, maybe Akai will understand if Rei just stops suppressing what he feels.

Akai closes the gap between them, wraps his arms around him. Rubs his back, pressure gentle through the knit fabric. How does he still think Rei's cold, when he's been set on fire? Idiot.

He melts into the embrace, warmth seeping through the suit's thin fabric. Takes a deep breath of the smoke and sweat and sandalwood that make up Akai's scents, today. Holds him too tight, creasing the suit.

Neither of them cares.

"Take me home, Akai."

.

Rei drifts in and out of consciousness on the way back, Akai's steady driving lulling him to sleep. He doesn't bother trying to resist his body's demands.

.

A cool breeze stirs him awake, as Akai opens the window and slides his keycard for the underground parking lot across the scanner.

He parks in Rei's space, and is left waiting.

And waiting.

Cozy as he is, covered by Akai's suit jacket for further insulation, Rei's not particularly inclined to move. At the prospect of getting out of the car and climbing three flights of stairs, a groan escapes him.

Akai's observing him, critically.

"Will you be alright by yourself?"

If he's being honest, Rei's doesn't feel all that drunk. He should grab a snack before bed and a painkiller in the morning, then he'll be good.

"Most likely, yes."

And that's it, isn't it? Akai's fulfilled his duty, and now he'll be off to his own home. The thought leaves Rei cold.

"What about you?" he finds himself asking, doesn't want Akai to go just yet. Besides, he's genuinely concerned; Akai's been taut as a wire most of the evening.

The FBI agent sighs, deep and long-winded. Tension bleeds out of him with every breath.

"Too many people. But I'll be fine."

He doesn't look fine. Looking into his eyes from up close, Rei sees, surprise surprise, how tired Akai looks. It's been a long day, an even longer night, and it's probably only his stubbornness that keeps him from falling asleep in the car.

He shouldn't have driven Rei around, like this. Should've headed home, himself. This is Rei's fault, and he doesn't like owing self-sacrificial idiots anything.

There's a very simple way to pay Akai back for his kindness.

(A very selfish way.)

It's nothing unusual. They've done this a dozen times over, locked up together, so Rei might as well ask.

Rests his hand tentatively over Akai's, still on the gear stick, to test the waters. He counts it as a win when the agent doesn't flinch, only looks away.

"Akai. Would you like to stay the night?"

(Rei knows how bad Akai's insomnia gets on a good day. And if today's interactions have rattled him, he can hazard a guess as to how bad off Akai will be.)

It's only payback. Nothing more.

His heart beats quicker in objection.

Akai moves his hand under Rei's, and for a split second, he fears he's pushed the other too far.

Relief floods him, when the other agent simply turns his hand around, laces their fingers together. Akai's grip would be enough to break his bones, if he tried; but he's just holding him, firm and steady.

Akai sighs softly in the space between them. Finally, he looks at Rei again. There's fear in Akai's eyes, fear and hunger and restlessness and the emotions are switching up faster than Rei can read them.

They settle, eventually, on longing. Rei shivers under their intensity.

"Yes."

A smile blossoms on his face, but he's seen Akai's idiocy from up close one too many times to trust it just yet.

"Will you?"

Just because he wants something, doesn't mean Akai will permit himself to follow that impulse, self-sacrificial bastard that he is.

(It takes one to know one.)

"Are you requesting I stay?"

Rei doesn't even pretend to consider his options. This is an opening, and while it's unclear whether Akai feels exactly the same way, the comfort they feel in each other's presence is very real. It will have to be enough, for now.

His answer comes a little too quickly, too eagerly.

"If you promise to shower."

Akai squeezes his hand.

.

Before he shoos the agent into the bathroom ("You're my guest, you're showering first."), Rei tugs at the ribbon, releasing Akai's curls. He ruffles his stupidly gelled-back hair, just on this side of roughly. There. That's much better. He wasn't quite looking like himself, before.

"Don't forget to wash your hair, too."

.

[03:57] Morofushi Hiromitsu: He got you home safe?

[04:04] Furuya Rei: Yes.

[04:04] Morofushi Hiromitsu: Let me guess. He's still there?

[04:06] Furuya Rei: ...yes.

[04:06] Morofushi Hiromitsu: Good luck.

[04:06] Furuya Rei: It's not like that.

[04:07] Morofushi Hiromitsu: Sure.

[04:10] Furuya Rei: You get home safe, too.

[04:11] Morofushi Hiromitsu: Eh, I'm still catching up with Micchan.

[04:17] Morofushi Hiromitsu: This bar is kinda seedy though, if I disappear, start your search here.

[Morofushi Hiromitsu has shared his location.]

.

He could get used to seeing Akai's shoes, neatly set side by side with his own.

Akai's jacket, draped over the kitchen chair.

The smell of smoke, lingering in his flat.

Akai, undressing in his bathroom.

Akai, waiting in his bed.

Akai, freshly showered, flushed and slightly damp, still-

Shit.

.

By the time he emerges from the shower, the edge taken off a little, Rei has managed to put himself back together, somewhat.

The fresh clothing helps. At least he's physically presentable. Mentally...

They've done this before. There's no need to be nervous.

Except there's a shift that makes all the difference. Before, there was always plausible deniability. One of them half-asleep, injured, otherwise unwell. Fine, Rei's a little drunk, but Akai came here of his own, free will.

God. Rei hopes Akai wants this, too, isn't just going along with his selfish desires.

His stupid heart panics, beating a staccato rhythm. If this goes on, he'll need to see a physician. Or maybe that therapist Hiro suggested.

Damnit. He's an adult and in control of his impulses. He can share a bed with Akai. It will be fine. They'll lay side by side, like responsible adults. He didn't buy the double bed with Akai in mind, but there's enough space for the two of them. They won't even need to touch.

He wants to, though. Badly. Shuuichi's so warm, so lovely to hold. If only Rei had never touched him. He can't ever go back to not knowing the smoothness of Akai's skin, the softness of his hair.

Shit. He's getting too worked up.

Rei grabs two glasses of water from the kitchen, and heads over to the bedroom.

(There's too much space for just himself. It's nice that he's not alone, tonight.)

He pushes down the bedroom door handle with his elbow, balancing the glasses, tries to be quiet. It's unlikely, but he was gone for quite a while, and if by some miracle Akai's already asleep, he wouldn't want to wake him.

The bed is empty.

Panic spears through Rei, freezes him in the doorway. Did Akai hear him in the shower after all? He wasn't that loud, right-

With a creak, the balcony door opens, and Akai pads back in, the smell of smoke intensifying. Ah. He was being mindful of Rei's house rules.

So considerate it makes his heart hurt.

The poor thing is working overtime as it is. It's highly unfair that with dishevelled hair and wearing an oversized pyjama, Akai looks so overwhelmingly cute. Rei wants to drag him into bed and eat him alive.

Damnit.

"Couldn't sleep", is all Akai says, stifling a yawn.

Rei sets the glasses down on the bedside table.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

Akai gives him a dark look, shakes his head.

"Not tonight."

Alright. It's not like Rei can't relate, so he drops the matter. For some of the things they've done, they can only ever distract themselves. Rei can help him relax, if he's willing to play.

He steps up to Akai, raising his hands as if to hug him -

"Off to bed with you."

- and shoves him roughly, sending the FBI agent tumbling.

Not one to go down without a fight, Akai grabs his arm as he falls. They land in a tangle of limbs on the bed, Akai managing to roll to the side and try to get on top of him.

Rei can't have that, so he struggles against him. pushes his arm between them, hoists his hip up, and reverses the pin, straddling Akai.

Shit.

Akai's so beautiful beneath him, hair fanning out, eyes bright, breathing elevated from the brief altercation. Wide awake and smiling.

Licking his lips, eager to continue.

Rei could-

He wants to-

Gods help him.

This is too fast. It was just supposed to be a distraction.

He can feel Akai stir against him.

Rei freezes. This isn't how it was supposed to go.

(At least he doesn't have to question anymore whether the attraction is mutual. Isn't that great.)

Akai takes the responsibility out of his hands.

Weaves a hand into Rei's hair, drags him down.

Looks for permission in his eyes.

And then, Akai kisses him.

.

Sweater Weather AU masterpost

[accio-victuuri]

MIDWEEK TREATS FOR TURTLES 💛

as the title says, for cpn loving turtles only. those who have high tolerance for sugar. don’t take it seriously. these are all coincidences and the universe playing with us, so have fun!

before anything else, happy 5 years to this! 🎉🎉

• There has been some talk about how WYB was fiddling with his jacket during the BTF press conference. If it meant he was A.) just fixing his clothes and we should stop overthinking B. ) trying to hide the necklace or C. ) he was drawing people’s attention to it / showing off. Well whatever it is, i’m just happy that he is wearing it. It’s not the main indicator of a “relationship” and shouldn’t be given too much attention, unless it attracts the wrong kind of attention. As a CPF, just appreciate it and smile. There is really no need to try and prove anything to anyone. We know what it means, those who don’t get it — let them be. I’m happy that he gets to keep this to himself 🫶 The puppy and his diamond encrusted bone! I mean it’s Yibo, what do you expect?

( please evaluate. i’m jealous of the bone necklace cause it’s always with yibo 🥹🥹🥹 )

• I didn’t know this but another numerology coincidence, patient #5 stayed in Room #18 in the ADLAD play. Lol. 18 = Yi Bo

• Fake rumor from here ( this is not LRLG or BX fake rumor house ) I like this one cause it features them both.

- starts with XZ talking to staff and someone saying he should sleep early, but ZZ says he can’t cause WYB is still driving ( going to where zz is i’m guessing ) 🥺🥺🥺🥺

- XZ and his team preparing to eat hotpot and ZZ said he already asked what wyb wants to eat. One of his staff was asking if zz needs help and he said no cause wyb’s team ordered it all. ( wyb really loves to spoil him with food )

and this exchange that looks and reads like a fanfic but since we know that what say to each other in real life is so much worse ( based on bts and interviews ) — then this is pretty tame. lol.

they are eating :

XZ: I want less ( food )

WYB : Don’t say that

XZ : Pretend to be angry

WYB: Love you

XZ: Are you mad at me?

WYB: Love you love you

can someone please slap them both? they are so sweet. XZ really be acting coquettish for yibo only. With everyone else, he is practical and super polite.

• People noticed among the flowers sent to the venue of ADLAD Shenzhen was an arrangement from Youku ( platform ). ZZ doesn’t have any drama or projects airing there recently so why would they send it? You may say that it’s professional courtesy but clowns like us would like to think of who Youku’s VIP spokesperson is. WYB is perfectly capable of sending his own, but it’s 👀 that a streaming platform that he’s not working closely with has sent flowers.

• This exchange between fans under a video of WYB. Someone commented and asked what OP was wearing and if it was something “sexy” cause yibo’s eyes are on him. Then OP answered, XZ’s husband ( wyb ) was looking because she was holding their children ( dolls ) lol

WYB could be looking at her for a different reason and we know how he goes Hengdian Hawkeye with the lenses and you will get photos of him looking straight at you. However my point is, the part about the dolls. Whether you like them or not, you have to atleast agree that it is something that will catch yibo’s attention. Especially if he sees particular ones in various events. Remember he saw some during HB, even held a BJD doll, so he knows that fans ( mostly cpf ) are bringing it. Add TaoTao’s post with his own Yibo doll. So I feel so somft that the “bringing dolls at events” ( and dolls as a show of support ) is now accepted. Yibo looks okay with it, i wanna say, he’s even amused. You can fight me on this but there is just no way that he doesn’t know that the paired dolls are not him and zz. especially zanbi in his bunny costume with that smile and a mole under his lips.

My dream is for him to hold a wyb doll dressed as Lei Yu. but he has to be careful too incase certain people get offended. So yeah. 🤡

and is anyone else thinking about how people from the media comment about yibo’s looks? like they can’t believe he is that handsome in real life. this is coming from people who should be used to seeing celebrities, but the way they describe yibo is next level. reminds me of XZ who called him Venus. He is right. The artist knows what true beauty is. It’s WYB. this is why no one can compare. To XZ, the question has already been answered, WYB is Venus. ( this is my favorite cpn, which is not really a cpn cause it’s a fact. XZ said it. lol )

• We might have a same city incidence this week! If it’s true that XZ will attend Gucci’s Cosmos exhibit in Shanghai ( opening 4/28 ). So if he does and WYB is in SH for BTF’s premiere / roadshow — well ☺️☺️☺️

- END.

[theorist-influencer-untitled]

3.15.23 Wednesday

2:34 am

Just, done eating a noodles and still having slight headache...

Still,having the windblow trap... I feel bitterish....Yesterday, around 5pm until 7pm I felt bad, I had a food poisoning coz I ate sweet potato yesterday afternoon...

Then, I felt bad on Uncle Jun that I told him yesterday that I need a check-up probably, I need to see a doctor and he said no! It is ohkay it is just phlegm, I hate this "togetherness", he didn't take my continuous vomiting seriously... Funny thing,RV commented coz he entered the living room and saw me vomiting awhile ago, he said are you pregnant? I was shocked and I said huh??? I'm having food poisoning coz I ate sweet potato this afternoon....Shocking comment of RV!

8:04 am

My body is heavy, needing of coffee... I feel bitterish I need money and job or career... I really wanna leave the hometown...

Hoping, Elsie is a nice massage therapist, I mean she is nice hoping as well from deep within... Coz a massage therapist is also having the power to heal or harm their clients... But I know she is a nice person...

I feel frustrated angels, in a lil while will be getting older and older....I wanted to have a future... I wanna buy starbucks everyday...

I'm self-pitying here and thinking that what if Uncle DD and Aunt Karen will be there on their new upper and modern design house and I'm still here just a supporter and I feel hurt coz they are also having a hard time to give assistance... Like they can't actually help me on my coffee and flower wash and as a mature individual those are just still considered as chipay/ cheap help. Coz we are really having a hard time on budgeting these days... Uncle DD is managing the fundings and receiving some of it from my Aunt Teresa. But me? Getting providence whoever who can but Uncle DD only can give toothpaste for my baby John and sometimes 500 good for 2 to 3 months... My coffee expenses on Nescafe latte is 200 pesoses per week... I feel self-pity... I want starbucks everyday...

I need friends with stability specially men with pretty face...I like men for now coz I'm kinda doubting on women these days, starting 2007 that I have this windblow trap... I badly need a lift or a piggyback...

8:57 am

I feel bitter... This Uncle Jun is continuously handling the money give aways from the government... Now I feel that I hate the politicians coz they got the people's fundings but it is appearing that it is their money or their help. I was really thinking that they are harming people like me since 2007... But it is people's money or people's fundings...

9:31 am

Uncle Jun gave 1k pesoses on my grandmother and I asked for 30 pesoses for my Nescafe Latte... But this is people's money via government... Just for clarification... People's right...

I don't like George still...I hate his face!!!

They just planned to make me older and older for nothing...

10:07 am

Another character they are planning to put me down...The fundings is on them... Uncle DD asked me to bring the puppies on the vet...We don't have money here and they have the police car???

Ohkay will do it coz the so called police people will have their meeting... Is that a police car???

10:16 am

The next issue they cancelled the order of our puppies for deworming today coz they told me Uncle DD and Aunt Karen that I have to bring the puppies on Doc Gerald the vet in Salitran... But I told them over the phone that it needs a schedule... I knew that Vet and the assistant Arman told me it always need a schedule coz Doc Arman is always on the other clinic...

I told them over the phone that to send extra money for the tricycle fare coz I went there several times, Arman the assistant of Doc Gerald told me that Doc Gerald is not here coz he wanted a sure schedule coz he is not staying here, he is always on the other clinic.

So,I told Mystery Lover's the Police People owning that police car that they should give extra coz if not there will bring it to the other clinic...

I told them give or send extra coz sending just,just,just is not good...

6:29 pm

This is for "help-sale" angels we need cash for these babies...

9:20 pm

I still have the windblow trap....Still,thinking of money... Wanna leave the hometown...

Longing to do foot spa and to buy starbucks everyday... Not that satisfied....I DON'T WANNA END UP WITH SOMEONE WHO CAN'T ACCEPT AND PAMPER ME....

[gotnofucks]

Will you make me a drabble where I ask Steve to be my daddy or just make him my daddy🥺🥺👉👈 love you bestie!!

Title: The Journey to Daddy

Pairing: Steve x Reader

Summary: Five times you call Steve ‘daddy’, and the one times he asks you to.

Words: 1.6k

Warning: slight smut, daddy kink, some jealousy and possessiveness, 18+ Only

A/N: There is only one person who can ever make me go soft. Berry, this is for you. Love you more my queen @donutloverxo

+++++

1.

Sometimes, you felt like an onion. You had a lot of layers around you: secrets, insecurities, dreams you were scared of living, things that were never said. And every time, it felt like Steve would peel a layer to expose the truest form of you. You'd never felt as naked as you did when his eyes were fixed on you, with no judgement or question, only love.

You'd been going out for months now, learning about each other, exploring your boundaries. Steve was the most attentive boyfriend. He was caring and respectful, always there for you before you even asked for him. He'd lift you up when you needed something from the top shelf. He'd cook for you because he knew you liked the domestic look on him. He'd tickle you to tears when you were down, trailing kisses down your forehead to your nose to your chin before blowing a raspberry on the hollow of your neck that would have you giggling.

Steve was so perfect, and it was very unconscious the first time you called him Daddy. You were in the kitchen and had broken a plate when Steve came rushing out, carrying you away from the wreckage to make sure you were okay. he wouldn't let you clean it, afraid you'd hurt yourself.

"You're okay baby?" He had asked.

"Yes daddy" you had softly replied into his neck, soothed by his smell. And though he didn't say anything, the thought kept running in his head. Daddy?

2.

Your cries got higher with each thrust, nails digging into Steve’s shoulder as he pumped into you. He loved it when you got like this, all dumbed down and messy, garbling words that felt like poetry to him. You came around him again, squeezing his length between the velvety walls of your sex and he released into you with a growl.

Sweaty and spent, you looked a beauty to him as you laid under his naked body covered in his essence. His large body framed yours and as he leaned in to kiss your glistening and bruised lips, you tiredly said, "I love you, daddy".

He stilled, whispering a love you back before collapsing next to you. Looking at you drifting away, he got up to clean you and cover you up, holding you close as his thoughts ran wild. There it was again. Daddy. Why did you call him that?

3.

Your birthdays were more important to Steve than they were to you. Every time, even when you’d not been dating, Steve would pull all stops for your birthday. He’d arrange a party that would consist only of your closest friends and family, cook all your favorite food, and would make sure everyone got you a present you liked.

There was that time Steve had made a list and gave it out. “Just get her something from this. I know what she likes.” Idiot. He should have put only his name on the list, since there was nothing you wanted more than him. Today, as you celebrated this day as a couple, he decided to make it intimate and private.

He decorated the balcony in your favorite fairy lights, lightening soft candles and putting your favorite flowers everywhere so that it smelled divine. You both sat under the stars, holding each other as you snuggled in the blanket, talking in hushed tone.

“What did you wish for when you blew the candles?” He asked, pressing his lips on the crown of your head. You looked at him, eyes reflecting the candles that danced in the wind.

“I have everything I want. Here.” You said, touching his chest. “You’re all I want. Thank you for today, daddy.”

You kissed him, not noticing the slight hitch in his breath as you said that. Daddy, he liked how that sounded.

4.

The sounds of typing were a normal in your house, but it bothered Steve when it went past midnight for the third night in a row. He saw you stifle another yawn, rubbing at your eyes as you tried to finish this project on time. You worked way too hard if you asked him.

“Baby, come to bed. It’s late.”

“I can’t, really need to get this done.”

Steve sighed, washing your now empty coffee mug before sitting beside you. He counted three more yawns along with four curses whispered under your breath and he knew he needed to step in. Gently stopping your hand, he turned you to face him and cupped your face.

“You still have four days before you need to turn this in. Come to bed honey, you’re tired and I don’t wanna sleep without you.”

You pouted, tired and internally glad that he finally stopped you. Nodding, you allowed him to more or less carry you into the bedroom and put you into pajamas, tucking you into the warmth of his body as he turned out the lights.

“Sleep, sweetheart. I’ll make you your favorite breakfast tomorrow so you’re all charged up for another day of working. I love you.”

His arms came around you, your back to his chest. Tangling your fingers with his, you pressed a sleepy kiss on his knuckles before whispering into the dark, “good night daddy. Love you too.”

5.

The fifth time you did it, you scared him.

The Avengers Gala was something Steve hated and loved. He loved he could have you on his arm, his girl to proclaim before the world. His friends got together and had a nice time, and people he hadn’t seen for a while surfaced too.

What Steve couldn’t handle was the audacity of men to ogle you. Despite you being on his arm, they would follow you with their creepy eyes, trying to sneak in a word whenever someone pulled him away from you. He knew he mustn’t be jealous; if there was anything Steve was ever secure about, it was your love for him. But he couldn’t stand still watching some good for nothing bastard try to win you over with a pick up line that was older than he was.

“Excuse me gentlemen” He almost growled, taking your arm possessively before whisking you away into a dark corner, intent on having you all to himself. You rolled your eyes, used to this act by now. You’d never told him, but it was almost endearing watching a man like him get so antsy over you.

“You can’t always hide me away!” You chided him but didn’t push him away. You preferred his company over any other, and if were to take you home right now, you wouldn’t mind. Steve bit his lips before cutting a glance to the men who were flirting with you earlier, a snarl lodged in his chest.

“No, but I can do this!” His lips crashed on yours, pulling you into a deep kiss that tasted of his power and love. You melted into his touch, arms hooking around his neck to bring him down to your height, tongues tangling together in a sloppy kiss. Steve didn’t let up until you had to finally break to breath, both panting hard.

“What was that for?” You asked, softly touching your lips that tingled.

“To remind everyone that you belong to me!” He said, pulling you closer. You smiled, pressing another kiss on his lips before tucking your head under his neck.

“Of course I belong to you daddy.”

He spent the rest of the party distracted. You’d called him that a lot recently. But why? Did you want him to be a daddy? You'd both decided to never to have children in the early days of getting together. Why then did you call him daddy? And why did it send a thrill down his back? God, he hoped you weren't pregnant.

+ 1

The morning after the party, he woke you up with kisses trailing down your neck, soothing the sting of the bites he had placed there last night. As you whimpered, wanting to sleep some more, he pushed a hand under your top to tickle your ribs, smiling as you giggled and squirmed.

“Steve!” You squealed as he reached under your breast. He chuckled before kissing up your exposed tummy, loving the sounds of your laughter as he reached your mouth and pressed deep and slow kisses there.

“Good morning.” He said, nuzzling his nose into you. You sighed in happiness, snuggling into him and breathing in his scent.

“Good morning.”

You stayed that way for a while, him gently rocking you back and forth as you hummed, enjoying the quiet morning together. It was after a few minutes that Steve spoke.

“Why do you call me daddy?”

A sudden shyness came over you and you buried your face deeper into his chest, not speaking. Steve tutted, gently pulling you back and titling your face up to meet his eyes.

"Do you want us to have a kid?" Steve asked and you shook your head.

"No." You said, embarrassed.

"Then why do you call me daddy?"

You looked at him with glittering eyes, cupping his cheek softly that was threatening to develop a scruff if not shaved.

"Because I trust you." You said. "I never have to hide from you, never have to worry. You look after me, you love me unconditionally. You care about me in a way no one has ever before. When you take charge, it makes me feel good. I love it when you guide me in bed. I love it when you step up and look after me. Calling you daddy puts those feelings into words."

Steve couldn't look away from you and your eyes. The love and trust you put in him made him a better person, it made him feel worthy. All he ever wanted in life was to have someone to call his own, to hold them and love them and never let any harm come to them. Looking into your eyes, he knew he had all he wanted. He held you closer and tighter, brushing your lips with his.

"Say it again then, baby."

"Daddy"

[roscgcld]

RYOMEN SUKUNA || pretty little thing

note: am I simping for volume 12 cover sukuna once more? ...yes, and am not afraid to admit that. that man can glare at me and i will apologise for gracing him with my unworthy self lmao. but i do enjoy this entire idea of super mean and evil sukuna and his cutesy lover that can do whatever she wants to him and he wouldn’t stop her - not like he wanted to anyway lmao 

pronouns: she/her

warning: mentions of murder and acts of murder as well, and if you squint a little there is mentions of minors, but it doesn’t play a big role in the story

The small group of sorcerers stood before the towering man, trying not to show the fear on their faces as they tried to look at the glowing red eyes head on. Sukuna was seated on his throne, two of his four arms resting on his while another was propping up his cheek; the other tapping his fingers on the plush fabric of his throne. He hated having his time wasted on useless things, and the socerers before him were starting to wear their welcome too thin.

Sighing tiredly, he tilted his head back, a sign that had the sorcerers tensing up. They knew that body language all too well - if they do not tell him what was the purpose of them coming all the way to him temple, and even daring to walk up to his alter will lead him to murdering them all in cold blood. 

He doesn’t care how important they are in the town, or in jujutsu world either - to him, he is the most important. And everyone else is beneath him.

Well, everyone but one person, that is.

As if the Gods took pity on them, the soft sound of delicate footprints came from somewhere beside the group, causing the group to stop their whispers between one another at the sound of soft footsteps. Within seconds a beautiful woman walked out from the shadows and into the main room of the temple, her kimono trailing behind her delicately. The beautiful crafted garment hung on her frame perfectly; not too tight where it left little to the imagination, yet not too loose to hide her beautiful figure underneath it either. It was clearly crafted by a master craftsman, and the fabrics it was made of show how expensive it must have been.

A hana kanzashi was delicately placed on her perfectly styled hair, a streams of flowers hang off the end of the pin, giving the woman a more mysterious look as the sunlight casted a shadow over half of her face. She gave the sorcerers no more than an uninterested glance, trying not to roll her eyes at the sight of the group of mostly men - the same group of elders in her town that were so willing to sacrifice young girls to the man before them in exchange for peace.

She would know - she was one of those sacrifices, after all. However, the difference between her and the others was that instead of being killed after their purpose was done, Sukuna was now wrapped around her finger tightly. She can’t be too proud of it either; she was equally as obsessed with him as he was with her, so the better word to describe it might be mutual pining.

Sukuna will never admit that though, claiming she is just a foolish woman he likes keeping around for food and a warm body. But if she tries to get up and leave, or if he knows people are even thinking about bringing her harm? The world would suffer through Hell like they’ve never seen before.

Speaking of the man - Sukuna’s ruby red eyes watched as the woman made her way towards him, carefully climbing the steps of his alter like it was her own home; a soft pout resting on her lips as she walks closer to him. He didn’t get the usual burst of annoyance when anyone dared to look at him in eyes, or the anger he’d feel of having someone even daring to take one step towards the direction of his throne. Yet all he felt was amusement as he shifted in his seat ever so slightly; watching how the woman just made her way towards him and sat down in his lap like it was her throne.

Which it was after all, and Sukuna will let her indulge herself in such a luxury. He loves to spoil her, letting her do as she pleases

“Yes, my beautiful flower?” He hums softly as the hand that was once tapping his fingers along his seat reached up, stroking the apple of her cheek delicately as he raised an eyebrow at her. At that moment he didn’t care who was in the room - all that mattered was her. And he has a gut feeling he knows why she is currently sporting that cute pout of hers, her arms crossed over her chest adorably. “You’re taking too long. I got cold.” 

Immediately a low chuckle rumble from somewhere in his chest as his other arm wrapped around her protectively, his tattoos a contrast against the unmasked skin of her bare thigh that was revealed by his simple action of pulling her closer. “We can’t have that now, can we?” He cooed ever so softly, something so foreign and so unheard of coming from a cold hearted killer that it scared the already terrified sorcerers even more. A few of them were even shaking at the sight of the woman, who was a mere girl when she was scarified, now perched in the lap of such a fearsome creature like she was a lazy house cat.

How can such a relation be so natural?

“What a pretty little thing she is, isn’t she?” Sukuna suddenly stated loudly, his ruby red eyes now dull and clearly showing his boredom as he turned to address the sorcerers before him once more. The woman from before just smiles softly as she curls up into his warmth, not caring about the others in the room; quietly purring at the feeling of a large hand stroking along her face delicately. An action that might seem hard for a man his size to achieve, yet he still somehow manages to treat her like fine china beneath his fingertips.

“I should thank you for being blind enough not to keep a beauty like this for yourselves, but it’s because of your blindness that landed her in my lap in the first place.” Sukuna continued into the silent room, the hand that was once cradling his cheek waved in the air lazily; a smirk tugging against his tattooed face. “All the ones you sent before as sacrifices were quite sad little things; blubbering and whining so much that I rather send their heads back to you so you can see just how pathetic they really were.” He sighs in annoyance, his face curling a little as he remembered all the past women he had.

Some were pretty, yes - but there was just something about them that just irked him. He didn’t know what it was; maybe it was their constant crying, or how they try to pretend to be head strong and threaten to kill him in his sleep. He just took what he wanted before slicing their head off just as he climaxes; not really caring for their own pleasure. It’s not his problem if they were satisfied or not.

However, when his little flower came, sniffling with tearful eyes at how she had been yanked away from her loving family; yet eyes curiously staring up at the man that she had heard so many stories about. There was just something in him that lets him know that she was the one. That she was the one that is going to scratch that insatiable itch that he has whenever he is sent a new sacrifice from the town that he is currently residing in. And he was right. “Yet, with that being said, that doesn’t mean I am not growing tired of your antics. Speak now before I make you.”

Immediately a few eyes glanced over at the woman in his lap, as if they were silently begging for her to lend them a hand. Yet this actual caused Sukuna to scowl as he looks over at the group, snapping his fingers to drag their attention back to him. “Who gave you the permission to turn your disgusting gazes at her? She can’t help miserable excuses like you lot anyway.” He scowls, his eyes narrowing in anger at how they thought they even worthy enough cast their dirty eyes on her, as if she would extend the olive branch to them after they’ve done.

Before he can do anything rash, the woman decided to step in, gently placing her warm hand against the exposed part of his chest from underneath the kimono he had worn. The feeling of the familiar touch caused him to sigh softly as he leans back into his throne once more, but he glared at them with the same intensity as before, watching them for a moment longer. “You know what? I think I know what to do with you lot. I mean, I hope you didn’t forget - you did make my little flower cry.” 

Just as he finished saying that, he gave them all a sadistic smile before he swiped his hand in the air leisurely. His other arms immediately wrapped around the woman, turning her face away from the scene before them as the sorcerers all started to be sliced up one by one by invisible blades, the sound of wails and body parts flying about as they landed on the ground in bloody heaps. A few. who watched their fellow comrades be sliced up in horror before they tried to run, turning and running towards the entrance as if they can escape their fate. 

They should know better than to try something so foolish.

“The clean up is going to be a pain, you know.” Y/N sighed softly as she looks up at her lover, knowing that he was shielding her from the horrors he had committed. If she was being honest, she had never seemed to fear how easily he dispose of others - whenever he does kill people, it usually leads to a much more wider and bigger picture at the end of the day. What she can’t stand though, is the mess he tends to leave behind. “The maids just cleaned the rugs too.”

“It’s their job, flower.” He just sighs and shifted her so she was straddling his lap leisurely, letting her hands rest against his warm chest as two of his arms wrapped around her waist. One of them rested against her cheek lovingly, letting her lean into his touch once more whilst his other hand went back to cupping his cheek in his hand. “You can still make it less dramatic, no?” She mumbles softly with a soft giggle, to which Sukuna just rolled his eyes at her comment. 

“Why make killing so dull? I enjoy the flare of dramatics, flower.”

With a fond roll of her eyes she just leans forward to press soft kisses along his face, knowing that he will not push her away; not when his arms tighten their own hold on her. “Whatever you say, my King.” She cooed at him quietly, still placing feather-like kisses against his face as he closes his eyes for a moment. Soon he grew bored of them, and with a firm hand on the back of her head, guiding her face down to his. He presses a passionate kiss against her as she smiles, her hands trailing up his chest before they found themselves wrapped around his neck where they belong.

Maybe it was an obsession, or maybe it really is fate - whatever the reason may be, he’s going to make sure that his little flower is safe and content. Even if it means killing an entire army of people at her command, or tearing out his heart for her if she so much so as asks.

He is her slave, and he doesn’t see a reason to fight against his faith.

© roscgcld — all rights reserved to me, rose, the author and creator of these works. do not repost/translate/claim my work as yours on any platform

[arlertwifey]

snk cast x gn!reader + cute summertime romance

18+ ONLY, MINORS DO NOT INTERACT, PLEASE!

☼ — ft. Eren, Armin, Mikasa, Jean, Levi, Hanji, & Erwin (all characters are 18+)

☼ — genre: pure fluff + gn!reader x character, warnings: mentions of vandalism/petty crime, alcohol mentions 

☼ — a/n: please enjoy my first snk x reader content :)

E R E N

Fills his time with a weird mix of volunteering around the city and committing blatant acts of vandalism

He spends his days helping out at the youth shelter and nights scribbling graffiti anywhere he can find a spot. Takes you to spray-paint every underpass you come across

Unnaturally good at arcade games and wins you lots of little random plushies from the claw machines. Your favorite is an angry-looking brown bear that you can’t help but think resembles him

Loves to stay up late and discover new parts of the city with you. Has a bad habit of falling asleep on your shoulder wherever you are though, when he finally runs out of energy

Even though he tries to play it off like he’s too cool for them, insists that you two take cute photobooth pictures together and keeps his favorite of them in his wallet

A R M I N 

Practically lives at the beach during the summer. The two of you plan out your days there in advance so your able to visit the different tide pools and see various sea creatures.

Has a strong sweet tooth. He’s a huge fan of any type of frozen treat, but is extremely partial to slushies. In at least half the pictures you get of your summertime adventures, his mouth is stained teal from the blue-raspberry flavor he always buys.   

Gets surprisingly tan during the summer, due to the fact that he’s outside whenever possible. Even when studying, he prefers to do so at parks around where he lives rather than indoors. His hair bleaches out a little further as well.

Willing to go to parties with you when the two of you are invited by mutual friends, but tends to slip outside to the porch after the first hour. More often than not, the two of you wind up ditching all together and heading off to find someplace to get late night food. 

He brings you to visit his grandfather during the summertime and the two of you help him out with repairs around the house. Being around the two people he loves the most brings out Armin’s talkative side and the three of you spend your vacation days swapping stories over glasses of iced tea.

M I K A S A 

Busy during the summer, so you can’t meet as much as would like

Part of her gym’s regional kickboxing team and helps teach part time. You go to all her matches and cheer till your voice gives out. She tells you that you don’t have to come, but secretly is so, so grateful that you do

On days when you’re both free, you try out all the best brunch places in the city. Mikasa prefers small family-owned businesses. The two of you quickly become regulars at your favorite spots

Sends you voice messages when you are apart ever since you said that you liked to hear her voice. She’s adorably awkward in them, usually just telling you about whatever she’s doing at the time and how much she misses you

Gets misty-eyed when you show up at the airport with flowers for her when she gets back home. Squeezes you till your out of breath and lifts off the ground a little bit when you hug again after your time apart.

J E A N

The actual best at planning a fun day full of activities

Busts his ass working at a couple part time jobs most days, but makes up for how busy is by making sure you two have the best possible time and do the most when you’re together

The type to have a bucket list for all the different activities he thinks you guys should do together. He puts a lot of effort into creating it with you. The two of you decorate two matching posters so that each of you has a copy. 

A little bit of a sucker for cliches: ice cream dates and visiting waterparks. He’s a romantic at heart and with you he feels like he can finally participate in all the classic lovey-dovey activities couples do.

One of those people who acts like an influencer despite the fact that he’s only followed by family and friends. Takes super high quality pics of you so he can brag about how great his s/o is. Took a few photography classes in college and it shows. Every photo he takes of you looks amazing because you can tell just how enamored he is with you.

King of matching couple fits. Loves when the two of you wear coordinating colors or even just similar accessories.

L E V I 

Not a fan of hot weather, so prefers to hang out in the evenings or early mornings when it’s cooler (which works well with the fact that he has to work most days). 

Has no clue what to do during the summer, besides what you two always do, but does his best

You two go for early morning runs at his suggestion and then get breakfast afterwards. There’s a smoothie place down the block from the park that you frequent, with different local fruit specials each week. 

He brings you to his favorite tea shop and you two slowly drink your way through their summer refresher menu throughout the season. You learn

Is willing to go to the beach, but be prepared to cover the man with sunscreen, because he burns. Since he knows that he won’t encounter anyone from work, he sometimes wears a large sunhat for extra UV protection.

When your vacation time finally lines up, the two of you get out of the city and head to the charming town where his mother lives. You get to help Kuchel in her garden and listen to her stories about adorable young Levi.

While he’s not extremely enthusiastic about summer as a season, he does find it far more enjoyable when he gets to spend it with you

H A N J I

Lives for traveling during the summer months, half for fun and half for their work as part of an anthropological research team. Whenever they can’t bring you along, expect lots of silly, cheesy postcards and many late night phone calls.

Thinks that camping is an absolute must. You two go on hikes together to find the best places to camp. Teaches you all sorts of cool facts about the different areas you are in. Likes when the two of you get “lost” and have to navigate back with a compass (and a park map as backup).

Makes their own homemade juice blends (some better than others) and freezes them into popsicles. Brings you them and other snacks when you’re working.

Stays up late with you and points out different constellations while you drink hot cocoa on the rooftop of their apartment building. While you don’t understand everything they are explaining to you, you love to watch their excited expression and enthusiasm as they tell you all about the world.

E R W I N

Glamorous cultural events are Erwin’s favorite part of the summertime 
Expect to to be brought to opening ceremonies, christenings of cruise ships, and wine tastings

Despite the fancy events, Erwin makes sure you don’t feel too out of place by spending the evenings shit talking the other guests with you, and trying to guess who is sleeping with who and who is going to get drunk and ruin the evening

Insists that you get out of the city as often as possible, so expect a lot of weekend getaways

As much as he likes to do things with you, he can also appreciate an afternoon spent drinking sangria and reading by the poolside (a private pool, of course. He can’t resist asking you to put sunblock on his back (half because he actually needs the help, half just to see you blush at the request).

Owns a sleek vintage convertible that he’s only able to drive in the warmer months. Likes to pick you up from work in it while still dressed in his impeccably sharp suit from the office, just to see the looks on your coworkers faces

[struggling-with-time]

Crows and Ravens [Wilbur soot x reader]

Paring: Wilbur Soot x Gender Neutral!reader

Summary: Inspired by the song Ravens by Reno Shaw. How the reader deals with the grief and cope with Wilburs death.

Warnings: Angst, grief, death.

Words: 3.1k words

A/N: thank you to @libbynotfound for being my wonderful beta for this <3 also go listen to Reno Shaw, I've been listening to his music on repeat! His Spotify

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

You stand on the porch cradling a hot cup of coffee, watching over the snowy Tundra. Enjoying the peace and calm the secluded place brings. While getting used to the cold took a while, it wasn’t long. After all, a warm fireplace is never far off.

You take a sip, as you watch the crows slowly start to gather in the treetop, indicating the return of Phil. Your dead fiancé’s father. Wilbur’s dad.

You moved up here with Technoblade after Wilbur’s death, needing some peace and quiet. While you never truly agreed with Technoblade’s ideologies, yet you longed to get away from the bustling town that only ever seemed to bring hurt to its citizens. So, you left.

Your cottage connected to the other two, now that Phil had moved up here too.

You follow him with your eyes as he breaks free of the surrounding forest. You watch as he puffs out his black wings to shake off the white snow that has fallen on them.

You give Phil a small wave as he notices you watching over the sunset.

“Good morning! You’re out of your bed today. That’s good to see!”

You nod in acknowledgement, never meeting his eyes, as you are back to being fixated on the rising sun.

You listen to the crows as they have now gathered, a constant murder that never seems to leave Phil alone. You don’t question it. You don’t mind the noise they sometimes bring, although you worry for the man who will sometimes speak to them as though they could understand him.

Phil’s door opens and closes, and you suspect he is dropping off the items from his latest adventure into the deep woods.

What surprises you is mere minutes later when it opens again, and he steps out, a cup of tea in his own hands. Clearly indicating to join you on this windless morning.

You take a step aside, and Phil stands beside you.

You can’t help, but feel as though you have to get further away from the man. It’s an itch that is always around when Phil is close to you. Despite being long ago, you still see it for yourself every time you look at the older man.

The sword sticking out of Wilbur’s stomach, as the debris is slowly settling down. Phil holding him.

You didn’t see it happen, but you saw the aftermath. The shell of the man you loved, truly being a mere shell. While he might have walked the tightrope of manic, there was always hope in your heart for the Wilbur you fell in love with coming back. But a dead Wilbur? There was no hope of bringing him back, he was truly gone.

Your gaze never wavering from the sun rising, as it bathes the white Tundra in oranges and reds.

“Phil?”

“Yeah, mate.”

“Do you think he would have liked it here?”

“No, no he wouldn’t. He always craved more, the peace would bore him.”

“I wish he could have experienced it anyway.”

The two of you settle into silence as you empty your now cold cup of coffee, the sounds of the ever-present crows filling the air. Unsaid words hanging low in the air. But thickening it enough, for neither to be able to speak more.

---

You used to love winter, one of the reasons you moved up here. But now it only seems to drag on and on. Coating everything in its white blanket of innocence. Covering the guilty people living here.

Wilbur used to enjoy the spring, he always told you it was his favourite season, as the flowers bloom and gave you a newfound beauty, in his words. You remember, the two of you spending countless hours underneath the old oak tree. Him strumming his guitar until late in the night, as you would tell him the stories you would gather from the patrons at the bar you used to work at as a teenager.

The two of you dreaming up lives you would live when you were older, a cottage on the outskirts of a town he would create. A kitchen overflowing with food and pots and pans. As you would cook for the town’s citizens, living out your own dream of selling your homemade food.

Talking about watching the sunset on a poach, children running around in the backyard. He wanted two boys and a girl, while you wanted one of each. Hoping to pass down his charm and good looks. The feeling of an ever-present happiness high in the air.

An ever-present happiness you would no longer be able to archive now.

Your dreams shattered the day that blade pierced through him. Held by his father, the man you had come to know as the most calming presence you had ever met.

It took you a while to forgive Phil for what he had done.

You watched as he and Technoblade moved on right outside of your cabin. You watched as you couldn’t get out of bed, and the two of them gained new friends and new lives. Envy and anger filling the air of your cabin, fast and suffocating you slowly whenever you’re alone.

You roll over in your bed hoping to be taken back into your dreams, hoping for them to be the good kind like the ones you used to imagine with Wilbur.

Instead, you are dragged right back into your nightmares watching him slowly descending into madness.

---

You look around your kitchen, ever bare from anything. Never really holding food anymore. Scarce of pots and pans, not wanting to be reminded of the dreams you could never achieve. Let alone reach for these days.

You walk right through, heading for your coat and boots. Suiting up before you step into the cold. But as your eyes grace over the second hook, the one that used to hold Wilburs coat. Now empty. Sends a sting through your heart.

Tommy had gotten it from you when he lived with Technoblade after his exile of L’Manberg. You had watched as he stared after it each time he had been into your house.

The house that never quite felt like a home. Not when Wilbur hadn’t been the one to hang the coat there back in the day. But yourself. Hoping that one day he would walk through the door moaning about the cold and having forgotten his coat.

But he never did.

So, you gave it to Tommy. Committing the way his face lit up at the gesture to memory. He looked truly happy for the first time since he had come out to the Tundra.

You shake the feeling of longing off yourself as you head into the cold, letting the ever-present winter clear your head. On a mission to collect wood for Technoblade. He had asked you for logs the other day, and you had promised to get him some.

Although you were suspecting it was a scheme to get you out of bed, and out of your house for a couple of hours. It wouldn’t be the first time he had done so, and you have a feeling it wouldn’t be the last.

He had been there for you back when Wilbur and Tommy had created Pogtopia. Wilbur’s second nation, another promise for freedom, that had only seemed to tear the one you loved apart, more than fix him.

The nation acting as a band-aid on a cut so deep it was merely the thought that counted.

You remember watching the stars nearly every night as the cave was cold and unwelcoming whenever Wilbur started drinking. You remember hearing him yell at Tommy, but doing nothing out of fear that he would turn his attention to you. Never before had you been so happy for being neglected by the one you loved.

Technoblade had been there some nights, right beside you, telling you stories of Wilbur before the two of you met, which wasn’t many, but it was enough to fill the air with a hope. A hope that this was but a period to pass, and the one you loved would return to you.

He never did.

You track over the snow and into the forest, following the pathway Techno and Phil have created over the time living here. Right into the clearing that is slowly growing larger as the three of you are slowly cutting the forest down. And now that Ranboo is here too, it’s only growing bigger faster. Another constant change in your life.

Another thing you can’t stop or help, as you watch it deteriorate in front of your eyes.

It takes you most of the day to chop down the wood and cut it into small enough pieces, that you can carry it back to the commune. It takes the rest of your day to carry it all back and leaving it to dry in the shed, which Techno built as one of the first things.

“Dried wood is important, you can’t survive without a fire.”

Back then the commune had been even quieter. Due to yourself having gone through the days in a daze, not talking to anyone after what had happened. It had been the only thing on your mind.

Phil’s sword. Your scream. The emptiness that followed.

Phil had been to one to coax you out of your silence, in the end. With the help of Techno, despite the latter enjoying the silence the Tundra brought.

You watch as nightfall comes, and the mobs start to emerge in the dark.

You know you should be heading inside. But you can’t help but stand on the porch watching out over the night. The stars lighting up the sky and making the darkness feel less lonesome.

You miss the sound of Techno’s door opening. Instead, envying the crows as some of them take off. Wishing to be one of them, no care in the world. Only the world to explore, and never having to feel the hurt of losing someone. Twice.

“Y/n, come on, let's get you inside.”

You nod, following him inside his cabin, smelling the potato soup in the air. Thankful for the warm fireplace that has been lit. It would take hours for your own to warm up your house since you let the fireplace burn out yesterday. You let it burn out yet again.

Neither of you mentions that you found the woodshed over half full. Neither of you mentions that it takes over a month to burn through the shed. Neither of you mentions that you are just working to make your life pass, but living.

---

When you returned home that night, your fireplace was lit. He had done it for you. Not letting you return to a cold and lonely house.

That was the night you pulled out a pan for the first time in a long while.

You stocked your kitchen cabinets with food from a nearby village, and then you rolled up your sleeves.

You work in your own kitchen tirelessly for two days and nights. Feeling your grasp on yourself slipping. But refusing to stop.

Stuck in a living daydream of the domestic life you never got. As uneaten food starts to pile up, and your eyes start to drop. You can feel yourself slipping into a slumber sitting on your kitchen floor. Tears streak down your chin, as you cry out for Wilbur once again.

Phil finds you there, the next morning, concerned for not having seen you out of your house for days. And now even more concerned as he takes in the mess you are living amidst. Half-finished dishes still on the stove, that has burned out. The dinner table filled with dirty kitchenware, and dishes he has never seen before in his life.

Phil makes a decision that morning, that refuses to watch another person he cares for wither away in front of him.

You find yourself from that day off, getting woken up by Phil, asking you to share a cup of tea with him on the porch.

Sometimes Techno joins the two of you. But never often, the man as nocturnal as Wilbur used to be.

You look over the snow once again, as you wish winter is soon to be over. But it never seems to be.

---

You take up painting after this, you aren’t perfect at it, never having done it before. But it helps you keep yourself out of your head, and you enjoy the time you spend on creating artwork.

You remember Wilbur owning a small portrait of his mom made in grey tones, back then you had been worried over the sombre feeling the grey tones gave you. A feeling of fear following the sombreness. A feeling of fear you vowed to never induce in others.

Yet, you find yourself drawn to the grey tones whenever you pick up a paintbrush, and so the sunrise gets recreated in sombre colours, the cabins, Phil and Techno. The pictures aren’t great, but they resemble what they are enough to be recognisable.

But one motive seems to come again and again, although as time moves on, Wilbur seems to fade out from your pictures. In the beginning, he seemed to be in every other one. But now he seems to slowly stop showing his face in them, just as in your dreams.

You start not seeing him everywhere you look.

Your kitchen isn’t as scary to move around in anymore, more days than not, you are having guests in the form of Phil, Techno or Ranboo eating over. You even get to meet Ranboos platonic husband Tubbo and their child.

Tommy comes over from time to another telling you of the stories back from the town that has now taken over L’Manberg.

And Phil lets you meet Ghostbur.

Oh, Ghostbur, another shell of the man you used to love. Neither an empty shell nor a dead one. But a cold smiling one.

You let him into your home. And even if you get teary-eyed every time you look at him and his cheerful attitude. Nobody mentions it.

This is the period where your cold house in the Tundra, started turning into a warm and lived-in home. Although the winter is still raging on outside your window, you are never truly cold on the inside anymore.

You still struggle with getting out of bed on the worst days, still grieving the man you had to first watch wither away in front of you, only to be killed. But you refuse to let it be the thing defining you.

You start accompanying Phil and Techno on some of the adventures, exploring places that aren’t the town you grew up in, or the SMP. You walk through your first jungle, painting a greyscale version as soon as you return home, proudly presenting it on your wall when it’s finished.

You listen to Ghostbur as he tells you about the happy memories the two of you have together. Reminiscing sitting under the old oak tree together.

You still sometimes forget he isn’t Wilbur when he knocks on your door, and you are instead presented with a handful of blue and the translucent guy. Instead of your ex-fiancé. But it gets easier, then more times he shows up.

Whenever he talks, you barely ever escape into your own head anymore. The domestic dream starts to fade, as you replace it with happy memories and people around yourself.

The fireplace never left to burn out in the night anymore.

You start getting up before Phil, greeting him on the porch with tea. You smile at the thought. You never really drink coffee anymore. Not needing the caffeine as the nightmares have stopped being the thing that greets you whenever you lie your head onto your pillow.

The sleepless nights get replaced with peaceful slumber.

While you still see Wilbur in your dreams, it’s no longer the shell of the man in Pogtopia, or the shell Phil held that fateful day.

It’s the one that proposed to you when he started a revolution. It’s the hopeful and idealistic one you remember. The one you grew up with.

While those mornings you are quieter to be around, you no longer let it take over your day. As of now, you have a life to live. Truly living and no longer just letting time pass by as you work.

---

You listen to the crows as you stand on the porch, tea in hand, and a cup waiting for Phil. Another one standing beside that one, in case Techno is to join the two of you.

You enjoy the calmness as you can see the red start to spread over the horizon painting the sky and the grey clouds. You know summer is approaching. The snow has started to melt in some places. While it still snows most days, the rain has started showing its face from time to another, and it seems today will be one of those days.

None of you say anything, as Phil comes out of his house, and Techno stalks out of his own too. You all just watch as the sky goes from red to orange and the rain starts to fall.

Winter finally seems to be over. And you let in the feeling of happiness that you thought was unreachable.

But right here, watching the sunrise between two people, who care for you, and whom you care deeply for. Happiness isn’t the domestic life you never got, but the peace you have found with never getting the life you dreamt of.

And right here, in the rain under the sunrise, is where you spot a figure on the horizon.

A figure who, the closer it walks, takes up a silhouette you could recognise any day of the week.

As the silhouette steps closer, your eyes fixate on his face. The wrinkles that now adorn it, the white streak in his hair. The charming face you once fell for.

Time seems to slow down as he makes eye contact with you, and you let go of your cup. Letting it crash onto the porch.

“Missed me, Darling?”

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

[kinkyjaems]

7 Minutes with Nomin

Nomin Smut

Word count: 2.4K

Jaemin and Jeno x fem!reader

Includes: Smut, threesome

“You should wear this skirt” Your best friend Giselle hands you a short plaid skirt. You hold it in your hands until you decide you should wear it.

Mark and a couple of friends are having a party in their shared house and you and Giselle were invited. You were a bit nervous though. The thought of seeing Jaemin and Jeno made your heart bounce.

Lee Jeno, the sweet and most kind-hearted boy you know. He wouldnt hurt a fly. The way his eyes looked when he smiled, how got shy very easily, a little quiet and the cutest little beauty mark on his cheekbone made you smile without knowing.

Na Jaemin, the most confident person you’d ever met. He’s not afraid to say what’s on his mind. He knows he’s attractive. The way he pushes his hair back with his tongue poking his cheek. He can sometimes be a cute weirdo but just him looking at you is enough to make you swoon.

The only problem right now is that they both like you. Of course, Jaemin makes it more obvious by holding you, bringing his lips so close as if he’s about to kiss you but then quickly pulling back. And Jeno, sending you cute messages throughout the day like “I went out today to eat but I wish you were with me :(“ and “I walked past a flower shop and saw some roses that were as beautiful as you”. If one were to ask you out, you wouldn’t know what to do. You did wanna break the other heart and ruin your friendship.

“You okay?” Giselle looked at you a bit worried, seeing the way you were lost in thought. “Yeah, I’m fine” you replied with a small smile. “Okay well, let's go party!” She dragged you out of the house and into a taxi.

The whole taxi ride was torture. You couldn’t stop thinking about what could happen. You can never really expect what happens at a party. You hookup, you drink until you were knocked out, you get sick all over the house.. so many thoughts were making their way into your brain as you got closer to the house.

You ring the doorbell and way welcomed my Mark giving you a huge hug. “Hey guys, so glad you could make it. You can have a seat over here if you want, drinks are over there and the food right next to them..” As Mark was showing you the whereabouts, his words started to go through your ear and out the other side and you see Jaemin by the drinks table staring at you up and down while sipping on his red solo cup. Suddenly another man starts walking towards Jaemin looking down at his phone. He looks up at you and you see it's Jeno. He gives you one of his cute close eyed smiles and waves at you. You wave as a soft smile appears on your face at home cute he looks.

“All good?” You hear Mark say as he brings you back to reality. “All good” Giselle says with a thumbs up and you just nod. You and Giselle walk over to the couch and you sit down. “I'm gonna go bring us some drink, ill be right back” You wanted her to stay with you since you weren’t a big fan of parties and din tiles being alone, but you also wanted to go with her but quickly change your mind since you were nervous about being around Jaemin and Jeno.

You start to scroll through your phone not knowing what else to do until you see a pair of shoes in front of you thinking it's Giselle. You look up and to your surprise it's Jaemin. “Hey,” he said as he looks at you and you greet him back. He goes to sit next to you as you hear another familiar voice. “Do you want a drink?” Jeno says with his eyebrows raised. “Giselles already getting me one, thank you” you smile.

Giselle comes back with your drink and you all got into a conversation with some flirting going around from overconfident Jaemin and shy Jeno.

“Ayo, listen up” Mark announces from the middle of the room. “Let's play some games, starting with 7 minutes in heaven” he smirks. The whole room looked excited to join in the circle except for you. You didn't know many people at the party and didn't wanna have sex with someone you didn't know. “I think I'm gonna sit this one out,” You say to Giselle. “Come on” she pulls your arm “Let's have some fun”. You both sit down on the floor next to each other and Mark puts a beer bottle in the center. “Alright, I'm gonna spin the bottle and whichever two people it lands on will spend 7 minutes in heaven”.

He spins the bottle and your heartaches as you get more anxious. You thought that whoever is in front of you is most likely to be paired with you if you were picked. You saw both Jaemin and Jeno in front of you. Jaemin who’s looking at you in a seductive way and Jeno who’s staring at the bottle, eagerly waiting for it to stop.

The bottle gets slower until it stops. You look at it in disbelief as it's pointing right at you, already knowing who you could be paired up with. You slowly look up at the boys looking at each other and back at you. The whole room is filled with whispers. “Looks like we have a tie” you hear Mark say. The bottle is pointy right in between them.

“Who will it be?” He asks you. You try to speak but you're unable to get the words out. “Why can’t she just take them both” You look to your right and see Johnny. You’ve never wanted to hit a guy so hard on his pretty face. “DUDE! YOUR A GENIUS” Mark replies. You see Jaemin and Jeno stand up and start to lead you up the stairs as people start cheering and you get so embarrassed and red.

As they lead you to an unoccupied room, you can help but think about what was gonna happen next. Are you actually gonna have a threesome? Will one of them end up leaving? Will you be the one to leave? You finally arrive at the room. “Were here princess” Jaemin whispered in your ear, sending shivers down your spine.

You take a seat on the front edge of the bed, not knowing what to do or say. “Are you nervous” He bend down in front of you, taking your hand in his and smirking up at you. Before you get to talk, you feel a warm breath against your ear. “Don’t be, angel, we’ll take good care of you” Jeno whispered, lightly nibbling on your ear lobe. So you’re really gonna do this, aren’t you?

The thought of them fucking you at the same time was hot but you didn’t want this stupid game to ruin your friendship.

Jaemin was staring at you in the eyes and slowly leans in, placing a soft kiss on your lips. He broke the kiss to look at you for consent to do more, and you lean in. Jeno goes at your next softly, placing wet kisses up and down until he snaked his hands down to your core and traces small circles around it. You moan into Jaemins kiss and you feel him smiling against you.

“Does that feels good?” He asks, and let out a breathy yes as you break from Jaemins kiss and rest your head on Jenos shoulder. Jaemin also starts placing wet kisses on your neck and lightly sucking on randoms patches of skin. They both stop and bring you farther up the bed so they have more room around you.

Jeno hovers on top of you until he crashes his lips onto yours aggressively, sticking his tongue into every corner of your mouth, not leaving one spot untouched. His hands find their way under your shirt touching you all over until he places them on your hips. He tugs on it asking you for permission to take it off you allow him, bringing it over your head and his along with it.

He breaks away to look at your body and dives back in giving you a kiss from your chest down until he reaches your skirt, pulling it up so your panties are exposed. He then quickly removes both articles of clothing. “Fuck, you already wet” He huffs.

“7 minutes might be a little too short to destroy you” You look at Jaemin who’s palming himself next to you. He saw you quickly look at his bulge and smirks before leaning closer to you. “You want us bad don’t you” He whispers into your ear. “You want us to fuck you so hard you won’t be walking for days”

Jaemin starts kissing and sucking hard at your neck while Jeno teases you by licking your core. Quiet moans leave your lips from all the small pleasure you were receiving from both men. You entangle your fingers in his hair wanting more.

Unexpectedly Jeno pushes deep indie of you to make your back arch in pleasure. His whole length rammed inside of you so perfectly as you looked at him seeing a small smirk crept on his face. He knows he’s big.

You start moaning uncontrollably from Jeno hitting the spot with every thrust. Jaemin who’s now stroking himself removes your bra with his free hand and attaches his pink lips to your nipples. Sucking them and tracing small circles with his tongue, using his free left hand to masses and play with the other one.

The room is filled with the sounds of skin slapping and lip-smacking on your breasts. Jeno starts to get impatient and tell Jeno to fuck you doggy style so he can fuck your mouth at the same time.

Having to switch positions messed up the pleasure you were getting from Jeno but he was quick with his ways and managed to get back on track. You watch Jaemin as he removes his pants and boxers, waving his dick in front of your face.

Your unable to grab it with your hands from Jenos thrusting, with your hands being your only support so you won’t collapse. You try to move your mouth forward but Jaemin stops you. He lips your chin up to look at him“Don’t get too greedy” he says, placing his tip on your tongue. “Can you deep throat?” He says softly. Even though Jaemin is a confident guy who knows he hot, he has his soft moments too. “Angel, let me know if it hurts or you want to stop okay?” You nod and he moves his cock into your mouth, starting off slow, going faster making sure you adjust.

Surprisingly Jaemin was a lot softer than Jeno who rammed into you without warning. Not that you didn’t like that or anything but it would be nice to know.

You manage to deep throat without gagging while trying to use one hand to massage his balls. You hear moth males moan in sync. “Jeno,” You say in a muffled voice from Jaemins length. He understands your close and takes this as an opportunity to go faster. “Say my name, Princess” Jeno says. You moan his name, again it was tough trying to talk while having someone's cock shoved down your throat.

You finally come as a wave of pleasure leaves your body. “Fuck” You hear Jeno say. His thrusts become sloppier as he finally comes in you, letting it drip down. He massages your clit with his finger, using both your juices as some type of lube.

Jaemin's thrust into your mouth becomes slower and slower until he comes, filling your mouth up with his warm insides. You try to swallow it all with some leakage at the side of your mouth. He flashes a wide smile at the sight of you. Jeno comes over to help your out by kissing you passionately and cleaning you up with his tongue.

They both sit ups straight and look at you with curiosity. “What?” You furrowed your eyebrows. “Who are you picking?” Jeno replies. Your eyes widen in shock. “WHAT?!” You shout ‘what do you mean who do I pick?”. You were so confused. Did they just fuck you and expect you to chose? Of course not, you could never do that.

“He means which one of us will you date?” Your jaw drops open. “Was this planned or something?” You're really hoping your not gonna get the answer you were thinking of. “It kind of went better than we thought” Jeno starts. “We asked Mark if he could announce the game sat in front of you to get picked with you. We also made sure the circle would be big so the bottle has a higher chance of landing in between two people which was us an-”

Before Jaemin could finish. You hop off the bed and grab your clothes making sure to clean yourself up. “No wait,” Jeno says as he pulls your arm lightly. “We just both like you and thought this was a good way to decide. “You think the best way was for to see who I liked better in bed?” They were both silent. You shook your head in disapproval. “I'm not picking between you too” You walk towards the door but before you could turn the knob, you hear Jaemin say something.

“So you’ll just have to have us both them” You look at him thinking about it at first. Honestly, you didn't mind having them both at the same time. “I guess ill just have to have you both then,” You say with a smile, leaving them both with their jaws hanging.

You walk down the party fixing your hair trying not to look like you just woke from a 1,000 year nap. You find Giselle who’s passed out on the couch and go to grab her. “Hey,” she says as she opens her eyes. “I'm so-“ She leans on you as she passes out. You drag her to the front door getting ready to leave. “You're leaving already” You look around to see Mark. “Yes, and I really don’t appreciate you helping out Jaemin and Jeno to get a chance to fuck me” his eyes widen. “Look it wasn’t my ide-“ You flick him on the forehead before heading out to a taxi and driving back to your place.

The whole car ride back home, you couldn’t help but think about how they could be if the time wasn’t so short. Maybe an all night experience for next time.

PLEASE TELL ME IF U WANT ME TO MAKE A PART 2. Im really tempted to make one but I want your thoughts so please let me know! :)

[dumbass-mha-simp]

Elliott x GN!Reader

Your New Playlist

Kinda sad? Ig angst but not actually like, bad angst yk.

1k words

Stardew Valley

Warnings: crying, mentally beating yourself over a crush, self-sacrificing but not in a death kinda way, cussing (I think like one f word), Elliott is a theater kid you can't convince me otherwise,

I wanna do a part two, would anyone be interested? I know how much us Elliott simps want fanfiction. I'm probably gonna start on it anyway lol.

Yes I actually made this playlist smh ikik, you don't have to listen to it ofc but his aesthetic really fits my music taste, at least I feel so. I write my fanfiction as gender neutral as I can but if you ever spot any mistakes I'd love to fix it!!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Elliott's POV

My feet took me across the path leading to Leah's house. The gentle cotton clouds stretching their wisps across the blue sky, bright enough to blind me as though it were the sun that it surrounds. The gentle new Spring breeze froze my cheeks lightly as my eyes closed to avoid the same chill from the past winter.

Fresh Spring flowers and hidden vegetables encircled her yard as I made my way to knock against the dark wood door that always seemed thunderingly loud.

Leah peaked through the window by her door before I can see her face light up and reach for the door.

"Hey, c'mon in!" She opens the door wider to let me pass through. "How are you doing?"

"If I'm honest, a little troubled." I sigh looking forlornly to the floor.

"Come sit." Leah pulls me to her table and sits in the accompanying seat. "Tell me what you're thinking."

"Leah, what does it feel like to you before you admit you fancy someone?" I look up into her listening eyes before her face changes into slight shock.

"Hmmm." She brings her hand up to her chin as she ponders. "Well, you miss being around them when they're gone. You constantly find ways to connect anything back to them, like `oh they'd love this`, or `I should check up on them.` You care about their opinion more than others and you want to learn about them, even if it's the uninteresting things."

I slide my arms down onto the table, placing my head on top of them. That sounded exactly like what's happening. I had read about it a million times, falling gently in love with a close friend. Perhaps that interest to become friends was always attraction.

"I can't get enough of Y/N." I muffled through my folded arms sighing once again as I turned my head to finally look back up at Leah, the light stinging my eyes.

"Well maybe I could help you with getting more of them?" Leah smirked as she grabbed her phone from her pocket.

I lifted my head slightly panicked. "What are you doing?" I rushed out.

"Relax, I'm not telling Y/N. But they shared something with me. They have a wide music taste yes?"

I had heard some of their music. While they made us lunch, while they partake in their hobbies, when they hum near silently late at night on the beach. I nodded back thinking of how they never seemed to be signing along to a song similar to the others. Unpredictable, and absolutely captivating.

"Well one of their tastes in music is very folk-y and they mentioned how those songs reminded them of you. So they made a playlist of songs that remind themselves of you." Leah said looking down and scrolling through her phone.

They made a playlist about me. They actively want to remember and listen to things that remind themselves of me. I feel I might faint. Was this something that was common among friends? Was this nothing more than an act of kindness? Or something they decided to do on a whim?

"Here give me your phone I'll send it to you." She holds her hand out expectantly.

I quickly go to pull out the hardly used device. I had never had much use for it but if it could bring me any step closer to Y/N I wouldn't hesitate to learn.

Leah downloaded a music app, laughing at how I had no applications. Before leaving it opened on the playlist. "The Lonely, Ocean-Accompanied, Writer." It read. I reread it a couple times to convince myself it was real. A lovely name, but is that how they see me?

"Chill out, Romeo." Leah giggled. "I can practically see you overthinking everything. Just relax and listen to the songs, maybe they'll tell you something."

I wrapped my arms around her neck, hugging her closely before leaving to listen to the playlist.

~~~

As I shut the door behind me I pressed my back against it. I've never felt so scattered before. I looked for the volume button, turning it up before hitting play.

The songs, quiet but emotional. As though you had just lie down on the grass to cry or relieve tension or reminisce. They felt like a memory I had trouble recalling.

The songs seemed to renew me, before I heard one I distinctly remembered hearing before. From high-school theater club, a time in my life that was fond to me. I do remember Y/N telling me they loved musicals, hearing them hum along to Heathers while I wrote.

A song unlike most others on this list.

"When He Sees Me" from Waitress.

~~~

Y/N's POV

"Oh, Yoba. What if when he sees me, I like him and he knows it? What if he opens up a door, And I can't close it?" I belted out the lyrics as loud as I wanted, the tears streaming down my face unwavering.

The good side to owning your own farm is you could scream along to your songs without people to complain. You had been replaying this part of the song for awhile now. He was all you could seem to think about.

Your head was swarmed with thoughts of Elliott. Some where he reciprocated your feelings and others where he shut you out. Every time you built a daydream where he loved you unconditionally you trampled it with the thoughts of his rejection.

You brought your knees up to your chest, resting your head between them as you cried.

~~~

Elliott's POV

We had had conversations about musicals, perhaps that's why they chose this song? Maybe they thought since my school had a play of Waitress that it'd fit. But I know they liked other Waitress songs, why weren't those added? Only this one.

After that song came another, "I Hear A Symphony" one I've never heard. As the song started all I could see was Y/N. I could hear them singing along, their smile, their eyes averting to mine for the thousandth time.

Y/N was my symphony.

The powerful, breathtaking ocean couldn't compare to the awkward farmer that ran across town just to give me their best sweet pea flowers and be the first thing I saw as I left my quaint cabin.

They brought the motivation and inspiration for 8 hour writing sessions, they brought me food when they knew I'd forgotten to eat between writing the book and planning on what to write next.

They were something I could never dream of losing. I wished to live the rest of my life with their support.

If telling them my feelings means I'd lose them, then I couldn't dream of making such a selfish decision.

~~~

Y/N's POV

I trudged my way into town. After last night's crying session my eyes still felt a bit dry, if I'm honest I cried when I woke up as well. The loneliness felt suffocating in such a lonely little house. But I needed some new seeds. The stone path drawing all my attention as I walked.

As I walked into Pierre's it wasn't hard to tell that people could see something was off. After buying my seeds I felt a hand on my shoulder, turning around to find Elliott.

"Y/N are you feeling alright? You look as though you've been distressed lately." You motion to him to follow you and walks out of the store behind you.

You take a deep breath as you start to tear up a bit more. He reaches for your face as he lifts it up, looking at the pooling tears.

So many things, the things you could have said. But they didn't come up. Instead a vision of his face of discomfort at your confession. You couldn't bear it. You couldn't tell him.

"I've just been stressed. I'm sorry for worrying you, Elliott." You sigh, attempting to put up a fake smile as you wipe your eyes. He retracts his hand as he looks guilty. Fuck does he feel like it's his fault?

"Well I'm willing to listen to your troubles if you ever need." He also puts on a strained smile as you both part ways.

"This is for the best." They both whisper as they leave.

[joyaphoria]

with the flowers (8)

part eight: the chaos within

pairing: suna x f!reader

summary: if a teacher had been the one to catch suna dangling on the edge of inarizaki’s roof, he definitely would’ve been in trouble. except it wasn’t a teacher that caught him, it was you—the school whore. yea, he’s starting to wish it was a teacher.

word count: 1.2k

this is a retell of chapter six, but in y/n’s perspective the strikethroughs are supposed to be there re-read part six before reading this

© 𝘫𝘰𝘺𝘢𝘱𝘩𝘰𝘳𝘪𝘢

directory | previous | next

one, two, three.

three hours seconds, he’s been staring at your house.

he’s not actually gonna come inside, is he? no, he thinks you house is pathetic.

he’s walking up the driveway; no now he’s on your path he’s on your path.

‘why are you here?’ “you’re here!” you stare smile at him, your eyes piercing into running along to the girl he brought with him.

more people, there’s more. run, get away. leave, go away.

“oh, and you brought—wait, is that your sister?”

it’s a stupid question. of course she’s his sister. now he thinks you’re stupid. you’re stupid you’re stupid, you’re stupid.

“my parents aren’t home right now, they thought i should bring her.” he scoffs replies.

he’s staring he’s glaring parents parents parents.

you stare at her pat her head, before closing the door moving aside to let them in. 

‘you coming was already too much.’ “don’t even worry about it don’t even worry about it,” you smile.

repeating sentences is pathetic weird. shut your mouth don’t do it.

send them away, show them you aren’t one to be messed with.

“i have a little sister you can play with!” you offer her your hand, and she hesitantly takes it. “don’t touch me.”

go away, go away please. leave us alone.

“hanakooo!” don’t come downstairs, stay upstairs please. strangers, they’re strangers you shouldn’t have brought here stay upstairs don’t come down stay upstairs don’t come down-

“this is aiko and suna.”

go back upstairs.

“look after aiko for me, okay?”

don’t get to close to this girl, hana. you don’t know her.

“how old is your sister?” suna asks, following you to the kitchen.

why does it matter to him?

“none of your business” “fourteen.”

it’s quiet it’s too quiet he’s gonna think you’re overthinking the question and that you’re being rude, you have to-

ask him back.

“same as yours?”

he nods.

hanako doesn’t do well with girls her age you shouldn’t have let that girl into your house especially not secluded in a room with your sister what if that girl hurts her what if she’s rude and hurts hanako’s feelings—

you make your way up the stairs and he follows you.

“don’t follow me.”.

-

laugh or he’ll think that you hate him.

you laugh again, so hard that you think you might throw up.

it’s quiet again, and you want it to stay that way. you want him to leave and allow you to bask in the silence peacefully, on your own. 

“why do you do it?” suna asks out of the blue, his back on your bed and his feet on the carpet, launching one of your stuffed toys into the air and catching it.

ignore him ignore him ignore him ignore him- “if you’re gonna ask a random question like that, i’m gonna need a little context, pretty boy.” you tease, jumping onto your bed and causing him to nearly fall off.

smile, smile, don’t let him pity you.

“’donate pussy for money’” he clarifies—and you want to drop dead—mocking your past statement. “why do you do it?”

‘why do you ask?’ “why do you ask?”

you weren’t supposed to say that out loud you were supposed to answer with a straight answer or else he’ll pity you he’ll think that you’re coming up with something to say because you’re pathetic and useless and—

“well i mean, you live in a perfectly stable house, your parents—” what will he say if i tell him that it’s only my mother will he pity me will he think i’m stupid will he-

 “—both have jobs, you have food, i don’t get why.”

of course he doesn’t get it, no one ever gets it.

tell him to mind his own business because you’re upset laugh because you don’t want him to think you’re upset.

he watches as you burst into yet another fit of laughter, holding onto your stomach as if you were in pain because you are, it hurts, everything hurts.

“i had dont have a dad.” you nudge him. “my dad committed suicide when he was seventeen—” too soon too soon too soon, change it now.

“—you know, jumped off of inarizaki’s roof.” better, much better better, much better.

suna frowns, furrowing his eyebrows. “that isn’t funny.”

that was insensitive that hit too close to home don’t let up so easily—don’t be a pushover you pathetic whore.

“oh come on, you know it is.” you look away smirk. “i wasn’t joking though, he really did commit. he wasn’t quirky enough to jump off a roof he wasn’t quirky enough to jump off a roof, but yea, he committed.”

you almost said it twice you almost said it twice.

he’s staring at you. did you say it twice? he’s gathering his thoughts.

he’s judging you he’s processing—this is a lot to process no it isn’t.

he’s gonna keep staring if you don’t do something let him.

“you look ugly when ur serious.” you admit, squishing his cheeks together. “ease up a lil.”

that was rude, take it back. that was sily; in a weird good way.

“straightforward much?” he licks the hand closest to his mouth, and you scream shriek, tearing yanking your hands away.

“i’m just saying!” you frown giggle, wiping your hand on his shirt. “it was way before i was born anyways.”

right, you forgot to add that. now he thinks you’re a traumatized freak.

“wait, but if he committed before you were born, then hanako—”

“has a different father, pervert, male, worthless-piece-of-shit, guy, person, asshole, dad, dad, dad, but he took off a long time ago.”

and he better not come back he better not come back.

he’s not satisfied with the answer he’s not satisfied.

“i do this for her, you know?” you say, once you’ve both ended up laying side by side on your bed. 

for hanako, say you do it for hanako

“for hanako. i wanna send her to a college in the us.”

it’s half true it’s the truth.

“does your mom know? like about any of it?” no she doesn’t, she wouldn’t care she’d be really upset.

“why hooking though? aren’t there better and safer options?” 

because you’re used to it.

“you mean like working as a cashier?”

too many people it’s too many people they look at you and they know they know you’re filthy you’re disgusting it’s 

too many people.

“yeah.”

how to justify how to justify how to-

“you’re probably right.” you shrug. “i guess i just like the attention,” 

liar.

liar

liar

liar

liar

“i like that people like my body, you know?”

kill yourself.

shut up

shut up

shut up 

shut up.

“it’s one of my worst best traits.”

its hell, i want to get away i want to get away.

die die die die

die.

notes:

—  i hope this gives a little insight into how much is going on in y/n’s head

—  it’s just utter chaos and jumbled words and thoughts and things that don’t make sense and things she wants to/can’t/doesn’t know how to say; so if this was confusing or hard to understand, it’s supposed to be like that

—  again, if you didn’t re-read chapter six, i recommend you do; the chapters are the same but the different perspectives change everything.

—  no one would be able to last a day in her head, let alone stay sane.

taglist: @hotaruaizawa @its-the-aerieljeane @yourlocalbabybird @bakudummy @sunahyejin @satorinnie @lilith412426 @zukoslosthishonor @rintarovibes @underiwa @m01k @rinsangel @iicherrycore @kamalymaly @lmaosuna @whorefornoodles​ @anngelllla​ @ohrintarou​ @call-me-lulu @imeowforu @tsuksdinonugget @namyari​ @bakugouswh0r3 @theblueslytherin

[untaemedqueen]

Third Wheeling

CEO!Yoongi x Reader

Genre: Strangers to Lovers!AU, Angst, Fluff, Smut

Chapter 10.

Warnings (Updating Still): Smut, Cheating, Unexpected Pregnancy, Unfaithful, Emotional Damage, Love,

Warnings In This Chapter: Heart To Heart, Fluff, Infidelity, Sera Is A Cunt, Triggering Moments (I.E): Hearing Infidelity, Making Light Of Other's Trauma, Mentions of Cigarette Burns, General Rudeness

A/N: This chapter is early because I’m hungover. Always a shoutout to @ppersonna, @xjoonchildx, @ladyartemesia​. Enjoy! 

The smell of blooming flowers is something you never thought you'd become fond of. It's never been something that you've even considered. But you find yourself so often these days finding small delights in simplistic things.

Sitting in front of the large fountain that has been hidden behind clean cut hedges and tall rose bushes, you let the gentle breeze wash over you.

You can hear Baeksoo quietly speaking to the plants as she waters them. It's calming in fact, to hear her speak words of praise.

You've thought long and hard about this evening. Which is astounding since it's just dinner. But, you don't know simple things about Yoongi.

You think to ask Maya but you want to do this by yourself.

"I thought I'd find you here," the voice draws your attention and suddenly you're misty eyed.

Just the way she walks and the tilt of her gorgeous face is enough to make you weep.

"Leena!" you cry out.

Jumping up from the bench, your arms spread wide as you feel relief flood over you.

"Hey, Miss Thing!" she cheers, pulling you into her arms.

You begin to feel as if you could breathe again.

"You look so great! I missed you so much!" she whines loudly, squeezing you tightly to her slim body.

"What're you doing here?!" you ask, pulling away to look at her pretty face.

She grabs your wrist, tugging you over to the bench you were just sitting on.

"Taehyung needed to bring Yoongi some documents for a mall or something before we're off to France, so I made sure I was able to come and see you."

You watch as she demurely crosses her legs and you make a mental note of it. She went to many etiquette classes when she was younger and you’ve always admired how graceful she is. It’s the way she moves so effortlessly and with such confidence. You’ve always wished to be like her.

The floral fragrance seems to enrapture you once more as you sit together. Flipping her hair over her shoulder, your best friend makes it a point to continue to hold you.

“How is he treating you? I swear to God, if you tell me that you’re being treated like the help I’m going to fucking flip.” your best friend asks.

You sigh gently, looking up at the clear cerulean sky.

“He’s treating me normally, I guess. One minute he’s so cold with me and the next he’s just being so sweet. I don’t know what the fuck to feel. Last night, we went at it and he came to apologize to me.” you reply as the breeze blows through your hair.

“Excuse me? Min Yoongi apologized to you?” she sounds dumbfounded and all you can do is nod in agreement.

“Oh my God, he’s so fucking whipped! That’s amazing.” you snort at her excitement, rolling your eyes before looking back over to her.

“I think he’s just being civil. We’ll see, we’re having dinner tonight.” your confession hits her like a stack of bricks and she squeals loudly, gripping your hands tightly.

“I’m gonna drop dead on this expensive gravel beneath my feet. YOU and YOONGI are having dinner tonight?! Like, eating in the presence of one another civilly?!” her blue contacted eyes go wide and her mouth drops open while you nod.

“Yeah. I’m cooking dinner,” you say, confusion enrapturing your tone.

She guffaws loudly, her head lolling back as she gasps for breath. “You’re so insane! This is amazing! He totally fucking likes you!”

“Well… I don’t know about that but-” your voice is cut off by hers.

“Shush! Silence! I’ve said what I’ve said! And it’s the law!” she cries out, pressing her perfectly manicured finger to your lips.

“Sexy girl! Let’s go!” you hear Taehyung scream.

Leena turns her head to the voice before pouting. “You better call me with all the details of your date. I want to know how he looks at you, how he eats his food with you around, how he fucking sneezes. I want the whole laundry list of things that happen tonight!”

You giggle at her enthusiasm before nodding. “Yes ma’am. A laundry list of all the things Min Yoongi does to make me mad.”

She rolls her eyes before kissing your cheek happily.

“Love you, Miss Thing!”

“Love you, too!”

Standing tall, she fixes her long dress. She looks around the garden impressed before folding her arms.

“I’m really happy for you, by the way. I think things are really going to work out here.” she calls to you, starting to walk away.

“Bye Yoongi!” she yells up to the house and your eyes follow hers.

He stands on his large balcony, a cup of coffee in hand staring at you. He bows his head to her, a smirk present on his lips before looking back at you.

“Little dove, good morning.” you hear him say as he retreats back into his room.

How long was he standing there? How much had he heard?

Listening to Frederic drone on about food is something you don’t think you could ever get tired of. He makes the French cook stereotype feel so alive. You’ve been in the kitchen plenty of times, have gone through the cabinets many, many times throughout the nights when staff and the chef were sleeping. But, to hear him feeling the need to explain it all to you as you both take small steps around the gigantic kitchen is humorous and you let him do his thing.

“Now this, this is a sieve. You can strain things through it,” Frederic says, picking up the large strainer.

You hum playfully as you lean down on the island counter.

“I have made my own food before y’know,” you quip to him as he unbuttons his chef’s jacket.

He tuts his tongue as he brushes some hair back behind your ear. “Ah oui, bien sûr Madame. I know, I just want to make sure you know where everything is.”

You smile at his kindness, it must be difficult to relinquish your kitchen to others especially after being in charge for so long.

“I promise I won’t make anything dirty and I promise, cross my heart, that I will take good care of your kitchen,” you swear to him as he throws his chef’s jacket over his shoulder.

He presses both of his hands to either side of your face, wiggling them slightly with a smile.

“Merci, Madame. You are in every word parfaite. I cannot be happier to make you food in this home,” he whispers as you tilt your head with a giggle.

“Go have a good day off, have fun,” you insist as he drifts his hand over the marble countertop, as if he’s finding it hard to say goodbye.

“Oui, bien entendu. I’ll have a drink in your honor, Madame,” he says with a sigh.

You give him a wink as he exits the kitchen and you watch him slowly leave to the maid’s quarter. Your lips sputter as you look around the large, empty kitchen before sighing.

“Okay, let’s do this.”

He should be working. He opened up his computer, he grabbed all the necessary documents from both Taehyung and his office but he just can’t seem to focus.

Yoongi can smell the aroma of food coming from the kitchen and it makes him curious. What are you making? How do you even know what he likes? Do you even know how to cook?

He wants to know more about you, or try to learn more anyway.

Recalling just this morning, he can hear you so clearly -- “He’s treating me normally, I guess. One minute he’s so cold with me and the next he’s just being so sweet. I don’t know what the fuck to feel. Last night, we went at it and he came to apologize to me.”

You think he’s cold and you’re absolutely right. He always has been and it’s gotten worse these last couple of years.

He doesn’t know who he even is anymore. At least he doesn’t think he does.

Then you mentioned that he came to apologize. It must have meant a lot to you. It was weird for him to feel that aching in his chest, to feel like he fucked up. Even in the past when he’s done and said horrible things -- he never had such an ache.

Something about you just… sends him reeling.

Then he remembers what Leena said, “You better call me with all the details of your date.”

Was this a date? He didn’t even think of it in that way. It’s just two people eating… right?

Just a man and the… mother… of… his… child.

“I need whisky,” he mumbles to himself, standing up.

He hasn’t been on a date in God knows how long. He hasn’t spoken to a woman, truly spoken to one, in what feels like a millennia.

Picking up the empty bottle of whisky from the small bar caddy, he curses to himself.

He decides it’s in his best interest to go all the way to the kitchen to get a bottle. Even though his bedroom is just a floor down.

But, it certainly isn’t because you’re in the kitchen cooking. No. Not at all.

As he gets closer to the kitchen, he can smell different types of herbs and delicious meats cooking. He can smell raw peppers and onions and it makes his mouth water.

Yoongi watches you from afar for a minute, just standing on the last step of the stairwell. You’re humming, the song is sweet and calm. You have on a cute apron around your waist, with small smears of what seem to be a sauce of some kind on it.

He can feel his heart lightening at the simple sight of you. You look so… beautiful. So fucking domestic. And, he feels like he doesn’t even need the alcohol anymore because just watching you makes him drunk.

How bizarre.

“What’re we doing?” Maya whispers from next to the stairwell.

Yoongi practically jumps out of his skin at the sight of her, pressing his hand to his heart.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” he whispers fiercely, trying to calm his erratic heartbeat.

He hears the older woman giggle and he rolls his eyes at her giddiness.

“I’m just getting whisky,” he mumbles aloud, still trying to keep quiet in case it would disturb you.

“Oh. I see. I can get it for you, Sir.” she replies and he grabs her wrist gently as she tries to walk away.

“No, no! I got it. It’s okay. I was just…” he can’t even complete his sentence.

What was he doing? Checking you out? He was just watching you, feeling so serene.

“You were being sweet, like I raised you. You were entranced by her.” Maya says.

He grimaces at her. “No! I was just… waiting to see if she burned down the kitchen or not.”

Maya giggles to herself before bowing her head. “Of course, Sir. I see that now.”

He rolls his eyes as she takes off to the maid’s quarter.

He watches you wave to Maya with a shy smile on your face.

“Goddammit,” he mutters, combing his fingers through his hair.

He takes small steps, trying his hardest not to disturb you as he walks by the long bar.

“Oh, hey Yoongi!”

Your voice is so sweet. Especially when you say his name.

“Smells good,” he calls to you, walking through the small hallway before appearing in the kitchen.

“Thanks! I hope you like it,” you reply happily as you stir something in the pot.

As he takes in your face, he snorts gently at a small stain by your cheek.

“I think you’re a messy cook,” he teases, walking towards you.

“Huh?” you ask confused.

Stepping in front of you, he taps his index finger to the underside of your chin.

“Look at me,” he instructs.

As you look up at him, he can feel himself falling into your eyes. You’re so doe-like and precious even when you don’t know it. It’s kind of miraculous.

Wiping his thumb over your cheek, he snorts gently. Your breath hitches in your throat as he strokes his thumb over you.

“What’re you making for dinner?” he asks, trying to distract himself from how soft your skin is.

“Well, I made a lot of things.” you reply, pulling your face away from him to look down at the pot.

He hums inquisitively, grabbing a glass off of a rack and pulling out the whisky.

“Do tell, little dove. You’re making me hungry,” he jeers, pouring himself a large portion of the alcohol.

“Well for the appetizer, I made brussel sprouts with parmesan and bacon and a small salad. For the soup, I made a soybean sprout soup. And, the main course is veal with lemon butter sauce and glazed carrots.” you tell him proudly.

He begins to smirk at how pleased you are with yourself.

“Sounds good, I’m excited,” he replies, lifting his glass.

You giggle gently, turning off the burner underneath the pot.

Leaning down on the marble island across from him, you rub your hands together.

“I hope you like it,” you whisper.

You sound shy now and it peeks his interest. You’re like a frail flower. It’s so difficult to get a read on you or put you in a category. But, maybe that’s how it should be. You shouldn’t just be one specific way, you should be well rounded. And he thinks you’ve got that.

“I’m sure I will. Although, didn’t I put in the contract that you shouldn’t be eating so much?”

Finally for once it doesn’t come out as gruff and angry, it was meant to be a joke. Luckily for him, it came out that way.

You find yourself smiling, almost having the urge to stick your tongue out at him playfully.

“I haven’t been able to cook in a long time, this feels nice. Eating a lot once in a while isn’t so bad,” you counter good-naturedly.

He raises his glass at your words. “Touche. Little dove, touche.”

You lean your head on your shoulder, your fingers skimming over each other as you look down at the marble beneath you. For once, the silence isn’t awkward or uncomfortable. It’s pleasant.

“Was it nice to see Leena this morning?” he knows the answer, but he wants to see you smile wider.

And so you do. Brimming from ear to ear, you nod.

“So nice! I’m so happy that I got to see her,” you admit, looking up at him.

“Well, she can come over whenever she wants. It’s in the contract,” he suggests.

“I didn’t know if I wanted her to come over yet, y’know. With Sera around and stuff…” your answer falls flat as Yoongi chuckles across from you.

“That’d be like putting two piranhas in a tank and seeing who wins,” he chuckles.

You snort gently, pointing at him. “Exactly.”

He watches you fix things up around the kitchen, cleaning as you go.

And finally he speaks after some time. “What can I do to help?”

Humming you shrug with a smirk. "I got it. Why don't you go relax for a while?" you suggest.

As you go to lift the pot, Yoongi whistles loudly as if to tell you to stop.

"I read that pregnant women shouldn't be lifting anything heavy. Don't even think about it. I got it," he insists, waving his hand for you to move.

"You read something?" your voice is wrapped with humor as you move over.

"Very funny, little dove. Go set up the table," he instructs with an ever present smirk on his face.

Yoongi leans back in his seat, his stomach was full of delicious food by now but he can't stop picking at his plate. A true testament to how great of a cook you are.

"Damn." he whispers, wiping his mouth with his napkin.

You smirk across the table, your arms folding with pride.

"Good?" you ask softly, grabbing your drink.

"Very good. I'm impressed," he says as he slings his arm over the top of his chair.

You giggle gently, your head lolling back to look at the clear night sky.

"Who taught you how to cook?" he asks, watching as you count the stars.

So here it is. Will he be as truthful as you? Will he talk to you?

"My parents. My dad always liked cooking more than my mother. She was sick a lot when I was young. Always in the hospital. So my dad got comfort from making her food and I used to take it to her," you answer, looking back down at him.

Yoongi nods gently, it's starting to click in his mind. "That's why you hate hospitals?"

"That's why I hate hospitals. There was a time when she was admitted for a bad stomach ache and she got worse in the hospital because the bedding and the nurses weren't clean." you reply breathlessly.

The father of your child cringes at the thought, taking a sip of his whisky.

"You?"

Yoongi takes a deep, slow breath. He stares at your face and the task at hand is daunting. If people didn't already know him, he didn't open up. But, he should open up to you.

Or he thinks so anyway. You're having his child, you should know about him. And maybe if he speaks his history then it will break the cycle. Then he won't turn into his parents, he won't have a fucked up kid like himself.

"You don't have to talk about it if you don't want to," you say quickly.

You can see him wrought with nervousness. Just the prospect of letting things out must terrify him.

"No, I should talk about them. If not with you then surely a therapist," he jokes out of worry.

But, then he looks at your face. He feels that sense of dizzying calm once more. Like everything is going to be okay.

He chugs the rest of his whisky, his mouth watering and grimacing.

"No, I don't know how to cook. I'm not even sure my parents know how to cook-" he lets out a breath, letting the warm fire of the alcohol in his belly keep him going, "-they never took care of me. I was born and they were relieved to have a boy so they didn't have to try again."

You hum sadly at his words, tucking your legs beneath you as he runs his hand over his face.

"Maya has always taken care of me. She's always loved and cared for me. She's my mother by all accounts, if I'm being honest. My father was a very big disciplinarian… if that's what you want to call it. Most people would say abusive," he says, pouring himself another glass of whisky.

"Kneeling on rice, getting hit with sharp objects, burning cigarettes out. Things like that," he waves off the notion with his hand, shivering while even speaking the words.

Your heart breaks for him, thinking of how painful that must have been when he was a child.

"I haven't seen my parents in… four years now, since I got married. I hate them." he spits at the ground beneath his feet.

You can see the emotional turmoil he's reliving. You can't imagine how difficult that is.

"I'm sorry," you whisper and he shakes his head fiercely.

Picking up his fork, he taps it gently to the fine china as he thinks.

"So I grew up hating authority because of them and the teachers at Sairmount. They always said I should be doing better because of my position and what I would grow into. I hated that. Even when I tried my best I received no praise, and if I made one mistake it was like the end of the world. So I ended up just kind of… becoming a shell."

You nod to his words, your index finger swirling around the rim of your glass.

"What else, little dove?" he asks softly.

As he tilts his head, you take in his handsome features. He's just a product of his environment. You wonder what he would be like if he could thrive.

"I heard that you go to BDSM clubs and stuff, is that because you feel the need to put people in pain like you were when you were younger?" you ask, trying to be considerate of his feelings.

He takes a sharp breath through his teeth almost as if you've burned him.

"Jesus. You might as well be my therapist," he mumbles, running his hand over his face.

But, he doesn't feel awkward talking to you. He likes this. He appreciates how you listen. How your eyes stay soft and you don't judge him.

"When I was younger -- I was probably sixteen when I developed a taste for it. I was getting angry and violent. I was breaking shit and I needed to funnel that into something. So I started going to a club and learned how to be a dom. It was about the comfort of being in charge. I would have a sub and tell them to jump. They would say how high. I thrived off of being in charge. Thrived off people doing my bidding sexually. It just felt right for me to tell someone what to do and have them want to do it for me. I was in charge, people listened to me, I didn't have to do things others wanted. People did what I wanted them to do. I've toned it down since then."

"You were pretty dominating with me," you offer softly.

He chuckles at how innocent you look, his index finger swiping slowly over his lower lip. "That's because you're so sweet. I wanted to wreck you."

With a gentle giggle, you put your elbow on the table before resting your head on your hand.

"You kind of did," you reply, putting your hand on your stomach.

His eyes follow your hand and he begins to smirk above his glass.

"Clearly," he whispers, his eyes slowly drifting up your body to your swollen tits.

He licks his lips slowly, his teeth tugging at his bottom lip gently.

He never understood the attraction to pregnant women like his friend Jimin. The younger man was obsessed with the notion of it and Yoongi couldn't possibly begin to grasp it. But now, with you sitting here before him, he might be beginning to understand.

Averting his eyes from you, he tries to keep his rampant thoughts at bay.

"What else do you want to know, little dove?" he asks, trying to distract himself.

Your cheeks puff out as you think, your fingers combing through your hair gently.

"Sera? What's with her. If you hate her so much why did you get married to her?" you whisper.

Well, that's something to kill the sexual mood he was starting to feel.

He spits on the ground at the simple name of her. He stares far off into the distance, his eyes lingering on a grove of trees Baeksoo has so kindly planted.

"Sera…" he mumbles, stretching out his legs.

You might as well know. You aren't going anywhere in his life.

"Jesus, I think about it everyday and it still makes me mad," he chuckles to himself, the sound bitter and full of resentment.

You watch his face contort in pain, just the simple memory making it hard to withstand.

Without a second thought you're moving your chair. The sound is loud as you move the heavy metal and he watches you with amused eyes. Finally, your seat is next to him and you huff out gently.

"What?" he asks gently as you plop back down.

You grab his hand, intertwining your fingers to bring him peace. His head lolls back against the chair, his eyes fluttering shut at the simple move. It's a simple thing to hold hands but it feels powerful when it's you.

"You don't have to tell me if you don't want to," you say to him.

His thumb drifts over the back of your hand, his eyes opening to the numerous stars that hang brightly in the sky.

"Everyone knows I hate her but no one truly knows why. Maya, Joon, Hoseok, they know. Hell, Hoseok dives deep into her bitter cunt at night and he knows." he shakes his head gently, his eyes flitting from star to star.

You begin to bite your lip nervously as he squeezes your hand tighter.

"I didn't always hate her. I loved her once. I loved the prospect of her anyway," he breathes out, his hand gripping tighter at yours, "I was engaged at fourteen. It was mandatory, the leech's parents were friends with my parents. Their company was going down the drain, they almost had to declare bankruptcy. So this was the easiest thing for both parties. It's very normal in the high profile life to be engaged to someone else for money. It didn't bother me at all that I was engaged, so were the people around me. I thought I was going to have a life like Namjoon."

He snorts at the simple thought and mindlessly he tugs your hand with his over your stomach.

Just the thought of his baby inside of you brings him peace.

With a gentle sigh, he continues. "She didn't go to school with us and I had only seen her a few times at balls and galas. She was annoying back then and she was always brisk with people. But I liked that, I guess. Because I was the same way. I had a childish crush on her for so long and it kept growing as we got older."

He stops talking only to down another glass of whiskey. He closes his eyes as you run your hand comfortingly over his. "When I moved into this house, I had it renovated to please her. I did anything and everything to make her happy. And I was so… excited to have someone that was mine. Someone to spend the rest of my life with. I didn't want our marriage to be like my parents. And, now it's worse."

You find how sad he is depressing. Frowning, you click your teeth softly.

"I'm so sorry," you whisper.

Shaking his head, Yoongi looks at you. He gives you a sad smile. It's heart wrenching to look at his handsome face so distraught.

Even if he can be an asshole sometimes, you can understand him better now. That's all you wanted. You just wanted to be able to connect the dots.

"It was the night of our wedding, that's when I became aware of how awful of a person Sera is." he says, staring off into the distance.

He couldn't understand why she wanted to get married on New Years. It's freezing cold but if it makes her happy then he should do it. It'll be his duty as a husband anyhow.

"Come!" Taehyung whines to him as he sits in the booth.

"I'm not having sex with a woman the day before I'm getting married. That'd be such a dickish thing to do," he counters as Taehyung wraps his arms around the stripper beside him.

"You've been celibate for a year or some shit. You abstaining for the Lord or for the sake of your new bride is not going to make you a born again virgin, okay?" the younger man asks with a laugh, running his hand over the stripper's pert backside.

Rolling his eyes, the Kisung CEO takes a sip from his drink.

"It's not about being a born again virgin, you moron. It's about fidelity. It's about trust. She and I agreed that we would just be for each other." Yoongi barks out gruffly.

Taehyung grimaces at the simple thought. "Fine. Well whatever pact you have with your blushing new bride is depressing me. I'm going to get my dick wet with… Luna. That's your name, right?" the hotel CEO asks the woman on his arm.

She giggles loudly, the sound frightening and way too forced. "Laura, silly!"

"Yeah. That. Bye Hyung. Try to cheer the fuck up or something." Tae calls, picking the stripper up with his strong arms before swinging her over his shoulder.

Yoongi snorts loudly, his eyes flitting from here to there in the large strip club. This wasn't for him anymore. He would be married now. To a woman all his.

He's been living in this fantasy. Waking up on weekend mornings next to his wife, eating breakfast together. Having a few kids. Being able to enjoy each other's company.

He loves the idea of that. He's gone through so much terrible pain in his lifetime. Maybe, fate is telling him he deserves a reward now.

Standing up, he finishes the rest of his drink. He tosses a few hundred bucks onto the table before heading out.

He knows it's not customary to see his bride the night before the wedding but, maybe he can just have a talk with her. He's dying to see her.

For once, Yoongi let someone else take the penthouse besides him. Sera should be fully comfortable before her big day.

They bought out the whole hotel. She wanted to be married in Italy on New Years. She wanted diamonds dripping from the fucking ceiling and she would have it. She would have it all.

The walk from the strip club to the hotel wasn't far. Yoongi can see the lights on in the penthouse and his heart begins to hammer in delight at the thought of seeing her.

She's so fucking beautiful. Albeit, she can be a little irritating at times but who isn't? She's almost godly in his eyes.

He's been waiting for this day since he was fourteen. He can remember when Namjoon got engaged. How fucking against it he was.

Joon always wanted to do things his way. He wanted to pick who he was with, he wanted to be happy on his own. He despised Yoona for years before their big day a year ago. Then he found out how similar they are. He fell in love with everything she's in love with.

Yoongi hopes it'll be the same.

The ride up the elevator to the penthouse is quiet. Gentle muzak plays that seems to lull him into a false sense of security.

Sera might be really big on traditions. She might have him sit in the living room for them just to talk but that's okay too. Whatever she wants.

The elevator opens silently and Yoongi fixes his blazer in the hallway mirror. He smiles to himself softly, looking like nothing can bring him down from this cloud.

Until he hears it. Until he hears the gentle groaning of a man in his sexual pleasure.

"Oh fuck, Sera. Do it again, you filthy slut." he hears and his world comes crashing down around him.

"Yeah, fuck. You like that? Your cock is so much bigger than Yoongi's. I want you to come play with me during the week while he's at work," she sounds breathless.

The CEO's eyes flutter shut and he grips onto the table before him to keep him steady.

"Yeah. I'd bet you'd fucking like that. I bet you love the idea of me fucking your little cunt while your husband is away at work. Let me cum in your pussy before the cuck gets home. You'll let him in this pussy with my cum inside of you," the voice is that of Sera's driver. The one man Yoongi never even gave any thought to.

His hand feels for the wall. His legs are shaking by now and he slowly slides down the gold wall, pressing his hand over his mouth.

"Cum on my cock, you fucking slut."

The sound of her orgasming will never leave his brain. He can hear how pleased she is.

Yoongi in his past has had sex with others too. But, they promised to be faithful to one another. He believed her.

He can feel his eyes welling up with tears as he squeezes them shut tighter.

He thought fate was giving him a helping hand. He was going to be happy! What has he done so wrong in his life for misery to consistently stay?!

Heavy breathing is heard throughout the silent penthouse.

"Why did you promise that stupid fuck you would be only for him?" Jungmo, the driver, asks breathlessly.

Sera giggles, a sound once so adorable it brought Yoongi to his knees.

"Because I want his fucking money. There's no prenup if he thinks I'm all for him. He genuinely thinks that I love him. He thinks I care about whatever the fuck has happened in his miserable past. Do you know that he told me that his dad used to burn cigarettes out on his skin? I was supposed to feel sorry for him." Jungmo and Sera laugh along with one another.

Yoongi's mouth opens at the sheer atrocity he's listening to. She's so fucking cruel. How did he never see this? How could he have this happen to him?

"You were supposed to feel sorry for that billionaire while you're only sitting barely comfortable at seven million!?"

"I know, right?! The fucking nerve! Like, he doesn't even understand that my life has been so much worse! I had to almost go fucking bankrupt! Who gives a fuck about your sad past? What about me?"

The CEO tugs at the blazer fabric situated above his heart. He clamps his hand tighter over his mouth to stifle the sob raring to break free from his throat.

"I can't wait to take all his fucking money and leave him with only his sad little memories."

Crawling over to the elevator, he pushes the button softly. Praying to God that it doesn't make any noise when it opens.

She's such a cruel bitch. So fucking vile.

He stands up on shaky legs as the door opens without a sound. Pushing the button for the floor below him, he waits until the door closes.

He waits until he is safe in his room.

He wails loudly, falling onto the carpeted flooring of the hotel room. He gasps for air, hands digging and pulling at his hair.

He cries for an hour, maybe more. Time seemingly stops in his distraught state.

When he calms himself down, he pulls out his phone. He crawls over to the bar caddy, wiping viciously at the tears he's spilled for the woman upstairs.

Yoongi doesn't even grab a glass, he just pulls the bottle of whisky down to the floor.

Sitting back against the long bar of the room, he dials the only number he can right now.

The sound of the phone ringing is so loud, it makes him want to weep all over again.

"Yoongi? It's two in the morning, what the fuck?" Namjoon calls blearily, through the phone.

"Joon… Please come to my room." his voice cracks and breaks as he picks up the bottle of whisky.

"Jesus, are you okay?" his best friend asks quickly.

"I need… I need a prenup. Please. Come." Yoongi begs, lifting the bottle to his lips.

"I'm coming! Hold on!" Joon calls to him before the line goes dead.

He gulps down the whisky at a ferocious speed, the liquor swirling and settling in his guts. The fire flaming and goading him on to no avail.

"YOU FUCKING WHORE!" he screams at the top of his lungs.

Yoongi launches the bottle across the room, burying his face into his knees as the sound of glass echoes all around him.

"Oh Yoongi. I'm so sorry," you whisper, clutching tighter to his hand.

Yoongi finds himself laughing at the memory now. He was so blind back then. So lovestruck.

"Nothing that isn't fixed now, little dove. Now we're both trapped in this marriage." his voice is devoid of emotion as he picks up the liquor bottle.

You can see how hurt he is even now. How reliving the memory is something akin to death to him.

You lean in towards his body. You press your lips to his cheek and he grabs you tighter at the feeling.

"Maybe that's why I liked you in the club? Because you seemed so completely opposite of the whore that lives in my house," he says finally as you pull away.

He turns his face to you, your lips just mere inches apart.

Yoongi lifts his hand, placing it gently on your cheek.

"You're a good girl, Y/N. You're so kind and sweet. Fucking understanding. You're going to be a great mother. I'm so sorry that you have to deal with me. Deal with an asshole every day. It isn't fair to you," he whispers, his thumb grazing over the apple of your cheek.

His hand is so warm against your skin, so soft. He's being so gentle.

"You're not an asshole. Not truly." you reply softly.

With a snort, he rolls his eyes. "See. You're almost too kind."

You giggle as his hand drifts down the column of your neck, his thumb rubbing over your jawline.

"I'm serious. You can be an asshole, for sure. But it's because of all the terrible things that have happened to you. If you were happy, really and truly happy. You might flourish. You might be able to find yourself again." you reply.

It comes out as a suggestion but it's really a wish. No one should ever be put through what he has had happen to him.

He tilts his head unsurely, pulling away from you.

"You're going to be a great dad. I won't let you be anything but a good dad to your child. No one is perfect, Yoongi. We can do this together." you say, earnestly.

Together.

The word makes his heart rate pick up speed.

You're pretty perfect in his eyes.

He can tell as you sit with one another, how heavy your eyelids are getting.

"You're tired," he observes.

"No, I'm okay!" you reply quickly to him.

He clicks his teeth, eyes narrowing at you. "We're going to be truthful with each other from here on in. Are you tired?"

With a hesitant hum, you nod. "A little. The baby makes me tired a lot these days."

"Okay." Yoongi whispers finitely.

Standing up, he moved your chair for you. With a simple grunt, he picks you up in his arms bridal style.

"I can walk!" you whine, wrapping your arms around his neck.

"So can I." he jeers cutely.

Wading with sure steps through the house, you find how easy it is for him to look down at you. His eyes are soft when they look upon you now. Like telling you about his life has taken a huge weight off of his shoulders.

He kicks open your bedroom door with a smirk.

"There would have been a time I would have died to bring you up here to ravage you," he says, goodnaturedly.

"You still can." you sing softly as he lays you down on your bed.

"We'll see, hmm?" he whispers as he lifts the covers for you.

"Stay," you mumble, arranging the pillows to your liking.

"You want me to sleep with you?!" Yoongi feels frightened at the notion.

"Yeah… just stay. Don't leave me," you whisper as you close your eyes.

He hesitantly walks around to the other side of the bed. He fumbles with his pants and his shirt almost embarrassingly so.

Yoongi hasn't laid with anyone in years. He hasn't thought about doing so in ages.

"Did you leave?" your voice is just above a whisper.

He watches you for a second, how pretty and serene you look with your hair splayed over the pillow.

"No, little dove. I'm here. I'm not going anywhere," he replies, laying down beside you.

Swallowing thickly, he gets comfortable under the same covers as you.

This is bizarre.

Tiredly, you pull his hand. His eyes go wide as you situate it over your stomach.

"It's not a big deal, Yoongi. Just sleep." You mumble as you turn onto your back.

He can feel the tiny bump developing under his hand.

It is a big deal.

To him.

He brushes some hair out of your face gently.

Maybe Sera wasn't his start to a new life. Maybe it's you.

Next Chapter ---->

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[paisley-print]

Near The Water’s Edge:  Chapter One

After fleeing your abusive husband, you find yourself in the small coastal town of July, North Carolina. Soon you meet Frankie Morales, Air Force Veteran and single dad. As the two of you grow closer, you begin to let go of your past and learn to love again. That is until a strange man shows up in town, and you 're forced to choose between your safety or the safety of the people that you love.

Inspired by the novel “Safe Haven” written by Nicolas Sparks. 

Frankie Morales x Female Reader 

Rating: 18+ / Heavy adult themes eventual smut.

Trigger Warnings: Domestic Abuse, Drowning, Dark Water. 

Word Count: 1744

Note: I tagged everyone who liked the original posts. To stay on the permanent list please either send me a message or write it on the post. Enjoy <3 

Series Master List

Chapter One 

Aggressively American, that was the only fitting description of the place you found yourself in. July was a coastal town located in the southern part of North Carolina. It was pronounced like ‘Julie’ but nobody ever called it that. It had been the farthest place your two hundred dollars in cash could take you; and as the greyhound pulled away, you wondered if you should have chosen Nebraska instead. 

It wasn’t that the town was dirty, quite the opposite actually...it just felt manufactured. Too perfect to be real. The streets were named things like Liberty and Independence. The shop fronts were brick and all along the main street there were American flags and flower pots holding red, white and blue geraniums.

The name Norman Rockwell came to mind. 

As you walked along the main street, you surveyed the many shopfronts. To a passerby it seemed as though you were looking to buy something - in your mind, however, your thoughts were racing.

‘I made a mistake, I know I did.’ You analyzed the last few hours, replaying the memories over and over again as if on VHS; scrutinizing every last detail. ‘He would track me down, find me - by morning. Should I go back? No- it was too late for that.’

It was still early in the afternoon, but finding a place to sleep tonight was paramount. The trip had taken eleven hours straight through. Only ever stopping to change buses and refuel - you were exhausted and your muscles ached. 

‘Food,’ you thought ‘I should eat…’ 

But did you have enough? Depending on how much a motel cost around here, you figured you would only have enough to cover a room for one night. So food would have to wait. 

As you rounded a corner, you were met with the sight of the bay. It wasn’t anything like the brown water in New Jersey, the water here was a deep green. The boats created little swells along the surface, and the sun’s glint off the peaks made it look like the water was filled with emeralds. 

On the left side of the street stood a marina and dockside restaurant. The smell of food made your stomach grumble. On the right side was a series of Victorian style houses, stone pillars and large porches dominated the structures. 

A sign in front of one had caught your attention: American Dreams B&B.

‘Jesus’ you thought ‘they’re really leaning into this whole aesthetic aren’t they?’

A bell on the front door chimed as you entered. The decor of the place looked dated; as if it hadn’t been touched since the 80s. Lots of wood tones and floral patterns. You didn’t mind it though…. it made you feel at home. 

An older woman was sitting at the front desk watching a soap opera on a little TV perched on the counter. She looked up and smiled as you approached. 

“Hello there. How can I help you today?”

“Do you have any rooms open?”

“Sure do, we have three vacancies right now.”

Relief washed over you, “what’s the nightly rate for the smallest?”

“That would be the pink room at $175 a night.”

More than you had anticipated…. “All take it, thank you.”

The woman turned to the computer. The monitor was old and heavy- it looked bigger than the TV. “Driver’s license?”

You hadn’t even thought of that… “I don’t have one, would a birth certificate work?” 

You cringed at the sound of it. Who carries around a birth certificate as identification? It was all you had, so you gave it to her, however you knew that the odd request made you stick out in the woman’s mind. Surely she would remember you if someone came asking…

The woman hesitated but took the certificate, reading it out loud “Summer Emma Sparks.”

You swallowed hard and shifted on your feet, feeling sick. The circumstances surrounding how you secured the certificate flooding your mind...

‘I needed it,’ you remind yourself.

The woman, whose name you found out to be Mae, handed you a key and sent you on your way. Now the plan would be to look for a job, something that worked off of tips. Having as much cash available to take with you at a moment’s notice was important. First, though, you would sleep. 

And as the tide lapped against the boat dock across the street, you slipped into the darkest, soundest slumber you had in years. You were safe for the time being. 

-

There was something to be said about the little joys surrounding small town life. In New Jersey neighbors barely knew each other, and would even go so far as to avert their eyes or turn their backs when passing them on the street. Here though, people were kind. 

Too kind sometimes, always pressing you with questions...you couldn’t fault them for it though. If you were here under normal circumstances, you would have welcomed such friendly chatter. It almost pained you to be so dismissive, but you needed to be, for your safety and theirs. The less anybody knows about you, the better. 

You set down a tray of empty cups and looked at the clock on the wall, debating whether to take another table. Even though your shift technically didn’t end for another twenty minutes, most of the night servers were already here and the day had been long.

You managed to get a job at the restaurant next to the marina on your second day in town. The owner suggested you start the following weekend, but you persuaded him to let you train that day just so you could get the free meal that they provided with every shift. The tips weren’t enough to buy a hotel room though, and so you had to sleep on the beach that night.

Thankfully, the tips for the last few days had been good, allowing you to buy a week in the bed-and-breakfast. Most of the servers at the restaurant were teenagers who could only work the evenings, allowing you to take as many morning and afternoon shifts as you wanted. Sometimes there would be another server with you, but most days you were alone. You didn’t mind one bit, the dining room was small and easy for you to handle by yourself. 

You had your eye on a few rental properties on the far side of town. A mobile home community offering one bedroom complexes for dirt cheap prices. You were suspicious at first, but after taking a walk through the neighborhood you realized most of the people who lived there were snowbirds or weekend warriors. 

Those residents who did live their full time seemed like you, friendly people who had fallen on bad times. They weren’t the confederate flag wielding, dip spitting, rednecks you first thought they would be; and for that you were thankful. 

“Summer….. Summer.” 

You turned suddenly, remembering that was your name. “Yeah?”

Your boss was holding two containers of soup “do me a favor and put these in the fridge before you go?”

“Of course,” you said, allowing him to pass the containers off to you. 

The fridge was a separate unit out back; it looked like a little shed. From where you were, you could see a full view of the marina. It was set a little farther back than the restaurant. To the left, lines of boats bobbed up and down with the tide. There was a parking lot next to that, then at the very end was a house... or what you assumed was a house. 

Elevated about six feet on stilts and spanning two stories high. It wasn’t anything like the grand Victorians that stood opposite of it. It was unassuming, modern and clean. Your eyes fixed on movement off to the side. Below the house to the right, you noticed a little girl. She had to be no more than three years of age, reaching for something over the bulkhead. A feeling of dread clutched at your stomach. 

‘She’s going to fall’ you thought suddenly. 

Both containers of soup hit the ground and exploded - painting the side of the building. You didn’t even notice as you sprinted down the shelled driveway towards the house. The splash came as soon as you threw open the gate and without even a moment of hesitation; you jumped into the water. 

It was freezing, like little needles pricking your skin from all sides. The salt water stung your eyes like something wicked, but you forced yourself to keep them open. You scanned what was around you, murky green darkness and foliage that reached up from the sand like the tendrils of a kraken. Threatening to grab you and pull you down into its watery depths. 

Your eyes landed on a flash of pink below. With all of your strength you pushed yourself forward, hooking an arm around the girl and bringing you both to the surface. Just as you broke through the world above, you saw a man skid to a stop and reach for the girl in your arms. 

You gasped, and the little girl coughed and hiccuped... then started to cry. It was music to your ears; it meant that she was breathing. You held the girl up as far as possible; the man took her and moved away from the bulkhead. 

“Make sure she’s okay,” you choked, the water assaulting your senses. You tread for a moment longer before the man reappeared and offered you his hand. You took it and he pulled you from the water easily. 

Bracing yourself on the bulkhead you brought your weight over the rest of the way. The man immediately turned his attention back to the little girl, bringing her to his chest and clutching her as she wailed. 

You blinked, hands coming up to rub the salt from your eyes, the world coming back into focus. The man was older, wearing a navy blue baseball cap and a grey flannel. 

His brown eyes still held a spark of panic in them as he looked at you. “I don’t know how I could ever thank you enough….she was right there, then I turned around and….” He held onto her a little tighter and sighed, closing his eyes. The little girl was settling into a mess of sniffles and whimpers. “Don’t ever do that again, baby,” he breathed. 

-

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